Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

T he door to Sloan's room opened, and I pushed off the wall. Her gaze flicked to me, her expression guarded. She looked like she'd slept about as well as I had, which was to say—not well at all. She had dark circles beneath her eyes. And yet something was different from yesterday, though I couldn't put my finger on it.

She walked past me without saying a word. She didn't want me here, and I couldn't bring myself to leave. Not when she was in danger.

I rubbed a hand over my jaw. This was going to be interesting.

Levi drove us over to the marina so we could set out for the Bahamas. The sun was barely over the horizon, and the weather looked promising for the first day of our trip. We ran through a series of checks, preparing the boat to cast off. It was easy to fall into a rhythm, to get lost in the final preparations for the trip. And I was grateful to have a distraction.

We didn't speak much, but we didn't need to.

"Ready?" she finally asked, emerging from her cabin.

Sloan had changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt that stretched deliciously over her breasts before nipping in at the waist. Her shorts ended mid-thigh, and I had to clench my fists to keep from reaching out to touch her.

She wasn't mine, and she hadn't been for a long time.

"Whenever you are. The desalinization tank is full, and the solar panels are fully charged."

"Good," she said, then added, "Thanks."

I followed her up on deck, where she fired up the engines. Her sunglasses shielded her eyes from my view, and I couldn't get a read on her. I supposed that wasn't my job, though. My job was to keep her safe.

She guided us out of the marina and toward the opening to the ocean. The wind played with her braid, tendrils of hair fluttering about her face as the boat bobbed gently through the water. She looked fucking spectacular.

I hated myself for the way I'd ended things. Regretted it almost every day since, even if I'd thought I'd been doing what was best for her. Best for everyone.

I didn't know whether to address it or leave it be.

I got the feeling she'd just as soon push me overboard as talk to me about anything that didn't pertain to sailing or safety. And I could only hope this trip would be a chance for redemption. To make up for how I'd treated her in the past.

"Why Athena ?" I asked, finally coming up with a question I thought she might actually answer.

She kept her attention on the water, even as she spoke. "She's the Greek goddess of wisdom."

"What happened to Escape ?"

Her jaw was set. "I decided wisdom and strength were more important."

Well, shit.

What was I supposed to say? I was trying here, and I knew things would go more smoothly if we could build some sort of rapport. Weather reports had indicated no incoming northwesterlies, but crossing the Gulf Stream could still be hazardous. It would be better if we were on the same page. If we were a team. Sure, we'd discussed the tasks each of us would perform on board, but there was still a gaping chasm between us.

"Do you remember the first time we went sailing together?" I asked, wanting to see her smile. Laugh. Something other than the sad, serious air that seemed to hover around her shoulders like a dense fog.

"Look," she sighed. "This trip is the one thing that I do for me. And now…" She glanced out at the water then back at me. "I only agreed to have a bodyguard on board to appease my family and the Huxley board. I don't want to revisit the past. This isn't the time for a trip down memory lane."

"Okay." I held up my hands. I was merely trying to make conversation. "If you don't want to talk about the past, then tell me something about the present."

She leaned her hip against the captain's chair, her gaze skeptical. "Do you do that with your other clients?"

"Not usually. But this is different."

"Because of our past."

"Well, yes. But I was referring more to our present circumstances. I'm not typically alone with a client for such an extended period of time. There are usually other staff present. Other members of my team. Family or friends, even."

I wasn't trying to make her uncomfortable. In fact, the opposite was true. We sat in silence for a while before she asked, "Do you like being a bodyguard?"

"Technically, I'm an executive protection agent. But, yes, most people refer to us as bodyguards."

"Okay," she said, dragging out the word, annoyance bleeding into her tone. "Do you like being an executive protection agent?"

I lifted a shoulder. "It definitely has its perks at times." I gestured to the view. We were nearing the edge of the breakwater, and I knew the wind would likely pick up as soon as we were past it. The waves too.

"Here." I handed her a life vest. She thanked me, and I watched as she secured it before putting on my own.

"I'm sure it's not all fun and games. Just like everyone assumes my life is full of ease and luxury. And a lot of it is," she said, her expression darkening. "But it's also a lot of hard work."

