Page 70 of Savage Assassin

I can hear the hope in his voice, and my chest tightens, a flurry of emotion filling me as I nod. I limp towards him, grabbing onto his arm as soon as I can, and he wraps his around my waist, helping me slowly towards where the ship is coming in.

It feels like an interminable wait until the ship starts to come in to shore. When it’s close enough, a few men take a smaller boat to approach the beach, and Levin steps in front of me, gesturing for me to stay behind him.

“Let me talk to them,” he says quietly, and I nod, the lump in my throat making it impossible for me to speak anyway. The panic I feel at the approaching men feels much worse than the still-ephemeral fear of what will happen to us without rescue–because this feels like a much more immediate potential danger.

“What’s going on here?” one of the men asks as he approaches, barking out the words. I take another cautious step behind Levin, entirely fine with being out of the way. I’d rather theydidn’tnotice me.

“We were stranded a few days ago. Plane crash.” Levin’s tone is brusque, to the point. “Where are you headed?”

“Rio.” The man narrows his eyes. “You’re looking for a ride, I’m guessing?”

“I can get money for you, once we’re there,” Levin says smoothly. “The men I work for will pay handsomely for it. We won’t take up much space. Just a corner, until you dock in Rio.”

“We?” The man cranes his neck, his eyes taking on a glint I don’t like when he sees me behind Levin. “Oh, I see. Well, then. Might be some other way to pay for your passage–”

“I don’t think so,” Levin says sharply, his hand twitching towards his hip. His gun is at his back, but the man seems to recognize the gesture, because he backs off a little.

“What kind of payment are we talking?”

“Name it,” Levin says smoothly. “All I need to do is get in contact with my boss once I’m in Rio. Then you’ll be paid.”

“I’m usually in the business of getting at least part of it up front.”

Levin shrugs. “You can take the chance, or you can leave us here and be sure of getting nothing.”

His tone is so calm that they might have been discussing splitting a check after dinner, instead of whether or not Levin and I will be left on the beach to die. But Levin doesn’t so much as flinch, staring the man down until he finally nods.

“A corner,” the man says flatly. “I hope you have something to eat and drink on the ride, and I won’t be bothered keeping my men off the girl. You handle that yourself, big man.”

Levin nods. “Understood,” he says coolly. “Elena, grab the bag.”

I swallow hard, surprised he’d ask me to walk back up the beach, but I suspect that it’s so I either don’t hear what he says next, or so that I’m out of the man’s line of vision long enough for him to finish the conversation.

Either way, I limp up the beach to get the bag with the remaining rations in it and the blankets, gathering them up and then slowly making my way back. By the time I do, Levin is waiting for me, with the other men waiting impatiently by the boat.

“Let’s go,” the one who negotiated with Levin barks out, and I look at Levin nervously.

He nods. “It’s our best chance,” he says quietly, low enough for only me to hear. “If we don’t–we might not get another one.”

“It’s dangerous?” I whisper, knowing the answer even before he gives me a small nod.

“Yes,” Levin answers honestly. “But this is the kind of danger I can protect you from, Elena.”

That’s all I need to hear. I give him a small nod in return. He gently helps me towards the boat, the cold water splashing over my feet and calves as he helps me get in and sits next to me, his jaw clenched as he looks warningly at the men around us.

No one tries to touch or interfere with me, at least. The boat approaches the larger cargo ship, and once again, Levin gets between me and the others, helping me up the ladder one rung at a time. It’s excruciating on my injured ankle, but I force myself to ignore it, reminding myself over and over of what Levin just told me.

It’s our best chance.

The man wasn’t lying when he said we would get a corner. He leads us to a lower part of the ship, pointing to an area with slightly fewer boxes, crates, and other cargo. “Find a spot,” he says coldly and then turns to leave.

I look at Levin, hardly able to believe we’re actually off of the beach. I’m not sure how much safer we are, but we’reheadedsomewhere, and that has to count for something.

“Here.” Levin wraps his arm around my waist, taking the bag from me and guiding me to a corner by a stack of crates. “We might as well get comfortable.”

He folds the blankets, making a spot for me to sit before helping me down. The instant I’m sitting, he lets go of me, backing away and putting a significant distance between us–at least a foot, which means he’s smashed up against another stack of cargo.

It’s very clear that he doesn’t want to touch me unless he has to. That he’s going out of his waynotto unless I need the help. And now, with the immediate fear of being stranded on the beach without a way out receding, it hurts more than it did before.

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