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I can’t risk catching feelings for a man like this. In a situation like this, where we’re literally running from smugglers.

My chest heaves.

Dean’s eyebrow rises, a muscle twitching in his temple. “You okay?”

“I’ll pretend.”

Dean freezes, his gaze going glacial before reverting his attention back to the newcomers.

Glower.

“Well, you gonna tell her why we’re here? What’s the play, Evans?” Thompson’s arms flex as he crosses them over his chest.

I tug the hem of the dress down and plop into the captain’s chair, stretching my legs up onto the console, shotgun across my lap. Waiting.

“They’re here for backup.” Dean says, throwing the towel on the bench.

“Pierce isn’t enough?”

They all avoid looking at me.

“Did Pierce seem like enough after what happened yesterday?” Dean asks, no gentleness in his tone, all firm.

I shiver, remembering the sound of the explosion, the feeling of firing the shotgun at actual human beings. The way they fell when the pellets tore into their bodies.

“No, but you said Cha?—”

“I’m sure Charlie is fine.” Dean sounds sure, but I squint up at him. “We’ll rendezvous with them later.”

“Fine.” As though I have a choice. Still, his confidence that Charlie is okay, that my friend is safe, soothes me, just a little. “So I guess you brought the entire squadron of Mattel Military Ken Dolls in because you don’t trust him.”

Thompson chuckles. “Does that make you Barbie? Thought she was a blonde. Besides, we’re all GI Joes over here,” he says, puffing his chest out like some deranged peacock.

The twitching muscle near Dean’s eye goes into overdrive.

“Why don’t you tell us about what that sea glass in the dry box meant?” Dean’s voice is slow, a deliberate rasp. Like he’s trying to maintain control but losing the battle.

“Yeah right, so you can leave me behind and take your band of merry military spec ops men to find my wreck? Or drugs, or whatever.” I level him with a stare. “Either way—” My voice breaks, because I’ve just admitted it out loud.

That my dad must have been involved in this crap.

“Either way,” I continue, “theSantu Espirituwill bemyfind. I’ve spent a decade looking for that treasure and I’m not about to give it up to some bossy know-it-all.”

I don’t exactly trust Dean, but I’m not about to be left out.

Besides, he said I was the key.

I’ll be my own leverage. I lift my chin, waiting for him to tell me no. Expecting it.

“If this has something to do with your ship, and not theshipmentwe’re after, then by all means, take the credit. We’re not interested in the wreck.” Dean glares at me. And dang, even like that, he looks hot.

“Stop glowering at me.”

“Glowering? What?” He shakes his head. “Don’t try to distract me, princess. You don’t know enough about this world and what you’re asking to walk into.”

“You don’t get to boss me around. I already told you, my boat, my rules.”

The men on the other boat still. As though I’ve crossed a major line.