Royal (Dressed to Kill) by Ann Denton

Author:Ann Denton [Denton, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781951714383
Publisher: Le Rue Publishing
Published: 2023-04-27T16:00:00+00:00

13

HEAD SHOT

May 23

1:08 a.m.

Mediterranean Sea

Royal

I know I annoy people—that my personality and my OCD can make me uncomfortable to be around—but I don’t know if I’ve ever been truly hated before.

But now, I know precisely what hate feels like. Fire.

I’m human bacon sizzling on a hot griddle.

I swear, there’s a red ring of rage that hovers around Colt as I give him the navigation directions we need to take to sail to Casablanca, Morocco. It burns and generates an actual feeling of hot discomfort whenever he steps near me to look over my shoulder at the map on my phone. Of course, the fact that he purposely prods me with a loaded gun at the same time might also contribute to the fact that my pulse is currently a stammering, stuttering mess in my veins.

It’s so uncomfortable that my stomach tries to self-destruct, to rip itself to bits just so I can stop experiencing this all-encompassing loathing.

“How long?” Colt punctuates his question with a stab from the muzzle of his gun.

“Um, well, four days if we sail right through, but we’ll realistically need to sleep so maybe five days?” I lick my lips and though I’m staring at my screen I don’t see a single image or word on it. My mind is shutting down defensively.

I can hear him breathe angrily.

I didn’t realize that was a thing—breathing angrily. But it is.

“When will … when will Tyler and—” Colt’s gruff voice cuts off as if he can’t even bring himself to keep talking.

My answer is a whisper that makes both our ears burn. “A few days.”

“Fuck.” He curses and pulls away from me, clearly thrilled with the idea that we’re going to be spending some quality time together.

Shoving his gun into his pants, he suddenly bends and grabs an armchair, hurling it across the room until it crashes against the pool table. The back of the chair cracks and sags and I have never had more sympathy for an inanimate object than I do at this moment, because that chair could easily have been me.

Breathing hard, nostrils flaring, he marches off down the hall before barking at me. “Well, come on! We need to steer this thing.”

I press my lips together as I silently point in the opposite direction—to where the wheelhouse is actually located.

Thank fuck the floor is metal underneath all this carpet, because I swear Colt’s feet try to stomp holes right through it.

Meekly, I follow him.

This is going to be fun.

So much fun.

I go to the control room, which is a sleek padded tan leather room with an opulent curved control desk covered in glossy black glass with screens, buttons, and levers everywhere. A stereotypical pirate’s wheel adds a bit of flare on the front of the desk, though it doesn’t have to be used. Beyond the desk is a wall of windows providing a clear view in every direction. Another time, I’d appreciate the attention to detail, the pearl and anchor pattern in the navy carpet beneath our feet.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.