Zulu, p.7
Zulu, page 7
She briefly looked at the pictures and nodded, then added a verbal response. “Yes. What do you mean by clean shot?”
“Legally justified. It was self-defense.” I glanced out at the deck. A trail of blood led to the chopper where the bodyguard fuck had dragged the dead guy aboard. “Anyone else on the boat?”
“No.”
The helo’s rotors came up to flight speed as Levi and Solomon maintained their positions. “You trust the chief engineer?”
“I have no reason not to.”
Not a yes, fucking great. “You have a way to get him to this room STAT?”
“I can call him.”
“Do it.” I couldn’t effectively search this entire boat on my own and get back to her in a reasonable amount of time.
The graceful stride I’d noticed at the villa before she’d come to talk to me was missing as she walked with hesitant steps toward a phone on a console table and picked it up. Hitting two numbers, she held the handset to her ear. “Mordecai, can you please come to main salon?” She frowned. “No problem, but yes immediately, please… No, just you. Thank you.” She quickly hung up as if she didn’t want to wait for a confirmation or argument. Then she inhaled, clasped her hands and brought her gaze back to mine. “He will be here in a minute.”
“Copy. Have a seat.” She looked about ready to keel over.
“I will stand.”
Not arguing with her after the day she had, I glanced toward the bow as the fucking Bell 407 finally lifted off. Then I walked the perimeter of the huge room that had double-height ceilings and more ornate furniture than any place I’d ever lived. Checking the locks on three sets of slider doors, I glanced up a set of stairs, then down another. “How many rooms, in total, are on this boat?”
She paused a moment, staring at me like she was seeing me for the first time. Then she started listing shit.
“There is the sun deck, bridge deck, main deck, lower deck, and bilge deck. There are seven staterooms total with six guest staterooms and the master suite. An owner’s office, the main salon, the sky lounge, the cinema room, formal dining room, two outdoor dining areas, spa, gym, sauna, pool deck, and the beach club area with a fold-down door to water level. There’s the bridge, the galley, the main storage room, secondary storage rooms, main pantry, bridge pantry, laundry facilities, crew quarters with eighteen births, crew mess, the captain’s cabin, and of course, the engine rooms. There’s also an elevator and two balconies off the master suite.” She inhaled. “I am not sure exactly how many individual rooms that amounts to on all five decks. I have never actually counted.”
Jesus Christ. A fuck ton was how many. “How big is this boat?” It was a rhetorical question. It wasn’t a goddamn boat, it was a fucking floating city.
She rattled off the answer anyway, complete with a correction of my vernacular. “The yacht is two-hundred-and-thirty-eight feet in length, with a thirty-nine-foot beam.”
Before I had a chance to calculate the sheer fucking size and rough square footage on all five decks so I could estimate the speed at which I could clear it, the chief engineer, in a uniform like the captain and deckhands, came up the stairs from the lower deck.
“Miss Bahar, you needed to see me?” Glancing in my direction, nothing changed in the guy’s expression, but the fucker slipped into a military resting stance, letting me know exactly where he came from.
“I wanted to see you,” I corrected, not holding out my hand or introducing myself. “You and I are going to clear this boat. I want a full sweep. Starting with the engine rooms, crew quarters and lower decks, work your way from stern to bow. I’ll start on the upper deck, working bow to stern. We meet back here in twenty minutes.”
Keeping his hands clasped, he made a crisp turn to face me. “What exactly are we looking for?”
His English near perfect, I gave him credit for not asking who I was. “Stowaways, explosives, tracking devices. Anything out of the ordinary.”
“I can assure you, there is nothing—”
“You can assure me after we clear every single inch of this boat.” I tipped my chin toward the helipad where Levi was hosing off the decks. “That shouldn’t have happened.” I glanced at my watch. “Start your search.”
The prick didn’t move. “And if I find something?”
