Honor Code (Blackthorn Security Book 2), page 1
HONOR CODE
BLACKTHORN SECURITY BOOK 2
GEMMA FORD
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
SILK SHADOW
Chapter 1
Silk Shadow
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
It was pitch dark when Ellie opened her eyes. The long-haul flight from Europe had left her tired and cranky and this bed wasn’t anything to write home about. She groaned—jetlag could be a bitch.
Reaching over, she checked the time on her phone.
Five a.m.
Was it too early for a yoga session?
Her whole body ached. She desperately needed to stretch out the kinks. Her yoga mat stood in the corner by the door, beckoning to her.
Suzi, her roommate, was still fast asleep, her breathing deep and rhythmic. Careful not to wake her, Ellie slid out of bed, pulled on some leggings and a T-shirt, then grabbed her yoga mat. After scraping her hair back into a ponytail, she snuck out of the room.
The corridors on the oil rig were dark and eerie, bathed in that familiar ghostly green light that cast long shadows on the steel walls. The first time she'd been on an offshore platform, she'd been unnerved by the ethereal glow, but after five years of working in the field, she was used to it.
She made her way up the narrow steel stairway to the top deck, expecting to see some signs of life, but the place was deserted. Then again, it was stupid o'clock and the first shift only begun at eight.
The tropical air caressed her skin, warm and serene—so different from the frigid conditions in the North Sea where she'd worked before. She closed her eyes and let the balmy breeze wash over her, savoring the moment.
With her mat tucked under her arm, she ventured along the gangway, navigating around the now-silent steel structure, with its cranes, multi-level platforms, and columns of drilling equipment, in search of a tranquil corner in which to exercise.
At the railing, she paused and gazed out over the Gulf of Mexico. The dark expanse stretched for miles in all directions. It never failed to move her, the idea that she was a tiny dot in the middle of an enormous ocean. Maybe it was because nobody could get to her out here. She was safe. Protected by thousands of miles of water.
At least she'd thought she was. That was until Suzi had mentioned the recent threat from eco-terrorists. This was a very sensitive area of the Gulf, ecologically fragile, and there were strict protocols in place. She'd read the impact assessments before she'd come out here.
If she'd known about the risk, she might have thought twice before accepting the job.
After what had happened last time…
No, she wasn't going to go there. Ellie took a steadying breath. This project was different. Eco-terrorists chained themselves to structures, got in the way, temporarily disrupted operations. They didn't threaten anyone’s personal safety.
Even so, the threat did explain the presence of the armed patrols she'd seen yesterday when she'd arrived on the helicopter from Corpus Christi. Two enormous security operatives, rifles slung over their broad shoulders, standing watch on the deck. They’d been hard to miss, such was the attention they commanded. Their tight-fitting black T-shirts over rippling muscles had proved at least a five-minute distraction. But despite appearances, or maybe because of it, they’d put her mind at ease.
Tiredness made her neck stiff, and she stretched it out before wandering over to the helipad, the flattest, clearest space she could find. It was deserted, the chopper yet to return.
Perfect.
Ellie rolled out her mat and was just standing upright when a sudden gust of wind made her spin around. In an instant, she was blindsided and taken down hard. Her breath whooshed out of her as she was flattened on the deck.
Panic surged through her.
No! Not again.
She thrashed and squirmed, trying to throw off her attacker, but he had her pinned to the ground. A thousand terrifying thoughts stampeded through her head, scrambling her brain. Blood pumped in her ears, adding to her confusion.
"Get off me!" Her high-pitched cry shattered the early morning quiet.
She was back in Boston, standing in Raphael's apartment, his arm tight around her waist. The sharp edge of the blade he held pressed against her throat. Cold, uncompromising. One small slash, and she'd bleed out.
"Don't move," he hissed in her ear.
She couldn't; she was too terrified.
"Put down the knife," the police officer ordered, pointing his firearm at them. At Raphael, who used her as his shield. She was the one who'd get shot. The bullet would probably go right through her and hit Raphael too, but she didn't want to put it to the test.
Hot tears stung her eyes. "Rafe, please."
"Shut up," he growled, the blade digging deeper into her skin. A warm trickle dripped down her neck. She was bleeding.
Oh, God. I'm going to die.
That was all she could think about. She'd never see her family again and would die in Raphael's living room, either by his hand or a police bullet. Either way, death loomed, just seconds away.
A hand, large and suffocating, clamped over her mouth. In the dim pre-dawn light, her attacker was just a shape, an indistinct mass overpowering her. She kicked out, connecting with a soft body part, and heard a satisfying grunt of pain.
No way. This was not happening.
She would not be a victim—again.
The subsequent years of self-defense training kicked in, and she fought with every fiber of her being, scratching, kicking and bucking to get away. But he was strong and countered her desperate thrusts. Finally, her knee connected with his groin, and he swore under his breath, yet his grip remained unyielding.
