Read Online From Kiss to Queen by Janet Chapman - Free Book Online Page B

the bowels of the deep. If it weren’t for the frothing waves lapping against the hull, she wouldn’t have been able to discern it from the ocean, it blended in so well. The engine of the boat they were on had stopped ten minutes ago, and the sudden silence had awakened her. Now she was sitting on the deck in an undignified heap, watching a sight she was pretty sure few civilians ever witnessed.
    Which made her ask her still-befuddled mind—again—who Mark was. A spy or secret agent? Russia had those. Did Shelkova? Or was he just a very wealthy, successful criminal? Maybe Russia had sold off some of their subs to raise a little capital after the breakup. Jane was sure she remembered seeing ads of Russian military surplus for sale; boots, binoculars, jeeps, even field rations. She’d never seen any subs advertised, though. And wouldn’t Uncle Sam have something to say about foreign countries selling private citizens submarines?
    Probably. Which brought her back to her spy theory.
    She preferred Mark-the-drug-runner, because spies were . . . well, they definitely were below criminals on the bad-guy scale.
    The devil himself broke into her thoughts, bending down to pick her up. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s time to go.”
    Jane recoiled and tried to scurry away, even though her hands and feet were still bound.
    Mark hesitated in mid-reach and frowned at her. “We need to move quickly. They can’t stay on the surface forlong, as we’re still in American waters.” It was pitch-black out, but she could see the flash of his grin. “And I doubt your government would appreciate finding a foreign submarine not fifty miles from shore.”
    Oh, heavens. He was a spy.
    *   *   *
    M ark finished picking up his wide-eyed, wilted angel, ignoring her struggles even as he wondered where she got the strength to continue fighting him. He lifted her to the railing and carefully lowered her to the waiting arms of two crewmen from the
Previa
, and, as careful as they all were, Mark, Jane, and the two men in the launch nearly ended up in the sea.
    â€œEnough!” he snapped. “Sick or not, I’m going to put you over my knee if you don’t settle down. This is hard enough without you fighting me every step of the way. Now cease!”
    Apparently undeterred by the edge in his voice, Mark had to scramble over the rail and save the crewmen from her kicking feet by wrapping his arms around her and giving her a good squeeze.
    â€œI’m not getting in that . . . that boat!” she screeched, nearly deafening him. “I’m not!”
    Well, hell. She was in a near panic. Mark was suddenly glad for her weakened state. If Jane were feeling any better, she’d have them all visiting Davy Jones despite her petite size. He ended up having to wrap his legs around hers so the crewmen could start the launch, and even then she struggled the entire way to the
Previa
, her hysteria seeming to grow the closer they got.
    She exploded completely when he carried her to the sail tower. Several other crewmen were standing aside as he hefted her—bucking and now hoarsely screaming—up onto the tower, then had to tell one of the men to untie her feet so he could stand her on the ladder. The man hesitated, clearly not wanting to get near her.
    His own temper finally exploding, Mark barked the order again in Shelkovan, causing several men to flinch and causing Jane to lurch violently. Two crewmen finally grabbed her feet and unfastened the restraint, then helped him lower her onto the ladder.
    â€œStand up, Jane,” Mark ordered harshly.
    â€œNo! I’m not getting in this death machine!” she screamed. “P-please,” she suddenly pleaded on a broken sob. “Please don’t put me in this hole.”
    Mark captured her head in his hands, bringing his mouth close to her ear. “There are no other choices, Jane. It’ll