Page 136 of One Secret

'Oh, I could kiss you right now,' I squeal, hurrying for a little sign that points toward a beachside footpath.

But Cyrus is never one to let an opportunity pass. He snatches out a hand in the dark, grabs my wrist, and pulls me in for that kiss.

His lips are cold but his tongue warm. One thick and firm arm curls around my waist to hold me nearer and I reach up my own along his back. His rifle knocks against my forearm and a zing of excitement lights up my tired nerves.

When he finally lets me go, Cyrus is breathing heavily, his eyes are hooded and his mouth reluctant to break away. His lips linger, clinging to mine.

'We'll finish that back home,' he finally says.

Home...

The word means little to Cyrus, I'm sure. It's just a turn of phrase to him. But the natural way it rolls off his tongue softens something inside me. Warms it, melts it, and sees it seep into every lonely corner of my being until I feel... full.

Not whole. For there was never something missing from me as a person. But full. Like Cyrus saturates and completes what I already possess.

'Come on,' he says, taking my hand and leading us down the indicated footpath.

The route is a little treacherous and hard to navigate in the dark but, after the woods, it's practically a cakewalk. We reach the beach—no sand, just a field of smooth pebbles—and rush towards the waves. Without a pier or dock to moor to, the sailboat is anchored a few meters offshore.

'You can swim, right?' Cyrus asks as we both hit the wash at full speed. The shallow waves fountain around us and we hurry through the surf.

'Little late to be asking, don't you think?' I shout over the noise of pounding water. We're up to our thighs now.

'I thought that was typical for us?' he calls back.

A bark of laughter jolts from my chest and I realize I'm a little hysterical. A common reaction on missions when you're almost home safe.

And one you know not to trust, I remind myself. It's not over until it's—

A gunshot rings out over the cove, echoing off the rocks like an explosion.

Cyrus falls into the water and, for a second, my heart stops. But he appears a moment later, swimming towards the boat and reaching back for me to follow.

He's not hit.

Triathlons aren't really my workout of choice but I have a strong and steady front crawl that has me streaking after him.

We pull ourselves up onto the deck as a second shot rings out. There's a heavy thunk of the bullet hitting the hull of the boat.

I rush to check it's not left a gaping hole in our floating vessel but Cyrus is like lightning. His hand wraps around my shoulder and gently but firmly shoves me down into the helm cockpit and out of sight. He then takes the wheel, starts the engine, and gets us up to high speeds as quickly as he can.

'You know how to drive this thing?' I check, pulling myself back up to standing. The look Cyrus shoots me is aggressively black. It's clear he wants to shove me back down but he needs both hands to operate speed and direction.

'Well enough,' he calls over the roar of the engine.

We're quickly out of range of the cliffs but, as we turn out into the open water, we have a different concern.

'Er... Babe?' I warn, eyes set on the island that we've now put decided at our rear. 'We have a new problem!'

Cyrus glances back over his shoulder and curses.

A boat is on our tail. A speedboat.

Looking out across the open water, Cyrus checks his phone and then angles us toward whatever coordinates Jaime has sent him. He then navigates a winding path, working us around and between a series of outcroppings, including the island with my favorite erotic lagoon.

I look back out behind us.

Whilst the larger speedboat is forced to take the longer way around, it's not long before it's back in range. And, suddenly, it's open season on Machelli spies.

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