What did it take to unseat this monster?
Suddenly, he shifted his weight, settling on her pelvis. Massive hands forced her arms above her head. Her T-shirt rode up, exposing her midriff—she could feel the air on her skin. Oh, God. Was he going to rape her?
Trapped, she opened her mouth to scream.
"Don't," came a gruff command, chilling in its calmness. "I just want to talk."
Pinned down, the hard ground of the helipad pressing into her back, she glared angrily up at the man who'd shattered her early morning peace, along with her nerves.
Who the hell was he?
And what did he want with her?
CHAPTER 2
"Who are you?" Phoenix growled, securing the intruder with his full weight. She was light; it wasn't hard to subdue her, but she'd caught him by surprise. He hadn't expected such a frenzied attack.
Damn if his groin didn't throb where the hellcat had kicked him, and she'd left claw marks down his forearm. The woman had fought like her life depended on it.
He could tell she was trained, but not by any military—he knew that much. Not a serious threat, then. Maybe an eco-warrior? One of those passionate planet defenders who didn't realize the danger they put themselves in.
"What's your name?" he repeated. He'd been warned there had been threats. They’d been told to be vigilant.
She squirmed beneath him, but he held her steady, pressing her wrists into the hard ground. Both her hands in one of his. The other he splayed across her hip, preventing her from unseating him with her repeated thrusts.
He regretted the use of force, but she wasn't going anywhere until she'd answered some questions.
"Ellie," she gasped, and he noticed—more than noticed—the way her T-shirt twisted under her breasts, exposing her smooth, flat stomach. It was soft under his hand—he didn’t know skin could be that soft.
He forced his gaze to her face—pretty and heart-shaped, with an angry flush staining her cheeks. Her hair had come loose from the binding, splaying out around her.
She lifted her chin, and it was then he noticed the small, inch-long scar on her neck, silver in the diffused light. "Who do you work for?"
"Xonex, the energy company."
He frowned. Xonex, the same company that had hired him for his expertise in handling situations exactly like this.
He frowned. It didn't add up. Why was she dressed in black, prowling around the deck in the early hours?
She was staring up at him, petrified. Her eyes, light-brown flecked with gold, were wide and frantic. Even terrified, there was something fierce, yet vulnerable about her. He eased off a little on her wrists, but not enough that she could wriggle free.
He had to be sure.
"You work here? On the Explorer?"
"That's what I've been telling you." Angry eyes glared at him, and she tossed some messy chocolate-brown strands out of her face.
She spluttered. "Cat burglar? This is my yoga outfit."
"Yoga? You're kidding." Now he'd heard it all.
"I'm an engineer. I told you, I work here."
Confused, he stared at her, trying to get her measure. Lean and curved in all the right places, with cascades of deep brown hair framing a pale, pretty face, she didn't look anything like an engineer—then again, she didn't look like any intruder he'd ever encountered either. A yoga guru, yes. Ironically, that was the easiest to believe.
"Where is your ID?" he asked, his face so close he could breathe in her scent. Vanilla—warm, inviting, disarming.
She grimaced. "I–I left it in my room."
He sighed.
Really?
"You have no ID, but you expect me to believe you work here?"
"I do." She gave a sexy pout.
He narrowed his eyes. "How come I haven't seen you before?"
"I flew in yesterday evening. Actually, I saw you and your friend up on deck, but you didn't see me."
He frowned. He hadn't noticed her. Could be a convenient excuse. "What are you doing prowling around the deck at five in the morning?"
She wriggled again, her hips digging into his thighs. For a small woman, she was remarkably strong. He pressed down, then wished he hadn't. A surge of heat spread to his groin, which was still pulsing from connecting with her knee.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm doing yoga." Irritation replaced the fear. That was something, at least. He hadn't liked seeing how panicked she'd been.
He knew fear, and hers had been very real. Desperate, terrifying, irrational fear. Experience had taught him he wasn't the reason. Something else had caused that fear, something bad, and a while back. But she hadn't let it go.
"Yoga, right…" His voice petered off.
The way she was looking at him… all bristly and defiant, her tiger's eyes flashing in the hazy dawn. He wanted to believe her, but he had to check it out fully before he let her go.
She could just be a really good liar. The whole yoga thing might be nothing but a smokescreen. For all he knew, an activist group had sent a bombshell like her to stir up trouble over the oil drilling.
This wasn't new territory for him. After a solid twenty years in the service, with a good chunk as a Navy SEAL, he was no stranger to diehards on a mission. People got pretty intense when they truly believed in a cause.
"Look, I just got here yesterday." She snapped, clearly ticked off. "If you get off me, I'll take you to my cabin and show you my ID badge. Then we can clear this whole mess up."
