Chapter Five
The sun was making the ocean waves sparkle like diamonds by the time Ezra made it back to the dock. He usually liked to sit outside and watch the ebb and flow of the tide, listen to the seabirds, and feel the wind against his skin when he returned from a swim.
Not today.
Today, he grabbed the pair of sweatpants he’d left on the dock and hurried toward the house. It was no longer empty. She was waiting for him, in his bed.
He was practically running by the time he hit the porch. He paused and laid his hand against the front door. What was he doing? Sam wasn’t waiting for him. She was injured and sleeping.
Ezra raked his fingers through his wet hair, not bothered by the droplets of water running down his back. He needed to proceed with caution. He knew nothing about this woman. The fact that he was so attracted to her was a red flag. He’d never felt so attached to a woman so quickly in his long life.
He took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped inside. Silence met him. Good, that meant she was still sleeping. He climbed the stairs, keeping his tread light. Unable to stay away from her, he went to his room and stood next to the bed.
Sam’s eyes were closed, hiding the vibrant green color. She still looked pale, but that wasn’t surprising considering she’d lost quite a bit of blood from the wound on her arm. Or maybe she was normally pale. There was so much about her he didn’t know, including her last name. If she’d had any identification on her, it had been lost at sea.
Time slipped by, and it was only when his stomach growled that he realized he was just standing there watching her. He forced himself to turn away when what he really wanted to do was pull back the covers and climb in beside her.
After collecting jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, he went to the bathroom and closed the door. He needed to shower off the salt water and then get something to eat. Maybe by then Sam would be awake and ready to talk.
…
Sam’s eyes snapped open the second she heard the door close. She sat upright and looked around.
Where am I?
Everything was vague. She’d escaped from the Integrity, or had she? No, Aaron had shot her. Then something had rammed the salvage vessel. It was all a bit of a blur after that. She had no idea how she’d ended up here.
And where exactly was here?
The sound of water running made her turn her head toward a closed door. An image of a man popped into her head. A very big, ruggedly handsome man with brown hair and turquoise eyes and… She closed her eyes and formed a mental image. Tattoos. He had vibrant swirling tattoos covering his left arm and torso. He’d said his name was Ezra.
She opened her eyes again and lightly touched her injured arm. It was bandaged beneath the oversize flannel shirt she was wearing.
The book!
Ignoring the pain in her arm, she reached toward the nightstand. He’d put the book in there, told her it would be safe. She yanked it open and gave a small cry of dismay. It was gone.
“Stupid,” she muttered. Stupid to have trusted him. Had he really rescued her, or was she a prisoner?
Not willing to take a chance, she eased off the bed. The world spun, but she used the mattress and nightstand to keep herself upright. When she figured she wouldn’t collapse in a heap, she took her first step toward the door. She glanced at the bathroom, half expecting Ezra to come charging out to stop her.
When that didn’t happen, she moved faster. She was weak, but at least her knees weren’t in as much danger of buckling. She clung to the banister to make sure she didn’t fall down the stairs. The main floor was mostly open with the living and dining area flowing into a kitchen.
Sam headed for the front door.
When she opened it, the cold November wind blew under the hem of the shirt she was wearing, reminding her that she was naked beneath it. She stepped out onto the porch, ignoring the way the chill seeped into her bones.
She glanced back inside and almost yelled with relief when she noticed her sneakers sitting on the mat. She stuffed her feet into them, ignoring the fact they were still wet and her feet squished when she walked. They were better than going barefoot.
There was nothing for as far as she could see beyond the dock at the end of the path. Ezra’s home was obviously isolated. Did he have a car of truck she could borrow? It wasn’t really stealing, she assured herself. She’d leave it somewhere safe once she was away from here.
The wind snapped through her hair, sending the tangle of curls over her face. She impatiently brushed them away and hurried down the steps. Ignoring the biting cold, she began to pick her way around the house, careful not to trip on anything. She couldn’t afford any more bumps and bruises. Her body had already taken a beating.
It was insanity to try to get away from here wearing nothing but a man’s shirt and a pair of wet sneakers, but there’d been no sign of her clothes. She focused all her attention outward as she circled the house. There was nothing but trees and ocean. By the time she’d reached the front porch again, she had a sinking feeling in her stomach.
She was on an island. Ezra lived on an island. She had no idea if there was anyone else living here, but she hadn’t seen any other signs of habitation. The dock directly in front of his home was the only one she could see, and there was no boat there.
What had happened to the dingy she’d been in? And how did he get on and off the island? Did someone else live here with him? Maybe they had the boat.
For the moment, she was stuck here.
