He’d watched her all through the meeting, noting the times when her attention waned and her eyes would drift sleepily to her phone. Noting, despite it all, how oddly fresh she looked under the greenish-yellow lights of the space they’d repurposed as a war room of sorts. Macy looked healthy, almost happy. Or was it just that he’d felt so sick that anything aside from nausea looked out of place?

“Right, Tucker?”

He looked back at Jasper, through a cloud. He’d barely heard his name, and he could hardly see the man’s face. Jasper sat on the other side of the room, his body in far less light than Macy. Tucker’s eyes, having gotten used to that light, struggled to see anything else. Crap. He’d been staring at her for the entire meeting. Had anyone else noticed? They’d have to just about be blind not to at this point, and the DARC guys were no idiots. Apparently, they were also happy to let him lose his mind over Macy. His emotions were almost entirely wrapped up with her. Unfinished business, sexual or otherwise, had confounded him.

Pay attention.

Answer, Jasper.

“Right,” Tucker said, guessing at the question. Something about sea pirates. “It’s a clear and present danger.”

Jasper was at the front of the small navigation room, pacing in front of a group of mostly DARC Ops men and associates from the ocean freighter. Twelve men, some of them hired guns. Perhaps the next wave of recruits for Jackson’s ever-expanding army. Little missions like these, out of country, were opportunities for testing the waters. Especially in foreign waters.

“These pirates can come heavily armed,” Jasper said. “In numbers, in waves and with a determination that can only be neutralized with an impressive show of force. That’s what it takes to repel them: overwhelming firepower. You hit them early, and you hit them hard.”

Tucker appreciated the sentiment. He also enjoyed the pep talk. Compared to the first one he’d heard from Jasper, back in their hotel in Johannesburg, this one sounded a little more hard core. It sounded like the words of a man who’d recently been through some shit. And because of that, Tucker found it far more palatable. It even motivated him. He, like Jasper, and especially like Macy, was tired of being shot at by assassins or pirates. Despite his better judgment, that part of his reptile brain looked forward to a confrontation. A fun firefight on the high seas. It was something he’d always read about in history books, not exactly something he thought he’d ever actually do.

“How are you with heavy arms, Macy?” Jasper asked.

“Sorry, what?” She jolted upright in her seat.

“What’s your biggest caliber?”

“Oh, I don’t know . . . I’ve spent some time with an M60.”

Jasper’s mouth hung open, closing only to repeat the word, “M60?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Do you consider that big?”

He laughed. “Anyway, I don’t think we’ll have you posted anywhere. But if push comes to shove and we need some more arms, can we use yours?”

“Of course. What else would I do? Read a book?”

“We’ll have you get started on the nest training tomorrow. Tucker? You’ll take care of that?”

“Of course,” he said, looking at Macy. “That okay with you?”

“Of course,” she said.

She smiled at him, a polite smile that one might share with a casual acquaintance. It was becoming clear to Tucker that if he was ever going to get back to the relationship he thought they’d been building before his monumental fuckup, then he was going to have to take a risk. Jump in with both feet, do something else that was also probably stupid, to break the tension once and for all. The idea of training her, in any capacity, was enough to get his heart thumping a little harder. He couldn’t spend another moment pretending to just be her friend. He wanted more. So much more.

But did she? Would she ever?

After another reminder from Jasper for everyone to wear their radios, and to do so at all times, the first meeting was adjourned. Everyone stood up and shuffled away, like they’d been on the ship for months. From the chatter, most everyone was tired and desperately wanted to hit the bunkbeds below—Naugahyde or not. But Tucker and Macy had one last requirement before they could have some “off time.” He had to show Macy to her secret accommodations, and he would have to do it without trying anything too crazy with her.

“Just think of it as a cruise ship,” Tucker said, holding the door for her to the outside. “Like an ocean liner.”

“Without alcohol,” she said, play frowning.

“I bet the deck mates have some,” Tucker said. “Probably some heavier stuff, too.”

“How about Dramamine? Think they have that?”

“You’re feeling seasick already?”

