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“I know you can’t see, so I’m going to describe what’s going on. Montana is looking at that boat the way I look at your ass.”
Dahlia leaned her head against his, chuckling softly. She loved that she now knew Vadisk’s sense of humor. With his arm around her hips, the fear that had dogged every step faded somewhat.
“Now he’s swimming to the boat.”
“How far out is it?”
“Far enough that his balls have definitely retreated, thanks to the cold. I don’t understand how he’s actually going to get up onto it…oh wait, there’s a ladder.”
Dahlia blinked against unexpected tears. She knew this running commentary didn’t come naturally to Vadisk, but he was doing it for her. And she loved it. Loved…him. It was probably too soon for such a strong emotion, but she wasn’t going to fight it, wasn’t going to deny that she was definitely falling for her big, gruff Incredible Hulk husband.
She only hoped that when this was all over…
Dahlia sighed, hating that her concerns about Vadisk choosing to remain in the Hungary territory with Nikolett kept sneaking into her subconscious.
“Okay, he is on the boat. Doing…boat stuff?”
“How big is the boat?”
“Bigger than a car, smaller than an airplane.”
She snorted in amusement.
“It’s really long and pointy at the front. There’s a windshield, and it looks like some seats.”
“Individual seats or a bench seat?”
“Individual.”
“It’s probably a speed boat,” she said. “That’s what I’d give someone as a getaway vehicle.”
“Grigoris picked it, so that’s?—”
Vadisk stopped speaking abruptly, his entire body tense.
A second later, she heard it. A whistling sound.
Vadisk started to lurch away from her, toward the water.
She could see.
Dahlia’s eyes widened as, for a moment, she could see everything—the long, narrow beach bracketed by rocky cliffs, the dark water, and a white boat.
Pieces of a white boat.
The sound of the explosion nearly knocked her back, the flash of light when the boat exploded now gone, leaving her blind once more.
The boat had exploded.
Montana.
“Montana!” Dahlia lurched forward, nearly falling off the rock. Vadisk grabbed her, yanking her back against his chest, one hand slapping over her mouth.
Oh God, he was dead! The boat had exploded, killing Montana. No, no this couldn’t be happening.
“He jumped overboard,” Vadisk breathed in her ear, pulling Dahlia back until they were up against the cliff that sheltered the crescent of the beach. “He heard the rocket launcher and jumped.”
Rocket launcher? The whistling sound.
