Lev used his elbows to propel himself through the mud and grass to work his way around to get in position to take a shot. Pratt suddenly stiffened, his head whipping around, looking up the slope toward Rikki's house.

She stood at the top of the hill, her face upward, toward the sky, hands graceful as she conducted her wild symphony. The rain responded to her commands and every third beat, her right hand would move upward, palm up. She looked like an ancient priestess worshiping the rain goddess. Lev tried to call out to her, to warn her, but thunder cracked and the wind whipped the sound of his voice away. Pratt tossed aside the flamethrower's trigger and pulled a gun.

Without hesitation, Lev fired several shots, knowing the angle was wrong, but all he cared about was distracting the man away from Rikki. He leapt to his feet and ran toward the arsonist, firing as he did so. Pratt turned to face the immediate threat, spitting bullets at Lev. He was just as blind, trying to see through the pouring rain to the shadowy figure coming at him. Unable to see Lev, he half turned and fired at Rikki. The water swirled around his knees now.

Lev skidded to a halt as he realized he was about to run right into that gathering force of water. He slammed a new clip into his gun and knelt, trying to get a clear shot, firing to draw Pratt's attention back to him.

Pratt was in trouble and knew it. He fired several times at Lev and then abandoned every attempt at killing, trading his need for retribution for survival. The water crept up his thighs, and now the current was strong, tugging and pulling, driving him toward the pond. He was strapped into his heavy pack and couldn't get the buckles loosened with the rain pouring down on him.

He fell again, tumbled over, the pack pulling him down. He was wearing boots and the water had filled them. His heavy jacket and clothing added to his weight. The current swept him straight over the bank into the irrigation pond. He went under, surfaced with a thin, terrified scream and went under again.

Rikki collapsed at the top of the hill and Lev's heart nearly stopped. He clawed his way through the slippery mud to get to her, even as he tried to keep an eye on Pratt. The body came up once, rolled like a heavy log and disappeared again, this time in the center of the pond. Lev reached Rikki. She was lying faceup, her eyes open, staring at the rain as it came down. Without her orchestration, the rain slowed considerably.

"Are you hit?" His hands ran over her body.

"My calf feels like it's on fire."

She was remarkably calm while he felt insanity taking hold. He ripped her jeans with the tip of his knife, frantic to see the damage. The bullet had barely clipped her, taking more denim than skin, and he hung his head, his stomach heaving. He didn't have time to vomit, he heard a noise above them and whirled, gun rising. Jonas appeared, flanked by several others. Lev simply laid the gun on the ground and lifted Rikki into his arms. By the time he reached the porch, the rain had stopped altogether.

Several hours later, a team had recovered the body and collected evidence, and Jonas came to join them on the back porch to take their statement. "Are you all right, Rikki?" Jonas asked gently. "Did a paramedic look at that wound?"

"Yes, Blythe got here a couple of hours ago and insisted. She sent coffee to your crew."

"Bad luck, Pratt falling into the pond like that with his pack on. He didn't have a prayer," Jonas commented.

"I wouldn't call it bad luck. And I want my gun back when you're finished with your investigation."

Rikki remained silent, head down, hands covering her face. Lev and Jonas exchanged a long look above her head.

"They're almost gone, sweetheart," Lev murmured.

She rocked back and forth silently, and he dropped to the porch beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him, sheltering her with his chest and arms.

"Rikki," Jonas said softly. "Gerald Pratt and his family were in the same accident as you and your parents, just before your thirteenth birthday, the huge pileup on the freeway. Do you remember that accident?"

Lev felt her take a deep breath. She nodded, but didn't lift her head.

"The Sitmore car hit the Pratt car from behind, launching the Pratt car into the air. It hit a fuel tanker and ignited from the sparks another vehicle that was sliding along a guard rail, metal to metal, was throwing into the air."

"There was fire everywhere," she murmured, her voice that of a child. "All around us. My mother was hurt. People were screaming. A car hit ours very hard from behind and pushed us into the car in front of us. The noise was terrible."

"The accident wasn't your parents' fault and it certainly wasn't yours. Anyone reading the report could clearly see the problem started with two trucks colliding, causing a chain reaction behind them. Visibility was poor, the roads slick, and disaster struck." Jonas pushed a tired hand through his hair. "He's gone now, Rikki, and he can't hurt anyone you love." When she remained silent, he sighed and started to turn away.

Rikki sat up, squaring her shoulders. "Why did he want me and my family dead?"

Jonas shrugged. "Who knows what happened to his mind. He was in a burning car with his parents, someone pulled him out, but he watched them die in the fire. He became obsessed with fire after that. He took classes, became a volunteer at a young age, continued his schooling and then joined the CDF."