Now that was the first sensible thing he'd heard her say.
"Sounds like a plan." Letting go, he released her hands. He'd check her out, and if she was telling the truth… well, then he'd owe her an apology. Somehow, he didn't mind that too much.
She huffed. "Can I get up now?"
"All right, but just so we're clear, you're sticking with me until I know you're legit."
She gave a quick nod and another small exhale.
He backed off, then offered a hand up.
She ignored it, got to her feet, then brushed herself off, but not before throwing him a look that could melt steel.
"After you," he gestured, resisting a grin. She really was a hellcat.
She walked ahead of him along the narrow gangway, swishing her hips as she went. Groaning silently, he followed.
Was she toying with him? Trying to provoke him?
He followed that sexy ass down the corridor, trying to stay focused, but damn if she wasn't making it difficult. Inappropriate thoughts crept unbidden into his head, not helped by the memory of her flushed face, soft skin and sensual stride.
They reached the door that descended into the crew's quarters, and she glanced back—big eyes, asking permission, but not without a mocking glare.
He nodded and down they went, the greenish glow of emergency lights bathing everything in an eerie tint, the rig creaking around them. He had to admit, she seemed to know where she was going.
"My roommate is still sleeping." She hesitated outside one of the cabin doors.
"I'll wait here."
So, the little vixen had been telling the truth, but he had to play by the book. Everyone onboard had to wear their ID card. No exceptions.
She slipped into her room, leaving the door cracked just enough so he could glimpse inside. Last time he'd let his guard down, it had almost cost him. He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. Women could be full of surprises.
Then she was back, dangling her ID right in his face. "Satisfied?"
Phoenix checked it out, squinting in the murky light.
Eleanor Rider, Chemical Engineer, Xonex Energy Services.
Okay, so she was on the level.
He handed it back to her, meeting her triumphant gaze. "Thank you, Eleanor Rider. Sorry about the inconvenience. I had to make sure, you understand. We take security very seriously on the Explorer."
He saw a flicker of fear return, but she covered it well. "I suppose you were just doing your job."
He gave a brusque nod. "Yes, ma'am."
She sniffed, not quite ready to forgive him. "You should think twice next time you jump a stranger." Her gaze roamed over his physique, and he thought he detected a reluctant flicker of appreciation. "A man your size, you could hurt somebody."
"In my line of work, a delay could mean loss of life." His eyes bore into hers. "Just remember to wear your ID in future. It will save further… misunderstandings."
She tossed the loose strands of hair over her shoulder as she spun around to go back inside the cabin. "Don't worry, I will."
CHAPTER 3
That man!
Ellie perched on the edge of her bed, buzzing with a weird kind of electric energy that left her both flustered and excited.
What the hell?
She didn’t know what to make of him. He was certainly efficient, the way he barreled into her, sending her flying. And strong—that effortless force, biceps of steel. She had tried her hardest to throw him off, and since those self-defense classes, she was no pushover. Not anymore.
Yet, he hadn’t so much as budged. Not even an inch. An immovable mountain of stone. A shiver shot threw her at the thought of him sitting on top of her. No way was that his full weight. He'd been holding back, she was sure of it. That made it even more incredible, that he'd rendered her helpless while not even using his full strength. She could only imagine what he'd do to a real intruder.
But why was she so strung out?
She knew why.
Rafael.
Damn him. Ever since the incident, she couldn't be in an even remotely threatening situation without feeling her heart leap and her palms go sweaty as her anxiety spiraled out of control. It had been that way for the last two years.
The security operative had only been doing his job. She'd been the one at fault, not wearing her ID badge.
Typical.
Henderson had warned her. Make sure you have it on you at all times, he’d said.
And what had she done?
The first instance she'd left the room, she'd damn well forgotten it. Simple protocol that she knew and still neglected. It must be the upheaval of the last few days. She blamed jetlag. Her head was all over the place, trying to figure out which time zone she was in.
Picking up the lanyard, she slung it over her head. The ID photograph on the front caught her eye. It wasn't her finest moment, but it wasn't bad. In her business suit, hair clipped up, a smattering of make-up, she looked like the seasoned professional she was.
Three years working for a petrochemical company in Saudi Arabia, then another two in Scotland. This wasn't her first time in the field, so she should be used to the protocols by now.
Sucking in a deep breath, she tried to calm down. Well, she wasn't about to let the Beast ruin her first day on the job. No, sir.
Looking around the room, she realized her yoga mat was still lying up on the helipad.
Crap.
Now she'd have to sneak back and get it. The last thing she wanted to do was run into the Beast again, but she couldn't leave it there. Once the chopper began transporting people to the rig, someone would remove it, then she'd have a hard time finding it and would probably get reprimanded for leaving it there. Worse, it could blow off and be gone forever.
