He was not ready for her to walk out of his life.
But now wasn’t the time to broach the subject. He had a job to do.
The captain looked between them, nodding with knowing eyes. The bastard knew exactly what he’d done. He’d drawn a line in the sand and dared either of them to cross it, leaving them both on opposite sides. She would go back to Washington, D.C., and Greyson would stay with his crew in Savannah.
Their time together was nearing its end.
“Good luck on the mission.” Flynn turned and walked away.
Greyson ground his teeth, wishing he could punch something. Aura remained stoic beside him, all her attention on the port ahead. He needed a distraction.
Leaving her at the railing, he headed over to the capstan to help Drake and Caleb drop the anchor.
Centuries ago, on the original Sea Dog, they’d have up to twenty men on the turnstile, but this new replica of the sunken ship had a motor to assist them with lifting and lowering the heavy anchor, so three men could manage it now.
Caleb lifted his head. Sweat shone on his face as the wind whipped through his curly dark-brown hair. He grinned as he gave Greyson a slow look over. “You look…domesticated.”
“My undercover uniform.” Greyson shoved at the turnstile. “Greg is a tool.”
Caleb chuckled, scanning the deck before he spoke. “Looks like you and the federal agent are getting along.”
Greyson rolled his eyes. Pirates were notorious with gossip. They called it banter, but being trapped at sea on a ship meant talking about each other helped pass the time. Greyson was no angel in this area. He’d done his share of chattering.
He shrugged. “I’ve been known to enjoy a beautiful woman.”
“Maybe, but I’ve never seen you dress like a lubber for one before,” Caleb teased.
“I’m wearing this golf garb for your ungrateful arse.” Greyson focused on the navigator instead of the dock, where the captain and his first mate, Duke, had already made the jump across to tie the lines as Colton tossed them over. Duke was almost a head taller than Flynn and built like a bodybuilder. He was the muscle of the crew. Greyson’s gaze cut back to Caleb. “If you’d rather go ashore undercover, I’m happy to change clothes.”
“Bullshit,” Caleb grunted. “You wouldn’t let me switch places with you.” The anchor settled on the bottom of the harbor, and Caleb straightened up. “Half our crew have found love—why shouldn’t you do the same?”
Of the crew, their navigator was the most educated and well-spoken. Rarely did a piratical colloquialism slip from his lips. After the original Sea Dog had sunk, Caleb had become a college professor, a sought-after lecturer, and he held doctoral degrees in multiple sciences. Hearing him bring up the subject of love surprised Greyson. It hadn’t occurred to him that the bookworm ever thought about women, let alone falling in love with one.
“Loving a mortal means losing her, mate.” He glanced at Aura and back to Caleb. “Best to enjoy the company and let it go before you get too attached.”
Was it already too late? Probably. Good thing she’d made it clear she was taking the sword directly back to Department 13. She’d walk right out of his life.
“Not necessarily.” Caleb wiped his brow and tipped his head toward Char and Harmony as they came up to the main deck. “Some of them drink from the Grail. You wouldn’t have to lose her. Not to death, anyway.”
True. He hadn’t broached the subject with her. But immortality wouldn’t solve the other problem. To be together, one of them would have to give up too much. Her life was in D.C., and his was…not. “Why the sudden concern for my companionship?”
Caleb chuckled. “I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve never seen you this happy before.”
Greyson smirked and punched his shoulder. “Obviously you’ve never seen me at target practice.”
He walked away before Caleb could plant any more ideas into his head. Aura loved her job. It was part of what he respected most about her. Her devotion to protect not only her team at the department, but people who would never even know her name, was heroic. How could he ask her to leave that behind? He wouldn’t.
And a drink from the Holy Grail wouldn’t change any of that.
Colton lowered the gangplank connecting the deck to the dock as Greyson crossed to Aura’s side.
Keeping his southern accent in place, he offered her his hand, “Ready to go shopping for a sword?”
She nodded without taking his hand. Instead she plucked her cell phone out of the tiny designer bag. “I’ve got the address here. Let’s do this.”
…
The wind puffed as they crossed over the water from the ship to the shore. In the distance, the stone tower she’d seen back at Department 13 was surrounded by caution tape.
A crane sat next to it with a strap looped around the top of the tower, supporting it to keep it from toppling over. Seeing the massive size of the structure it had sliced through made the danger of the Tyrfing even more real.
She swallowed her dread and looked over at Greyson. His masculine scent surrounded her like an embrace. She hated herself for drinking it in. While he’d been busy shaving after the shower, she’d gotten a call from Agent Bale about the sword.
The occult division had researched Char’s findings and confirmed the suspicion that the blade would be thirsty for the blood of the chosen one, but there were no records about how the curse worked. No way to know if the Tyrfing might be sentient.
If Aura really was the chosen one, and the blade yearned for her blood, would it be able to whisper dark things into human minds, like Pandora’s box?
Until she could answer that question, she couldn’t allow anyone else to wield it. Not even Greyson. He had enough on his plate, and the last thing she needed was to have to worry he’d blow their cover. But keeping this secret from Greyson was proving tougher than she realized.
The taxi pulled up. A welcome distraction. Department 13 had a car waiting at the rental company, and from there, they’d head to the rendezvous.
Greyson opened the door for her, every bit the southern gentleman. “Ready for me to close the door, Amb?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Greg.”
He bent to kiss her check and then closed the door. She almost smiled. Even a peck on the cheek had her heart fluttering. He was much better at this undercover operation than she’d imagined he’d be. He jogged around to the other side and got in beside her while she gave the address to the driver.
She tried to focus on the scenery. She’d never been to Scotland. It was tempting to pepper Greyson with questions, but they were off the ship now. It was too risky to break cover.