“I don’t know.”

“Me too, but . . .”

“I’m not sure what it is,” Macy said. “I’m just feeling . . . weak.”

She walked across the deck, her hand skimming along the rail. The wind blew hard against her face and she blinked against it.

“You don’t look weak,” Tucker said.

“You don’t look like a jerk.”

He had to check her expression after that one. She’d said it too matter-of-factly, her face too muted until a hard shove into Tucker’s shoulder gave her away. Her smile gave it away, too.

“I’m not a jerk,” he finally said, acknowledging immediately that it sounded childish.

“Of course not.” She stopped alongside the railing, looking out toward a setting sun. He saw it first in her eyes, the golden red reflection. Her skin glowed with it. When he turned his head to look at the sunset directly, it was almost subdued in comparison to her beauty.

“Are you really showing me to my shipping container?” she asked.

“What do you mean? Of course.”

Macy was looking down now. Far below, something was floating in the water. He peered over the edge, at a piece of metal floating by. A bicycle?

“Alright, come on,” Tucker said. “Time to check out your suite.” She followed him down onto the main storage deck, both of them walking along a narrow trail of non-slip tape as they walked between the two mountains of storage containers.

“I wonder what’s in these,” she said, tilting her head way back to see the tops of the multicolored mountains. “Besides enriched uranium.”

Tucker quickly shushed her. But she just turned at him and smiled. “Who are you afraid of?”

He wasn’t sure, himself.

Macy grinned, knocking on the metal side of one of the metal shipping containers. It sounded hollow. Suddenly, it seemed little frightening to think of Macy being alone in one of them. But she was still smiling, knocking against the metal again and whispering into it, “Hello? Anyone in there?”

“What are you doing?” Tucker asked. “Looking for a neighbor?”

Macy turned away from it, her expression suddenly grave. “Is it true that they pack hundreds of people in these things in China?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s kinda creepy,” she said, walking away from the container, her smile fading.

He kept moving. Macy was obviously feeling a little punchy. He couldn’t blame her in the slightest, but maybe finally getting settled might help calm whatever storm was going through her mind. There was no way he was getting any peace any time soon, but he could do that for her. On top of that, he hadn’t seen her room yet, either, and he was eager to make sure it was safe, and now, that there wasn’t anything “creepy” about it. He’d heard that it was “furnished” somehow. What had they managed to throw together so quickly? A bed with a bucket next to it? It didn’t matter that much, he supposed. She wouldn’t be spending much more than a few hours inside.

“I’ll have breathing holes, right?” She said. She’d moved ahead of him during his musings, and Tucker stepped quickly to catch up. “Someone poked those in the top, like for a jar of bugs?”

“The containers aren’t airtight.”

“So that means it’ll sink if it falls off the side of the ship?”

“Alright,” he said. “Enough catastrophizing.”

“Sorry,” she said, shrugging. “I’ve just learned to always expect the worst.”

“No kidding.” He came to a stop at her container, spun around, and looked her over. He wanted to ask her if Jasper had talked to her about hacking into her phone, to ask if she was still mad at him. Instead, he reached over and pressed his hand into the metal side of the container, where the shape of a door suddenly appeared. That was the trick, to press it in and let the door swing out. “Voila,” Tucker said, pointing to the magic trick he’d just performed. “We had them cut a door into it and rig it up. It’s seamless if you don’t look too closely.” He held the door open wider, his eyes still on her face, studying her reaction to the proposed room.

“Umm . . .” She laughed nervously.

“What do you think?”

“I have no idea.”

“Step inside.”

Macy looked back to him. “You first.”

“What?”

“You go first?”

Did she really think that he’d close the door on her and lock her in? At this point, he couldn’t be sure how real her reactions were, and how much was stress finally catching up with her. Either way, he’d do anything to help her trust him again. He walked in first. “Come on,” he said, walking further in, waving her on. “There’s no light, so you’ll have to use a flashlight, or your phone.”

Macy didn’t use either. The space remained dark, except for the dim rays of an orange sunset reflecting in from the other containers. It reminded him of the truck, how she looked there, the ephemeral glow of her outline as she walked in.

