“Arlo?” By far the very last person in the world she ever expected to see coming to her rescue. “What…?”

Brown eyes never wavering from her, he raised the hand not holding the gun and brought it to his mouth.

“Got her. Sixth boat. Don’t even,” he warned when Delgado began pulling Juliette backwards. “Let her go.”

Delgado’s arms only tightened further, crushing her. Their feet tangled as he continued guiding her further away towards the secret compartment at the back. Juliette dug her heels in. She put all her weight down, refusing to be taken anywhere.

Another bang exploded and a perfect, black hole smoldered inches from Delgado’s foot.

“Not going to say it again,” Arlo said, twisting the hammer back. “Let her go.”

Against her shoulder blade, Delgado’s heart hammered. His hot breath washed along the back of her neck, making her skin prickle. She tried to jerk away. She tried stomping on his foot and clawing at his arms, but he was adamant about keeping her as his own personal human shield.

“Counting to three,” Arlo went on. “One … two—”

“Juliette?”

Like a beautiful sunrise over a majestic landscape, Killian charged through the patio doors behind Arlo and immediately took possession of all the air in the room. His very presence shrank all her fears. It smothered every ounce of the nightmare she’d been living the last couple of weeks. Suddenly, there was no room for anything but an unimaginable happiness at the sight of him.

“Killian!”

Dark eyes found hers. They roamed over her once before noticing the man holding her. They went impossibly black with rage. His chin rose a notch as every hard line of his body stiffened. Before her eyes, he seemed to grow in size as power and dominance radiated off him in dangerous waves.

“You’re surrounded,” he stated evenly. “There are roughly twenty men aboard this ship at this very moment. The odds of you making it off alive are very slim either way, but if you don’t get your hands off her, I can promise you’ll wish I’d killed you.”

Delgado released her instantly. For good measure, he staggered back and nearly fell over the unconscious—or possibly dead—body of Alcorn.

Juliette didn’t let him get very far. Bolting forward, she snatched the laptop off the table and swung it across his head. The machine made a distinct crack as the screen shattered and snapped off. Delgado flew backwards, tripped over Alcorn and hit the ground with a sickening crunch as his head ricocheted off the bar.

Panting, Juliette dropped the bit of computer she still held and stomped on it, breaking off keys and cracking plastic. Not sure if that was enough to destroy the files, she grabbed the whiskey bottle off the counter and dumped the whole thing on top.

“Juliette…”

Shivering and rapidly falling apart, Juliette spun and flung herself into Killian’s waiting arms. One hooked around her middle while the hand on the other closed in her hair, mashing her face into his shoulder. Her own arms locked around his ribs. Her hands fisted in the fabric of his coat as she inhaled his soothing scent. She clasped him close to stifle the broken sounds struggling up her throat, the ones that rocked through her very core in violent waves. Tears burned, amplifying the urge to break and just sob for all she was worth. But not yet. She couldn’t. She needed to hold on a little longer.

“Are you hurt?” The question was an uneven growl.

Juliette shook her head. “You came.” Her breath caught around the words. Her voice broke. “You really came.”

“Nothing was going to stop me.” His arms tightened. “God, Juliette.”

A bang made them both jump. Something shattered.

“Don’t you even,” Arlo warned, gun aimed at Cyril. Broken pieces of glass lay at his feet from the lamp Arlo had shot. “I’ve got a clear shot at your head and no one’ll miss you.”

“Oh!”

Pulling out of Killian’s embrace, Juliette hurried to Alcorn. She dropped down and unhooked the ring of keys from his damp belt loop. She ignored the smear of blood as she tore them free.

“Juliette, what…?”

Ignoring the question, she ran to the compartment door. It took some fiddling and prodding before she found the secret panel that unlatched the door. It hissed open.

“It’s okay.” She promised when Killian started after her. Not waiting, she sprinted down the stairs. “Maraveet? Maraveet, get up!”

The woman’s head shot up out of her folded arms and she blinked her green eyes. They widened at the sight of Juliette. Then shot past her to the open door.

“What…?”

“Come on!” Juliette urged, flipping through the keys until she found the right one. She undid the door and rushed inside to help Maraveet to her feet. “It’s okay,” she said. “Killian’s here.”

“Killian?” A grin spread across the woman’s face. “I knew he’d come.”

Panting, Juliette tightened her grip as they shuffled to the stairs. “Don’t forget the plan.”

Maraveet growled under her breath. “It’s a stupid plan! Let Killian kill them all.”

“No! You promised!”

Maraveet shook her head. “There’s something wrong with you. Fine,” she muttered when Juliette stopped walking. “I’ll follow the plan.”

Relieved that Killian would be one less thing she would need to worry about, Juliette started onward, dragging Maraveet up each step carefully. Her mind was a painfully organized compartment of everything she needed to do before the sun came up, everything she’d dutifully worked over and practiced in her head for the last two weeks. It didn’t even dawn on her that it wasn’t normal to be that calm about such a situation. In a reality, she should have been a mess. And she would be. Just not in that moment.

The revolting crack of flesh on bone greeted them at the top. The shrill cry of pain with every clap. The grunts that followed. Certain Cyril’s men had somehow gotten the upperhand, Juliette hurled herself and Maraveet through the door and into the second level.

Arlo stood exactly where she’d left him, by the patio doors, holding his gun out at men who weren’t even moving. Frank was at his shoulder, calmly watching the scene unfolding in the sitting area where Killian had Cyril pinned to the carpet. One knee was gouged into the younger man’s thin chest, spearing him to the ground as Killian beat all ten, balled fingers into his beautiful face, or what used to be beautiful. It was a broken, bloody mess.

“Killian!”

Juliette’s cry jarred him from the spell he seemed to be under, the one that had his face as dark as his eyes and his teeth bared like a wolf’s. His head snapped up, his nostrils flared as though anticipating the thought of beating the hell out of someone else. When he spotted no other threat, he let his hands drop. The torn and bleeding fingers unfurled at his sides.

“Mar?” Killian’s face went slack with shock. He pushed up, making sure to put his weight on the knee crushing Cyril’s chest. The boy gasped and curled onto his side. His entire body jerked with every cough. Blood speckled the ground by his face. Killian didn’t notice as he bound over the body and hurried to his sister. “What the hell are … what did they do to you?”

Maraveet groaned. “Had a tea party. They served the wrong tea. Things got real.”

“I’m going to fucking kill him!” he snarled, already turning back.

“No!” Juliette cried. “Maraveet needs a doctor. She’s hurt badly.”

That made him pause. His murderous gaze shot from Maraveet to Cyril, his mind visibly torn between helping his sister and killing the bastard who put her in the position. The right choice won when he reached for Maraveet with a frustrated growl.

“Come on.”

“God bless you.” Maraveet went into her brother’s arms. He scooped her up against his chest, and while the gesture was gentle, Maraveet cried out. “Gentle!” she snapped. “I’m fragile.”

Her teasing was met with a frown from Killian as he carted her to the patio doors. Another figure moved in as though anticipating and took Maraveet from him. He set her gently into the arms of one of his men and instructed him to take her straight to the car. Then he turned and motioned Juliette over.