"Exactly." I nodded. "There's a lot of prep work. A lot of things that go on behind the scenes."

"Like what?" Her curiosity encouraged me to continue. There were many other things I'd rather discuss with Sloan, but at this point, I was just grateful she was talking to me. Maybe she was finally beginning to thaw.

"Like our trip, for instance. I have to check potential locations where we'll stop. Evaluate the circumstances on each island—if they are recovering from a recent hurricane or what the current political climate is. And those are the big-picture pieces. There are other considerations, such as marina safety and security. The location of the hotels and their placement. Transportation. Availability of medical facilities. I could go on and on."

"That's definitely a lot more detail than I take into account."

"That's part of the reason why I moved to a res team."

She glanced at me. "Res team?"

"Residential," I explained. "The team stays with the principal and concentrates on the security of the principal's home. As opposed to a movement team that's formed solely for the purpose of a trip."

"So what would this assignment be considered?" she asked. "The boat is currently my home—so it's residential. But we're traveling. So, movement?"

I chuckled. "This…" Like everything with this woman. "…is unique."

"That's one word for it," she muttered. Or at least, that was what it sounded like. The wind had picked up now that we were past the breakwater. I didn't know what she was more upset about—someone encroaching on her trip or the fact that I was that someone.

We fell silent, watching as the sail unfurled. I waited until it had caught the wind, and then I tightened it around the winch. The sun beat down on me, and I tried to adjust to the idea that this would be my life for the next two months. Glancing over at Sloan, I had to admit, I didn't hate it.

The rest of the day had been pleasant, but spending the day in the sun had sapped the energy from me. Despite my exhaustion, I tossed and turned, plagued with thoughts of Sloan. Snippets from today and memories from the past.

"What would you name your boat if you had one?" she asked, running her hand over my chest. With Greer at Logan's, Sloan and I were spending a lazy morning in bed. She didn't have class until eleven, and I was off until Thursday.

"Hm." I was too distracted by her touch to think of much else. " Hydrotherapy ."

She laughed, her body vibrating against mine. It was intoxicating—her happiness, and the idea that I'd caused it.

"Mm. How about Fantasea but spelled s-e-a?"

She smacked my chest playfully. "Too cheesy."

"What about you?" I trailed my fingers up and down her back. "What would you name your boat?"

"I don't know. Maybe Liquid Asset ."

"Very punny," I joked.

"Okay, then," she said, a smile in her voice. "Be serious."

I didn't know why this was so important to her, but it was. So I said, " Serenity ."

She pushed up on her elbow and peered down at me. Her face was all scrunched and cute. "That makes me think of a funeral home. Or that show… What was it?"

" Firefly ?" I offered, pinching her side. She started giggling, batting my hands away.

"Yeah. That's the one."

I couldn't believe my sister had made her watch that. But I guessed it was a testament to their friendship. My thoughts soured. I didn't want to think about their friendship or how my relationship with Sloan might impact it.

So instead, I focused on tickling Sloan.

"Okay. You think you can do better?" I kept tickling her, making her breathless with laughter. "Huh? Tell me what you'd name your boat."

She was laughing so hard, she could barely speak. When she rolled on top of me, rocking her body against mine, I finally relented. I settled my hands on her hips.

" Escape ," she said, sighing as she sank down on my cock. " Escape ."

I groaned and tried to ignore my cock and the way it hardened at the memory. I tried to focus on the present instead of the past.

Today had been…nice. Surprisingly so, despite the rocky start.

Sloan and I hadn't talked much, but we hadn't needed to. There was a pleasantness, a contentedness, to taking responsibility for the various tasks that needed to be done on the boat. A sense of peace had settled over me as soon as the coast had faded from view, and it seemed to have the same effect on Sloan.

I'd always respected her work ethic, especially once I'd discovered who she was. Who her family was. They were so wealthy, she didn't have to work a day in her life. And yet, she'd worked two jobs in college to pay her rent. Even now, she put in the work that needed to be done to sail, when she could've easily hired a crew. She could've taken her private jet to a luxury hotel, but she was practically roughing it on a sailboat.

