Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Then I’d reminded myself over and over, these past few days, that Jett was someone hired to do a job. Someone who didn’t genuinely like me. Someone I couldn’t trust. Someone I didn’t have to give a shit about.
But hearing that word come off his tongue now felt wrong on every level.
“Watch your mouth,” I growled. “I’ve never once called you that, and you shouldn’t call yourself that either.”
Jett’s eyes widened, and I couldn’t help but notice the way they caught the warm light from the open terrace doors. They were ten times more compelling than the actual water beyond the terrace.
His expression softened. “My point is, whatever you’re doing in the Kiel Canal, you’re not going to shock me. I can help you better if you tell me what’s going on.”
I hesitated.
Jett stood up and moved behind me, clasping the muscles of my shoulders with his strong hands and digging his thumbs in to massage tight muscles. “I signed an NDA, Locke. If you trust me not to tell anyone about the dick sucking, trust me not to tell them about the shady shit.”
“I don’t do shady shit,” I grumbled. “I mean it.”
The sound of his laughter helped ease the tightness in my shoulders. “Fine. I promise not to tell anyone about the strictly legal way in which you’re planning in advance for one of your ships to pull over for an emergency.”
I grunted noncommittally. Then I closed my eyes and allowed myself to enjoy the massage for a few minutes. After a while, Jett began humming something almost under his breath.
“What’s that song?” I asked, tilting my head back to rest on his stomach as his hands moved to massage my chest. It felt ten times better than the massages I got regularly back home. “I know it.”
He laughed softly. “Because it’s played fucking everywhere. You can’t escape it. Like an earworm from hell.”
“What is it?”
“‘Not Mine’ by Lyra Vale.”
“Mm, right. I saw her play the Super Bowl show last year with my grandfather.”
“Tell me more about your grandfather. Aside from Paxis and football, what did you do together?”
I tugged his hand until he came around to face me. “We worked,” I said regretfully. “Which is what you and I need to get back to. Sit.”
Jett seemed a bit disappointed, but he didn’t prod me again as he returned to his seat at the table. And maybe it was because he didn’t press me that I felt comfortable giving him a little bit of the truth.
“I need to find something in a ship,” I explained.
His brows furrowed. “Like what?”
I clenched my teeth as the tension Jett had massaged away immediately returned to my neck and shoulders.
There was no way I was giving Jett the details of the weapons and nerve agent antidote. I couldn’t begin to imagine the risk if he had information like that—not just risk to others if it got out but risk to him for having it. And I didn’t want to scare him either.
“I’m not sure. But I have technology that can scan the containers if I can get close enough.”
Jett’s eyes met mine, and I wondered yet again how it was possible the man hadn’t been discovered by a modeling agency somewhere along the way. He was fucking beautiful.
Distractingly so.
“Smuggling,” he repeated. “You’re forcing ships into the Kiel Canal so you can search them for whatever’s being smuggled. And you need a place to send your team with the scanning technology.”
“Hypothetically.” I met his eyes. “Find me a place.”
Jett opened his laptop, muttering. “The Kiel Canal sees ninety ships a day. Can your tech scan them all?”
“I might not need to. I have people reviewing surveillance video to find out which ones could have been loaded with contraband.”
He nodded and got to work.
And for some reason, it didn’t occur to me to wonder why he knew the daily commercial volume of one of the world’s most vital waterways.
22
JETT
I was a shit intelligence agent. How was I still employed? I didn’t hide my emotions well, and so far, I’d been so inconsistent with my cover story as to resemble the holiest of swiss cheese.
The notes app in my phone was full of the inconsistencies I’d spilled, either accidentally before I thought it mattered or on purpose to find a balance between what I’d already spilled and the need to keep some semblance of cover.
“Fuck,” I breathed as I finally escaped to my bathroom for a break from the strange new tension rolling off Locke.
It was clear that whatever was happening during all those work calls was impacting his ability to enjoy the Paxis game. He’d come out of the game room coiled tighter than a snake.
He hadn’t mentioned what contraband he was looking for, but for it to cause the amount of stress he seemed to suddenly be carrying, it had to be big.