Sharron McClellan - Breathless

God help her, Diego couldn’t write to save his life.

She began the next stanza, and the crowd joined in, their loud, enthusiastic voices overriding her. Despite the fact that her face still burned from embarrassment, Jess smiled.

The room was hers, and she loved it. And apparently, they were pleased with her, as well.

On the fifth stanza, with the crowd still drowning her out, a sudden movement at the bar caught Jess’s attention.

Liz. Her movements were jerky. Wrong. Jess’s voice died and the crowd kept singing. Had Arachne followed her here? Jess stood on her toes to watch for trouble.

Liz was trying to make it back through the crowd, and then someone grabbed her arm. Jess stiffened then realized it wasn’t an assassin. It looked like Trust Fund. And the idiot was trying to kiss Liz—his friends egging him on.

Another movement caught her eye.

Nate, pushing his way through the crowd to his wife.

She hadn’t seen him leave, but from her vantage point, he looked pissed.

Jess shoved Zach’s thigh with her foot, catching his attention. “Problem,” she mouthed, nodding toward the bar.

Zach jumped up, pushing his way through the sea of people with Diego in his wake. With the crowd still singing, Jess jumped down and followed, arriving just in time to see Nate draw back his arm, and then his fist connected with Trust Fund’s jaw. In seconds, Nate was lost in a pile of flailing bodies, and Liz jumped on top to save her husband.

“Get her,” Zach said, turning to Jess as he entered the fray.

In his expression, she saw the steel she’d wondered about, and more. Grabbing Liz, she pulled her off the men. Behind her, she heard the distinct sound of fist hitting flesh. “Stay here,” she said, turning back.

When she turned around, the brawl was in full force, and she spotted Zach and his men at the opposite end of the bar.

“I swear,” she muttered. Why did initiations always seem to end with bruises and blood?

Calmly, she worked her way through the mob, taking time to dodge an uppercut, grab the fist to use its momentum and pull the owner to the ground. She kicked him in the ribs to make sure he stayed down.

Jumping over the moaning man, she reached Nate first. He was standing now, his face dark red as he punched Trust Fund. A few more blows, and Nate would put him in the hospital. “Enough,” she said, grabbing his arm.

Nate hesitated, then let go of the man’s shirt. He fell to the floor in a heap. “Get Liz out of here before she gets hurt,” she shouted, knowing if there was anything that would get Nate’s attention, that was it. Nate nodded and went to find his wife.

Around them, the brawl escalated. She spotted Zach as a fist came out of nowhere, clocking him in the jaw.

Jess winced.

Zach shook his head, stunned, and by the time he moved to retaliate, the man was gone.

“You okay?” Jess asked, keeping her head down.

“Get Diego,” Zach shouted.

She grabbed the dreadlocked boy and was pulling him to safety when an air horn sounded, cutting through the din like a bell at a prizefight. People stopped, fists midair and then dropped them to their sides. A beefy man stood at the bar.

“That’s enough!” he shouted. “You people,” he pointed to the group that caused the ruckus, “get out before I call the cops.”

They had the sense not to protest.

“You,” he pointed to Jess.

“Me?”

“Sing.”

Zach thrust the laminated paper back into her hands with a shrug. “You heard the man.” Around her the bar chanted, “Sing! Sing! Sing!”

Zach grinned. “And you thought this was over?”

She looked into his dark green eyes. “Bar fight. Rum. Singing. This is some initiation.”

With a low chuckle, he wrapped his broad hands around her waist and sat her on the bar.

She leaned forward. “Payback’s hell,” she whispered in his ear.

She’d make sure of it.

Seconds after her alarm clock sounded, Jess sat straight up in her bunk and slapped the off button with the flat of her hand.

It took another few seconds to orient herself to her strange location.

One For The Money. Salvage ship. Puerto Isla.

She yawned and stretched. Her mouth tasted horrible. This was why she didn’t drink. It seemed to take her forever to get it together in the morning, and she felt fuzzy.

Though last night had been fun, she had to admit. The drinking. The singing. The eating. Even the bar fight had been a good time. Plus, it had given her an opportunity to see the crew in action.

They were a tight-knit bunch. Even Diego—one of the most silent men she’d met who was not a Marine—was in the thick of the brawl.

As for Zach, he was one surprise after another. Charming as hell, but the way he stood when attacked, held his hands and never hesitated, told her that it was not his first bar fight.

The faint smell of coffee and the steady thump of feet on the deck above caught her attention. The rest of the crew was up and moving and it was time for her to do the same. She grabbed her toothbrush, paste and towel and flung open the door to her private bathroom.

Standing in front of the shower was a seminaked Zach.

Okay, not so private, she thought as she stopped in her tracks.

With nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and his skin damp from the shower, Zach did not look like a computer geek. Not like a mechanic. Not like an easygoing charmer.

He looked iconic.

His abs were washboard. His shoulders corded with muscle. There was enough hair on his chest to make sure a woman knew he was a man.

Her gaze swept upward, and she met his eyes staring back in surprise. Heat flooded her face. “Um, I…” She held up her toothbrush.

“We share a shower,” he said, his voice trailing off at the end as his attention was diverted by her baby-pink, boy-shorts underwear and the thin, white cotton tank top that served as her pajamas.

Jess felt naked despite the clothes and started backing out. “I should have knocked.”

He took a step and the towel started to slip and he grabbed it, his eyes widening. “I thought Liz told you. I’m sorry—”

But she was already in her room and shutting the door. “Could that have been more awkward?” she muttered, patting her cheeks to dissipate the heat.

She inhaled, slow and deep. Obviously, it had been much too long since she’d seen a naked man that wasn’t wearing military-issue underwear, covered in grease paint and getting ready for maneuvers.

She was a professional. A Marine. She’d seen plenty of naked men.

There was no need to act embarrassed. Straightening, she opened the door a crack. “Let me know when you’re done?” she called.

“Give me thirty seconds,” Zach replied.

Sounds of hurried shuffling emanated from the bathroom, and she peered inside, catching a glimpse of Zach in the mirror.

His back was to her, and the towel from his waist was now tossed over his shoulder, giving her a perfect view of his perfect backside.

There was a dimple on each cheek.

I could bite that like an apple. She yanked the door shut, realizing where her thoughts were wandering.

Oh, yeah, much too long since she’d seen a naked civilian.

“How are you feeling?” Liz asked when Jess stepped onto the deck wearing her standard boat gear of bikini top, shorts and deck shoes. “Not hungover, are you?”

“Takes more than a few shots and a bar fight,” Jess said, glancing to make sure that Zach wasn’t around. Taking Liz by the arm, she drew her aside. “Why didn’t you tell me that Zach and I were sharing a bathroom?”

Liz shrugged. “Didn’t occur to me.” She broke into a slow, wide grin. “Oh, don’t tell me that you walked in on him.”