Lifeline

She’s alive.

She’s alive.

She’s alive.

It’s the only thing that matters.

I hear the bottle hit the floor as JJ sets it down, and a moment later, she curls against my side. Wrapping my arms around her, I press my mouth to her drying hair. “Try to sleep,” I whisper.

Her cheek brushes over my skin, and she snuggles closer. Reaching for her ass, I pull her on top of me, so she’s straddling my lap, then press my hand to the back of her head, guiding her to lie against my chest. “Sleep, baby. I’ll watch over you.”

JJ wraps her arms around my neck, and burying her face against my skin, she lets out a deep breath. I press a kiss to her temple, my eyes lifting to the upper deck where the party is still in full swing.

She’s alive.

Rama comes to stand by a railing, and resting his forearms on the chrome, he looks down at us.

Christ, I wish a sniper would take him out right now. I want to fucking bathe in his blood, flowing like a fucking waterfall down on me.

My arms tighten protectively around JJ, and I keep his stare until he finally pulls back, returning to the party.

JJ

I wake up to the gentle lapping of waves and burrow closer to the heat.

Slowly the previous day’s events trickle back. At first, it’s a jumbled mess of flashes of me packing to join the team. I remember the front door shuddering open and four men flooding the tiny apartment. I remember putting up a fight, which was useless. Then nothing.

Stirring, I open my eyes and take in the deck, the railing, the dark blue ocean.

O’Brien’s hand begins to rub up and down my back, and he pulls me closer, his other arm an unforgiving steel band around me.

My legs are dead, nothing more than pins and needles.

More memories flood back. The cabin. O’Brien fucking me.

O’Brien thrusting inside me. So hard. So deep.

God.

My body starts to tremble, the need for more of him pouring into my veins.

Then I recall him breaking down before he turned off his emotions. How domineering he was. All alpha, sharp edges, and dirty demands. It was so damn hot. Intoxicating. Addictive.

Heat floods me like a tidal wave, and my body stirs against his, looking for any kind of friction.

Pulling back, my hands move to his shoulders. It takes a moment for me to gather the courage before I lift my eyes to his.

I’m met with harsh, dark brown pools, still devoid of emotion.

There’s only the sound of the ocean around us, the yacht strangely quiet. The more my senses focus, the more I become aware of my surroundings.

Depravity and anguish hang like a thick sludge over every surface.

The blow hits so hard my body sways.

The girls.

The screams.

My heart cracks wide open, and shame spills like a poisonous river from the organ.

O’Brien’s hands shoot up to frame my face, and shaking his head, he commands, “Stop thinking.”

A sob shudders over my lips, my face crumbling under the weight of my emotions.

“Stop, JJ!” he orders, his tone biting and unyielding. “Just focus on me.”

My body obeys, the tears retreating as a calmness washes through me. I keep my eyes locked with O’Brien’s, his unwavering strength spilling into me.

This man has so much power over me, and I realize no matter what he becomes, no matter how dark, I love him. I’ll always love him.

And I’d follow him into the depths of hell.

“Good girl,” he breathes. Pulling me back to his chest, his fingers weave into my hair, and I’m held in place against his warm skin.

O’Brien turns his face to mine, his breath skims over my jaw and cheek, then he murmurs, “They don’t know who you are. They think you’re just a woman I’m interested in. Keep it that way. You’re Jenna Johnson, and I’m Danny Laze until we walk off this yacht.”

I nod my understanding, relieved they don’t know I’m an agent.

Then again, I’d be dead if they knew.

He presses a tender kiss beneath my ear, then continues, “Today’s going to be fucking brutal. Just focus on me and do exactly as I say.”

“Okay,” I whisper, instinctively pressing closer to him. Needing to connect with him on an emotional level, I ask, “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” he mutters, irritation lacing his words.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath of him. “I’m sorry –”

“Quiet!” My eyes snap open, and when I try to pull back, his hold on me tightens so much, it’s painful. “We’re not going to talk about this. We’re going to keep our fucking cover and walk off this yacht alive. Get it?”

“Yes, sir.”

It takes a couple of minutes before O’Brien’s grip on me eases. He starts to move, and when he stands up, I almost slump to the floor because my legs are useless from not moving them the entire night.