Page 9

9

Aran

It takes Hex until we are in our cabin to get to the point. According to him, the guy he met who works in the off-limits area could be my way in.

“He was kind of cute, you know,” he says, sinking into the couch with a sigh. “But only because he looks like you. You are cuter.”

I cross my arms and lean my ass against the dining table’s edge, peeking out the window. With the curtains wide open, all I can see is darkness. It’s everywhere outside, stretching for hundreds of miles above and under the water. The ship’s exact destination and route are unknown. ‘As security, you don’t need to know’ is what the job brief stated.

The captain’s cabin is in one of the off-limits areas too, so it’s not like I can sneak in and check either. There are cameras everywhere, and even if I somehow managed to avoid them, I’d still need to figure out a way to take care of the guards and patrols.

“How did your dinner go?”

Hex hangs his head off the couch’s backrest and shrugs as our eyes meet. “Fine. The food was great if a little too fancy for my preferences.”

This wasn’t what I meant, and if he is hedging like this, it could only mean bad news. “Tien. That wasn’t what I was asking.”

His plush lips press in a line. “I couldn’t recognize anyone. Sorry. You know I’m bad with faces.” Bad would be an understatement. Sometimes, I’m still surprised that he remembers what I look like. “And I couldn’t get much out of the Lynxes. But…”

The way he trails off and averts his gaze raises my hackles. Did something happen? I clench my hands into fists, feeling my nails dig into my palms. Did the two do something to him?

Quicker than my brain can keep up with, I’ve crossed the room and cradled Hex’s head with both hands. His eyes go wide, the brown in them shimmering with the reflections of the light strips along the cabin’s ceiling.

I’d murder anyone who as much as plucks a hair off this man’s head.

Hex’s smile is slow as he searches my face. His gaze lingers on my mouth, growing a little darker and sending a thrilling surge of electricity down my spine. I’m too close. I must put some distance between us before he bewitches me with his eyes, but I also must make sure he’s unharmed. That nothing happened to him.

The need to ascertain that is so strong I can’t push it down. My heart beats a maddening rhythm as my hands roam his head, then slide along his lean neck, checking for bruises and cuts. He arches his back off the couch, biting on those full lips. They look so impossibly tempting, calling out to me like a siren luring a tipsy deckhand in the middle of a moonless night.

What would they taste like? I’ve always wondered about that. I know I shouldn’t—Hex is and will forever be off-limits—but sometimes I can’t help it. He’s not a kid anymore. He’s a young man, who despite his questionable sense of fashion, always turns heads wherever he goes. It’s always been like that, even if at first I pretended I didn’t notice it because it’s not my place to meddle in his affairs.

But I also want what’s best for him. He deserves someone good and trustworthy to stand by his side, someone who will do anything to keep him happy and safe. I wouldn’t settle for anything less, even if I am yet to meet a man or woman that’s worthy.

I slide my fingers along his collarbone, not quite sure how they got there. His hand meets me halfway, gentle but assertive as it tries to guide me off my intended course. I know that game, but still, I let him play it just like I let him get away with a lot of things that he shouldn’t.

“I think you need to check lower,” he rasps, showing me a row of white teeth as he bites off a moan. “Like, inside my pants.”

I give in. I drag my fingers down his lean pecs and let him ensnare me with his big eyes. Just for a heartbeat. Just so I can get rid of this budding urge to be even closer to him.

My lapse of judgement lasts only a second, but even if short, it is enough so the heat of his body enters mine and lights me on fire.

He’s beautiful. Painfully irresistible. It’s gotten so much worse in the past two years, the way he looks at me, the little touches we share, the bold confessions he drops whenever he feels like it. If I had known my best friend’s son would become the one man who can turn my world on its axis, I would have removed myself from the picture ages ago.

But I thought I could handle it. I thought his little stunts meant nothing, that he would get over his crush on me eventually. Part of me still believes that, waiting for the day when Hex will meet his person and forget all about me.

I retract my hand, vibrating from all the conflicting feelings within me. Hex’s eyebrows slant down in dissatisfaction, but he doesn’t try to stop me. He just lets out a sigh and swivels around so he’s leaning his forearms on the backrest. With his face no longer upside down, I can catch the hint of lingering want, the disappointment of things not going his way.

“You’re such a party pooper. I thought you’d finally realized that it is your duty as my future husband to deflower me.”

I rub my forehead, not sure whether I should laugh or groan. My hands itch with the urge to grab him and shake some sense into him, but I’m not sure that would even help. I’m forty and he’s twenty-three, which makes me too old for him. He can find someone better who’s his age. Not to mention I am the only father figure he’s had since his dad passed. I will be the one to walk him down the aisle when the time comes, so, for both of our sakes, I need to end this once and for all.

Why? I’ve wondered for as long as I can remember, always arriving at the same answer. He’s too young, too free, not haunted by a past bound on duty. I shouldn’t even entertain the idea of a ‘we’, but it still crosses my mind. Because what if I could really be the person who stands by his side?

But that is impossible. My future is full of danger he doesn’t need in his life. Our paths don’t lead to the same destination, our ages are too far apart. His ‘love’ for me is probably a mix of confused admiration and the fact that I am the closest thing to a family he has. He’s just recently entered the adult world, he hasn’t experimented yet, hasn’t figured out what he likes, but when he does, he will forget all about me.

