Page 1 of Honor Code

CHAPTER 1

It was pitch dark when Ellie opened her eyes. The long-haul flight from Europe had left her tired and cranky and this bed wasn’t anything to write home about. She groaned—jetlag could be a bitch.

Reaching over, she checked the time on her phone.

Five a.m.

Was it too early for a yoga session?

Her whole body ached. She desperately needed to stretch out the kinks. Her yoga mat stood in the corner by the door, beckoning to her.

Suzi, her roommate, was still fast asleep, her breathing deep and rhythmic. Careful not to wake her, Ellie slid out of bed, pulled on some leggings and a T-shirt, then grabbed her yoga mat. After scraping her hair back into a ponytail, she snuck out of the room.

The corridors on the oil rig were dark and eerie, bathed in that familiar ghostly green light that cast long shadows on the steel walls. The first time she'd been on an offshore platform, she'd been unnerved by the ethereal glow, but after five years of working in the field, she was used to it.

She made her way up the narrow steel stairway to the top deck, expecting to see some signs of life, but the place was deserted. Then again, it was stupid o'clock and the first shift only begun at eight.

The tropical air caressed her skin, warm and serene—so different from the frigid conditions in the North Sea where she'd worked before. She closed her eyes and let the balmy breeze wash over her, savoring the moment.

With her mat tucked under her arm, she ventured along the gangway, navigating around the now-silent steel structure, with its cranes, multi-level platforms, and columns of drilling equipment, in search of a tranquil corner in which to exercise.

At the railing, she paused and gazed out over the Gulf of Mexico. The dark expanse stretched for miles in all directions. It never failed to move her, the idea that she was a tiny dot in the middle of an enormous ocean. Maybe it was because nobody could get to her out here. She was safe. Protected by thousands of miles of water.

At least she'd thought she was. That was until Suzi had mentioned the recent threat from eco-terrorists. This was a very sensitive area of the Gulf, ecologically fragile, and there were strict protocols in place. She'd read the impact assessments before she'd come out here.

If she'd known about the risk, she might have thought twice before accepting the job.

After what had happened last time…

No, she wasn't going to go there. Ellie took a steadying breath. This project was different. Eco-terrorists chained themselves to structures, got in the way, temporarily disrupted operations. They didn't threaten anyone’s personal safety.

Even so, the threat did explain the presence of the armed patrols she'd seen yesterday when she'd arrived on the helicopter from Corpus Christi. Two enormous security operatives, rifles slung over their broad shoulders, standing watch on the deck. They’d been hard to miss, such was the attention they commanded. Their tight-fitting black T-shirts over rippling muscles had proved at least a five-minute distraction. But despite appearances, or maybe because of it, they’d put her mind at ease.

Tiredness made her neck stiff, and she stretched it out before wandering over to the helipad, the flattest, clearest space she could find. It was deserted, the chopper yet to return.

Perfect.

Ellie rolled out her mat and was just standing upright when a sudden gust of wind made her spin around. In an instant, she was blindsided and taken down hard. Her breath whooshed out of her as she was flattened on the deck.

Panic surged through her.

No! Not again.

She thrashed and squirmed, trying to throw off her attacker, but he had her pinned to the ground. A thousand terrifying thoughts stampeded through her head, scrambling her brain. Blood pumped in her ears, adding to her confusion.

"Get off me!" Her high-pitched cry shattered the early morning quiet.

She was back in Boston, standing in Raphael's apartment, his arm tight around her waist. The sharp edge of the blade he held pressed against her throat. Cold, uncompromising. One small slash, and she'd bleed out.

"Don't move," he hissed in her ear.

She couldn't; she was too terrified.

"Put down the knife," the police officer ordered, pointing his firearm at them. At Raphael, who used her as his shield. She was the one who'd get shot. The bullet would probably go right through her and hit Raphael too, but she didn't want to put it to the test.

Hot tears stung her eyes. "Rafe, please."

"Shut up," he growled, the blade digging deeper into her skin. A warm trickle dripped down her neck. She was bleeding.

---