“Detain, disable, or destroy.” November said these guys were former Israel Defense Forces. What the fuck kind of question was that?
Barely showing an ounce of concern, the engineer glanced at Parisa, then back at me. “Twenty minutes is not a lot of time for a thorough search of the vessel.”
“It’ll be an even shorter amount of time if there’s an imminent threat.”
Quickly taking in the perimeter of the room as if it just occurred to him there could be a fucking problem, he glanced between Parisa and me again, finally looking alarmed. “Sir?”
“Twenty minutes. Make it happen,” I ordered. “If you or your crew missed anyone boarding or tampering with the boat before we pulled out of port, we need to know STAT.”
Without another word, he left the way he came.
Parisa inhaled as if she’d been holding her breath the whole damn time I’d been talking to her engineer. “I do not think—”
“No offense, sweetheart, but I’m cutting you off right there. No matter how you were going to finish that sentence, I’m still searching this boat, and the clock’s ticking. Can this conversation wait twenty minutes, or do you need me to press pause for you right now?”
Her gaze unwavering, her posture still stiff as hell, something changed in her expression, and her voice came quieter. “It can wait.”
“Thank you.” Christ, she was beautiful. She was also proud or stubborn or in denial about the level of threat Kostas posed when she’d walked into his line of fire. Having already witnessed her recklessness, I wasn’t letting her venture anywhere else on this goddamn boat until it’d been searched. That said, I was cognizant of the fact she’d probably spent her entire marriage stripped of choices, so I seemingly gave her an option. “You feel safer waiting here or in your suite?”
She glanced behind her at the huge windows looking out over the main deck and helo pad. “Here. The glass is bulletproof, and I have a good view.”
Bulletproof. Good to fucking know. “Understood. Hang tight, I’ll be back as quick as possible.” I turned to leave.
“Mr. Zulu?”
For the first time in as long as I could remember, I didn’t want to hear my call sign. I wanted to hear my name with her brand of polished quiet crossing this woman’s lips. Preferably when I had my hands on her.
But fuck, that was a bad idea.
This woman was more, and I didn’t do more. I’d never fucking done more. I wasn’t even sure I was capable of it. Growing up military, joining the Teams, seeing the shit I’d lived through when my brothers hadn’t, it fucking changed a person. You compartmentalized or you shut down. Your sanity depended on it if you wanted to live to fight another day. So that’s what I’d done.
No easy day.
But fuck.
Glancing over my shoulder, looking at this woman and the literal fucking floating island she’d built for herself—it was like I was looking in a goddamn mirror, and it wasn’t comfortable.
Resigned to the fact that I’d been closed off for too damn long to share anything other than a few orgasms with a woman, I tipped my chin.
But fuck, I wanted to see this woman unravel.
I wanted to watch every reserved, gorgeous inch of her come apart while she was under me.
Shifting her already clasped hands and her stance, she averted her gaze. “Do you think there are any explosives on board?”
I thought a lot of shit tonight. Most of it I had no business engaging in, thoughts or otherwise. What I wanted to do to this woman was fucking criminal, and frankly, no better than what that asshole Kostas had already attempted. I hated to admit it because it made me worse than that piece of shit, but a part of me got where Kostas was coming from. Parisa Bahar wasn’t the type of woman you let walk away. She was the once-in-a-lifetime catch, the one you grabbed a hold of and kept for yourself.
But instead of telling her that or how I wanted to sink a bullet in both Kostas and her captain, then park this boat somewhere remote and fuck her until she couldn’t walk in those heels, I focused up and sanitized.
“I think the probability is low. It doesn’t fit Kostas’s MO.” Not with the way the asshole was so intent on taking her with him, but I wouldn’t put anything past him. Even though his shot had gone wild when he’d had the opportunity to make an attempt on her life, I didn’t trust one goddamn thing about him except that last statement he’d thrown down. That, I put fucking stock in. “After I clear the boat, we’ll discuss the security measures you have on board and how to improve them.” At a minimum, she needed to get those security monitors moved to her suite, or at least rerouted so she was in control of them and had access twenty-four-seven.
