Zulu, page 11
With a slow nod, her mask of resignation slid back into place. “Of course, my apologies, Mr. Zulu.” She turned toward one of her walk-in closets.
Motherfucker. Knowing I shouldn’t, I did it anyway. “Silas,” I corrected.
She glanced over her shoulder. Dark mysterious eyes, thick silky hair, she met my gaze.
Jesus, this woman took my breath.
Already in too deep, taking this to a level of personal I didn’t do, I broke every rule I had for this woman. “Zane Silas.”
For a beat too long, she stared. Then that voice that’d been crawling into my head since I’d heard it on the terrace spoke my name.
“Zane.” Quiet, reserved, sexy—she said it the same damn way she carried herself, right before she walked out of the room.
Struck, I fucking stood there motionless for two beats.
Then I focused up and went for Levi.
Zulu
A split second too late, he heard me.
His right index finger moved two centimeters to the trigger as he started to turn, but the barrel of my Sig was already jammed against the back of his skull. If I took the shot, he’d take an involuntary dive over the gunwale and be fucking shark bait before I could wash the blood spray off my hand.
“Why did you go to her room?” I demanded.
Keeping his back to me, slowing releasing his M24 to let his rifle hang from the shoulder strap, he said the same thing she did. “To check on her.”
“Why?”
The fuck didn’t answer.
“Why?” I repeated with more force.
“Because she is a woman.”
Shayetet 13 or not, this fucking prick better start praying because he was about to meet his maker. “Give me one good reason not to kill you.”
“I will give you none.” Balls of steel, he slowly turned to meet my murderous gaze with the blank stare of a trained soldier. “You will do what you are going to do.”
I didn’t drop my aim. “Why are you here?”
“To do my job.”
“Which is?”
“Deckhand.”
“Bullshit.” A man like him didn’t take a job like this without a damn good reason. “You either want to fuck her, kill her, kidnap her or you’re hiding out from something.” With his skill set, he could be in the private sector making at least ten times what he was earning on this damn boat.
“Tomer asked me to come.”
I stared at the prick, but he didn’t so much as blink. “You do everything Tomer tells you to do?”
“No.”
“But this time you did. Why?” And why the fuck wasn’t he active duty anymore? November needed to hurry the hell up with his background check.
“You may lower your weapon. I am no threat to you.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about.”
“I am no threat to her.”
“You were when you went off script, went to her suite and scared the fuck out of her.”
“That was not my intent.”
“You’ve got two fucking seconds to tell me exactly what your intent was and why you’re here, or this conversation is over.”
He took the two seconds to stare at me. Then he spoke with as much honesty as I was going to get out of him. “I owe Tomer my life. He asked for a favor. The widow is wealthy. He wanted a deckhand with more capability than just crewing.”
“Tomer was expecting trouble?”
“Tomer anticipates obstacles.”
Obstacles. Now I was wondering what the fuck Tomer knew that we didn’t. “Like?”
“A wealthy woman at sea on an under-manned super yacht can be a target.”
“Stating fact isn’t an answer.” I dropped my aim, but I didn’t holster my Sig because I still didn’t trust the prick. “How many crew should this boat have?”
“Eighteen.”
Jesus Christ. I’d been concerned about security, but now I was wondering what the hell else could go wrong out here. “What’s the bare minimum crew needed to keep her safely afloat?”
“Four.”
Not fucking ideal, but seven was better than four. “Why is she understaffed?”
“That was Miss Bahar’s request.”
“Because?”
“If I knew, I would not tell you.”
I hated the fucking prick, but that I respected. “Do your job. Stay away from Miss Bahar. If I hear you’ve gone near her again, it better be because you were stopping a bullet. Understood?”
“I understand that I would not have needed to check on her or discharge my weapon if first you, then Taralas had not come aboard.”
I read the prick, loud and clear. “My coming aboard didn’t incite Kostas’s actions. Resume patrol,” I ordered.
He eyed me for a solid five seconds before he tipped his chin. His grip automatically going back to his M24, his right index finger extending over the trigger, he turned to walk the deck.
My eyes on him, I holstered my Sig and pulled out my cell.
November answered on the first ring. “Dead end on all crew backgrounds.”
“How is that possible?” I glanced up at the master suite but couldn’t see any movement through the heavily tinted windows despite a few lights being on.
“Skillfully,” November stated without intonation.
I looked back toward Levi, but he was out of sight. “They were purposely wiped?”
“Within the last hour.”
Fuck me. “Meaning?” I knew what it meant, but I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
“Someone didn’t want me looking.”
“This is not fucking good.” I scanned the decks. “No way can I leave her on this boat now.”
He didn’t say shit.
“November?”
“I may have one more channel I can utilize for intel.” He paused. “But it’ll take time.”
November never paused, not with shit like this. I should’ve asked why, but the clock was ticking. “How much time?”
“Hours.”
I glanced at my watch. Shit. “Do it. And one last thing. Levi told me Parisa specifically asked for minimal crew on this boat. I want to know why.”
