Page 24 of Velvet and Valor (Platinum Security: Shadows of LA #4)

“You can be so sweet, Axel,” she says. “Then the next moment you’re a goofy dork. And then the next you’re John Rambo taking on an army with your bare hands. You’d make a great character for a movie franchise.”

“I’ve been saying that for years!” I kiss her and then pull her toward the mall entrance. “Come on, let’s get you ready for the ball, Cinderella.”

We hit the clothing stores, and I run into a couple of problems. Problem number one? My size. Most of the stores don’t have things that will even fit me. Pants are too short, shirts aren’t big enough across the shoulders or the neck, or the sleeves stop in the middle of my forearm.

“There has to be a big and tall store in here somewhere,” she says. “We don’t have time for them to make alterations at any of the other places.”

June of course has no such problems. Everything she tries on looks great on her, and I tell her so.

But none of it is ‘right.’ Either it’s not flattering enough, or it’s not ‘yacht chic’ enough, or it looks like something ‘she’ would wear, and since June is trying to pretend to be someone other than herself it makes everything more complicated.

So, after an hour of finding zero outfits for ourselves, Dane starts sending angry texts.

“What’s going on?” June asks.

“Oh, nothing,” I say, stuffing my phone back in my pocket. “Just Dane text-bitching at me to hurry up.”

“Text bitching?” she snorts with laughter.

“Sounds like the name for a movie.”

“It most certainly does not. Do you know how many markets you would have to censor the title in? You might as well just say you don’t want to make any money on it.”

“Okay, but you have to admit it’s funny.”

She entwines her arm with mine and leans her head on my shoulder.

“I admit, it’s funny.”

I had a weird impulse to just spend the rest of the day in that fading mall with her. I’d never had this experience before, this normalcy of spending time with a woman you’re crazy about in a conventional setting.

I used to make fun of guys who walked around the mall with their women like a dog on a leash. Now, I think they might have been onto something.

“This is nice,” I say before I can stop myself.

“What?” June says.

“Nothing,” I reply.

She gives me a sour look.

“Axel, it’s okay. You’re allowed to express emotion from time to time.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I need to stop being a coward.” I sigh and brace myself. It’s harder to say the words than I thought it would be. “This is nice. That’s all I said. Nothing profound or anything.”

“It’s more profound than you think it is,” June says.

“Yeah, but…”

We stop under the lights of an artificial tree outside of a store specializing in bulk candy. A couple of kids rush past us, running so hard and fast they’re spilling candy in their wake. We watch them pass, amused for a moment.

“But what?” June says when the kids disappear around the corner. She’s not letting me off the hook that easy.

“You’re just like this worldly, educated…sophisticated woman,” I say. “And I’m a beer drinking, pizza munching grunt who likes those fast and furious car movies. What could you possibly see in a guy like me?”

“You’re selling yourself short,” she says.

“I think you need to find a balance between ‘I can do anything because I’m god’s gift’ and ‘I’m not good enough because I’m just a grunt.

’ Sometimes you have to react instead of act, because that’s what soldiers are trained to do, but…

you’re at your best when you use your head, Axel.

I just think you should remember that. You’re way smarter than you give yourself credit for. ”

Her words make me feel better inside, because they sound sincere.

“You really think I’m smart?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she groans, rolling her eyes. “Being smart is one thing, actually using that intelligence for something productive is another. You’re capable of more than you think you are, Axel.”

“So are you,” I say. “There are a lot of people who would fall apart in the situation you’re in. You could just chill in police custody somewhere until this is over, but you’re out trying to solve the problem.”

She snorts with self derision.

“Axel, I’m just too stubborn to give up the life I’ve worked so hard to build because some random accident got me embroiled with all of this chaos. I’m probably being foolish and should have taken protective custody instead of gallivanting around, trying to solve the problem on my own.”

I pull her in close, my arms encircling her waist.

“You’re not alone, June. Not anymore. Not ever again. I’ve got your back, always.”

June cocks an eyebrow. “You’re saying that to a woman you only met a short while ago, Axel.”

I can hear the hesitancy, the doubt in her voice. But there’s hope in her eyes. She wants me to convince her. This is it. The most important battle in my life. And I’m having it not on a blood soaked tarmac in Iraq but on pink tiles outside a candy store in Downtown LA.

Life is crazy sometimes.

“Maybe, but I mean it, June,” I say. “No matter what happens…you know, with us…I’ll always have your back. I’m just saying, you’ve got yourself a friend for life no matter what.”

June squeezes her eyes shut and I think she’s mad. At first. Then I see glistening moisture at the corners of her eyes.

“Damn it, Axel,” she says. “Just…damn it. You’re too good for this world.”

Now that makes me laugh, and hard.

“Wow, you need a bigger shovel to sling that kinda BS around,” I say. The phone dings. “We need to pick up the pace, Dane is losing his shit.”

I start to pull away, but June won’t let go. Our gazes lock, and then I kiss her nice and sweet. I file this moment away for later re-living and consumption. I could get by for years on just this kiss.

We finally make it outside about half an hour later to find Dane just casually leaning up against the side of his car, drinking an iced latte like he hasn’t been an absolute impatient dick for the last hour or so.

“You look like a senator on vacation,” Dane says of my white leisure pants, white shoes, and off-white sweater vest.

“Good,” I reply, adjusting my visor and sunglasses. “That’s exactly who you’d expect would come and look at a yacht for sale.”

Dane glances at June’s checkered sundress and sandals and nods in approval.

“Now she understood the assignment. Small flashes of wealth here and there but overall trying to look restrained.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” June says. “We’ll go with that, rather than this outfit was my last desperate attempt to pass the assignment.”

“You look great, June,” I say.

She beams a smile back. Dane cocks an eyebrow but offers no comment. He drives us to the marina, where it turns out Dane has had some fun at my expense.

