Air Bound (Sea Haven/Sisters of the Heart 3)

"This one is already taken, I'm afraid," Maxim said. "Bought and paid for, I'm told. I'm just the deliveryman. I don't deal in women. You know that."

"But she's so perfect for me," the prince insisted. "You know I can pay. Double what you're already getting. I'll have the money wired to your account."

"She's not a gun--or a target." Amusement took the sting from his refusal. "I deal in weapons. I'm sure the captain has someone else for you."

The prince's eyes narrowed. "She's the one I want." He reached to touch Airiana's hair.

Maxim thrust her behind him, all friendliness vanishing instantly. He gave off the feeling of absolute danger. "It would not be in your best interest to put your hands on this woman. I gave my word to deliver her safely, and as you know, I am a man of my word."

Airiana tangled her fingers in the back of Maxim's shirt, terrified that the prince might persuade Maxim or the captain to hand her over.

The prince stood utterly still. "I am not a man you want for an enemy."

Maxim shrugged. "Move aside. We can continue this discussion at a later date if you desire. You know how to get in touch with me."

Saeed shoved open the door to his luxury cabin, and Airiana glanced inside. There was blood on the sheets. A small girl lay across the bed sideways, her head hanging over the edge, eyes wide open and glassy.

Maxim caught Airiana and yanked her to the other side of his body, beneath his shoulder, keeping his bulk firmly between her and the sight of the broken child. Her heart stuttered and a tremor seized her body. She couldn't stop shaking once she started.

Maxim glanced down at the top of her head. "You can do this. Be strong for a few more minutes. Keep walking."

She wasn't certain she could. Her legs felt like spaghetti, weak and wobbly and nearly impossible to control. Pride--and his death grip on her arm--kept her moving more than anything else. Her stomach lurched and she feared she might throw up.

"Airiana, these men won't touch you."

It was a decree. A promise. Even if it was true that he was somehow on her side, how could one man fight his way through all those men with her in tow? Again, where would they go? They couldn't fling themselves into the sea. But she went with him. What else was there to do? She couldn't stand the sight of all those smug men with their disgusting leers and snide smiles.

"This ship is used to traffic women, isn't it?"

"One of the two that I know of. That's why they have the luxury cabins on board. Not for eccentric, rich travelers who want to 'rough it' on cargo ships, but for clients who pay large sums of money to do as they wish for their time at sea. Bodies are easily disposed of here." His voice was grim. "The women and children brought aboard these ships never live long. Evan Shackler-Gratsos owns both. He and his brother conceived the idea some years ago. Business is brisk."

There was no mistaking the stark honesty in his voice. He was either the best actor in the world or he really despised those on board. Still, the information, honest or not, didn't make her feel any easier. She was now a prisoner on board a vessel at sea where women and children were given to men to do as they pleased and then murdered and thrown overboard. This had been the information Elle Drake had gone undercover in order to find.

Airiana bit her lip hard and tried to fight back the burn of tears. It did no good to cry. She had to think, to not give up hope, but right now, all she wanted to do was get away from the horrible stares as they continued to make their way through the ship.

He took her down another set of steps, through a narrow path and thrust her into a small room. The cargo ship might have a few luxury cabins for nefarious reasons, but thankfully, this wasn't one of them. She stumbled to the cot and sank down on it the moment he let her go. For one terrible moment she couldn't breathe. Her lungs burned, her throat, her eyes. She covered her face with her hands and allowed herself to crumble into a tiny ball, pulling in her knees to her chest, fighting panic.

She understood Lexi's panic attacks so much better. She was helpless. Entirely at someone else's mercy. Surrounded by enemies, she knew life would never be the same again even if she survived. She'd been taken from her home, and she'd never feel entirely safe again--just like her youngest sister.

Maxim Prakenskii sighed as he stood with his back to the hatch, observing the young woman as her emotions overcame her. He much preferred her anger to her tears. He could take her defiance far better than her breaking down. He knew it was momentary, Airiana Solovyov--and whether she liked it or not, that was her legal name--had backbone. She wasn't going to stay down long.