“I can’t see,” she said.

His hand went out and touched the fabric of her shirt, and then her arm, Tucker’s fingers wrapping around and guiding her close. She felt loose in his grasp, cooperative.

“Where are you taking me?” she said, her voice low.

His feet backed up into the soft edge of her bed, almost tripping him. He was still holding her hand.

When she let go, Tucker sat on the mattress. He patted the bed with his palm. Would she sit next to him?

She was moving around in the dark, her voice coming nearer. “Is this . . . a bed?” Tucker felt her weight press down on the mattress.

It was the first bed they’d been on together since the hotel room. It had only been twenty-four hours, but it seemed like an eternity. It felt even longer since their last kiss, but he couldn’t rush things. A kiss, at this point, would be out of the question. He was just happy to be sitting with her again, in the dark, in silence, in private.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Huh?”

“For the bed, and the room here. It’ll be a good hideaway.”

“You only have to use it when we approach the port,” Tucker said. “Then you’ll just sit and wait here for a few hours until we pass inspection. Don’t make a sound while they’re inspecting, obviously.”

“What should I do then? Take a nap or something?”

“Do you snore?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Macy said, chuckled. “Did you hear me last night?”

Tucker was silent for a minute, lost in memories, of the night before and when he’d known her, many years ago. It seemed like another lifetime now. “No,” he said. “No snoring that I recall.” He waited for her to say something else, to continue their joking.

She stayed silent.

Macy was sitting next to him, but she felt a million miles away.

The mattress moved, her body’s shuffling making it sink slightly. When she spoke, her voice came from the other end. “Hey, Tucker?” She must have been leaning against the wall. He was glad that she was getting comfortable. He was also glad she was calling out to him through the dark.

“Yes?”

“I don’t even know how to say it.”

“Say what?”

“And maybe I’ve even said it before. I don’t know.”

“Said what?” She was confusing him.

Macy took a deep breath. In the space between them, in the vacuum of air, he injected his thoughts and concerns about what she had to say. Would it leave him thrilled, or dead inside? What was this thing she had to say that suddenly made her sound so weak and scared?

Macy said his name once more, sadly, the sound of it wilting, falling like dead flower petals. And then, “I’m sorry.”

What did she have to apologize about? As far as he was concerned, she got a free pass on everything that had happened between them since catching up with her in Luanda. There was history between them before that, too, but that was ancient history now. Besides, she’d been burned just as badly as he had, perhaps even more so in the end. He had no idea what had really happened behind the scenes at St. Louis—he was too green to have been told the entire story. But it was entirely possible that Macy had made enemies there. Maybe even enemies that set her on the path that had ended in the last few years of torture.

Tucker waited in the silence for her to continue. He waited, listening to for her breathing again, listing for any sound of her. Through the bed, he could feel the vibration of the ship’s engine and its propeller slowly churning away. The sense of rocking had left, or maybe he’d just become used to it.

Macy was still quiet, moments later. So much so that he wondered for a second if she’d somehow managed to leave the container without his noticing. The air was still moist, the dark still close. The bed still vibrating with the engine. It took Tucker another minute to realize the actual cause of the vibration. He knew it when he heard a sound through her mouth, a little anguished cry seeping out. The bed wasn’t vibrating from the engine, but from her quivering, crying body.

Should he reach over to her? Console her? Touch her?

“I’m sorry,” Macy said again, the words coming out a little stronger this time.

“It’s okay.” Whatever she was apologizing for, it was okay. Their argument, St. Louis—he didn’t care about any of it anymore.

“I don’t think I’ve said it before,” she said.

“You haven’t.”

“I should have.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I don’t need it.”

“I do.”

“What? You need what?”

“I need you to forgive me, for what happened.” She sniffled and then said, sounding more crushed, “I got you fired.”

Tucker took a deep breath, glad for the involuntary action so that he wouldn’t be able to talk for a second. He needed to think first. It had the effect of sticking a gag over his mouth while his mind went back to St. Louis. He was a new cop there. Still on probation. And definitely not very well-liked by the chief.

