The Devil's CrownPart Two - Monica James Page 0,66
throw it overboard, but decide to stow it away in case I need it as a bargaining chip.
This thing is worth a small fortune.
When the yacht suddenly decreases in speed, I jump up from the bed and look out the window. In the distance, I can see fishing boats and what looks to be a small fishing town. I have no idea where we are. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I decide to venture onto the upper deck so I can get a closer look.
Not bothering with shoes, I slip my cardigan over my green summer dress and head upstairs. The sky is sliced with slashes of orange and red hues because it’s dusk. It’s in the darkness where I now feel most comfortable.
The daylight is too bright, too…revealing.
I stop on the top step and grasp the railing, needing a moment to admire Alek because I can only do so in secret. Just because he’s toxic to my heart, that doesn’t erase my feelings for him. I still love him so much.
His muscled, bare broad back glows under the twilight skies as he stands at the wheel, steering this vessel like a pro. His dark hair catches the breeze. When he shifts, I see something which shocks me—he has a tattoo.
Praying hands are inked on the back of his left arm.
The image has me gripping the railing, suddenly unstable on my feet. The meaning behind it baffles me. Why praying hands? Is this for me?
Scoffing, I tamp down such whimsical thoughts and make my way toward the front of the yacht, avoiding Alek. The gentle breeze is lovely, and I hold the guardrail, lifting my face toward the heavens. Inhaling, I take a much needed breath.
Being out here in the open gives me some peace. If only it were enough to soothe the demons within.
As I take in my surroundings, nothing gives our location away. I’m guessing we’re out of Russia because people will not only be looking for me, they’ll be looking for Alek as well.
Giving in, I shout to be heard, “Where are we?”
He could be childish and not reply, and I would deserve it. But he’s not. “Latvia. We will dock here for a couple of hours. This should be enough time for you to buy whatever things you may need for the rest of our journey.”
Rest of our journey? To where?
“Where are we going after here?” I ask, biting the bullet.
“You’re going to Ireland,” he replies, revealing this isn’t a round-trip ticket for me.
“And what am I supposed to do in Ireland?” I ask, annoyed.
“Stay alive,” he bluntly states, indicating he’s in no mood to talk.
With a sigh, I realize I can’t avoid the inevitable any longer and turn around to look at Alek. He stands tall, unruffled while I suddenly feel hot. The front of him is just as impressive as the back. His chest is defined, his abs rippling as he turns the wheel. His khakis sit low on his waist, and his defined V-muscle draws emphasis to the sprinkle of dark hair leading from his navel and down into his pants.
He is a vision, and I know he feels, he tastes, as good as he looks.
Getting my mind out of the gutter, I concentrate on what’s important. “So I’m expected to stay with strangers and hope they don’t kill me? Is that right?”
“Yes,” he replies, eyes focused ahead. “If you have a better plan, then please, enlighten me. But seeing as speaking seems to be off the table, I went ahead and organized this without you. I’m only following the rules you set.”
“Oh, fuck you, Alek,” I spit, not appreciating his sarcasm. “Just leave me here. I’ll work something out myself. I don’t wish to be indebted to you for the rest of my life.”
And this is why I don’t want to talk to him. Every conversation just seems to end in a fight.
With a slanted smirk, he finally meets my eyes. “We’re done, Ella. You made that fact perfectly clear. So once I kill Santo and his sons, I’ll be out of your life forever. I don’t want anything from you…well, not anymore.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t give life to them. “Who’s in Ireland?”
“The IRA.”
I open but soon close my mouth. I need a minute.
“How is this option any better than staying with the Macrillos? You’re just shipping me from one crime family to another.”
“I never asked you to stay with the Macrillos. Nor did I ask you