He stood up, firing toward the stairs that led to the main deck.

Unfortunately, there was no one left to kill.

“I left you a present, Tag.” This time the sound was coming from the starboard side of the ship. Ian moved his ass, trying to get to the fucker before he got away. “Sorry to leave so very quickly, but I think our little game is over now. It would have been nice to have the tech, but in the end as long as I’ve destroyed it, it doesn’t matter. I’ve rigged the ship to explode so you won’t be able to play anymore. It’s okay since your little whore is floating. You’ll join her as soon as I get enough distance between us.”

“Tag!”

He heard his brother shout as the boat Nelson was on began to pull away.

He pulled the trigger in frustration, trying to spray the boat. He’d already lost sight of Nelson.

And then he saw something that made his heart stop.

A body floating in the water, face down, her hair around her like a halo.

“Ian, we have to go,” his brother said as he ran up to him. He looked out and then pulled at Ian’s shirt. “Ian, no.”

But he wasn’t listening. He tossed the gun aside and dove in, bad leg, aching shoulder and all.

Suck it up, Taggart. She’s alive. She’s fucking alive because she can’t be dead.

Pain flared through his system but he swam to her, forcing her body over, her face up to the sun.

“Come on, baby.” He started to swim back, trying not to think about the fact that she wasn’t breathing. Her chest wasn’t moving up and down. Her body was dead weight in his arms.

Not fucking dead. Not dead.

It became his mantra as he swam back, the rhythm that kept his limbs moving, his heart pumping.

Not fucking dead.

Charlie wasn’t dead. Charlie couldn’t be dead. He’d just found her again and he’d wasted time being mad at her. He should have just laid down in front of her and thanked the fucking universe for a second chance. Because the anger he’d felt was nothing compared to the love. He loved her. She was his in that stupid Hollywood way that made a man think dumbass things about the future.

“Give her to me.” Sean leaned over, reaching for her and hauling her up.

Simon pulled Ian on to the deck.

Sean held her, but there was no strength in her body, just useless limbs hanging down. Everything that was Charlie seemed gone. “We need to go. It won’t be long before he detonates that bomb. They left the second boat. Not enough men left to crew it. Let’s go.”

Charlie wouldn’t last long enough to get to the boat.

“Lay her down,” he commanded.

Sean laid her on the deck. “I’m so sorry, brother.”

“Go. Both of you.” Dropping to his knees, he ignored the pain that was screaming along his nerves. It was easy since the panic in his head was shouting down everything else. He was sure his face was passive, a trick from years of training, but he was fighting for control. Fighting the need to scream.

He moved to her mouth, tilting her head back. A kiss. It was like a kiss. He could trick his brain into believing it was just another kiss with his wife. He should have kissed her more. All the time.

One breath in and then another.

Methodically, he found her xiphoid process. It was there at the base of her breastbone. He moved the flat of his palm to her chest and pumped. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

His brother was still here. If his brother died, Grace would feel this ache. She would feel the blinding pain of having half her fucking soul ripped away from her. She would understand what it meant to sit up at night and wonder where the hell her husband had gone. She’d already been through it once. She couldn’t again. Not while Ian could stop it. “Get him out, Simon. That’s an order. If you have any loyalty to me at all, do it.”

He bent over and breathed into Charlie’s sweet mouth again as Sean started to argue. There was a thud and when he moved back to chest compressions, Simon was picking up Sean’s unconscious body and hauling it over his shoulder.

His deep blue eyes found Ian’s. “Good luck, boss. And thank you.”

“Take care of my crew.” One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

His body was on autopilot. He couldn’t seem to stop. Part of him said to just give up, hold her in his arms and wait for the world to explode because wherever she was, that was where he wanted to be. He’d meant it. He didn’t want to live in a world where he lost her twice.

Fuck. His vision was blurry. Something splashed and hit Charlie’s cheek.

He was crying. He didn’t fucking cry.

“You don’t get to leave me!” A violent anger raged inside him. She didn’t get to die. Not twice. Not now. If he was going out, then he wanted her looking into his eyes when it happened, he wanted them connected so he could hold on to her. So he didn’t lose her.

He struck her chest, a deep thud causing her body to jerk. “Wake up. You wake up, bitch, because I’m not doing this without you.”