It scares me, terrifies me, that I might lose him one day like I lost my best friend. It tells me that I am already letting myself get too deep in this, that I’ve strayed from the path of professionalism that I must maintain as his guardian. That’s all I am and all I should be. A substitute for a father. A family until he creates one of his own.

But sometimes I seem to forget that, and it feels like I’m crossing a line. The guilt comes rushing in, the disappointment that I am breaking the promise I made so many years ago. I can’t have Hex, he’s not meant to be mine that way. It’s wrong, forbidden, impossible. I just need to remember that.

Hex flashes me the biggest shit-eating grin, and it melts all the annoyance coursing through me. The nose ring adds to his impish charm, as does his stylishly messy blue hair, and before I know it, I’ve lost any intention of scolding him.

With a deep sigh, I direct my gaze at the dark ocean and sky. I need to end this game we’ve been playing, once and for all. For my own sake and sanity. It just won’t be tonight. We have bigger things to worry about.

“I’ve let this get out of hand.” I clear my throat, center myself, and summon my most authoritative scowl at him. “What happened at the dinner? And no more hedging. I can tell when you are trying to buy yourself time.”

And yet you let him. You got carried away, swept up in his pace.

I’m only human. And he’s perfected getting under my skin. It’s harder and harder to resist him.

You can always walk away when he tries to flirt with you. No one is forcing you to listen to any of it. So why are you?

“Well…” he trails off, fumbling with the seam running along the couch’s backrest. “You were there when I agreed to join the Lynxes for game night tomorrow. And I also agreed to hang out with Not Aran at the pool before that.”

It takes my agitated brain a few moments to comprehend Hex’s words and remember that conversation. I was so worried something might have happened during dinner, that picking him up at the meeting spot and leading him to the cabin is a bit of a blur.

Fear surges through me just thinking about letting him spend more time in the company of the old couple. There is something about them that just rubs me wrong. The way the woman was looking at Hex, the glint in her eyes, the casual touches… And now there is some waiter in the mix, too?

Tension floods my head, starting at my temples and quickly escalating all across. I don’t like this.

“Look, I know you don’t like this. It’s obvious even without you staring daggers at me, okay? I already took that, plus how risky and possibly dangerous it might be, into account yada, yada, before agreeing to meet with them again. But I also have a plan.” Oh, so Hex has a plan? How assuring. “I just… I’ll need your help to make it work.”

Crossing back to the other side of the room, I fill a glass with water from the sink. The headache has gotten too nasty to let be, so I pop a pill into my mouth and swallow it. Its bitter aftertaste stays on my tongue, slightly unpleasant and kind of fitting my mood.

“Let’s hear it,” I prompt, steeling my nerves.

Hex claps his hands, then lets them dangle off the backrest. “Okay, so. You’ll come with me to the pool. We’ll chat with Not Aran, maybe swim a little. Then I’ll bring up the cocktail he made me—”

“You drank alcohol?” Hex is the lightest lightweight you’d ever encounter. Plus, he hates the taste of alcohol. So why the hell did he drink? I knew I shouldn’t have let him go on his own.

“Chillax. I only had a sip. The Lynxes offered me wine, but I played them like a pro. That shit was nasty .”

This was a mistake. I should’ve never let Hex come. If he doesn’t get us both killed, I might die from a brain aneurysm because of too much stress.

The sudden burst of panic subsides as he explains how he pretended to drink both the wine and daiquiri. Sometimes, I think it would be better if I let Hex live his life in peace and make his own mistakes. It’s not like I stop him or limit him though, so that’s a moot point. He does what he wants, and I only ever step in if he puts himself in any real danger. While this mission lasts, things are a little different though, but if I had tried to go with him, I’d have brought upon us unnecessary attention.

Taking a deep breath, I let my worries pass. Whatever happened, happened. Hex is here and fine, so there’s no point stressing over it.

“Let’s get back to your plan. We’ll entertain your friend at the pool, and then what?”

He scrunches his face, thinking. “Oh, right. So, I’ll bring up the cocktail he made me and say how amazing it was. Then you’ll jokingly say that you’d love to try one of his drinks. And then we invite him to our cabin, because we have alcohol.”

I think I know where his brain went. And I most definitely don’t like it.

“And?” I cross my arms and arch an eyebrow at him.

“And, well, that’s where you come in? You’ll do your thing, scare him a little, maybe beat him up here and there, and voila, we have his bracelet and schedule? He’s not working tomorrow night, but maybe we can convince someone to switch with him. That way you get to do his shift.” He waves his hand as if none of this is particularly hard. “We’ll need to figure out what to do with Not Aran while you are pretending to be him, of course.”

“And how are we going to do that?” I pose, forcing down the smile that’s trying to escape me despite the ludicrousness of Hex’s plan.

But this crazy idea is also so Hex, so I can’t really blame him. Like Leo and Matt, who are his best friends, his moral compass is a little questionable. Skewed. In our line of work, it’s a good thing, even if I sometimes forget that and momentarily get fooled by Hex’s angelic face.

“I don’t know. That’s your specialty. Maybe we can explain the situation to him and ask him to cooperate? If he promises to behave, maybe you won’t have to tie him up to the bed and tape his mouth?”

I feel the twitch as my lips curve up of their own accord.

“Shit, are you smiling?” Hex points at me accusatorily. “You like my plan, don’t you?”

If we ignored all the ways this could backfire and bite us in the asses, I suppose it could work. And if I am looking forward to playing the bad, scary guy so I can let some of the stress out, well then, can you blame me for it?