“Thank you.” Her expression locked back up, and she nodded in either acknowledgment or pacification.
I couldn’t fucking tell, and that bothered me. It bothered me more than this whole damn shit show and her male crew combined.
Playing it off, I winked. “Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart.” I took the stairs to the bridge.
Parisa
He winked.
One wink, and my stomach was fluttering.
A man had died on my yacht, there was blood being hosed off my decks, my chief engineer and a Navy SEAL were looking for explosives, and I was…fluttering.
Inhaling, I quickly glanced toward the stairwells to make sure I was alone. Then I smoothed my dress again out of habit because this was what I did when no one was watching. This was the woman my mother had trained me to be. I pretended nothing affected me. I did not fidget in public, and I maintained decorum at all times when others were present.
Even when everything was collapsing around me.
But now, I was alone and I was falling apart at the same time I was fluttering over a man winking at me.
Pushing the thought aside, I turned toward the bow where there was a bar at the front of the salon, and my gaze automatically went to the vast windows. Except this time, I did not see an endless stretch of ocean.
My gaze landed on Levi.
Finished with washing off the remnants of Kostas’s trespass, his rifle hanging from a strap across his broad shoulders, he was coiling the hose. But he was also doing something else.
Levi was staring directly into the main salon at me.
My face flushed. Not from heat, but from both nerves and getting caught straightening my appearance.
Levi never stared at me.
Levi rarely even spoke, not unless he was spoken to.
Before I could walk to the slider and open it to ask Levi if everything was okay, the Navy SEAL, whose real name I wished I knew, was coming down from the bridge with Isaiah on his heels.
Holding the VHF handset, Isaiah spoke in his heavily accented Greek and told whoever was on the line to please hold before looking at me. “Miss Bahar—”
Zulu interrupted him. “It’s Harbour Corps. They want to speak with you but aren’t saying why. I’m strongly suggesting you do not take the call. Let me or Tomer handle it.”
While he could get by just fine, Isaiah wasn’t fluent in Greek, and this was my vessel. I held out my hand. “I will speak to them.”
“Parisa,” Zulu warned. “This could be Kostas’s doing.”
“I do not disagree,” Isaiah added.
I looked at my captain. “Are we in international waters?”
“No.”
Damn it. “Give me the radio.”
Isaiah handed it over.
Pushing the talk button, I switched to Greek and shamelessly used the Taralas name. “This is Parisa Taralas. Who is this?”
An officer from the Hellenic Coast Guard identified himself, then skirted the purpose of his call. “Mrs. Taralas, I knew your husband. My deepest condolences.”
Of course he knew Konstantinos. Konstantinos made it a point to always have the backing of every high-ranking official in the local Coast Guard. “Thank you,” I replied, purposely not asking what he wanted.
“Unfortunately, I am calling on another matter. I am sorry to trouble you during these difficult times, but there have been reports of an incident aboard your ship.”
I glanced out at the now-clean decks. “I can assure you there have been no incidents. My crew and I are all fine and accounted for.”
He paused. “I was not referring to you or your crew, not directly.”
I pushed the talk button again. “What do you mean, officer?”
“There were reports of a helicopter on board and shooting. I am to inquire about any altercations or casualties.”
“What is he saying?” Zulu demanded.
“He’s asking about a shooting on board,” Isaiah answered.
The SEAL’s hand wrapped around my wrist. “Don’t give him anything. If he had probable cause, they’d already be on board.”
I nodded, and he let go of my hand. “I can assure you, officer, there have been no incidents, and certainly nothing like you suggest. I appreciate your condolences. It has been quite a long day, and we are underway. Is there anything else I can help you with, or do you need to speak with my captain again?”
“No, Mrs. Taralas. Thank you for your time, and our deepest sympathies.”