She was . . . unexpected. Clearly she was an element, bound to air as he was. He had a plan for getting her off the ship--but she wasn't going to like it. She didn't believe that her father had sent for her, and he couldn't really blame her. It didn't much matter if she believed him or not--he would take her to Solovyov and be done with it.

But damn it all. Just damn it. He hadn't expected to like the woman. Or feel like a first-class bastard for hitting her. He had done so for her own safety, and yet he still felt like a bully. She would have killed all of them, which was a gutsy move he admired. And why the hell did she have to be so small? She was a toothpick. Barely there. Which made striking her equivalent to hitting a child.

"Damn it, woman," he snapped. "Stop crying. Are you hysterical?"

"Maybe." Her voice was muffled by the pillow and her hands. "What if I am? Are you going to offer to slap me for my own sake?"

He winced. The woman knew how to strike a death blow. Or at least go for the jugular. "If you keep it up," he threatened, knowing it was an empty threat. In his entire life he'd never had the inclination to gather a woman up, cradle her against his chest and rock her just to soothe her--until now. He wasn't that kind of man, and he never would be, so why was he fighting to stay leaning his hip casually against the door?

She lifted her head just an inch or so out of her hands and glared at him through the wild tangle of her hair. "You're a real bastard, did you know that?"

"Well, pull yourself together and I won't have to be. I'm risking my life to save your very fine ass. The least you could do is help me out."

She sat up slowly, pushing the heavy fall of hair from her face, all the while giving him the death stare. "You kidnapped me, in case you've forgotten. I was doing quite well until you came along."

His eyebrow shot up. There in the close confines of the small room, all he could do was smell the faint peaches and vanilla scent her skin and hair seemed to give off. He'd noticed it the first time he'd slung her over his shoulder and again in the helicopter, sitting beside her.

He swore to himself. What the hell was wrong with him? He'd agreed to help Theodotus Solovyov because his brother Gavriil had asked him to. Gavriil had risked his life to save the physicist and in fact had been stabbed seven times during the attack on the man who had designed Russia's defense system. The attack had effectively ended Gavriil's career and put him on a hit list now that he was no longer of use.

Gavriil actually liked Solovyov, and Maxim had come to understand why. When the physicist had gotten word to Gavriil, the only man he trusted, that he was in trouble, Gavriil had sent for Maxim. Maxim had gone in his older brother's place. Gavriil was still recovering from his horrendous wounds, and in any case, he was a marked man. He didn't dare go anywhere near Solovyov.

The Prakenskii brothers had learned to trust no one outside of each other. There was always the chance that Solovyov might help set Gavriil up for the kill. Maxim had no compunction about killing Solovyov if the man had betrayed Gavriil, but instead, he found himself on a mission to save the physicist's daughter--a daughter who had no idea who she was.

"Do you really believe that if I hadn't been with the others you would have gotten away from them?" Maxim asked.

She sat up straighter. It didn't help. She looked small, fragile and bruised. Beautiful. Ethereal. He swore to himself again. His fingers itched to push those few stray strands of hair she'd mi

ssed from her face.

What the hell was wrong with him? He didn't notice every detail about a woman the way he did her. Somehow, maybe their common element or the fog had bound them together, because he felt her inside of him. Stamped into his bones. Just like the air filled his lungs and seeped into his pores, she had come with it, twisting her way inside his brain and his body.

"Yes. I think I could have eluded them," Airiana said truthfully. "They couldn't have manipulated the fog. Or read it. They wouldn't have known where we were."

"And what then, Airiana? What do you think they would have done next?"

She frowned at him, tilting her head so that her hair fell around her face like a living silken cloak. He couldn't take it one second longer. He stalked across the room and pushed those silky strands of platinum hair from her face with his fingers. Silver. Gold. Platinum. Her hair was the most unique color he'd ever seen.

"I don't know what you mean. What next? They would have left." She didn't pull away from him, but held herself very still.