Maxim pulled up one of the corners of the canvas to allow her to crawl inside. Stay still. Don't make a sound. I'll be a while. Guard that bag, we'll need it to get out of here.
What are you doing now?
I'm going to disable the helicopter and then go talk to the captain. The engines should begin to lose power soon and the ship will start slowing. He'll be barking orders at the engine room but no one is alive to hear him.
Her gaze clung to his, making it difficult to leave her. He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. She blinked up at him, but she didn't pull away and she didn't kiss him back. She merely looked at him. He stepped back and yanked down the canvas, sending up a silent prayer no one discovered her.
He made his way to the helicopter, not bothering to hide his presence. He would draw more attention slinking around then just walking right out in the open. He was supposedly a member of Evan's mercenary army and few would consider interfering with him or questioning him.
Two men patrolling around the upper deck nodded to him and kept moving. They looked bored with their job and weren't paying much attention to anything but each other and the argument they appeared to be having. He waited until they had disappeared from sight and then strolled right up to the helicopter.
It wasn't difficult to slip inside without being seen. He moved quickly. Flying helicopters had been easy enough to learn; repairing them was something altogether different, but they had to learn just in case their ride went down. He crawled to the baggage bay and removed two of the avionics panels.
He worked fast, but meticulously. He took off the cover housing to the start solenoid and took out the contact. The engine wouldn't start without it and a few other systems wouldn't work either. He replaced the cover and then the panels before easing out of the baggage bay. He glanced at his watch. He'd disabled the helicopter in record time, but still, night had fallen fast and already the ship's engines sounded labored.
The ship was definitely slowing. He jumped from the helicopter and slipped under it, between the skids, waiting while the wind brought him information. The two guards were on the far side of the ship from him, but two men were hurrying toward the stairs, most likely to find out why no one was answering below in the engine room.
He moved into the shadows to follow them. He caught them just above the stairwell. "You'll need to remain quiet and come with me," he said softly, announcing his presence.
Both swung around to face him, eyes going wide with shock when they saw the gun. He handed the shorter of the two a zip tie. "Hands behind his back, put it on tight."
The taller of the two men glared at him as the shorter one complied. "You'll never get away with this."
"You're lucky I'm letting you live. Everyone below is already dead." He slapped tape over the man's mouth and then indicated for the shorter one to turn around. It took only seconds to tie and gag him with the tape and zip ties. The container that had held the women was a short distance from the stairs. He marched them to it, unlocked it and shoved them both inside.
The smell of death was overpowering. He slammed the door closed on the foul odor and inserted the lock. He strode across the deck again, heading toward the bridge. The ship shuddered and slowed more. Several crew members raced toward stations. He kept walking, ignoring the chaos breaking out on the deck. The captain was shouting into his radio, calling down to the engine room for an explanation, but clearly it was of no use.
"Captain Martsen?" Maxim said softly.
Martsen spun around, swearing as Maxim continued toward him. He waved the Russian off. "I've got no time right now," he snapped. "I've got problems."
"Of course you do," Maxim replied in a soothing voice. "You've had them for a while now, haven't you?"
"What are you talking about?" Martsen demanded.
The ship shuddered again and the roar of the engines quieted. The momentum of their speed kept them moving, but clearly they were no longer being powered.
"I suggest you drop anchor," Maxim advised.
"I know what to do with my own ship," Martsen proclaimed. "Get out of here before I call security to have you thrown out."
Maxim leaned his hip against the wall and looked coolly down his nose at Martsen. "It's a little too late for that, don't you think?"
Martsen turned back to give the order. "Drop anchor. Drop anchor now."
At once the sound of the huge chain vibrated through the bridge and sparks flew up into the night like a small fireworks show.
"That's all I needed from you," Maxim said. He pulled out his gun. "Keep in mind, Martsen, you're of no more use to me and I prefer to just kill you outright. Get moving. Walk toward the container where you keep those women prisoner."
The first officer and second officers raised their hands immediately and began to walk toward Maxim when he indicated to do so with his weapon.
The captain glanced through the glass, out onto the deck to see the two men running toward them with assault rifles. "Go fuck yourself, Maxim, this is my ship . . ."
Maxim shot Martsen dead center in the middle of his forehead and turned the gun on the two security men running toward the bridge. They fired at him, and he dropped low. The first and second officers went down as the sweep of bullets smashed equipment. Maxim took careful aim, using the wind for his map, and he fired one shot, taking out the closest of the two men.
He could hear more men running, and satisfaction moved through him. It was going to be easier killing them all in one place. They should have spread out and used available cover.
Airiana screamed. Loud. In pain. That hadn't been in his plan. His heart jerked hard in his chest and he called the wind, looking for her exact location and how many men surrounded her. Two in front of her and two on either side.
He rose and fired at the second security man, killing him instantly. Two men dragged Airiana toward the bridge while two others held their weapons at ready. Maxim slipped out of the control room and found the shadows. He was part of the night and could move in silence. He waited for the two men in the lead to reach him. He kicked the first one in the face hard, using a roundhouse kick, and caught the other by the neck, dragging him in front of him.
