Pirate's Promise (Sentinels of Savannah #5) - Lisa Kessler Page 0,20
shrugged and leaned on the railing beside her. “Used to have nightmares myself sometimes. Happens.”
She nodded and looked at him again. “You never asked me what it was about.”
“Nope.” He met her eyes. “Your dreams are your business.”
She chuckled. “That’s refreshing.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I did not want to work with you on this mission, but I think I might’ve been wrong about you.”
He raised a brow. “I’m not as big a bastard pirate as you thought?”
She snickered, knocking her shoulder against his. And he logged it. He couldn’t help but notice every simple touch. What was it with this woman? Lasses came and went. He’d lost count of how many.
Why was this one getting under his skin?
“Well, you did blow up my last undercover mission, and pirates have a history of hurting the people I’m sworn to protect, so…”
He straightened. “I don’t know if this is in your files at Department 13, but our crew have a code. We never took from anyone who couldn’t afford it, and we never hurt anyone who couldn’t defend themselves. Captain Flynn enforced the code without remorse for any bastard who broke it.”
Why was he justifying himself to her? He didn’t give a damn what she thought of him.
Did he?
She stared at him for a moment, studying him. Finally, she looked up at the moon. “If people found out your crew had a code that included mercy, wouldn’t it be harder to take ships? Wouldn’t you want to sail with the most fearsome captain in order to make ships surrender and build your stash of treasure?”
He arched a brow, eyeing her profile. “Why?” He chuffed, shaking his head as he surveyed the water below. “Contrary to your opinion of me, I’m not big on killin’ if I don’t have to. Taking a life, stealing a child’s parents—it haunts me. I’m no angel, but I’m not that kind of pirate.”
She cleared her throat and straightened. “Maybe while we’re up here, we could work on our cover story.”
“All right.” He pushed off the railing, but the crow’s nest only allowed for a couple feet between them. No room for keeping his distance. He offered her his hand in greeting and forced out his best Savannahian accent. “Hi, I’m Greg Smith. I married you five years ago, and now we’re looking to add a stolen mythical sword to our collection of rare artifacts and antiques.”
Sounded damn authentic to his own ears, and there was a trace of shock on her face before she buried it. Instead of paying him a compliment, she glanced down at his hand and smiled. Suddenly she took it, lacing her slender fingers with his calloused digits, and his breath caught. Her eyes lifted to meet his. “There’s more to it than that.” Her accent was spot-on, and the way her gaze locked on his as her thumb caressed the back of his hand almost made him believe she truly cared. “We were high school sweethearts. And now we’re trying to start a family.”
His blood ran hot as he swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d never been to school, high school or otherwise. All his reading and math skills were self-taught. Of course, he understood she was playing her part—he’d just never expected her to be so damned good at it. She had him wishing he really was Greg Smith. She deserved someone like him.
He pulled her in close, sliding his other arm around her waist as he stared down into her green eyes and struggled to balance on this tightrope between reality and the undercover identity. “I hope our daughter will look just like you, with your fighting spirit.”
Her lips parted slightly as she searched his face. “And our little boy will want to be just like his daddy and sail across the ocean.”
But Greg was a contractor. Wasn’t he? Greyson leaned in, aching to close the distance between their lips. “The antiquities we collect will pay for them to go to college, so they can have a safe life. Security.”
“Yes.” Her tone was breathy, or maybe it was wishful thinking on his part. “Remember when we first met?”
His gaze dipped to her mouth and back up. He vaguely recalled the file mentioning they’d been a couple in high school, but not how they met. He’d have to wing it, because he wasn’t about to break character. “I remember the way you hated me…” He struggled to hold back a smile. “But I grew on you.”