Page 5 of Helsing: Demon Slayer (The Dragon’s Paladins #1)
R yan watched as shock displaced confusion on Dianne Markham’s irritatingly beautiful face, followed rapidly by disbelief and then anger. He wondered if she’d get up and leave as she’d done earlier with the guy her friend Germaine had recruited.
Remembering the insolent bastard’s sulky expression after Dianne walked away made Ryan’s fingers tighten on the glass of his drink.
When the bottom-feeder tried to tail Dianne, Ryan made sure he rethought that move.
That was when he knew that he had to engage Dianne more directly.
She’d just made the approach unnecessary.
Dianne didn’t get up to leave now. That was good. Ryan didn’t feel like going after her.
“What do you mean Olivia sent you to protect me? Protect me from what?” Before Ryan could respond, however, she continued.
“Why you? How do you know Olivia? I thought she ran an Albanian company that makes and exports herbal spa products.” She glared at him as if he’d told her that Olivia was really a black-market gunrunner, and he one of her lowlife enforcers.
Ryan waited for Dianne’s barrage of questions to stop.
“Are you done?” he asked when nothing else came out of her, not hiding his impatience.
“I’m not here to explain your sister’s business, and I sure as hell can’t explain what she wants to protect you from.
As for why Olivia sent me?” Ryan shrugged.
“I don’t know. I’m the Kastriotis’ chief of security.
It would have been more appropriate to send someone under my command, but I don’t think Olivia trusted anyone else with your safety.
You can ask her when we get to Fushe-Arrez. ”
Dianne’s jaw dropped as Ryan spoke. “What?” she asked. Her voice rose to a squeak. Her cheeks pinkened, but this time Ryan knew that the beautiful young blonde’s heightened color conveyed anger, not budding passion.
He shoved his disappointment down deep. Only the mission mattered.
“Olivia sent me to escort you at the end of the cruise to the Kastrioti estate.”
Dianne’s eyes widened. Then she blinked, her blue-gray gaze snapping. She sat up, her spine infused with steel he didn’t know she had. For the first time, Ryan got a hint of her older sister, the formidable former CIA operative, in the woman across from him.
When she spoke, her voice had hardened. “I’m not going anywhere with you, even if my sister were the Queen of England handing out tiaras.”
Ryan sighed. So much for being honest and direct.
All the women in his life now—well, except perhaps Stasia Kos, whose sparkling eyes seemed to find Ryan infinitely amusing—appreciated that approach.
He’d forgotten how much finesse civilian women, especially Americans, required in conversation.
He hadn’t worked on that verbal skill since Arly.
“Look, I know I’m not handling this well, but my lady has a sixth sense for bad things on the horizon. If she thinks you’re in some kind of danger, you are.” He paused, frustration mounting at the incredulous look on Dianne’s face. “You can call her tomorrow when we’re in port.”
“‘My lady’?” asked Dianne. “What does that mean? It sounds positively medieval.”
Ryan felt his own cheeks grow warm. He’d slipped and referred to Olivia by her honorific.
Damn, but this was getting harder by the second. If he continued to screw up, he’d have to kidnap Olivia’s little sister in order to get her back to the Kastrioti estate.
Ignoring Dianne’s comment, he leaned forward. “Olivia warned me about approaching you. She said you do everything the opposite of her.”
Dianne, who’d started to interrupt, sat back, blinking. What was that about?
Just then Dianne’s friends, including her cabinmate Germaine, appeared in the Mainsail Lounge from the far entrance and began scanning the patrons scattered around the space. Ryan sat back, preparing for an incoming invasion.
A moment later, Jasmyn shrieked, “Girlfriend! There you are! We’ve been looking all over the ship for you!”
The other four women turned to look where Jasmyn pointed, and then they all headed toward Ryan and Dianne like a buzzing swarm of bees.
Jasmyn plopped down next to Dianne on the long sofa while Tessa sat on the other side of Jasmyn. Mercedes and Caroline hung back, both wearing unhappy expressions. Germaine stood on the other side of Dianne with a small smirk playing about her mouth.
“Damn, girl! We thought you were sulking alone in a bar,” said Tessa, who then shot a sidelong glance at Ryan. “Instead, you’re sipping some extra hot tea.”
Jasmyn leaned around Dianne to get a better look at him. “Hey! I recognize you from the library. You’re the gym bro who kissed our girl like she was the last woman on earth.”
Mercedes and Caroline hovered just behind the others, their expressions tight—less disapproving of Dianne, Ryan thought, than of the whole public display.