“I didn’t know what would happen,” Macy said. “I didn’t know that you’d be fired. Things got so complicated there, and corrupted, and I got corrupted right along with it.” She sniffled again and said, “He hated you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He was jealous.” Macy let out a frustrated huff.

“Jealous?”

“He knew I liked you.”

“And he was obsessed with you,” Tucker said. Pieces started to fall into place.

“What?” Macy sounded a little startled at that. “The bottom line is that he used me against you. And he used my feelings.”

“What feelings?”

“I was jealous, too. Tucker, I was rejected.”

“What? I know you asked me out once, but I was…”

“Seeing someone at the time,” Macy interrupted. “I knew that, too. Only my heart still wanted you.”

Tucker stared at her. He’d had no idea of the depth of her feelings for him. “Macy, I’m sorry. I was young, and it…” he broke off, his eyes filled with regret. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I had no idea…”

She put her hand up, stopping him. “I know, and it’s okay. And besides, all it would have done was bring the heat down on both of us faster. That’s not an excuse, though.”

“Okay.” What could he say to that? To the bombshell she’d just dropped. They’d both been caught up in a total disaster. He’d known that. But she hadn’t been a part of the inner circle. He’d known that much. Had he been a total fool?

“I was trying . . . I’m asking . . . for your forgiveness.”

“Just tell me what exactly happened,” Tucker said. God, he hated how sharp his voice sounded, but he didn’t want to modulate it, either. It was over; it didn’t mean anything. That didn’t stop the unresolved anger flooding back, anger he’d buried for years. “What did you do, knowingly?”

“I chose my career. Over you.”

“How?”

“He blackmailed me, Tucker. Told me to go along with it or he’d tell everyone. I hardly had a choice.”

“But you did, you just said you had a choice. Just tell me what exactly you did.”

“I supported his allegations,” Macy said, the words muffled by her hand. She might have been wiping her nose. “I sold you out and got you fired.”

His fingernails dug into his hands, and Tucker forced them to relax. “In exchange for what?”

“He threatened to do the same with me. He had dirt on me.”

“No one had any dirt on me,” Tucker said. “There was nothing to take advantage of. Nothing except your feelings for me.”

“No. But he wanted you gone. I didn’t understand why, at the time.”

“That was dirt enough.”

“Either way, I did the wrong thing. I betrayed you. I was fucking going crazy back then, you know that.”

Tucker knew that. But it didn’t stop the hurt.

“And it’s fucked me up ever since. Especially since going along with him. That’s what led to this whole thing out here. After being in so deep, the only way to escape was to run. I ran all the way to the CIA, but somehow it followed me. Tucker, once they have something to hold over you, it’s over. They’ll use it against you forever, no matter where you are. No matter what you’re trying to do, and who you’re trying to do it with.”

And they’d tried to kill her. They’d used her as a sacrificial lamb. Someone who’d do whatever they asked, digging herself deeper and deeper into their corrupt madness. All because she’d wanted him, loved him, all those years ago. That had been the reason they’d been able to turn her; do what we want or we’ll go after both of you. She’d pushed him out of her life, out of his job, and out of harm’s way. She hadn’t known it at the time, but she’d saved him. He’d found the military, then Matthias, and his future had been forever changed, too.

The anger rushed out of him, leaving his body weak. No matter what she’d done, Macy had paid more than she ever deserved. The least he could do was help make it right.

“It was the whole phone-hacking thing,” Macy said. “I think that’s why I got so upset. I’ve always carried around all this guilt, this self-hate for what I did to you, and to others. And I’ve never been able to express it. You gave me a chance to be upset with you, I just went with it. You know?”

“You had every right to be upset.”

“I was, at the time.”

“And you got over it,” he said. “Right?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Right, Macy?”

“Yes, I’m over it.”

He exhaled loudly, letting go of a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Here went nothing. “And I’m over that shit with St. Louis. But I’m not over you.”

“What?”

Tucker desperately wished he could see her face.

