Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“Up here, just five steps.” He helped me when I stumbled.
I couldn’t lift my damn arms. I knew they were free; I knew he’d removed the restraints, but my arms felt too heavy. And whenever I tried to push my shoulders forward a bit, sharp pains spread across my upper body.
Focus on your breathing.
Rapid, shallow breaths were all I could muster.
A gust of fresh sea air swept past me as I took a step in a new direction, and then all I saw was the ocean. And the sunset sky burning in reds, pinks, and purples.
Adrien ushered me to the very front of the boat, where he nudged me down to sit on a cushy sunbed. It was clearly a yacht for the Hollywood elite and oligarchs. They needed space for orgies.
“Look at me, Crew.” Adrien cupped my face in his hands, and I instinctively wrenched away. No touching, no touching. I needed space and fresh air. “I’m sorry. Can you listen to me?”
I nodded jerkily and did my best not to let my stare wander to take in too many impressions at once.
“I want you to take a slow and steady breath for four seconds. Count to four and inhale during that time.”
What? Why would I count to four—
“Do as I say,” he ordered gently.
I fixed my stare on him and sucked in a couple quick breaths, and then I tried to count. One, two—nope. Another quick breath. Fuck. One, two, three.
“Slow and steady, sweetheart.” He maintained his distance but squeezed my hands in my lap, and that worked. That sort of touch centered me.
I was able to focus on his gaze. On his eyes. Those weirdly colored, beautiful-as-fuck eyes.
He had a faint bruise over his nose.
Inhale slowly.
One. Two. Three. Four.
“Hold your breath now,” he encouraged. “I’ll count to seven. Three, four, five, six, seven—and exhale slowly. Eight seconds. One, two…”
Fucking hell. The breath gusted out of me, but he just smiled and said we’d try again.
One, two, three, four.
I held my breath while he counted.
A strange calm washed over me, and I felt a little dizzy at first.
It fucking worked, though. I was relaxing. I could breathe again. We did that counting thing four times, and by the last, I was shivering and feeling clearheaded.
“Better?” He smiled carefully and withdrew his hands.
I nodded and yawned.
“Good. I’m sorry—I didn’t know you were claustrophobic.” His eyes showed concern that I didn’t wanna see. “Please wait here. I’m going to get your dinner.”
I didn’t say anything. I just watched him walk away.
I wasn’t…claustrophobic. I mean, not really. You could throw me in a casket, and I’d be okay—for a while. It was the prolonged moments of solitude I couldn’t handle, whether that took place in an elevator or in a large plaza. But Jesus Christ, I’d never had a panic attack like that before. Ever.
I’d had night terrors after coming home from deployments—I’d wake up yelling, drenched in sweat, heart pounding, and all but paralyzed in fear. I’d seen a shrink about occasional bursts of rage too. Just nothing like what I’d experienced minutes ago. That shit was fucked up.
Another shiver ran through me, and I turned in my seat to look out across the water. No land in sight in any direction. I only knew we were slowly headed west because the sun was just about to disappear over the horizon right in front of me.
Deep breaths.
I rotated my shoulders carefully and pulled up my knees a bit so I could wrap my arms around them. My wrists were a bit red, though it had nothing on the soreness in my shoulders.
The peace that enveloped me felt so damn good. However long it lasted, I wanted to savor the moment. No anger, no frustration, no doubts. Mercier and I could go back to being enemy combatants tomorrow, but right now, I needed him to be the sweet but tough-to-place Adrien.
I mean, I just didn’t know him well enough, except…I had this sense about him. That he was a good man, kind and possibly a little off his game. I wouldn’t go so far as to call him awkward. Definitely not. But like I’d said, off his game in terms of his personal life. He was a little careful. Didn’t take the first step forward.
I bet he was one of those who’d lived his life by the book until he’d realized we sometimes needed to create our own rules. At least the Marines had drilled that into me good and proper. I knew shit about structure and regulations. I improvised, adapted, and overcame.
Adrien had to have learned that at some point too. Working undercover meant you had to be flexible around the clock. ’Cause you never knew when you’d get kidnapped.
And stuff like that.
I didn’t know how the FBI operated, though I doubted they had a special form to submit for when you had to hold a US citizen hostage in international waters.