“Thank you.” Turning the handset off, I gave it back to Isaiah and switched to English. “How long until we are in international waters?”
“Our current chartered course does not have us reaching international waters until tomorrow. If you prefer, I can alter course and have us in high seas within the hour,” he replied.
“What’s your current heading?” Zulu asked.
“Northwest,” I answered vaguely before Isaiah could say anything, not that I had told him of our final destination yet.
“The Mediterranean region,” the SEAL stated knowingly before rattling off countries. “Italy, France, Spain?”
I tipped my chin in more or less of an acknowledgement before glancing at Isaiah. “Please change course and take us out to international waters.” Suddenly uncomfortable being next to both men, let alone revealing my intentions for the Solace’s ultimate destination to either of them, I dismissed my captain. “That will be all for now, Isaiah.”
“Hold up,” Zulu ordered Isaiah as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed before addressing me. “You need access to your security system. I’ve already spoken with Tomer. You currently don’t have extra monitors on board to do a duplicate set up in your suite, and relocating the monitors leaves the bridge blind in case of an emergency, so I have another solution.” Holding a finger up to me, he spoke into his cell. “November, you ready? Copy, hold.” Handing his cell to Isaiah, he kept his eyes on me. “With your permission, AES has proprietary software we can use to link an app on your cell to your security system so you can have access to the security feeds twenty-four-seven. We’re set up on our end. All we need is for Tomer to give remote access to our tech guy, and I’ll download and set up the app on your cell.”
I bristled. “So your software would be tracking the Solace.”
“Not unless you wanted us to.”
“I do not want that.” That defeated the entire purpose of my yacht.
“Understood. This would be an app that uses your on-board Wi-Fi and connects to the security system you already have. It can be contained to your network, and only you will have access on your phone.”
I felt blindsided. I knew he’d said we were going to speak about my security on board, but I honestly did not think he would be suggesting apps or anything electronic that could potentially track me or the Solace.
I was about to respectfully decline when Mordecai came up the stairs and walked into the main salon.
He glanced at the SEAL. “No explosives, tracking devices or unwanted guests.” Mordecai looked at me. “All clear, madam.”
Explosives and tracking devices. Both of which could not walk on board by themselves.
This morning, I was getting dressed for a funeral and quietly staged exit where I’d hoped no one would notice my absence until the Solace was well underway.
Now I was worrying about explosives, unwanted helicopter landings and men shooting at me.
Nothing was going as planned.
Resigned, I held my phone out to the SEAL. “I want to make sure this is only for my use, and only so I can access the security monitors from my phone.”
“Copy and confirm.” He reached for my cell.
I did not let go. “Promise me.”
His gold and green eyes a stark contrast to not only the dark night, but the muted colors of the interior of the Solace, he gave me his focused gaze that was more intense than the currents surrounding us.
Then he gave me his word. “I promise.”
I let go of my phone.
Zulu
I’d lied to her.
I’d made her a promise, then I’d fucking broken it seconds later when I downloaded the app onto her phone and set it up.
I didn’t break promises, and I didn’t lie.
But after what I’d seen tonight, I couldn’t leave her completely isolated on open waters with no backup. I just couldn’t fucking do it.
So I’d left AES a backdoor into her app.
Sitting next to her on one of her leather couches, her scent driving me over the edge, her vulnerability, her small body with her sweet curves, she was fucking tormenting me as I showed her how to use the app. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to brush her silky hair from her face as I issued her an order. “Go through it one more time, sweetheart.”
Holding her phone in both hands, her head dipped, her knees pressed together, she stared at her cell but she didn’t verbally respond. Either uncomfortable next to me, pissed off about the app or simply quiet when she was concentrating, she been virtually silent for the past half hour. If I were placing bets, I’d go with pissed. I saw her face when I’d suggested the app. She hadn’t been happy about it, but she’d quickly masked it.