Blythe came out of the house, and dropped her hand on Rikki's shoulder. "I'm going home, honey. Get some sleep."

"Thanks for the coffee," Jonas said. "We all appreciated it."

They watched her drive away, too tired to get up. Rikki leaned her head against Lev's shoulder and looked at Jonas, actually meeting his eyes. "He blamed my family and wanted us to die the same way, didn't he?"

Jonas nodded. "I think so. He wasted his life on trying to get revenge for an accident. It was just bad luck that your car was behind theirs. You two get some sleep, you both look exhausted. And watch that wound, Rikki, you don't want an infection. "

Lev held out his hand to Jonas. "Thanks."

"It's what I do," Jonas said, shaking Lev's hand before turning away.

Lev lifted Rikki into his arms and carried her into their house.

20.

RIKKI woke up humming. Lev lay for a moment, listening to the joy in her voice. The night before she'd pored over her tide book and double-checked the weather. She rolled over and looked at him. His breath slammed out of his lungs. He ran his hand over her head, stroking down that thick, wild, silky-soft hair, allowing the wash of love to swamp him.

She smiled. His heart jumped.

"It's going to be a perfect day today. A dive day."

The joy in her voice sang in his veins. She kissed him and jumped out of bed. "We'll need a high-calorie lunch packed. And a big breakfast."

She was already in the bathroom, a flash of bare skin, all curves. He could see the marks of his possession on her and it gave him a strange, primal satisfaction. She wore only the shimmering raindrops falling down her shapely leg and his ring, a plain gold band. They'd been married in a quiet ceremony with only her sisters attending. Blythe and Judith had been their witnesses. It had been cold and windy, but they'd bundled up and had the wedding outdoors where Rikki felt safest. He cared nothing about the where, only that it was done and that Rikki was permanently his.

He lay on the bed, fingers linked behind his head, staring up at the ceiling, remembering the night before their wedding, when he'd finally summoned the courage to tell her what Lev Prakenskii had been doing aboard that yacht and just who Stavros was. He told her he believed Ilya Prakenskii was his brother and that Ilya was married to a Drake. He had confessed that he'd been present when Elle Drake had been kidnapped and brutally abused by Stavros, and that he hadn't freed her in order to carry out his orders. He'd been undercover, working his way into Stavros's confidence, slowly gaining his trust, so he would lead Lev to his partner, and ultimately, the leak in the government.

He'd told her everything he could, there in the dark, wishing for the sound of the rain to soothe both of them. She'd been silent, her breathing even and soft against his shoulder. Once, she'd slipped her hand into his, closing her fingers around his, as though to give him courage. And it had taken courage, every ounce he possessed, to risk losing her by telling her the truth, letting her know what kind of man he'd been, and that if she remained with him, if she married him, she might very well become an outcast in Sea Haven when Elle Drake returned.

Rikki's reaction was total Rikki. She merely wrapped her arms around him and held him. He would never forget her response. She meant what she'd said when she'd first committed to him. He could break apart, spill every dirty secret, and she would pick up the pieces and put him back together. She had kissed his mouth, murmured that she loved him and snuggled close to him, holding him to her as she fell asleep. He had no idea how he'd held it together until he heard her even breathing and then he had cried for the first time that he could remember since he'd been a boy. He just lay there in the dark, holding her, his face buried in her dark hair, so filled with love he was afraid he might really shatter.

She stuck her head around the door, breaking his reflection. "Get a move on. We want to get out there early. And peanut butter is definitely on the menu."

Lev scrubbed his hands over his face, shaken at the memory, knowing he always would be. Shaken that someone could really love him that much.

"You're going to get fired before you ever get started in this job," she warned.

He laughed and sat up, hearing the water go on. He hadn't heard joy in her voice in a while. The aftermath of finding out Gerald Pratt had targeted her family to die because of a car accident none of them had had any control over had been upsetting to her. In a way, he supposed, it would have been easier for her to think she'd somehow offended someone with one of her outbursts as a child. At least it would have made more sense to her.

In the days that followed she'd lost too much weight and seemed fragile. A series of storms had prevented her from diving. Even their wedding hadn't removed the shadows from her eyes. He'd stayed close to her, venturing out only to do a little shopping. He continued to plant the vague memory of Levi Hammond in the few people he met even casually, building a solid history for his life.

"Lev!" Her imperious voice made him laugh all over again. Who knew some little slip of a woman could boss him around and he'd like it?

