Don’t get me wrong—I like Catherine. She’s really nice and was more than accommodating. But I know they weren’t just checking out the surfing. I’d have much rather gone with them and gotten some answers.

“There was a competition,” Mark explains with a smile. “Did you miss me?”

“I won’t next time.” And I don’t mean longing-wise. His ass is grass.

“Oh,” Catherine says. “That’s right, we were planning to watch it today and tomorrow, but I completely forgot.”

“That’s what happens when you become an old married couple,” Mark jokes.

“Whatever, ass.” Catherine throws her jab at Mark before turning her attention to Jackson. “Charlie and I were getting hungry and were going to order dinner, but I figured we could take them somewhere by the water.”

Jackson smiles, wraps his arms around her waist, and then places his lips on her forehead. It’s so intimate I have to look away. “Sounds great, baby,” he says as if she’s the only woman in the world.

I look back over at them as Catherine rests her head on his chest. “Mark, are you still surfing?”

Mark slowly nods his head. “Yeah, when I’m home. I went not too long ago.”

“I didn’t know you surf,” I say, drawing his attention.

Mark comes so close I have to tip my head back to meet his intense eyes. I draw in a deep breath, inhaling the salt air that clings to him. He always smells like fresh air. “I’ll take you out tomorrow.”

“Umm . . .” I step back. “No thanks.”

“It’s fun.”

“Have you seen the news? People get eaten. They lose limbs. I like my limbs.”

His grin grows and his eyes glimmer. “They only eat the tasty ones. So maybe you shouldn’t go.”

My jaw drops at his innuendo.

“Idiot. I don’t do the ocean. I like the beach but not the water.”

Mark smirks. “I’ll protect you.”

I laugh. “Not a chance in hell.”

Jackson and Catherine stand off to the side, watching us argue—as usual. Mark can take me from perfectly calm to ready to shoot someone in no time. Infuriatingly stubborn and maddening man. I want to hate him so much, but he makes that damn near impossible.

“Oh, come on. Sharks are just misunderstood. They want to be friends, cuddle a little, or maybe it just wants a hug.” Mark is enjoying this a little too much.

“And maybe it wants an appetizer.”

Mark chuckles. “There are far more meaty options for them. You’ll be with me.”

“I’m not going.” I stand my ground.

“This is like dinner and a show.” Jackson speaks up.

“Right!” Catherine laughs. “They’re worse than us.”

Jackson replies, “I know, but my money’s on Charlie.”

“Mine too,” Catherine says.

Mark and I both burst out laughing then he pulls me close. I try to shove my way from his grasp, but his strength doesn’t allow it. I need to work out more. Or go back to Jiu Jitsu so I can take his ass down. Jackson and Catherine head out the door and Mark leans in so only I can hear. “I would never let anything hurt you on land or at sea. Trust me.” He kisses the side of my head and releases me.

I stand there for a second, unable to move. What do I say to that? Because the truth is . . . I don’t think he’d hesitate. He’d protect me with his own life if that’s what I need. It’s who he is, and I need to realize how special he is before he decides I’m not worth the chance.

The evening goes off seamlessly. I enjoy spending time with Jackson and Catherine. The more time passes, the more I understand that Jackson could never be behind any of the issues at his company. His loyalty and dedication to his men comes first and foremost. You can see the emotional strain he’s under. However, I catch the look that passes between him and Mark. Their walk wasn’t just a stumble upon a surfing contest. I let Mark think he threw me off, but he didn’t.

“We’re heading back tonight,” Mark informs Jackson, which is news to me. I guess he doesn’t feel like sharing his plans.

That’s fine. I don’t feel I need to inform him of mine either.

“Why don’t you guys stay at least tonight?” Catherine asks. “As much as I love California, we never see our friends.”

“See, Kitty misses me.” Mark wraps his arm around her shoulder and she groans.

“Not you.”

“Admit it,” he taunts playfully.

“Nope.”

“Fine. I know the truth.”

“I feel bad for Charlie. Being stuck with you on a plane for an extended period of time would be enough to make me contemplate jumping.”

Mark’s eyes dart to mine as a grin spreads across his face. “I think Charlie likes having me as a travel partner.”

I hate that I have these moments of weakness when I warm to him. But then, he effectively takes care of that by reminding me how much I should hate him. “I’ve had better flights, buddy. You were . . . decent.”

His grin falls slightly as he studies me. “I’ll be sure to change that word for you this go.”

Jackson lets out a loud guffaw. “You’re totally fucked, dude.”

I decide to keep my mouth closed. If I provoke Mark, it’ll only backfire. There won’t be another round, though. This time, I’ll lock the damn door.

We say our good-byes and head back toward the airport. I will say that flying this way is a hundred times better than commercial. I can see why Jackson keeps a private plane for himself and his staff. Plus, there are times they need to get out quickly and can’t wait for a flight—especially with their luck lately.

Throughout the car ride, I try to figure out the tie between Mazir and Cole Security Forces. I spent an absurd amount of time studying him, his family, his links to terrorist organizations—which is vast. How does Jackson and his team fit? I can’t make the connection. Yet, I know there is one.

“What are you thinking about, beautiful?” Mark asks. It’s the first time he’s ever called me that.

“I’m contemplating who, other than me, wants to destroy you and your friends, and why.”

He takes my hand in his and places it into his lap. “Let me worry about that.”

“Isn’t this why you called me in the first place?”

“Nah.” He smiles. “I just wanted to see you again. It had been too long since I had someone to spar with.”

“I don’t doubt that, but you and I know that’s not the only reason.”

Mark mindlessly rubs the top of my hand. “I’ll figure it out. I have some ideas.” He glances over with an emotion in his eyes that I can’t place. It’s not suspicion, but he’s not as clear as he was before. It’s as if he’s erected a wall inside himself, closing me off to whatever he’s thinking. I’m not sure what to make of it.

Before I can dissect it too much, we arrive at our plane. We board easily, thanks to the ease of flying private, and take our seats. The silence between us feels heavy. It’s not like earlier when it was comfortable. This feels ominous.

My gut tells me there’s something brewing. But he takes my hand again, and it helps anchor me. His touch reminds me of what has transpired between us—also, how quickly it seems to have disappeared.