There was no going back to a half-life of Scotch and songs no one else wanted to listen to and pretending he wasn’t dead inside.

He struck again and her eyes flared, her mouth opening as water bubbled out of her lungs.

“Oh, shit.” Ian thrust his good arm under her neck, turning her to the side as she vomited up what had to be a gallon of pure Arabian Sea.

“What did you do to me?” Charlie asked, her voice raw and so gorgeous to him. “I think a Mack truck hit my chest.”

He didn’t have time to argue about his CPR methods. Now that she was back, all he wanted to do was live. With a low groan, he got to his feet. They needed to get in the water, swim as far as they could. Just a chance. He would carry her as far as he could and then take whatever fate she suffered.

Live or die, he would do it with her.

He hauled her up even as she protested. “Ian, put me down. It hurts.”

Limping, he started for the port side. He would do whatever it took. Getting her out of here was the most important thing in the world. “Can’t, baby. We have to get out of here. Nelson is going to blow the ship.”

She shook her head. “No. Not ours.”

“Maybe he’s lying, but I can’t take the chance.” God, he hoped the bastard was lying because their time had to be up.

“Ian, we’re fine. Watch his boat. Watch his. Got into the water to do it.”

Her words hit him with a flash of hope. His wife was smart and kind of really fucking mean, and it would totally occur to her to hand Nelson back his surprise. He turned to the boat that was speeding away from the yacht. He could have sworn he saw Nelson standing at the bow, watching. He seemed to be holding something in his hand. Nelson waved. The asshole.

And then Nelson’s motherfucking boat exploded.

Ian stood strong as the concussive wave hit the yacht and made it list back and forth. His arms tightened around his wife and despite all the pain, he threw back his head and laughed.

Eli Nelson had just gotten taken down by a girl. A woman. Ian Taggart’s woman. It was surprisingly better than taking the fucker down himself.

The yacht continued to move, and Ian stumbled to the chaise. He laid his wife down, her gorgeous body barely covered. She had a wound on her arm, but it didn’t look serious. Dropping to his knee, he could hear the sound of Nelson’s boat hitting the water again after flying apart through the air. He would bet there were a whole lot of body parts flying around, like the best fireworks ever.

Charlie was still pale, her hand on her chest, rubbing it like it pained her. He hoped he hadn’t broken anything. “So it was a good wedding present? I didn’t get you one the first time.”

She was alive. He breathed her in. She was alive. His wife was still with him, his future right in his arms. “Best present ever.”

He kissed her as the Coast Guard started shouting in Hindi and the world was complete chaos around them.

“Tag?” Knight’s voice came over the line again. “Tag? Do you want to explain what the bloody hell just happened?”

Ian took out the earpiece and tossed it over the side of the boat.

And got back to kissing his wife.

Chapter Twenty

Saint Petersburg, Russia

Two Weeks Later


Ian moved alongside the tourists, blending in as they crowded into the packed Peter and Paul Fortress. It was a rare sunny day in Saint Petersburg, and it looked like the citizens were out in droves. It seemed to him that the minute the sun came out in Russia, all its citizens dropped whatever they were doing and found a patch of grass to lie on.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t be lazy today. Today was the day he gave his wife her life back.

After today, everyone got to go home. Even his brother, who was back in the States at the safe house with his small family and Adam and Jake’s. Avery was staying with them while the rest of the team took care of business. Chelsea had chosen to return to the States with Sean. Damn, but he hoped she was there when he and Charlie got back.

His brother had only punched him once. Sean even waited until after the doctors had pulled the slug out of Ian’s leg to do it. Simon had taken a worse thrashing, but seemed to have given as well as he got. Sean had been pissed as hell that Ian had ordered him out, but they were already back on speaking terms.

All in all, it had been a damn fine op.

He walked through the bricked archway that led to the fortress as the tour guide spoke in her heavily Russian-accented English.

“The Peter and Paul Fortress was built in 1703 by Peter the Great. He feared attacks from Sweden so he decided that this island at the delta of the Neva River would be the best defense. The fortress was founded on May 27th and this is now considered the birthdate of the city of Saint Petersburg. If you will all follow me, we will go to the cathedral.”