“Eaton Dickerson, huh?” I say, giving him a dirty look. “Real funny asshole.”

“I’m getting you in, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, you’re going to get into the ocean when I drown you in it.”

June takes my arm and squeezes hard.

“Come on, Eaton,” she says insistently. “And put a smile on your face. You’re a guy looking to buy a yacht with a woman on his arm. Act like it.”

“A beautiful woman,” I correct her.

The breeze has kicked up a bit of a chop, white foamy caps forming at the top of deep blue waves.

A man-made cove of concrete blocks helps protect the marina from the worst of it, but the boats all bob up and down in their moorings.

Sometimes a hull bumps the dock, and you can feel the impact in your feet.

“Now might be a good time to mention I get sea sick,” I say.

June laughs. I don’t.

“You’re kidding. Why didn't you say this before?”

“I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal. If the water’s calm, it doesn't bother me. I didn’t know it would be like this.”

June reaches into her purse and withdraws a small wrapper.

“Here, try some of my ginger candy if you feel queasy. It’s a natural nausea cure.”

“Ginger candy? Is it good?” I ask.

“If you like ginger. It’s kind of like taffy. Really chewy, spicy taffy. I tuck it in my mouth and let it dissolve for a while.”

I tuck the candy in my pocket as we approach the marina. I wave at the security guard. He barely looks at us before waving back.

“Well, the disguises past muster,” I say sarcastically.

“Shut up, the mall was great,” June replies, elbowing me in the ribs.

“Ow! You’re not staying in character.”

“What is my character? Should I twirl my hair and look vacant?”

“It might help,” I say with a shrug.

June gets a look in her eyes that screams malicious compliance. Oh, man I stepped it in again.

We approach the Sea Sprite, an eighty-foot portrait of elegance and sleekness. I notice the extra flanges on the sides, and the way it rides in the water.

“It’s kind of smaller than I expected,” June says.

“That’s because it’s a hydrofoil,” I say.

“A what? Wait, one of those boats with the ski things on the bottom?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “They can go fast. Damn fast. Just the thing if you’re into criminal enterprise and need to beat a hasty retreat.”

A man appears on the deck of the yacht. He’s rail-thin, just like his uncle, but has curly dark brown hair and a swarthy complexion. He spots us and a grin spreads over his face.

“Hey,” he says.

“Ahoy,” I reply, affecting a higher pitch and a flat, midwestern accent. “Is this her?”

Moorcock’s nephew grins in reply.

“This is her. Ain’t she a beauty?”

“She sure is! Permission to come aboard?”

June snorts, snapping bubble gum—where did she even get bubble gum?

“Wouldja quit, Eaton?” she says with a sigh and a roll of her eyes, affecting a jersey accent. “You’re embarrassing me with your phony nautical references. The man can tell you’ve never bought a boat before.”

Moorcock’s nephew laughs and puts out the gangplank.

“Hey, everyone gets on a boat for the first time at least once. Welcome aboard.”

We head up the gangplank, and I give her a look.

“What,” she says, snapping her gum and staying in character. “You dragged me along on this trip. You know how much I hate the idea of going on a boat.”

I glance over at Moorcrock’s nephew.

“I’m afraid that I’m not the one you have to sell on this beauty.

I’m prepared to transfer the funds by the end of the business day,” I say.

His eyes widen, but not with joy. With panic.

So, they really don't want to sell this boat. Good to know. “You’ll be trying to sell my lovely fiancé on the idea.”

June gives Moorcrock’s nephew a half-lidded gaze.

“Now this looks like a man who knows how to entertain a woman,” she says, moving away from me and hooking her arm into his. His eyes go wide as she rubs her bosom against his arm. “How about it, handsome? Why don’t you take me on a tour of all the nooks and crannies?”

Jesus Christ, she’s good! She should have been an actor instead of a producer. I follow along in their wake as the flustered young man tries to go through an obviously rehearsed sales pitch.

“Hey, Mr. Williams,” I say. “Would you let me use the bathroom?”

“Of course, Mr. Dickenson,” Moorcrock’s nephew replies, his gaze fixated on the flirtatious June. “It’s on the foredeck, and we call it a head.”

“Super. So, the bathroom, that is, the head is…which way is the four deck?”

He points to the front of the boat, still not looking at me.

“Great. I’ll be right back. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

I head off, and the second I’m out of sight I start searching. Everywhere. There are so damn many panels and storage compartments I start to feel like it’s an impossible task.

I don’t even know what I am looking for, which makes trying to make an educated guess impossible. We’ve got no idea what they want with June, or how she is connected to the woman in the airport at all. I’m starting to rethink this plan.

June is fantastic. She keeps Moorcrock’s nephew on a tight leash, nice and distracted. Maybe a little too distracted. If she’s trying to make me jealous, she is succeeding beyond her wildest dreams.

Pretty soon I run out of places to look, and I’ve been gone a long time. I feel like my search just wasn’t thorough enough, but I’m out of time. I go back up on the main deck, trying to fight the queasiness creeping into my stomach. Is it my imagination, or is the sea getting rougher?

The sun hits my face, and being able to see the way the skyline bobs in sync with the boat helps my seasickness. Somehow. Still feels icky, though, I freaking hate boats…

My mouth falls open when I see her. Moored not three spots away from the sprite. A big fucking yacht, dwarfing Moorcrock’s. A Chinese port of call etched on the hull, and the name: Go For Broke.

It’s the yacht. It’s the fucking yacht, right here! Go for Broke. That is where they told June they were taking her originally.

Moorcrock could be on that boat. Or someone who knows where he is. If I can cut off the snake’s head, she’ll be safe whether we find out what he was really after or not.

I’ve got to find a way on that boat.