A Million Different Ways to Lose You (Horn Duet 2)

Sebastian was still speechless. At some point he got tired of watching me tap dance in my seat, pulled me onto his lap, and made love to my mouth––effectively shutting me up. When he got tired of that, he gave me a tour of the beautifully appointed bedroom in the back of the plane, where I effectively shut him up.

The mile high high didn’t last though. As soon as we landed, my mood plummeted to basement level when we found agents Vasquez and Lewis waiting for us on the tarmac. And they weren’t alone. Looking like the grim reaper’s hotter, younger brother, Ben stood next to them dressed head to toe in black, legs locked and arms crossed over a bulging chest.

The troubled look that appeared on Sebastian’s face as soon as he spotted them told me everything I needed to know.

“What now?” he drawled.

Ben’s cheek twitched. I’d never seen him look concerned before. He was always in neutral, irreverent in the face of danger. No doubt part of his training. “We got intel out of the driver.”

Sebastian’s focused gaze moved to Agent Vasquez. Thumbs hooked into her belt, hers met Sebastian’s with just as much intensity. “Right before they picked him up he got the green light to take you out––no more warning shots. They’re coming after you.”

Only hours ago I was soaring with joy. Now I was descending quickly into despair, my fear for him immeasurable. I tried best I could to put a brave face on, but it was hopeless. Fingers laced, I squeezed his hand, sandwiching it between both of mine.

“We need to get you out of town,” Ben stated, because it was too late for suggestions. His pale, frosty gaze narrowed in deep thought. “Somewhere isolated, someplace you don’t have habits––somewhere easy to see them coming.”

Sebastian and Ben exchanged knowing glances.

“A boat,” Sebastian stated. Ben agreed with a simple nod.

Chapter Thirteen

The next day we left for the French Riviera in a helicopter piloted by Ben. Not even Sebastian’s filthy jokes could dissuade me from feeling anxious. I spent the entire flight with my heart in my throat and my short nails digging into his skin, which I only noticed when we landed. As soon as I spotted the red, crescent shaped marks, I frowned and kissed his arm. Sweet man. He hadn’t said a word about it.

By the time we landed, I was ready to fall to my knees and kiss the solid ground beneath me. However, there was no time. Immediately, we were escorted into a car and driven at warp speed into Cap Ferrat by Ben.

Standing on a concrete pier that stretched for miles, my eyes climbed higher and higher until I was gazing up at what seemed to be a ship.

“We’re going on a cruise?” I asked, in a delighted voice, my naiveté on full display. Sebastian’s brow wrinkled––and then it dawned on him. His chest rattled with the deep sound of laughter that exploded out of his mouth. “No, babe. This is our boat.”

“Just for us?” This couldn’t be right. It was a cruise ship. I wrinkled my nose, the heat of the sun turning it fifty shades of red. I lowered my sunglasses to get a better look at it.

“Hmm.”

“But….have you invited more people?” I looked around for a moment. Then glanced again at the ‘cruise ship’.

“No––unless you mean those guys,” he said, smiling, a mix of love and amusement flashing in his whisky colored eyes. I glanced around him and watched twenty armed men loading weapons onto our boat. No, we were definitely not taking a cruise.

Some people believe that with time you can become accustomed to just about anything. Time had done nothing to make me at all comfortable with this level of opulence. If anything, every day brought more evidence that I was a figurative and literal foreigner in a foreign land, an imposter. Alice wasn’t meant to live in Wonderland after all. At some point she had to return to reality…didn’t she?

On our way to Sardinia, we stopped in Corsica, dropping anchor just outside the Bay of Calvi. We were not alone in this; a number of megayachts were parked outside the bay because they were so large they would’ve run aground.

The vista was a feast for the senses. The red and gold craggy Corsican landscape jutted out and embraced the bay, the crystalline water a patchwork of blues and greens resembling spilled jewels glistening in the sunlight.

I whiled away the morning on the deck of the yacht, seeking refuge from the blistering sun under the shade of the enormous canopy of a lounge chair. The sirocco kicked up, a blast of dry, hot air carrying with it the sweet scent of North Africa. For the first time since we’d left Geneva, I let myself relax, closed my eyes and surrendered to the serenade of the wind.