After a full day of sailing, we'd made it to our first stop in the Bahamas. We'd cleared customs and immigration relatively quickly, which was a relief. We'd docked for the night at a marina to rest up and make any final preparations before heading down to Turks and Caicos. That leg of the trip would take about a week if we were lucky.

After today, I found myself looking forward to it. Sloan still wasn't thrilled about my presence, but she'd actually smiled at me a few times. A smile of pure joy when we'd let out the sail and the wind had carried us away. A small tilt of her lips in gratitude when I'd brought her lunch.

I sighed, tucking my arm behind my head. I knew it wouldn't all be smooth sailing. There was still that cool undercurrent of disinterest. Of distrust. But at least today had been nice.

When I finally fell asleep, my dreams were filled with her. At first, they were vivid. Beautiful. A mix of the past and the present.

But then they turned into nightmares. The image of Sloan's lifeless eyes staring up at me. Accusing me. Asking why I hadn't protected her.

I jolted awake and wiped the sweat from my brow, trying to get my breath under control. I strained my ears for any sound—from Sloan, from someone who might want to harm her.

I couldn't figure out who was sending her the threats, and that only added to my irritability. When I'd asked Sloan about the threats earlier, she didn't seem to have any ideas about who might be sending them either, which made me feel even more powerless. A team at Hudson was working on it, but I wanted answers now.

I needed to keep her safe. The overpowering need to do something, anything, made it impossible to sleep. I stood, almost bumping my head on the ceiling.

I crept past the galley toward the deck. We hadn't left the red lights on since there was little need to protect our night vision while docked. The breeze felt good on my heated skin, and I checked the rigging and our position, drinking in the cooler night air. The sound of the waves lapping at the side of the boat was peaceful.

I stayed out there for I didn't know how long, thinking about life. About Sloan. About what could've been and all the mistakes I'd made.

I scrubbed a hand over my face. Sleep. I needed some sleep.

I headed back down to the cabin, and I was passing through the darkened galley when an elbow connected with my stomach.

Oof.

I glanced at Sloan's door—it was closed, and the lights were off. My body moved as if on autopilot, and I quickly restrained the assailant, the scent of wild roses wafting into my nose.

Oh shit. "Sloan?"

"Jackson?" She sounded equal parts relieved and annoyed. I released her and switched on a light.

She placed a hand over her heart, canting forward as if to catch her breath. "What the hell were you doing? You scared me half to death."

"I'm sorry." I reached out as if to place a hand on her back—to comfort her—before stopping myself. "But what was I supposed to do? You attacked me."

I hated that she was scared, but I was impressed by her response. Hell, she'd been able to get a drop on me, and that was no small feat. My chest bloomed with pride—all those self-defense lessons I'd given her years ago had paid off.

"Because I thought you were boarding my boat in the middle of the night." She stood, and that was when I realized what she was wearing.

A silk tank top that flowed over her skin, her nipples pebbled beneath it. And a pair of shorts so tiny they were scarcely more than underwear. Holy… My mouth went dry as I greedily scanned her form, unable to stop myself.

Her hair was mussed from sleep. And with her face devoid of makeup, she looked younger. More like my Sloan and less like the billionaire SVP she'd become.

When I finally met her eyes, the look of hunger in them was undeniable. It didn't matter how many years had passed or how much heartbreak we had between us, my body still craved her touch.

God, how I wanted to touch her. Kiss her. Taste her.

What I wouldn't give to hear her rasp my name while I was buried deep inside her.

It wasn't just about the sex. Though, the sex had always been amazing. It was the way she looked at me. Knew me. It was in our connection.

Slowly, she dragged her eyes from my chest. "I heard a motor in the distance, and it made me think of your clown pirates."

"Clown pirates?" I frowned, still trying to get my bearings. I forced my eyes off her chest or anywhere else I shouldn't be looking.

"Yes. The ones who ride Jet Skis and board boats in clown masks."

"Oh. Right."

Right? No. Fuck. What the fuck am I doing?

I took a step back, willing my dick to calm down. She was my principal. And she was in a relationship with someone else.

I desperately needed to put some distance between us before I did something stupid. Before I said to hell with the rules and made her mine.