He rapid-fired two bullets, aiming for head shots, taking out the two men on either side of Airiana. She shoved one fist in her mouth, but reached down to recover her rifle as he shot the man he was holding in the head, shoved the body away and slapped at the gun of the second attacker, knocking it away. He caught the man's head in his bare hands, twisted as he spun his body around, lifting him over his shoulder by his head and neck. The crack was loud. He ran toward Airiana and caught her arm, taking her with him as he continued running back toward the lifeboat and his war bag.
Blood ran down her face from a wound in her hairline. The dark scrap of shirt that had been serving as a scarf to hold her hair was gone. The blood looked obscene running down her pale face and smeared in her wild, angel hair. He wiped at it with his shirt. "Get back in there and get dressed. Put the wet suit on fast. Put the oil on your body first and stash these clothes in the war bag."
She shook her head but complied. He had a couple more men to secure and then the children would be safe. The chief steward and cook, the boatswain and three more seamen. They would have heard the gunshots and they'd be expecting trouble. He didn't want Airiana anywhere on the deck when trouble came.
He slipped carefully through the containers, allowing the air around him to guide him. Someone had climbed up above for a better view. That was easy enough. He brought in the wind, a gale force directed at the man leaping from one container to the next. The wind hit the man square in the chest while he was in the air, blowing him backward. The man screamed and flailed in the air as he was picked up and thrown overboard.
He heard a whisper of movement coming from the stairwell. Maxim rolled from the shadows of the container to the small tucked-in alcove beside the stairs, coming up on one knee, his weapon trained on the second man coming up. The first passed h
im, assault rifle in hand, and the second, a dark-haired, swarthy, heavily muscled man moved stealthily into view.
The dark-haired male suddenly turned his head alertly, shifting on the balls of his feet and launching himself at Maxim. Maxim got two shots off before he was hit hard, knocking him backward, the breath rushing from his lungs. Both bullets hit the first man, but the noise of the large man tackling him brought four others running.
He rolled, came to his feet, and the man slammed a boot in his chest, driving him back to the stairwell. He nearly went over the railing, his weapon tangling in the metal frame. Another kick to the ribs nearly smashed his bones. His rifle stayed in the metal and he went flying.
He palmed a throwing knife as he hit the deck, rolled and threw with deadly accuracy. The big man went down, the knife buried in his neck. A bullet smashed right over his head and Maxim dove for cover. The four men formed a semicircle, blasting the entire area, keeping him pinned and putting dozens of holes in the bodies of their shipmates.
Behind them, he heard the sound of a gun and his heart nearly stopped. One of the men stumbled forward, went to his knees and toppled onto his face. A second did the same. He saw her then. Dressed in her wet suit, all in black, even her hair covered by the hood, she stood a distance away with the assault rifle steady in her hands.
He fell in love right there. As the others turned toward her, he pulled his weapon free and shot them just as she did.
"You were late," she said. "And I got scared."
"I know. I'm sorry."
Now that it was over, her hands trembled. He took the weapon from her. "We're getting out of here."
"I'm feeling a little light-headed."
She was definitely pale. "Just sit down. I'll be another minute."
It took a few minutes to strip, rub himself down with a little oil and slip into his scuba gear. He radioed the sub to make certain it was in position and waiting for them and then he called his brother and dumped the entire mess in his lap, making certain to give them the correct phrase so Benito wouldn't shoot anyone. Lev didn't sound happy, but he was cooperative, understanding, as no one else could be in the situation. He promised to get the children to safety and deal with the disaster aboard ship.
Maxim turned his attention to giving Airiana a crash course in breathing with a tank.
9
AIRIANA had never been so terrified in her life. She wanted to be back on the ship, fighting a dozen armed men rather than swimming in a dark, cold ocean in the dead of night. She wasn't a strong swimmer. She wasn't even a swimmer at all. She didn't go into the water. She'd never learned to swim. She might put her toes in the water, but never her face. And she didn't breathe into tanks. She didn't know how.
You're psyching yourself out again. Just breathe the way I showed you. There was a trace of amusement in his voice.
She didn't find anything funny about the situation at all. This is insanity.
It's an adventure. Just keep moving.
She didn't have a choice. He had tied them together, hooking a line from his belt to hers. He was a strong swimmer and was practically towing her through the water. She did her best not to panic, but every so often she couldn't remember how to breathe and he would stop and hold her, talking softly in her mind and showing her how until the panic subsided and she could use the equipment.
Are we almost there? She felt like a little child in the family car asking every ten minutes when they'd arrive at their cross-country destination.
We've been in the water about ten minutes. You're asking me every ninety seconds. This time there was no mistaking the laughter.
There was no way that was true. She was certain they'd been hours in the water. She was so cold she couldn't stop shaking. And the terror didn't go away, it only increased the longer she was underwater.
I don't think you're funny. I want to surface. She knew she had a knife strapped to her suit and she was going to find the darn thing, cut herself loose and just swim without him to the surface.
She stopped kicking and felt her tool belt, searching for the knife. Instantly his hand clamped down on hers. She was always that little bit shocked at how strong he was. His arm circled her waist and he removed the knife from her hand.
