Pirate's Promise (Sentinels of Savannah #5) - Lisa Kessler Page 0,5

less from him. Caleb hadn’t had the opportunity to chart a course across the Atlantic in over a century, and with all their new navigational devices, he imagined his friend must be eager to get underway.

“Greg Smith. What kind of bland country club bullshit is this?” Greyson groaned.

Caleb peered over at him, his finger keeping his place on his paperwork. “The kind that’s so common it makes it tough for the people you’re meeting with to run a background check?”

“Maybe.” Greyson read further, tension building in his shoulders. It wasn’t the alias, or the lies he’d need to tell, that were bothering him. In his line of work, cozying up to people under false pretenses was often part of the job.

But he preferred to work alone.

His gaze slipped over to the photo of Aura Henderson.

She was beautiful, but it was more than the way her full lips came together to dare him to cross her, or the arch of her perfectly shaped brows. The glint of fire in her deep-set green eyes drew him in, even though she’d made it crystal clear that she hated him with a passion.

Passion. That was it.

Shit. He tossed the file onto the center of the table. “I need to get laid.”

Caleb lifted his head with an arched brow. “How is sex going to help you find the Tyrfing?”

“It’ll keep my mind off her.” He tapped Aura’s picture stapled inside the folder.

Caleb leaned forward, examining the photo. “She’s attractive.”

He said it like this fiery siren was no more than a model on a billboard to sell some sort of perfume. She had the added dimension of weaponry and a wicked tongue. She was more than something pretty to look at. Greyson shoved the thoughts away and chuffed. “Sounds like I’m not the only one who needs some quality time with a woman.”

Caleb waved his hand, focusing on his books again. “I don’t have time for that.”

Time. Greyson tried to remember the last time he’d been naked with a woman. It had been…how long? He ran a hand down his face, struggling to remember. Had it been a year?

It was easy to lose track of time these days.

The years blurred as decades raced by. Over the years, he’d taken to limiting himself to one-night stands to banish the lonely shadows in his soul. The ticket to surviving eternity was to keep his loyalty to his crew. Any other entanglements led to losses, and he had had his fill of those long before he’d ever taken a drink from the Holy Grail.

If the Tyrfing weren’t on the line, he’d ask one of his crewmates to step in and take on Greg Smith’s persona.

Back when he’d had the blade tattooed on his forearm, he’d never imagined he’d still be topside a couple of centuries later. He’d gotten it because of his fascination with weapons, but as lifetimes had passed him by, it had become more of an inspiration, a reminder that he, too, was stronger than he appeared. Immortal.

And now that there was a chance that he might actually grip the hilt of the mythical sword in his hand, there was no way he’d give it up. Even if that meant working with a woman who drove him to distraction.

Greyson closed the folder and sighed. “I can just ignore her until we get to Glasgow.”

Once they went ashore together, undercover as a couple, he’d be too focused on finding the Tyrfing to notice the fire in her eyes or the way her full lips parted as her chest heaved with rage.

Caleb chuckled and shook his head as he looked over at him. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Fuck you,” he cursed under his breath as he got up and swiped the folder off the table.

This mission—working with Agent Henderson—it was all going to be harder than he thought.

Chapter Three

Aura pressed her back against the door and blew out a pent-up breath of frustration as she scanned her tiny accommodations. The musty scent of gunpowder teased her nostrils. It smelled like a shooting range in the tiny cabin.

She should be exhausted from the whirlwind travel arrangements and flight to Savannah, but the verbal jousting session with Greyson had her keyed up. The double bed against the wall in the corner didn’t seem the least bit enticing at the moment.

There was a small table with two chairs between her and the bed. The wall had a porthole cut out at the foot of the bed, and a tiny