Page 43 of Redemption

“Thank you for the honesty,” he said, his words an echo of the past. Of a night long ago. I smiled despite myself.

When I returned to the deck, Jackson was quiet. Contemplative. We readied the boat to leave, and I fired up the motor.

The rest of the morning passed pleasantly enough, like it had the day before. Jackson and I were immersed in our individual tasks, neither of us talking unless it was necessary. Being on the water was peaceful.

I was sitting at the helm, watching a pair of birds swoop and dive into the water. Jackson placed his hand on my shoulder, startling me. “Hey. You ready for lunch?”

I turned to glance up at him. The sun glinted off his hair, and my eyes lingered on his lips. Full. Inviting.

I could practically taste the salt on his lips. Remember the feel of them gliding against my own.

I shook my head as if to clear it. The sun must be getting to me. That was the only rational explanation.

“Sounds good.”

It wasn’t long before he brought me a sandwich and an apple. “Nothing too fancy.”

“I don’t need anything fancy.” I surveyed the plate. “And this looks great.”

The boat was on autopilot, and we were making good time. The wind was fair, and the waves weren’t so large.

“Based on your quick reactions last night,” Jackson said while I crunched the apple between my teeth, “I assume you still train?”

“With someone in London. Former SAS.”

Jackson had been the first to insist I train in self-defense, and he’d spent hours teaching me various techniques, making me practice until I was sweaty and exhausted. Until he felt confident the movements had become muscle memory.

Where my brothers would’ve tried to surround me in bubble wrap, Jackson had given me the tools to take care of myself.

“Good.” He gave my shoulder a squeeze, but the feel of his touch lingered. “We should practice when we’re back on dry land.”

I hesitated. I could use the practice, especially with such an experienced opponent. But still, the idea of getting so physical with Jackson, of being so close to him… “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” he taunted. “Because you know I’ll best you?”

“Psh.” I glanced away, hating the fact that he still had such an effect on me. “Don’t be cocky, Jackson. I have moves you’ve never seen.”

“Oh.” He lifted his chin. “Who’s being cocky now?” He took my plate to the galley and returned not long after. “Maybe when we get to Turks and Caicos. Or Puerto Rico.”

I stilled at the reminder of Puerto Rico and Greer’s impending visit. A visit I’d neglected to tell Jackson about.

“Actually—” I cleared my throat. “I’d like to tweak our itinerary slightly.”

“What are you thinking?” he asked, pulling in the main sheet and allowing it to catch the wind once more before winching it tight.

He didn’t sound annoyed. Merely curious.

“I think we should spend a few more days in Puerto Rico and shorten our time in the Dominican Republic, only stopping for fuel and food.”

“Okay. Any particular reason?”

“Greer’s planning to meet us in Puerto Rico?”

“She—” He choked, his eyes flashing to mine. “What? Greer? As in my sister Greer?”

“I know. I was just as surprised when she suggested it.”

He furrowed his brow. “This isn’t good.”

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