Two more minutes, honey. That's it. I'm sorry I teased you. The sub's just ahead of us.
She clung to him for a moment, afraid she couldn't even last two more minutes. She just wanted to go home. To be in her house. Her bed. She wasn't the adventurous type.
Two minutes, Airiana. I promise.
She nodded her understanding and reluctantly let him go. He turned her in the direction they were swimming and set off again, using stronger strokes to cut through the water. She tried to do the same, mimicking his actions, struggling not to cry and to keep the air moving in her lungs. Her tendency was to try to hold her breath. It didn't help that tears clogged her throat and burned behind her eyes.
Can you see the lights just ahead?
She detested being such a baby. She should have learned to swim in spite of her mother's absolute panic every time they were near water. Marina had nearly drowned as a child and she'd never gotten over the fear. She'd never wanted Airiana to get even close to a large body of water.
I'm sorry, Maxim. I can't seem to overcome my fear of the water. She felt childish and silly beside a man who seemed to be able to do everything and do it well. You don't seem to be afraid of anything.
Of course I'm afraid. Maxim glanced at her.
She had no idea how afraid he was--of her, of what she was, of who she was. Meeting her and spending such an intense twenty-four hours with her had bound them together when already they had a strong connection. The thought of needing her, of craving her and becoming obsessed with her, was more terrifying to him than anything else he could imagine.
He could face anything, but caring about someone else to the extent he was beginning to care about Airiana was something so far out of his wheelhouse he wasn't certain what to do. She represented a home and family, and he had long ago, when he was a boy, lost those things.
Maxim?
Her voice was soft, brushing at the walls of his mind, finding its way into his heart. He knew weapons. He'd been shot and knifed and even tortured, but that soft voice was more powerful than any other threat he'd ever faced.
It's just ahead, honey. You can see the lights, he encouraged.
She stopped swimming abruptly, staring at the small submarine. There's no air underwater, Maxim.
That's not entirely true. There are gasses in the water and . . . He trailed off. She didn't need a science lesson and probably knew more than he did. What's wrong?
I can see patterns in the lights. There was fear in her voice. You're an air element, can you see them?
He could, and it didn't make him happy. Yes. Stick close to me once we're on board. The sub will take us to rendezvous with a ship your father is on.
The patterns suggest danger.
We're kind of used to that by now, aren't we? He kept his voice matter-of-fact.
He should have known that as an air element, she would catch warnings as well. It was the last thing he wanted her to see. She'd been through too much, and she still had to meet her father and listen to his proposal.
All along Maxim had feared that Theodotus wouldn't take no for an answer from his daughter. He might love her in theory, in his mind, but he didn't know her, and when it came to his work, he could be utterly ruthless. Her father would have no qualms about taking her back to Russia with him. He wouldn't even consider it a betrayal. He'd convince himself it was best for her, that he could keep her safe. In reality, he'd be using her brilliance for his own gain.
That warning was for both of them. Keeping his promise to Airiana wasn't going to be easy. We'll make it through this if you trust me. No matter what I do, trust me that I have your best interests at heart and that my goal is to get you back home, if that's your wish after speaking to your father.
They were at
the sub's hatch. He caught her wrist, holding her to him. Waiting. Her eyes searched his, there in the strange yellowish glow of the sub, behind the face mask. She nodded, slowly, almost reluctantly.
Maxim stayed very close to Airiana once aboard. They both stripped and he gave her the clothes he'd carried in the waterproof war bag that went with him nearly everywhere. She didn't protest that he didn't turn away from her as she tore the wet suit from her body. She didn't even look at him.
Airiana shook uncontrollably, and he took a towel and dried her body and hair as best he could before helping her into the soft sweats he'd brought along in her size, just for this purpose.
He dried himself off and then dressed, taking his time, giving her a chance to recover a bit before they faced anyone. When he was finished, he sank down onto the small built-in bench and pulled her into his arms, trying to warm her with his body heat.
"I'm exhausted," she admitted, and buried her face into his neck.
It was a sure sign of her weariness to actually allow him to hold her again. She'd been withdrawn from him ever since he'd announced what a mistake he'd made connecting them together in the Prakenskii ritual. That was sacred, something they all knew one didn't ever do unless it was right and lasting.
He'd carelessly marked her, not ready for such a thing himself and uncertain of what would really happen. Now he knew. He just grew more obsessed with her. That--and caring more for her. He lifted her in his arms and took her through the hatch into the narrow passageway.
"Maxim." One of the few men he ever acknowledged he felt friendship toward greeted him. "Is she all right?"
Valentin Blatov was older than Maxim by a few years and he'd tried to look out for the younger boys in the training school. Maxim had learned to distrust anyone friendly very early on, but Valentin had proved to be the real thing, a rarity among those teaching or the older boys who were given orders to make the younger boys stronger.
"She doesn't swim, Valentin," Maxim admitted. "She needs a warm bed and maybe something hot to drink. A little food. She'll be good."
"We'll get under way immediately. Any trouble?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle." He liked Valentin, but that didn't mean he would trust those children to him--or to anyone else but his brothers.