She sank down onto the step, pulled her legs toward her body, and wrapped her arms around them. She knew she should go inside, but she no longer felt the cold. She didn’t feel anything.
The book was gone. Ezra had taken it. That could only mean one thing—he worked for the Knights of the Dragon. She was trapped as surely as if she were in a prison cell. There was nowhere to go.
…
Ezra stepped out of the bathroom already thinking about breakfast and came to a complete stop. She was gone.
He raced out of the room and down the stairs. “Sam?” Where had she gone? Had someone taken her?
No, that was impossible. He hadn’t been in the shower long enough for someone to have gotten onto his island and taken her. She had to be here somewhere.
He started to head toward the kitchen but changed direction when he noticed her sneakers were no longer on the mat. The front door was partially open. She’d gone outside.
He charged out onto the deck only to find Sam sitting there with her arms wrapped around her legs, staring out at the water. He fell to his knees beside her. “What’s wrong? Why are you out here?”
He touched her face and swore. She was freezing. Not waiting for her reply, he pulled her into his arms, stood, and carried her back inside. He kicked the door shut behind him.
She needed to get warmed up right away. She was a fragile human and couldn’t handle the cold the way he could. He set her on the sofa nearest the fireplace and yanked a cashmere throw over her. Darius had bought it for Sarah, to keep her warm on chilly nights. He was glad they’d left it behind.
He removed her sneakers before tucking the ends around her cold, damp feet. He went to the fireplace and lit the kindling there. He might not need a fire to stay warm, but he liked the ambiance one provided. It would be much faster to just breathe drakon fire on the wood, but he wasn’t willing to share that secret with her. If she didn’t know what he was, he wasn’t about to enlighten her. Not yet, at any rate.
When the flames caught and the logs began to crackle, he turned back to Sam. She was sitting there watching him with a blank expression. She looked…defeated. Not at all like the woman who’d stood up to a gun-wielding man.
He went back to her side, crouched down, and began to rub her legs. The cashmere was soft against his hands, but not as soft as he knew her skin would be. “What were you thinking?” He lowered his voice, kept it quiet and unthreatening.
She sighed and closed her eyes for a brief second before opening them once again. “I don’t know who you are or where I am. And the book is gone.” The last was said like an accusation.
“I didn’t think it was safe sitting in a drawer. Not when it obviously meant so much to you.” He was walking a fine line here. He couldn’t tell her he knew she’d been shot stealing it. He was supposed to have found her washed ashore in her dinghy, not have actually been there to witness the entire event. “As for your other questions, I told you before, you’re in my home, and my name is Ezra.”
“But where is your home? And exactly who are you, Ezra?”
He ignored her questions and countered with some of his own. “What happened? How did you end up shot and adrift at sea?” He kept up slow, steady pressure on her legs, pushing the warmth of his palms into her. He really wanted to lie beside her and have her snuggled close, but it was way too soon for that.
She sighed and shrugged, wincing when the movement aggravated her injury. “It’s better you don’t know.”
“Do you want me to call the police?” he asked. Maybe if she thought he was willing to do whatever she wanted, she’d be more open.
She shook her head. “No. It’s too dangerous.”
“Just what are you involved in, Sam? And why is a book so valuable?”
…
Sam studied Ezra. He wore a pair of faded jeans that clung to him like a second skin and a long-sleeved thermal shirt the color of oatmeal. Nothing special, but he could be on the cover of Rugged Outdoorsman or whatever magazine catered to that kind of audience.
He hadn’t hurt her when he’d discovered her outside. Quite the opposite. She was ensconced on a comfortable sofa, covered in a soft throw, with a fire adding warmth. And he was rubbing her legs.
Could she trust him? Or would that only put him at risk?
She couldn’t take the chance either way. “It’s better you don’t know.”
She sensed his frustration, but he nodded. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready.” His certainty was both annoying and amusing.
Then something that had been niggling at the back of her brain suddenly occurred to her. “How did you know I was shot?” He’d mentioned it twice. How could he know? He certainly hadn’t been a member of the crew. She’d have remembered him. And there’d been no other ship in the vicinity last night. He’d said he found her washed ashore.
“You mentioned it.” He frowned, appearing concerned.
“I did?”
He shrugged. “You must have. In the meantime,” he continued before she could dispute his words, “what’s your full name?”
She supposed it didn’t really matter if she told him. Once she left here, she was going to grab her new identification, assume a new name, and disappear. “Sam Bellamy.”
Ezra stopped rubbing her legs and sat back on the large wooden coffee table. She missed the contact. He crossed his arms over his massive chest and scowled. “If you don’t want to tell me the truth, I can accept that. Just don’t lie to me.”
