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like when an animal had locked its jaws on you, you didn’t pull away because the animal would just bite harder. You pushed yourself into its mouth to force its jaws wider until you could break them.
    He didn’t like his options, but they were all they had.
    Byron had to make decisions with his head, not his feelings. His rage had gotten his men killed in Uganda, and he hoped that this would save her.
    If not, he’d die trying.
    Byron crept back to the lifeboat and found Damara gone.
    A string of profanity hovered on his tongue, but he didn’t dare speak for fear of raising alarm and alerting them to his presence.
    Where was she? Had they caught her already?
    What if she was afraid?
    But what he really meant was what if he had to add the sounds of her screams to the loop in his head.
    â€œYou don’t have to kill anyone,” he heard her say. Pride and anger swept through him. He was so proud of her for being strong and brave, but he was angry that she’d revealed herself to protect him.
    Byron knew he was completely at odds with himself. That it was okay somehow for her to face Grisha only if he told her to, but the fact that she’d done it on her own made it foolhardy.
    He watched her. Even in dirty fatigues, she had a regal bearing.
    â€œI think I do. You belong to me, you see.” Grisha grinned.
    She flashed him a look that made the temperature around them drop several degrees. “No, I don’t. You haven’t paid my brother for the privilege. Until you do, anything that you do to me could be considered an act of war on Castallegna.”
    â€œA tiny country with no allies.” Grisha shrugged.
    She smiled. “Perhaps. Or perhaps my brother has had other offers for my hand from stronger, more powerful men than you. There are sheiks and princes who would marry me for Castallegna’s diamond mines.”
    Grisha was still smug. “Then why are you not with them?”
    â€œDon’t underestimate what I will do if you make me angry.” Damara may have been small, but she’d positioned herself in such a way that she appeared to be squaring off with the big Russian.
    â€œWhere is your guard dog? The American?” Grisha demanded.
    â€œHow should I know? I paid him to get me passage out of Tunisia. I don’t need a keeper.”
    â€œIf he comes for you, I’ll kill him.”
    Miklos scanned the area. He seemed to sense Byron’s presence. “I think you should stay aboard the
Circe
until Marseille.”
    â€œWhy is that?” Grisha asked.
    â€œI know the American is still on board. I feel it in my bones. Here, we control the situation. There would be a lot of, shall we say,
opportunities
for him between here and Italy on a smaller craft.”
    â€œI see your wisdom. If the princess is dead, I can’t very well marry her. We’ll take your cabin, Miklos.”
    * * *
    D AMARA HADN ’ T SEEN any possible way out of the situation that didn’t involve revealing herself. Maybe it was naive of her to trust Hawkins as she did, but she knew in her gut that he’d come for her.
    She could stand a few hours of Grisha’s company—she’d had to endure it at home all the time. Of course, she’d always had her bodyguards and her brother and it had always been in a formal environment. But she was sure she could maneuver him to treat her gently at least until Hawkins could get to her.
    Damara followed behind Grisha, wondering exactly how hard she’d have to hit him in the back of the head and with what to slow him down—if such action became necessary. She was thankful she’d asked her bodyguards to train her and even more thankful they’d agreed.
    Abele would’ve had them put to death if he’d known. He’d thought it unfeminine and a sin for a woman to know such things. Of course, it had suited his purposes when hiring a contingent of female bodyguards to keep her secluded from