Germaine’s smirk curled at one corner, but her gaze lingered on Ryan a half second too long. Measuring. Cold. Then she looked at Dianne. “Well. Looks like Di’s not quite as off-the-market as she claimed.”
Finesse? Had he used that descriptor only moments ago for dealing with civilian women from the U.S.? What he should have remembered was that a group of them required U.N.-level diplomacy.
Ryan kept still, letting them swarm, curious to see how Dianne would hold the line.
She laid a hand on his thigh, the warmth of her touch burning through the thin fabric of his pants and stealing his breath. Then she leaned in and said, “Not gonna lie. I am a bit salty right now. But I’m not in preschool. I don’t need anyone to help me drink my tea.”
“No offense, Queen,” said Tessa, raising her hands in mock surrender, gummy-pink nails catching the coppery light of the setting sun as her eyes flicked toward Jasmyn.
“Keep it sweet,” added Jasmyn with a laugh, bumping Dianne with her shoulder.
Germaine folded her arms. “Let’s go. Di’s clearly in capable hands.” She gave Dianne a wink—but when her gaze flicked back to Ryan, something behind it curdled. Not malice exactly, but … something. He couldn’t name it, but his instincts filed it away.
The group migrated to the bar where Alexis and Ivone waited, cocktails in hand and chatting with a couple of men they’d met earlier in the cruise. Tessa and Jasmyn chattered and laughed. Mercedes glanced back once, lips pursed, and Caroline followed with a sigh.
Ryan checked his watch. “We’ve got forty minutes before dinner. That is, if you want to maintain your cover.”
Dianne’s fingers slipped from his thigh. He tried not to miss them. Discipline kept him still, but every nerve was awake now, keyed to the memory of her touch through the thin fabric of his chinos.
She sat straighter, then gave a small sigh. “I’m sorry I snapped earlier. I’m just … in a weird place. None of this is normal. But for now”—she glanced toward the bar where her friends lingered—“you’re the devil I don’t know.”
Ryan took a sip of his beer, watching her. Flippant words, maybe. But she had no idea how close they were to the truth.
“No offense taken,” he said.
By the time they reached the Brazilian restaurant, the sharpness of her earlier nerves—the strange thrill of asking The Beast to dinner—had worn off. Dianne had expected something like a date. This wasn’t that. And now that she was certain of it, she could almost enjoy herself.
Ryan didn’t turn out to be much of a conversationalist, so Dianne drank more wine than she should have and plunged into asking him questions about Olivia, Mihàil, and Luljeta, who was now six months old.
“Have you never visited your sister in Albania?” asked Ryan after Dianne had peppered him with numerous questions about the mountains and the culture.
She shook her head. “No.”
He’d finished his meal already, having methodically devoured the meats— picanha , linguica , and cordeiro —barely pausing to inhale the warm, crusty p?o de queijo and piles of vegetables.
He tilted his head and studied her but thankfully didn’t press her about not traveling to Albania, either in the last five years that Olivia had made it her home or with him at the end of the cruise.
Instead, he nodded at her nearly untouched brigadeiros . “Aren’t those truffles good? I thought chocolate was irresistible to women.”
Dianne shrugged. “The ones I get back home are better. Plus, I’m not very hungry.”
“How long does this date have to last to keep your friends at bay?” Dianne thought she saw a mischievous glint in his eyes as he spoke.
“How much time do you have?” she asked, toying with the stem of her wineglass.
“That long?” Now Ryan really did smile, that incredible smile that turned the corners of his eyes up and transformed his rugged features. “How about a walk on the deck? Clear your head from the bottle of wine you drank?”
Ah. So he’d noticed.
Dianne nodded. They headed outside the steakhouse to the nearby sliding glass doors to the deck where the deep-blue Adriatic beckoned on the horizon.
Instead of walking along the perimeter of the deck, however, Ryan guided Dianne to the railing with a hand on her lower back. Lord, was she tipsy! That large, warm palm against the thin fabric of her blouse felt divine.
After a few moments in companionable silence looking at the moon glinting on the waves, she shivered in the cool breeze off the water.
“Cold?” asked Ryan as he leaned both elbows on the rail.
“Mm, maybe a little.” She shifted towards his heat, a sudden intense desire for him to pull her into his side and wrap his big arm around her waist taking her off guard.
He didn’t.
Instead, he turned against the rail and lifted his chin toward the pool. “They’re starting a dance party in a few minutes. It’ll be warmer among everyone else, especially if you dance.”
“Sure,” said Dianne, hoping that her disappointment didn’t sound obvious.
“After you then,” he said, gesturing. He didn’t replace his hand on her back.