And there’s the fucking rub.
“That’s a valid concern,” Colin said, running his hand back and forth over his jaw in thought. “However, secrecy is of the upmost importance to me, Mr. Ruiz. The vast majority of my culture would come after me with pitchforks if they found out I was keeping a slave. I would need to have a room of my home outfitted for her safekeeping. I’m prepared to discipline her.”
“If anyone were to ever find out,” Marco said. “I don’t know you. We have never met.”
Colin gave the man a slow, understanding nod.
Was this really happening? Was Marco considering selling her? Fuck, maybe that’d been his plan all along when he found out she was Colin’s “muse.” Did he hope to rid himself of the burden of the American girl? After all he’d been through that week, he wanted to laugh.
“I will take our association to the grave, Mr. Ruiz.”
Marco nodded. “I believe that about you.”
“Name your price,” Colin said. “A muse like Angela will cause my business to boom…”
Marco tensed and his eyes went hard. Colin was slow to realize his mistake.
He’d called her Angela. Marco had never referred to her as anything but Angel.
From the corner of his eye he saw Luis going for his gun. Colin embraced the burst of adrenaline that came with the following moments of chaos. Colin launched himself from his seat toward the bodyguard, shoving him against the stern of the boat. He heard Marco shout, maybe calling for the captain. Momentarily distracted, Colin took a jab to the abdomen before head-butting the bodyguard, kneeing him in the gut, and hearing his gun clatter to their feet and slide across the deck.
Colin blocked Luis’s sloppy throws, relishing the sound of the man’s pained grunts each time his fists landed, quick and hard, pushing him toward the stern. From the corner of his eye he saw Marco reaching for the fallen gun at their feet. Colin kicked him in the jaw and watched the fucker fly back. It landed him a punch to the skull, but it was worth it.
Luis’s knuckle split, gaping, from his punch, and he howled. Stupid fuck. Never hit a man’s head with your bare knuckles. Colin ran at him, ramming his shoulder upward into Luis’s gut and lifting him off his feet. In a clean sweep, the bodyguard flew over the stern, grasping at the rail and yelling as he looked down at the wash of water caused by the giant propellers. Colin leaned over and snatched the second gun from the man’s waist, and then slammed the butt down on Luis’s fingers.
The man fell, his garbled holler swallowed up as the rush of water sucked him in with a series of sickening thuds.
Colin turned to take care of Marco and found himself too late. The other man had managed to get his hands on the gun, and he was scrambling backward, trying to point the thing at him.
Colin dove into the near hallway, hearing the bang and whir of a shot fired past him. From the ground, he took aim and fired, celebrating internally when he heard Marco yell, throwing his head back and grabbing his shattered knee with one hand.
“Drop the fucking gun or you’re dead,” Colin said.
The bloody bastard shot again, clipping Colin’s shoulder. Fuck, that stung, and now he was livid. He pumped two more rounds from his awkward angle, shooting Marco in the shoulder and arm.
Marco dropped the gun and fumbled to hold his shoulder and leg. Colin jumped to his feet and stood over the man, kicking the second gun away.
“Se?or Ruiz?” called a male voice over a speaker.
Shite. The captain.
“Tell him you’re okay!” Colin whisper-hissed to Marco, the gun barrel at his temple. “In English.”
Through panting breaths, Marco called out, “I am fine.”
A sense of calming resolve seemed to have settled over the man as he stared up at Colin. “FBI?”
“I work alone.” Colin’s gun never wavered from Marco’s face.
“It’s not too late,” Marco said. “Whoever sent you…whoever paid you…they never have to know. They can think you died, and the girl can be yours.”
For the briefest moment Colin allowed himself to imagine it. Marco’s eyes were shining with the knowledge that he was calling forth another man’s demons.
Colin punched him in the jaw, throwing the man’s head to the side and causing him to go even more limp.
“Don’t you fucking look at me like that.”
Even with all Colin had been through, he’d never been much for murder—he’d injured many, but only killed when the only other option was to be killed himself. He hadn’t wished for a person’s death and suffering this badly since he’d hunted his family’s murderers and Graham’s kidnappers. His finger tightened on the trigger just as a shrill scream pierced the air.