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“And I’m keeping you.”

***

Somehow, the tallow and zinc kept me from burning. After a day spent on the water, I wasn’t fried, but I was wind-burned and in need of serious hydration. Markos taught me the basicsof sailing, even letting me sit on his lap as we steered the boat toward the docks. It was a brutal exercise in restraint, a foreplay too provocative to resist for long.

The final stretch was bumpy.

Markos slid his arms from me to help me grip the wheel. I mourned the loss of his touch.

“Easy now!” He laughed as we bumped against the stretch of dock.

“I did it,” I beamed, spinning around to give him a kiss.

His tongue slipped out to caress mine. My body thrummed at the memory of that hard, wet touch tasting me everywhere just before we set sail for home.

Home.

I had one of those now, one without secrets haunting the shadows, nooks, and crannies.

“Prinkípissa,” Markos groaned. “I have to tie her off.”

Biting his lip in a farewell, I hopped off his lap. Reluctantly, he moved nimbly to the side of the ship and began the intricate work of fastening the portside to the dock.

Part of me wanted to jump in, to learn and help.

I stayed put, admiring the sight of him working. Sure, his body was a mess. And sometime in the near future, he was going to spill his secrets and tell me exactly what the hell happened to him. It couldn’t be good. Those scars were deep, telling the story of a painful brutality.

But he needed to be ready to share. Until then, I would wait.

“Serena! Get down!” Markos dove behind the shelter of the boat’s side.

Instinct screamed at me, but curiosity snapped my attention to the end of the dock. Four masked assailants were rushing forward, guns raised.

This was a public marina! They wouldn’t shoot here.

The pop of rifles sent me ducking for cover behind the captain’s stand.

My heart pounded in my chest. Gunfire screamed around us, bullets pinging against the boat’s metal frame. Growing up in the Mancini family, I’d been shielded from violence. This wasn’t a movie. This was real. And I’d seen more than my fair share in the last couple days to last a lifetime.

“Stay down!” Markos shouted, crawling back to me.

I could see him scanning our surroundings, his body tense like a predator’s. He reached beneath the captain’s seat and pulled out a handgun. The sight of it made everything suddenly more real.

“Can you drive the boat?” he asked, eyes never leaving our attackers.

“Yes,” I nodded, remembering his lessons from earlier.

“On my mark, you’re going to start the engine and reverse us out of here.”

Another barrage of bullets hit the boat. I flinched, covering my head.

“The mooring lines!” I hissed.

“They’re loose. Give her enough thrust and we’ll tear free.”

Markos rose and returned fire.

One of the assailants dropped.