November didn’t reply.
“You copy?”
“I hear you fine.”
November didn’t speak casually. He didn’t do anything casually. His response, the vernacular, it was off. “What aren’t you saying?”
“Did you ask her why she wants a minimal crew?”
“I’ve asked her a lot of shit, most of which she evades.”
Once again, November didn’t say shit, but this time I got it.
Why would any woman alone on the high seas want as few people as possible around her? Because she didn’t trust anyone. “Message received,” I conceded.
“Good copy.” November hung up.
I pocketed my cell and scanned the length of the boat one more time. Then I looked out at the black ocean. No lights, no other vessels, no sign of land.
Night, sea, stars.
In a cockpit, I’d relish the view. But on this damn boat? I fucking hated it.
Scanning the decks one more time, I walked back into the cabin.
Parisa
My carefully trained poise carrying me into my dressing room, I held it together until I heard the door to my suite quietly close behind the Navy SEAL.
Then I collapsed onto the settee and dropped my head to my knees.
The first tear escaped, quickly followed by another.
Before I knew what was happening, I was crying.
I did not cry.
My mother’s words echoed in my memory.
Parisa Bahar does not cry.
Tears dripped onto my knees, then every indulgent, self-pitying thought I’d been denying came out in a torrent of ugly sobs.
My whole life had been at the mercy of others. I had been waiting for this moment, for this night. I had been planning and arranging and enduring what I had to in order to make my life my own.
I deserved to be my own person.
I should be able to make my own decisions.
I shouldn’t have to answer to anyone.
My last name was not going to be the noose I hung by. I had carefully planned everything so that wouldn’t be my legacy, right down to the moment when I’d slip away and sail into the dark night.
Konstantinos’s death had accelerated my plans, but not by much. I’d already seen the writing on the wall with him. Since the moment my parents had passed, he’d been going behind my back—scheming and strong arming. I didn’t know why, but I knew time was running out, so I’d accelerated the final stages of the Solace’s build.
I thought I would be okay.
But then Konstantinos passed unexpectedly, I discovered what he’d been hiding, and I had no choice. I had to get out, immediately. Rushing was dangerous, it left no room for error, but I thought I’d covered all possible contingencies.
Then Kostas changed the venue and publicly came after me. Kairos inserted himself, making a show of his bodyguards, and now I wasn’t even sure I could trust my own crew. I knew I should’ve been relieved for the Navy SEAL and his colleagues. I should be grateful I was on this yacht, but my bank deposits from my trust had stopped, my emails were going unanswered, and everything I’d planned was falling apart.
I let one more self-pitying sob escape, but then I breathed in deep and sat up.
Crying wasn’t going to solve anything.
Swiping at my face, telling myself tonight was not a complete loss, I stood.
Then my hands were smoothing the skirt of my dress and my eyes were going to the floor-to-ceiling mirror.
The woman I had been raised to be looked at the reflection.
Disheveled hair, ruined makeup, no heels…I was barefoot.
Barefoot.
The sudden epiphany was as vast as the ocean around me.
I could sail away into the night barefoot. I could spend however long it took on open waters, with messy, windblown hair, to feel safe. I could execute part two of my plan with a wrinkled dress, no makeup, and no heels.
I could still pivot.
I’d spent my whole life pivoting. Me. Not my outfit or my façade.
This—tonight, it was not catastrophic. This was an obstacle, and I no longer had to live as the woman I was raised to be.
I stared at the reflection.
Then a new voice emerged.
“Hello.” Quiet, no more than a whisper, it was enough. “My name is Parisa Bahar, and you have not met me yet.”
The woman in the mirror said nothing back.
I didn’t need her to.
Leaving my ruined makeup on, not touching my hair, grabbing my cell phone, I pivoted, literally, and padded barefoot into my office.
Then I did what I had learned to do when I was in college. I opened my laptop, turned on my cell and connected it to my computer. Quickly checking for any new email or bank deposits, of which there were none, I then scanned the new app the Navy SEAL had installed for spyware.
I missed it on the first two passes.
On the third try, on a reverse engineer of the app, I saw it.
The emergency distress signal didn’t only route to the Coast Guard channel. It was set up to also send an encrypted notification, probably to AES’s servers.
Not knowing how to disable it without deleting the app, I powered off my cell phone, closed my laptop and suddenly, he was there.
As soundless as the Solace’s engines were a steady hum, the Navy SEAL appeared in my office doorway.
His stark gaze met mine, and he took in every inch of my face in one glance with an expression that gave nothing away.
I silently chanted my new mantra.
My name is Parisa Bahar, and you have not met me yet.
I confronted the Navy SEAL. “You lied to me, Mr. Silas.”
Zulu
Her hair a mess, makeup streaked from crying, she stared me down.
There was something different about her besides her appearance. I could sense it. Hell, my fucking cock sensed it and wanted in on this new version of her, whatever it was. Then she spoke, and I got it.
