Page 63 of Player

Her eyes widen. She’s thrilled I’m sharing.

“He taught me to hit a man just so.” Gently, I reach over and glide my knuckles across her jawline, modeling one of the vulnerable areas a skilled feck like me can knock some arse-twat off his feet. Hayden groomed me to be more precise with my punches. Exert less effort for maximum gain.

“Wow. They recruited you? You didn’t seek them out?”

I drop my hand and stare at the water. “It’s the truth.”

Feckin’ Irish guilt, that’s what I’m feeling.

“Good. Because there’s nothing worse than a liar.”

Bloody hell. Are these fish out to Sunday mass? Because if there was ever a time I wanted a distraction ...

“Are your colleagues as badass as you?”

I find myself smiling at that, and at how good she is at drawing information out of a fella.

“That’s a no, huh?”

“My boss is the worst of us lot. He’s a mean bastard. Cunning. Relentless. But when it comes to fists, I hold my own, which is more than the others can say.” I stop and turn her way. “He’d be mad as a box of frogs if he knew you were helping me.”

Mad ... murderous ... both begin with the same letter, right?

She touches my arm, drawing my attention. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t. You really, truly don’t.”

A slight splashing noise interrupts us. We both come to our feet.

I test the weight of my rod. Light as a feckin’ feather. Judging by the look on Clarissa’s face, hers is as well.

“That fish is dinner,” she declares, settling back down onto the boulder.

“He’s having a good laugh at our expense. We’ll see how he feels when he’s laughing his way into my frying pan.”

Our eyes meet, and then we burst into laughter.

Seconds pass before we settle back into a comfortable quiet. I relax and enjoy the moment.

The sun dips in the sky.

While the fish are off somewhere in the murky depths, Clarissa keeps stealing glances at me like I’m the sweetest of mince meats.

I could sit here all day.

“Life is surreal sometimes,” she murmurs after a spell.

I chuckle. “Surreal isn’t what I’d be calling it.”

“Fishing here with you, in this beautiful place. So random. So unexpected. It’s a pause in the chaos. A glimpse of what my days could be like if I’d taken a different career path.”

“If this were your norm, you wouldn’t appreciate it. A person like you, who gets her kicks from an adrenaline-induced high, who thrives on challenge and dodges obstacles like pesky boat rides or Irish wankers mucking up her work, you’re doing exactly what you’re meant to be doing.”

She flinches, and I feel my stomach drop. I’ve seen this look before, back in her ship cabin.

“No. I made a promise.” She shakes her head. “Whatever it takes.”

The rawness in her tone raises the hairs on my arms. “What do you mean?”