She frowned. What was he talking about? “I’m not lying.”
He shook his head. “You want me to believe you’re named after a pirate, or did you think I wouldn’t recognize the name? Black Sam Bellamy is a legend around here. The Prince of Pirates.”
This wasn’t the first time in her life Sam had been embarrassed by her name. Not everyone recognized it, but Ezra certainly did.
“What does Sam stand for? Samantha?”
She hated having to explain. Her father loved her, she’d never doubted that, but he’d wanted a son. After the delivery, the doctor had informed her parents that her mother wouldn’t be able to have more children. A complication with her birth had resulted with her mother having a hysterectomy. Her father had named her for the son he’d wanted.
“Sam?”
“My father wanted a son, okay? He loved the pirate legends and often bragged we were related to the Sam Bellamy. I have no idea if it’s true or not and don’t care. But my name is Sam Bellamy. Sam is short for Samuel.” She stared into the fire, unwilling to look at Ezra.
Powerful fingers wrapped gently around her jaw. She tried to resist the light pressure but finally gave in. “Are you happy now? And what’s your last name?” Better to be belligerent than to feel sad.
“Thank you for sharing that with me.” A slow smile curved his lips upward. “My last name is Easton. Ezra Easton.”
Why was he smiling? It took her a second to make the connection. “Easton? After the pirate, Peter Easton?”
He nodded and chuckled. Sam smiled and soon joined in. It was too crazy to be believable, but life was like that.
And she owed this man a debt of gratitude she could never repay. “Thank you for saving my life, for bringing me here, wherever here is, and for tending my wound. I’d be dead if you hadn’t found me.”
“You’re welcome.” He took her hands in his. They were big and strong. Warm. “What happened, Sam? What are you afraid of?”
She couldn’t tell him, even if she wanted to. And she discovered she did want to share her burden with him. But he wouldn’t believe her. The story was far too crazy. Plus, the less he knew, the safer he’d be.
“I can’t.” She swallowed, suddenly aware she was very thirsty.
Rather than get angry, Ezra nodded. “It’s okay. We’ve got time.”
Maybe, or maybe not. The Knights would not give up. If Aaron was alive, he’d be looking for her. Karina Azarov would demand a body as proof of her death. She’d taken something valuable from the Knights. That couldn’t be allowed to happen, not without retribution.
She had no family, no close friends. There was only Ezra, the man who’d rescued her from the cold, unforgiving ocean.
She squeezed his hands and then released them. Best not to become any more attached to him than she already was. She was just so damn tired, and he was so big and strong. So solid.
The past year, she’d been living on nerves and dreams of justice. Now it had all fallen apart. Unless she could get away from here before the Knights tracked her to Ezra’s home, he would pay the price for her actions.
“I need to leave. It’s not safe for me to be here.”
“I’ll protect you,” he promised.
“It’s not me I’m worried about.” His expression became so fierce she actually leaned away from him. Not that she thought he’d hurt her. After all, he’d had plenty of opportunity, and all he’d done was take care of her.
“Me? You’re worried about protecting me?” It was as though the concept was foreign to him. Maybe because he was such a large man, he’d never had to worry about being in danger before.
He’d never dealt with people like the ones after her.
“You have no idea who is looking for me.” She shoved the blanket aside and sat up. It was time to get dressed, if she still had any clothes, and get out of here. “These people are dangerous and will stop at nothing to find me. If they don’t find a body at the wreck—” She broke off before she said too much.
“So you were in a wreck. I wondered why you were alone in the dinghy. And who is after you?” He stood, looming like a large, avenging angel over her. “You can trust me to protect you.”
“You might be willing to risk yourself, but I’m not. I need to leave. Where are my clothes?”
As though she hadn’t spoken, Ezra continued. “You must be thirsty. Hungry, too. I’m starving. How about I make some bacon and eggs? Maybe some pancakes and toast.” He left her standing there and padded barefoot into the kitchen. Why did she find it so sexy that he was barefoot?
She was obviously not thinking straight, otherwise she wouldn’t notice the way his long hair brushed his shoulders, or the way the soft denim cupped his behind as he walked away. Her toes curled against the rug.
She snatched up the throw blanket, wrapped it around her, and hurried after him. “Didn’t you hear anything I just told you? It’s not safe for you if I’m here. The people looking for me will kill you.”
Ezra pulled a carton of eggs, butter, and a package of bacon out of the refrigerator and set them on the counter. He added a box of pancake mix and a bowl to his collection before getting several large skillets out of the cupboard.
“Did you hear me?” she demanded. “They’ll kill you.”
Ezra propped his hands on his hips and faced her. “Not if I kill them first.”