Page 117 of Ship Outta Luck

Damn it to hell, but I fucked it all up.

Minutes tick by, unaware that I wish time would stand still. That the world around us would vanish, that I could hold her against me, could help her shoulder this pain. Together. Until she was ready to face the future. With me.

Finally, June stands, pushing away from me. She brushes her long dark hair back off her shoulders, fire and fury in her eyes.

“I’m coming with you.” She shoulders past me, pausing at the door.

“You’re coming with us,” I agree.

“No, youwilllet me come, because the Coast Guard will almost certainly destroy the archaeological site without me.” Realization dawns on her face, her mouth a soft “o” of surprise. “I’m coming?”

I nod once. She’s fearless. It makes me proud; I have no right to be. I had no hand in who she is. Today’s been tough. She’s seen some shit, and she came out even stronger.

She sank her own damn boat to save my ass.

Charlie sighs. “For the record, I think this is ridiculous. She’s a civilian, Evans. A fact you should try and remember.”

“I’m a civilian who blew up a propane tank with one shot and ninja-kicked a shark, Charlie. Call me June Bond if it makes you feel better.”

Charlie snorts.

“Well, are we leaving, or are you two going to stand around all day and argue?” June crosses her arms over her chest.

Charlie grumbles something else about civilians, then pulls the door open and strides down the hallway, her brown wig bobbing as she walks.

June follows behind her and I tuck the pistol back into my shoulder holster, taking the rear position. A second call to the Coast Guard, and they’ll wait another ten minutes to let us board. Thompson and Thorne are already on board.

Ten minutes, and we’ll be back on our way to the site that nearly killed us all.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

JUNE

Shivers wrack my body.The adrenaline’s still forcing its way out. My teeth chatter, and a concerned member of the crew brings me a thermal blanket and a mug of hot tea. I swear I’ll take them a basket of cookies once it’s safe to go home and bake them. Well, buy them. I won’t have time to bake them, not with all the work I’ll need to do on theSantu Espiritu.

First up: finding and funding a replacement for theBetty.

Thompson stands next to me, leaning on the railing of the cutter, looking off to the distance, and I study his face. He’s handsome, that blond-haired and blue-eyed athletic quality that would have most women swooning.

Still, he has nothing on Dean’s rugged looks.

I frown.

Dean, who got what he wanted from me. He found the drugs.

I have no right to hope for anything else from him.

He found the drugs, because my dad was a bad guy.

It makes me sick, and my knuckles whiten around the cup. The proof is undeniable. It’s all around me, in the way all thesegovernment and military types hold their weapons, in the way the Coast Guard cutter glides through the water, straight to the shipment they want to seize. Charlie would probably feel right at home here, but she stayed on shore at Dean’s orders.

I sip the tea, holding it in my mouth, letting the warmth coat my throat. The sky a steel gray now, thunder threatening in the distance, the water choppy and rough. I used to love this weather as a girl, loved to watch it roll in and threaten violence from the skies.

Maybe I’m tougher than I give myself credit for.

“He likes you,” Thompson finally says.

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