"I'm on it," he called back, failing to keep the laughter out of his voice. He'd asked to be the cook and tender, now he was going to have to back it up with the grunt work, preparing a feast for the day while she went over her diving gear for the millionth time.

He worked fast and had breakfast ready and a huge lunch packed by the time she ran into the room. Instead of her blue jeans, she wore a coral colored tank and a long skirt that swirled around her ankles. He turned his back on the sink and inhaled sharply, his gaze drinking her in. She never failed to surprise him. The skirt was full and moved lovingly around her slender legs as she walked, the swirl of muted watercolors falling over her hips to her ankles in a cascade of pure temptation.

"You have anything on under that skirt?" he inquired.

That easily she could get him worked up. He'd gone from total control to absolutely none. He was smiling all over again. It was the simple things, he decided, that made a man happy, like his wife remembering a small detail he'd mentioned to her.

"Probably not," she answered with a lift of her eyebrow. "I'm diving. You can't wear too much when you're diving."

He nearly groaned, but he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. He handed her the usual diving breakfast, her beloved peanut butter and banana sandwich and a cup of coffee. "You'll need to down two of those."

"I'm driving," she said. "No time."

"The boat," he countered.

"You don't drive a boat," she sneered. "I was referring to my truck."

"Oh no, laskovaya moya, I've been reading the laws of this wonderful state, and I believe that truck is now half mine. I'm driving our truck."

Her eyes darkened. Little sparkles heated the cool depths. "Really? I don't think you have a prayer because I've got the keys." Laughing, she dangled them in front of him and, scooping up gear, ran for the truck.

Lev followed at a more leisurely pace, locking the house, double-checking that they had everything, especially water. The moment they finished packing the truck and she turned toward the driver's side, he stepped into her path, trapping her slender body with his much larger one, his arms caging her there on the tailgate. "I have one thing you don't," he murmured against her neck, turning his head and nipping her earlobe.

"What?"

His tongue teased her ear. "Brute strength," he whispered and removed the keys from her hand even as he captured her mouth with his. He didn't let her up until she kissed him back thoroughly, until her arms slid around his neck and she melted into him.

He drove the truck with great satisfaction, smirking at her. "Manly man, here, woman."

She snorted indelicately. "Until you board that boat. Then you're a lowly tender."

"I do believe I have a license to dive with you."

"You have a license, which I don't believe for one minute is real," she said, "and you can go dive on Mike's boat."

He glanced over at her, taking in the tight coral tank lovingly cupping her breasts, and shook his head. "I like the perks on your boat."

She laughed and ate her second peanut butter sandwich. As they turned onto the eucalyptus-lined drive leading to the harbor, she thrust her head out the window and shouted, "Today's a dive day. Woo-hoo!" It was impossible to contain her happiness.

He didn't think he'd ever seen her look more beautiful as they cast off and she took her position at the helm, guiding them along the river, sweeping under the bridge, through the harbor and out to sea. She was amazing. The sun kissed her dark hair, the wind put color into her cheeks, and her joy made her eyes bright. He knew he would never want to be anywhere else. She took his breath away, and his love for her was so overwhelming that for a few moments he could only stare at her.

Lev watched her, knowing he would never forget the way she looked there at the helm, hair blowing in the wind, utter confidence on her face. She lifted her face to the sky and laughed, the sound carried away by the wind. Her tank top plastered against her small, firm breasts so that her nipples peaked beneath the thin material, beckoning him. In the wind her long skirt blew around her ankles, swirling, sometimes revealing her bare, shapely legs and then dropping the colorful veil over the enticing sight.

He wanted her. There in the early morning sunlight, with the gulls flying overhead and the water beneath them. How could he not? She was his world. Without a doubt, when she was the captain of her boat, she was at her sexiest. His body reacted of its own volition. He didn't will the blood to flood into his cock, despite his training and experience in sexual arts; this was natural, a reaction to loving his woman. He found joy in that simple pleasure-his body reacting without command.

He stepped up behind her, close, knowing-certain-that she would welcome him. She leaned her head back onto his shoulder and laughed again. The sound was an aphrodisiac, bursting through his veins like champagne bubbles. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her body back against him. His cock was as hard as a rock, thick and long and pulsing with energy. He knew she could feel his need by the way she pushed back tight against him.

One of her arms came back up and around to circle his head, bringing it down to hers as she turned her face enough to kiss him. "I've been giving it some thought," she whispered against his mouth.

"What thought?" One hand found its way under her tank top to caress the underside of her breast.

"That there might be a few perks to having you diving with me after all."

