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

Attract the wrong kind of people. Take this yacht for example. We're not even going to mention the whack jobs aboard the container ship. Just this nice little yacht. On the surface, it all appears to be wonderful. Maybe it was when they were sailing around enjoying the sun and fun.

She paused to adjust the ice pack, looking at the ocean with her one good eye. He was dragging two men into the den and not being the least bit careful about it. She knew, not because she could see him through her physical vision, but because she was reading the air and knew the exact position of everyone on deck. Someone was coming up the stairs from below.

Then you came aboard, Maxim, and we discover that this isn't the nice yacht we thought it was. My father isn't the nice man you thought he was. Those men aren't the nice deck crew I thought they were. No one is nice at all. See, you attract the wrong people. When you think about the law of averages, this shouldn't be happening everywhere you go.

The stairs were to her left. She shifted her position enough that she could see the top of the stairs. She could hear footsteps. No hurrying. Whoever was coming up the stairs didn't appear to be alarmed. She forced air through her lungs.

What is it? His voice was demanding.

She didn't want to answer him. She didn't want there to be any more trouble. She just wanted time to stop for a moment and give her space to breathe. Nothing. I don't know. Someone coming up the stairs.

You should have told me immediately.

He's here. She smiled and waved at the man topping the stairs. He was dressed all in white.

"Miss Solovyov?" The man walked right up to the end of the lounger. "I'm Gorya, your steward. The chef is preparing lunch and wanted to know if there was anything you were allergic to or didn't care for."

"Tell him no allergies and I'm willing to try nearly anything. Please thank him for asking."

He frowned and moved closer. "Did you hurt yourself? I have some medical training. Perhaps I can help?"

"No, my father found me a cold pack. I was a little clumsy, broke a glass and stepped in the shards. It sounds crazy, but I fell and hit the side of my head on that little part of the bar that sticks out. I'm not used to the way the boat shifts out from under me."

"If you're feeling a little seasick I can get you something for that."

"I'm okay now." She knew Maxim was close. The middle of her palm itched horribly. She pressed her hand against her thigh, fingers feeling for the dart gun. Just the feel of it at her fingertips reduced her anxiety. "How many crew members? I've never been on a yacht this size before."

"There are eight of us who work full time. I have to find out what your father would like for lunch. For some reason the intercom wasn't working."

"He went to lie down. I think I gave him a headache." She gave a little laugh as if every daughter the world over could give headaches to their fathers. "Maxim is probably hungry though. He's around somewhere." She did her best to sound offhand.

Hopefully the crew wasn't privy to the plan to kill Maxim. She doubted it. The less they knew the better. Sorbacov wouldn't want witnesses. More than likely Sorbacov would have everyone killed that observed the murder aboard the yacht.

I'm not certain if he even knows I'm a kidnap victim and here against my will. He appears pretty innocent, Maxim. She didn't want Maxim to hurt the steward if it wasn't necessary.

Theodotus told me they believe your life was threatened and that was why there is extra security. Still. Keep that dart gun handy.

He came up behind the steward. "Are you all right, Miss Solovyov? This man isn't bothering you, is he?"

"Gorya was being friendly and most helpful. He was just checking to make certain I'm not allergic to anything." Don't sound so scary. He went white.

I'm supposed to be scary. I'm your bodyguard.

Do you see my cut feet and black eye? Perhaps you need another line of work.

Perhaps you should do what you're told instead of insisting on playing the heroine. Maxim lifted her bandaged foot and inspected the bloody gauze. He glanced at the steward over his shoulder. "Where do you keep your first aid kit?"

"Up here on the sun deck, there's one behind the bar. I can show you if you'd like. I was telling Miss Solovyov that I have some medical training."

"She cut her feet on glass," Maxim said.

Gorya nodded. "She told me she was a little seasick and dropped her glass. Her eye is really swelling where she hit the side of her head."

Nice story.

He bought it, didn't he?

Only because you look so damn innocent. I wouldn't have bought it for a second.

Only because you're cynical. She yawned before she could stop herself. Of course Maxim saw. He was looking at the steward, but he still caught her hastily covered yawn. "You'll need to rest, Miss Solovyov."

Her breath hissed out between her teeth. "Both of you had better call me Airiana. I don't answer to that name. I wasn't raised with it."

"For your own protection, as well as for your father's," Maxim interjected smoothly for the steward's sake.

"Whatever. Call me Airiana, please."

You could act like a spoiled rich girl. They expect it of you. The more manners you have and the friendlier you are, the more likely it will blow your cover.

Go away. You're giving me a headache.

It's only fair. You've given me one from the moment I laid eyes on you.

Airiana burst out laughing. "Go away, both of you. My feet are fine, but if either of you are heading this way again, I would love a bottle of water. No fancy glasses, no liquor, just plain old water in a plain old bottle."

Maxim pulled a bottle from under his coat and held it out to her. You ask and I provide.

She resisted rolling her eyes. "Thanks, Maxim. I really appreciate it. And, Gorya, please relay to the chef that at this point, anything will be fine with me. Please allow my father to sleep through lunch."

"The security team is working at the moment," Maxim said. "They're in the sitting room and don't want to be disturbed. If there's anything you need them for, just let me know and I'll take care of it."

Deliberately Airiana made a face. "Such a fuss. Really, Maxim, you and Theodotus worry far too much."

Maxim ignored her, reaching out lazily and taking the bottle of water from her to unsc

rew the cap. He handed it back and turned his attention to Gorya. "I know you need to get back to the chef, but if you could show me where the first aid kit is . . ."

"Of course." The steward was all business. "Right over here." He led Maxim to the bar and reached behind him, pulling out a fairly large box.

"Thanks." Maxim nodded at the man dismissively, and Gorya immediately took the cue and hurried down the stairs.

"Why make a big deal about the first aid box?" Airiana asked. She was beginning to realize everything Maxim did was for a reason.

"I wanted him to remember I asked for it. I can use the same ploy with the captain. I'll want to get into the control room and turn this thing around. We'll need Theodotus for that."

"He won't cooperate."

"Of course he will. Your father doesn't want to die. He has a big ego, Airiana, and he's convinced himself the world can't get along without him, so it won't be a big leap for him to help us. The story will be easy enough. The team doesn't trust the contact in Colombia. Russia and Colombia are friendly, but we believe you and your father are far too valuable for certain opportunists to pass up."

"I see. Theodotus will definitely like that explanation."

"No doubt he'll come to believe it. It isn't that far from the truth. If it was known where you were, and that your father was with you, every terrorist in the world with a grain of sense would be after the two of you. You'd better believe that Evan Shackler-Gratsos is looking for you right now."

He laid the first aid kit open on the deck beside the lounger and carefully began to unwind the blood-spattered wraps on her left foot. To keep from wincing--she didn't want him to know it still hurt--she took a long swig of water. The cool liquid slid down her parched throat. She hadn't realized how thirsty--or tired--she was.

While he worked on her feet, she glanced up at the clouds. The sun was bright, shining on the water, the sky a deep blue. A few lazy clouds drifted overhead and at first she idly tried to see animals in their fluffy shapes. When she was a child she'd played that game to stop herself from noticing patterns.

Patterns were everywhere. In the clouds. In the waves. In the shadows thrown onto the deck by the sun. There was no escaping from them. She took another long drink as he applied more antibiotic cream and a new wrap.