“What do you mean?”

“I think it’s obvious.”

Macy paused, and then said quietly, “Oh, God . . .”

“Macy . . .”

“What?” She almost barked it.

“What if we’re . . . in the same boat? I mean, we are in the same boat, but . . .”

“And we’re in the same shipping container.”

“I just don’t understand,” Tucker said. “About Chief Gormley. How did you let yourself get sucked into that?”

“I was young,” she said, “stupid, you name it. I don’t know. I guess I’m just weaker than you.”

“You were also single. I had someone, back then. A foundation. You had—”

“I had . . . I had a crush on you.” Tucker heard her take another deep breath. He could almost visualize her chest, her breasts, rising and falling in the dark.

He inched his hand across the bed, slowly, not even sure what he was going to encounter in the dark. What part of her body he would make contact with first, and how he would go about feeling it, and for how long. Or if she’d even let him. Midway across the mattress, with his body awkwardly stretched, he paused. Was she just going to reject him all over again?

When Macy started cursing quietly under her breath, Tucker pulled back. Then he felt her moving, getting up, her silhouette suddenly in the way of the faint light at the doorway.

“Macy?”

Her feet clunked on the metal floor, moving, leaving him.

Fuck! Why hadn’t he acted soon? Why hadn’t he reached out for her immediately? Why hadn’t he said what he should have the second she’d divulged her secret? Her confession, both of them.

But what was there to say? That he had a crush on her, too?

It was something he should have showed her.

“I’m sorry,” Macy said from the doorway.

Tucker sprung off the bed. “Wait.”

“It’s okay, I just . . . I need some air.”

He followed her out, glad to be in the fresh air again. Glad to be able to see her, and see where she could potentially run off to. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight. He felt something new, a strong urge to keep her to himself. He was tired of the interruptions, the constant separations—both mental and physical.

“Tucker,” She stopped in her tracks, spinning and facing him. After her time in Africa, she must have developed an innate sense about being followed.

“Macy?”

“I think I need to be alone right now.”

It was the opposite of what he needed, and what he’d needed for her to feel. Why couldn’t things be straightforward and easy between them? Just once. Why couldn’t he just pick her up right now, sweep her off her feet . . . or maybe just take her to bed and make her come over and over until she gave in. She’d probably make his life miserable if he even tried to touch her right now, but he had to at least protect her. “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

“Why not?” He said nothing, and she dismissed him, turning away again. “I’m safe. I’m on a ship full of your men, and we’re headed back to the US Why exactly shouldn’t I be alone?”

He had no answer.

“What’s here for me to be afraid of?”

But I don’t want to let you go.

She was probably better off to steer clear of him right now anyway, given his mood, his confused desires.

Macy looked back to the door cut in the side of her container. “Maybe I’ll just . . . stay in here.”

“What?” He blinked. Surely she couldn’t mean . . . “For the whole trip?”

“No,” she said, her brow crumpling up in annoyance. “Just . . . for now. I just need to be alone. And definitely not in some bunkbed.”

Tucker nodded, a feeling of emptiness washing over him. “Well, do you need anything?”

She was still looking into the container.

He continued, “Dinner or anything, or . . .”

“I think I might just try sleeping,” Macy said. “I don’t think I’ve had any decent sleep since meeting you.” She looked away suddenly, away from his gaze and back to the empty container. “Well, I did have a few hours in the hotel.”

The way she stood there, withering, almost slumped, nearly broke him. Maybe he should just leave her alone, finally. Give the girl a break. “I’ll come check on you later,” he said. “Just to make sure you don’t get locked in or anything.”

She looked so vulnerable in the glow, the sunset off her face showing the lines of worry, the crags of fatigue across an otherwise perfect face. Macy could barely seem to look at him. When she finally did, her eyes looked dulled and wet. “Check on me?”

“Of course.” Tucker wanted to say more. God, he wanted to do more. But he’d do the right thing and leave her to her privacy. He’d check in on her later. Absolutely. Maybe then they could try talking. Maybe then Tucker could finally say the things he needed to.