His fingers found her nipple, tugged and rolled, then went back to massaging her supple breast. He felt her stomach muscles bunch beneath his palm where he held her tightly to him. He bit the junction of her neck and shoulder.

"I'm certain I can provide as many perks as you'd like," he murmured, licking from her pulse to the lobe of her ear. "Both above and below water."

She rolled her bottom against him, a clear enticement. "When I was putting your diving suit into the truck, I found that little opening right at the crotch very intriguing and fraught with all sorts of amazing possibilities under water." She turned her head more until their eyes met. "I can hold my breath a really long time."

His cock reacted with a hard jerk. The pressure from such a heavy erection was nearly painful with his jeans on. With one hand he unbuttoned the front of his jeans to get some relief. The cool air hit the scorching heat of his shaft, and he pressed closer to her, using the warmth of her body, burrowing into the delicious separation of her buttocks. He trailed his fingers over her hip and down her leg to her thigh. Very slowly he began to bunch the material in his fist, pulling it up inch by inch.

"I have to admit, laskovaya moya, I've noticed you have excellent skills under water."

The wind tugged at the skirt and he continued to inch up the hem so that her bare leg and then the left side of her firm round buttocks and hip came into view, revealing all those shimmering raindrops scattered along her bare skin, the ones he loved to taste.

"Superior underwater skills," she corrected. "Skills I'm quite willing to improve on. I don't mind practicing. In fact, I enjoy practicing."

He knew she was telling the truth. Each time her lips closed over his cock, it was her idea, and there was something so amazing in her eyes that at times he wondered whether that was half of the pleasure, the way she loved him, the way she enjoyed pleasuring him. She gave him back every bit as much as he gave her.

His hand caressed bare skin. He shaped her bottom, rubbed and massaged. "How good are you at driving this boat?" His voice was pitched low to challenge her.

"expert." There was no hesitation.

"Really?" He bunched her hair in his hand and pulled her head back to take her mouth. Dark hunger spread like the sun across the water. Deliberately he took his time, exploring her sweetness, taking what he wanted, kissing her deeply over and over.

The boat continued over the water toward their destination without so much as a waver. When he released her mouth, she caught his lip with her teeth and nipped. Her tongue licked along the marks. "You'll have to do better than that," she whispered, a husky invitation.

His hands bunched on either side of the long skirt, slowing bringing the material up so he could caress her bare skin. He didn't mind meeting challenges, but there was something amazing about skimming over the water in the early morning with the sun pouring down on them, and the feel of soft, warm skin against his palms. He believed he might be the luckiest man in the world.

He savored the moment, resting his chin on her shoulder, holding his body tight against hers as he massaged her legs and buttocks, feeling the vibration of the engine and the rise and fall of the waves beneath them. He took his time, sliding his hand between her legs to push against her inner thighs, insisting she widen her stance. She took the direction, her hips moving back against him.

He leaned into her. "You're not supposed to move. You only get to stand there." Deliberately he bit her neck again, found her soft skin too warm and enticing to do anything but linger so he added his mark, all the while he cupped her mound in the palm of his hand.

He felt her breath hitch in her lungs. Damp, welcoming heat met his palm. He took his time, using a slow, gentle hand, fingers circling and rubbing, slipping into her to test those tight silken muscles and tease her sensitive bud, only to slide away when her hips bucked against his hand. He didn't know who had more control-Rikki or him.

Her soft little whimper, Lev, went straight to his heart. He went to his knees, staying behind her, leaning in to take a nip at the delicious indentation in her hip, right where the raindrops started, those shimmering, enticing drops he loved to follow up-or down-her leg. He started at the bottom and found each one, swirling his tongue along that familiar path. He followed the intriguing little drops up her thigh to her hip.

"I think you need to add to this tattoo." He murmured as he kissed his way to the front of her thigh. "You need a drop here." He nipped her inner thigh. "And here." He nipped again, higher, near the blazing heat. "And here." His tongue plunged deep and one of her hands fisted in his hair. It was long enough, shaggy enough for her to get a good grip, but he sent her flying anyway.

She cried out, a soft sound the birds diving for fish answered as they plunged deep into the sea. Please.

I intent to always please you.

He stood behind her, her skirt billowing in the wind, one arm circled her waist, locking her to him, and he entered her, welding them together with her scorching heat. The vibrations of the engine ran up his legs to their joined bodies. The boat flew over the water, her hand steady on the hehn. They were joined together, one skin, hearts pounding the rhythm of the sea and nothing-nothing could have been better.

He was exactly where he wanted to be. Where he was supposed to be. This was his world-Rikki-and he had everything.

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