“You lied to me, Mr. Silas.”
I was busted, and she was pissed. Not disrespecting her, I owned it. “I want to know if you ever have to use the emergency signal. The quicker I know, the faster I can react to get help to you.”
“I will not be keeping the app.”
Jesus, she was fucking sexy like this. “You should. It’s to your benefit to see what those cameras see.”
“Can you disable the redundancy signal to AES?”
“I wouldn’t call it redundant, and no, I personally can’t, but November can.”
“November,” she stated expectantly.
“Our IT guy.”
She nodded, but she didn’t move out from behind her desk.
I didn’t move away from her only escape out of the office.
She stared and I let her.
Dropping my guard, I let her see whatever the fuck she wanted or thought she wanted to see, but I didn’t apologize for the app hack. I did however own up to the fact that I’d underestimated her. “You know coding.”
“I know how to look for spyware.”
I called her bluff. “That redundancy, as you put it, was buried in code.”
“I am not unfamiliar with a few keystrokes.”
She’d done a hell of a lot more than a few keystrokes if she’d found November’s handiwork. “I think you need to come work for AES. Give November a run for his money. What other skills are you hiding?”
“I have neither the need nor desire to compete or play games.”
Fucking schooled. Again. “Message received.” I tipped my chin at the streaked makeup on her face. “You want to tell me about the tears?”
“No.”
“Fair enough.” I wasn’t aiming to rob her of her dignity if the tears were just a release of stress. Unlike the last time I came up here, there wasn’t fear in her eyes. If anything, there was determination.
“Do you want to tell me about where you went just now?”
“To find Levi.”
She raised an eyebrow.
I knew it then as sure as I knew the familiarity of the controls in the Gulfstream cockpit and the kickback of my sniper rifle. This woman was going to be the death of me.
I expanded on the truth. “The barrel of my Sig was familiarizing itself with the back of his skull while I had a conversation with him about boundaries. He won’t be coming to your suite anymore.”
Her expression locked, her chest rose with a quick inhale then her voice came out a fraction quieter. “Boundaries.”
“Yes, boundaries. As in, he now has them.”
Her throat moved with a swallow, and this time when she spoke, there was a new hitch in her voice. Throatier, quieter, less polished. “And what about you, Mr. Silas? Do you have boundaries?”
My cock hard, I held her gaze. “Not where you’re concerned.”
She averted her eyes. “Mr. Silas—”
“Drop the Silas and look at me.”
She didn’t hesitate. She looked up.
Good. I was still dealing with the same woman, or at least a part of her. Not that I didn’t want to fuck every part of this attitude she had, but I needed to know she heard and understood me. “I’m not going to insult you by apologizing for the backdoor relay to AES on that app. We both know if I did, it would be insincere. That said, I didn’t lie to you. I omitted a hack that neither invaded your privacy nor your personal wishes. Emergency distress calls on the Coast Guard frequency are not private. Alerting AES if you call for help would be no different than having someone monitoring that frequency.”
“That is not the point,” she argued.
“Do you have a problem with me knowing if the Solace is in trouble?”
“The Solace or me?” she asked, calling me out.
“Both.” The safety of the boat was directly linked to her safety on the water.
“Yes.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“I do not trust you.”
I knew it was coming and I was already a step ahead. “Ask me a question, any question.”
“Why?”
“Because I won’t lie to you.”
“You already did.”
“Parisa,” I warned.
She hesitated. Then her tone shifted to this side of uncertainty. “What are your intentions?”
“With?” I knew where this was going, but I wanted to hear her ask it.
Heat hit her cheeks, and she did. “Me.”
“You want the unabridged version, sweetheart?” If she had any self-preservation right now, she’d say no.
She stared, silently giving me her answer.
I went for graphic, aiming to push her away for her own sake. “To fuck you and protect you.”
She turned a spectacular shade of crimson, but her tone went dry as hell. “In that order.”
“Reverse order actually.”
“How poetic.”
“I’m neither poetic nor prophetic.” I was a war-hardened, commitment-averse, door kicker with a level ten hard-on for a Harvard law grad that was growing exponentially. Nothing good was going to come of this. But each additional second I spent on this nine-figure floating death trap, feeding off her vulnerabilities and stunning beauty, was making me more possessive.
“The latter you were. Now you are purposely being crude to get a rise out of me.” She schooled me. Again. But with a level of poise I admired the hell out of.
More turned on than I should be, getting off on the dichotomy of this woman’s ability to both call me out and gut me with her innocence, I didn’t hold back. “I’m purposely being blunt so you know who you’re dealing with and understand that I’m not out to screw you over like Kostas, Taralas or your father. Bottom line, I’m not going to bullshit you.”
She bristled. “I think I am done with this conversation.”
“I think we’re just getting started, but you’ve had a long day and an even longer night.” Hell, it’d been a long day even for me, but I didn’t give a damn. I’d go to the ends of the earth to chase a single stolen moment with this woman. Which was exactly what I was about to do.
