“We don’t have any rules,” Joss bit out.
“Fine,” Lann said in his ever-patient voice. “You know the code of conduct. She has a right to ask. You should grant her the wish.”
“Let’s go,” he said to Lann, getting in next to her.
Maya smiled at her like a cat that had snatched a sausage from a butcher shop. Dressed in a tight top, slick black pants, and high-heeled boots, she swung her leg as she regarded Clelia. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of your animals. Joss doesn’t want to promise because the grant usually pertains to last wishes.” Putting emphasis on the words, she added, “As in dying.”
“Shut up, Maya,” Joss said, resting his arm on the seatback behind Clelia. “I’m not making any last-wish promises.” He turned to Clelia. “Understood?”
She did. Only too well. Nothing could stop what was coming. Not even Joss.
When she didn’t answer, he took her chin and turned her face to him. His words were gentle. “What would you like for breakfast?”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Maya’s amused smile. “I’m not hungry.”
Joss clenched his jaw, but he didn’t press the issue.
She looked through the window. Out here, she felt like yesterday—lost and alone. Inside the house, there were only Joss, his ghosts, and her. For the night they’d spent in his room, she almost managed to pretend what waited outside the doors of that haunted house didn’t exist. She felt closer to him now because of the things they’d shared in that house, things they shouldn’t have said. Instead of hating him, the forbidden kiss had sealed her feelings. By sharing his truth, he’d tangled his life with hers to form a new hybrid. No matter what happened, it was too late. She couldn’t sever her roots from his without killing the tree.
They drove to the old oyster factory that had closed down several years before, and set off in a small boat that had been tied to the unused jetty in the bay. It was a clever spot to hide a boat, as the metal spikes of the rusted oyster camps hidden under the water made it dangerous to swim, and the stench of the decaying seaweed kept sunbathers and fishermen at bay.
They went several miles into the sea before they pulled up next to a big luxury yacht. Many such yachts populated the Gulf during the holiday months of July and August. An unusually tall man with a shaved head and eye patch, all muscles and teeth, waited on the deck. A diamond stud glittered in one ear. His coffee-colored skin shone in the sun, making him look like a cross between an African god and a pirate. Muscles rippled under an unbuttoned linen shirt as he extended a hand to help them onboard. Designer ripped jeans hugged his narrow hips.
He pulled Maya onto the deck, but when he reached for Clelia, Joss said, “I’ve got her, Bono.”
Joss kept his hands on her hips as he guided her up the ladder from behind. Without introducing her to the man he called Bono, he led her around the deck and took her down a few steps into a generously sized lounge.
A striking man with a red birthmark on his cheek sat in a lounge chair reading a tablet. Dressed entirely in white, he looked like he’d escaped from heaven.
Upon their entry, the man got up and leaned on a cane with a brilliant stone head. Everything about him captured and demanded attention.
Taking her fingers lightly in his, he kissed her hand without touching his lips to her skin. “Clelia, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Cain, your host. Has Joss been treating you well?”
Clelia glanced at Joss, who stood close behind her. He gave her a hard look.
“Maybe we’ll talk later,” Cain said, following the direction of Clelia’s eyes. “I apologize for your detainment, but unfortunate circumstances necessitated the measure. However I’m happy to welcome you onboard our safe house. I dare say you’d feel less of a prisoner here than on land.” He smiled, but there was no mistaking the subtle warning underlying the gesture. “The sea is, after all, a prison in its own right. At least you’ll have the liberty of moving around.”
Clelia looked at the flat surface of the water through the window. To some, the ocean seemed like a prison, holding a boat hostage in countless miles of surrounding water, but for someone like her, who’d grown up with the sea and been taught to read its tides like a map, it was an opportunity for freedom, to escape. She said nothing however as Cain waved at Maya, who waited by the door, to enter.
“Maya,” Cain said when she walked up to them, “escort Clelia to her cabin and help her settle in.”
Joss took a step in Clelia’s direction, his jaw tight, but Cain lifted a finger and shook his head.
When Maya took Clelia’s arm, Joss blocked their path.
“Joss,” Maya said, arching a brow, “you’re crowding us.”
Clelia regarded Maya from under her lashes. The cut on her lip hadn’t healed yet. Joss flexed his fingers, his silver eyes mercurial in their brooding intensity.
“Joss,” Cain said, “you’re forgetting your manners.”
Joss didn’t budge. It seemed he hadn’t even heard Cain’s rebuke.
Maya cocked a hip. “Clelia and I are just going to have a girl talk. Sometimes women need some space.”
Joss stared at Clelia, looking as if he was trying to make up his mind. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed. He didn’t move his eyes from her as he addressed Maya. “You remember what I said?”
Maya gave him a sweet smile. “Perfectly.”
Only then did Joss step aside.
They went back upstairs and took another set of steps at the backend of the yacht that took them to the cabins below deck. The door of the first cabin stood open. Bono lounged on one of two single beds, a tablet in his hands. He saluted when they passed. There were four doors all together, which meant the yacht
