Sea Haven 01 - Water Bound

those eyes.
    What the hell? Was she stripping off her clothes? Her wet suit? No one actually hung up their wet suit, did they? She used a bucket of fresh water to rinse off the salt water and wiped herself down without embarrassment, as if he wasn’t really there watching the towel glide over her body before she pulled up her jeans and half buttoned a shirt. There were scars on her legs and feet; he was certain of it. He’d mapped out her body in his head. He was mesmerized by the shape of her, the look of her soft skin. So thin but still complete.
    All the while she’d dressed, her movements were quick and efficient—
    there were no flirty moves or hints of seduction, almost as if she thought herself alone, although those black, black eyes bored right through him. She had no adornments, no piercings, not even in her ears, but she did have a tattoo flowing down one hip. Tears? Water droplets? She’d kept it away from him and that only intrigued him more. He had a mad desire to lick those shimmering drops from her skin. The deck beneath him vibrated. The boat rocked more.
    “Stay away from the nets. Those spines aren’t poisonous, but they can puncture you and break off in your skin. I had surgery after one went through my hand. They’ll go through a car tire and cause flats. When I close 46

    my eyes at night, sometimes I see them everywhere and I can’t get away from them, like they’re hunting me. They can be bad news. I’ve got them away from you, but don’t move around.”
    He wanted to laugh at the warning. He should be afraid of sea urchins? That really was laughable. He was so far into the hallucination, it was insane. Sea urchins? Spines? Where the hell was he? A theme park? He felt along his thigh and found the reassuring presence of his knife. A pro would have searched him and found multiple weapons. She hadn’t touched him, other than to pound on his chest and get his heart working again.
    What was real? What was in his mind? His skull squeezed down on his brain and little explosions went off so that he grabbed his head and just held it. The boat threw him around a little, as if they were speeding through the water, but she left him alone. He needed that space to gather his defenses and come up with a plan of action. Every movement of the boat was agony, but he was used to pain and it steadied him. He used it to concentrate, to bring his splintered mind back under his control.
    First thing, assess his situation. Basically he was fucked. He had multiple identities, but he had no idea which ones were safe to use or which was real. He couldn’t remember how to get access to money or weapons. He wasn’t certain what he had with him. He knew he was in danger, but from whom or what, he had no idea. He was in enemy territory, but there was no clue as to how he’d gotten there or what his mission was. He had no idea who he was supposed to report to. If his head wasn’t hurting so damned bad, he’d smash it against the wall out of sheer frustration.
    He could only glimpse pieces of his past. Fragments of violence, of running, of danger. He didn’t have a family. Nothing soft in his life. Nothing vulnerable. He had no friends. No one he trusted. What the hell kind of life did he live anyway?
    “Nothing makes sense,” he murmured aloud. “ She doesn’t make sense.”
    47

Chapter 3
    “I have to get you to my truck and then come back and take the catch to the processing dock. Someone will have seen me coming in, so we have to hurry.”
    The woman bent over him, trying to slip an arm around his back. Lev slapped her arm away and looked her steadily in the eye, wanting her to know he meant business. “If this is a trap, I’ll kill you.”
    “I know, tough guy,” she responded.
    There was something wrong with her answer—with her voice—with that steady gaze. She didn’t fear him. Everyone feared him. They looked at him and saw the killer. She reached for him again and he blocked her arm.
    Exasperation crossed her face. Not anger or fear, but the exasperation one might feel toward an unruly child. She rubbed her forearm.
    “Listen to me, Lev .” She pronounced his name wrong, but he liked the way it rolled off her tongue. “We’re about to have company. I’m trying to get your sorry ass into the truck and out of sight before that happens.
    Cooperate with me, or stay here and let whoever is hunting you shoot you.”
    He stared into those black, black eyes. Soft and liquid and stunningly