Page 10 of Rogue
I step out onto the deck and watch as McKenzie’s big blue eyes widen in surprise. “You? What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
“I… What… How…” she stammers. Her brows knit together and her lips purse in confusion, and dammit if I don’t get even harder. Those lips were made for a man’s cock.Get a grip, Noah. McKenzie’s a mark, a means to an end. Nothing more. Now if my dick would just get the memo. I nod to Manuel, and he discreetly disappears, leaving me alone with McKenzie.
“You left something in my room in Vegas.” I hold out the list. “By the time I found it, you’d already checked out, and I didn’t trust leaving it with the front desk to return to you. You’d told me how important it was to you. I knew I had to get it back to you, but I didn’t even know your last name. Then I remembered you saying you were sailing out of Coron. As I told you, I’m familiar with sailing the Philippines, so I asked my buddy if I could borrow his boat.”
McKenzie is clutching the tattered paper against her chest, her blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “You traveled halfway around the world to give this back to me?”
I shrug, suddenly a little uncomfortable. “I love to sail, and I had some time off coming. I thought maybe I could even help you with the list. If you want it. SEALs help each other.”
It’s not an out-and-out lie—SEALs would die for each other—but the implication that I’m here as a SEAL to help her brother, especially after Manuel has told her I’m one, is probably going to earn me a spot in hell if I don’t already have one with my name on it.
McKenzie chews her bottom lip, clearly weighing the decision in her mind. Finally, she says, “The couple I booked with over a month ago to take me didn’t show up. There’s not even a record of them setting sail out of here. I could wait and book someone else, but if you’re going to be sailing anyway… I could pay you. Well.”
“I don’t need money.” That at least is true. When I told him about McKenzie’s plan to sail the Philippines, El Gato dumped a quarter of a million dollars into my account and told me to do whatever it took to get her on my boat.
She frowns, no doubt remembering my penthouse in Vegas.
“Surely there’s something I can give you.”
I give her a slow once-over, my gaze roving deliberately over her body. “That’s a tempting offer.”
She blushes.
“You ever sailed before?”
She shakes her head. “But I won’t get in the way. And I can help. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Is that right?” I can’t help grinning at that. The image of her on her knees obediently in front of me, awaiting my command, is heady.
Her pupils have dilated, and I don’t miss the way she presses her thighs together slightly.
“I’d be happy to take you, although I have to warn you, it’s a pretty bare-bones existence on the boat. No wifi or human contact, except for me, although there are plenty who would argue that I don’t count as human. You have anything on your agenda other than just sailing?”
“I need to tweet from the equator, but since you don’t have wifi, I guess that’s out. So just sailing. Unless you want to scuba dive in Malaysia.” Her small smile and self-deprecating tone make it clear she doesn’t want to impose.
“You dive?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. Somehow, she just doesn’t seem like the type.
“I got certified before I left.”
“I’ve got some dive equipment on the boat, and Malaysia isn’t too far out of the way. The reef is one of the most beautiful places in the world to dive.”
Her eyes are shining. “Really? You’d go with me?”
“Sure.” Diving had been a recent addition to her brother’s bucket list, and if I don’t figure out what McKenzie knows before we get there, maybe there will be a clue in Malaysia that might indicate where the hell Liam stashed the missing shipment of guns he took out of Iraq and sold to El Gato before he died.
She hesitates for a half a second and then nods. “Thank you. I’ll get my stuff.”
Thirty minutes later, her surprisingly small duffle bag is stowed in the cabin, I’ve gassed up, and we’ve cast off, headed out to the open sea. McKenzie’s pressed as far into the corner of the bench seat as she can be, gripping the edge of the cushion tightly as we motor away from the dock.
“Nervous?” I ask as I open the throttle.
“No…” She loosens her death grip on the seat slightly, but if her body was any more rigid, she’d snap in two. “Okay, a little,” she admits. “I’ve never been on the ocean before. It’s awfully big, isn’t it? And no offense, but your boat seems kind of small.”
I remember the excitement and pride in her eyes when she told me about jumping off the waterfall, and the confident sway of her hips when she walked away from the poker table, knowing damn well the effect she was having on me with the unspoken invitation. I have a feeling that’s the real McKenzie Prescott, not this tentative girl who’s been beaten down by God knows what. Her brother’s death, for sure. She needs a dose of confidence—the kind that comes from doing things that scare you but make you feel alive—and the resulting affirmation that she’s stronger than she thinks she is. Of course, I’m not stupid enough to tell her that, but I can show her.
“It’s big enough. Come here. I need you to steer while I unfurl the sail.”
“What? I don’t know how to drive a boat.” Her voice is tinged with panic.
“You’ll be fine. Get your cute little ass over here.”
She loosens her grip on the seat cushion and walks over to where I’m standing by the wheel. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” I say with a wink as I move aside. “I’ll tell you exactly what to do.” She blushes at the not-so-subtle innuendo, and I’d give my left ball to know just what’s going through her head that makes her eyes darken and her lashes lower. “Stand here, and put your hands on the wheel. It’s just like a car.” She places her hands tentatively on the wheel, and I stand behind her, my body curving around hers as I grip the wheel, too, my arms on either side of her. The physical reaction to our bodies touching—even something as simple as the feel of her back against my chest—is overwhelming, and my blood thrums with awareness. She inhales sharply. She feels it, too. The sexual tension only intensifies as I cover her hands with mine, showing her how to operate the throttle and gearshift.
Fuck. This girl is dangerous.I take a step back. “Just keep it steady and steer into the wind. Piece of cake.”
She nods, her gaze trained intently over the bow as if there are fifty icebergs to navigate around instead of open sea. I unfurl and raise the mainsail, calling out instructions to McKenzie, which she follows to a tee. Then we’re sailing, the bow riding the gentle waves, tossing back spray as we head out into the Pacific.
