“Anything near the shore, Cee Cee?” he bellowed back, anger still in his voice.
She blinked against the swirling snow, trying to squint at the ocean. Dark and merciless, it churned as if answering the call of the storm. “Not yet,” she yelled back. By all that was holy. She’d blown up the planekite mine, and if all else had remained on schedule, her people had just imploded several mines in Russia owned by Bychkov. Her plan was coming together nicely.
Except for Daire Dunne. Although the enforcer had shown much more restraint than she would’ve ever thought, his patience seemed to be coming to an end. Unfortunately, since Vegar had betrayed her, she needed Daire to help her off the island. Her men would’ve planted the explosives and immediately retreated, which left her either with Bychkov or Dunne.
Dunne was the safer choice at this point.
Probably.
Ice flicked up from the skis, and she ducked her head.
As a fighter, he was legendary, and now she’d seen him in action. While he’d been incredibly gentle with her so far, there was no question a deadly predator, a fierce fighter, lived easily within Dunne’s handsome skin. He hadn’t treated her as an enemy, that much she knew. And the reason, as difficult as it was to admit, was because he didn’t see her as one. He didn’t see her as a threat.
Was she?
She’d held her own physically with Vegar, and she was more than holding her own intellectually with Bychkov. But with Daire? He’d found her in the middle of nowhere, and now he’d taken command of the mission. She hated feeling weak, and pride insisted she hide her frailties from him. He treated her like a woman, whole and strong, even if he was pissed.
His scent surrounded her, both masculine and earthy. She liked him, and damn, she wanted him. But she couldn’t have one more person in her life who couldn’t see past her size or looks. No matter how much he heated her blood.
Something dark cut through the haze of the sea.
She leaned her cheek against Daire’s bare back, stunned by the continued warmth. Out in the sea, hugging the shoreline, something moved. She patted his stomach. “I see something.”
He nodded and lowered his chin, twisting the throttle. “Hold on,” he bellowed. “We’re going in hot.”
Her thighs clamped against this, and she held on with all her strength. Ice popped up next to her, and Daire swerved. More ice, and he swore. Somebody on the boat was shooting at them?
She glared through the mist, trying to make sense of the shapes. A man stood at the front of a long yacht, pointing a rifle. The storm and distance masked the sound, but bullets continued to ping around them.
Daire’s head was thrown back, and he hissed. His body jerked against her. The smell of blood clogged her nostrils.
She held on tighter, patting up his torso. “Where are you hit?”
“Right arm,” he ground out, turning sharply to the left.
She yelped and struggled to remain in place. A white hangar sat against a stark outcropping, barely visible. He skidded to a stop and was off the vehicle and kicking open a door in the span of a heartbeat. Dashes of blood followed in his wake.
How badly was he hurt?
She scrambled off the snowmobile and ran after him, sliding across bloody snow he’d tracked inside. A sleek silver helicopter took up the center of the concrete hangar. It had small wings with propellers as well as the rotor on top. Definitely a new design and nothing she’d ever seen before.
“Get inside,” he yelled, his voice echoing off metal walls as he ran for a button on the far wall.
She nodded and ran to the machine, pulled the handle, and jumped inside. The interior smelled like leather and Daire. The roof began to open, and snow billowed down.
Daire reached the other side and leaped into the pilot’s seat. “Buckle up.” Blood coursed down his arm, dripping onto the leather.
She whipped off the coat he’d made her wear and pressed the material against his wound.
He swore and jerked away.