Impulse (Isola dei Sogni) (7 page)

"Er, Mia?" He waved his hand toward her.

"What?" She snapped the word out again as she flung the door open. "Well, are you coming or do I go and find the blasted thing myself?"

Dylan shrugged, followed her through the door, and indicated the corridor to the right. If she wasn't bothered by her state of undress, why should he be? And worried as he was, he could still appreciate the sight of those beautiful breasts moving freely under the soft chiffon. He was sure if he looked closely, he could see the darker skin of her nipples beneath the cloth. Down boy, he admonished his eager body.
This is not the time.
He forced himself not to let his gaze drift any lower.

"Whom is she having this alleged fantasy with?" Mia demanded. Dylan didn't answer immediately, and Mia had no patience. "Who, damn it? Who?" One finger jabbed him in the chest. Her fingers curled and he had the awful thought that maybe he should protect his dick with more than a toweling robe.

A door opened and one of Meryl's friends popped her head out. He stifled a grin as he noted only her head stuck out and the rest of her body stayed firmly behind the door.

"Is everything okay? I heard voices." Her eyes were cloudy, and she blinked owlishly.

"Fine," Mia snapped. "Sorry, Freya. This" —she glared at Dylan. If looks could kill they'd be picking hymns and arranging the order of his funeral service— "asshole is really pissing me off. I didn't mean to disturb you."

Freya looked at Mia, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. It was obvious she'd never, ever, seen Mia like that before. Mia's hair was all over the place and it flowed down her back in tangled spirals. Her eyes flashed and her cheeks were red.

Dylan's heartbeat increased; to him she was magnificent, and he wanted to love her senseless and protect her away from anything that would make her unhappy. Sadly, he knew he had no chance, not now.

'Fuck! I've got no knickers on. And my boobs are doing the swing low sweet chariot, I'm swinging for England crap. All the bloody fault of some irresponsible shite-bag.'

Dylan didn't envy that person, especially when Mia found out who it was.

Freya blinked and backed inside her room.

"Oh, okay. Fine. I'll see you sometime then." She shut the door.

' Argh, now Freya thinks I'm away with the mixer. I want blood, or balls. In a mincer.'

Dylan looked at Mia, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He had a feeling that if he opened it she would search for said mincer. Or bite his tongue off. When she calmed down, he had a very interesting use for that.

"Down here and through this door." He ushered her through a door, to where Faran stood at a transmitter with a tall elegant woman next to him. She didn't look exactly happy.

Mia cleared her throat and stared at Faran.

'That guy is seriously weird
.
'

Dylan smirked. It was lucky she kept that thought to herself, although he was sure he heard Faran say thank you. He'd forgotten for a moment that as a tiger shifter, Faran was telepathic.

Dylan walked swiftly over to the transmitter. "Any news?"

Faran smiled and gestured in a find out for yourself manner.

Dylan touched his ear again. And then moved a switch on the transmitter himself. "Where are we at?"

The voice, recognizable as Christophe's, came strongly through the speaker.

"About twenty minutes to get them. Marloth says they are both okay and we'll go from there"

"Marloth? Marloth who? That bloody name spells trouble with a capital T." She glared and tapped her fingers on her arm. "The only time I've heard that name it spelled trouble."

Dylan didn't speak. He watched her hands warily. Her knuckles were white, and she'd changed from tapping to clenching her fingers and making a fist. He was thankful there were no handy implements to throw.

"Fess up. Who the fuck is this Marloth, and why is he on this island?"
'Surely, Meryl would have warned me? But would she, when she knows how anti-Marloth I am?'

Dylan didn't immediately reply. The shit had hit the fan big time.

"Hey, I said Marloth who?" Mia's voice rose. "Who do I do grievous bodily harm to in order to get answers?" Her hands still clenched and unclenched on an invisible something . . . likely Marloth's throat. Dylan could tell she tried to keep her temper in check.

'That sodding name is enough to break me out in hives.'

"Er, Mia is here with me," Dylan said unnecessarily into the microphone. "And she's Meryl's sister. Her big—"

"And bloody angry," Mia added.

"And, er, upset sister," Dylan finished.

Mia looked at him in contempt. "Wuss."

'Oh, yes. Discretion is now my middle name.'

There was a silence in the room. Faran, in his own manner, looked amused. "Ah." The static ebbed and flowed, but there was no mistaking the wary intonation.

"Exactly." Dylan ran his hand through his hair, making the bathrobe open to almost indecent levels. He glanced at Mia, who it seemed was too distracted to notice. At least she hadn't seen it as an indication to attack.

Faran winked and slipped out of the room to return moments later with jeans and a t-shirt. Dylan took them, murmured his thanks and slipped them on, shrugging out of Mia's bathrobe as he did so.

"And
she
wants to know who Marloth is." Mia snapped. "As in, Marloth who?"

"Over to you," Christophe sounded amused. "I'm just about to arrive at the site. We should be back in five or ten minutes. Good luck." The transmitter went dead. Mia swung round so fast Dylan was amazed she didn't go dizzy and fall over.

"Good Luck! Good Luck? Oh yes, you'll need all of that and more.
Now,
Dylan.
Who?"
If wrath could be measured, Mia's would be off the Richter scale.

Dylan saw all his carefully nurtured hopes and dreams begin to crumble.
Shit and fuck. Why can't Marloth listen to advice?
Resigned to the inevitable, Dylan sighed. "Marloth Ducaine."

"That Bastard? What the hell is he doing here? And with my sister? Whose stupid idea was all this anyway? Marloth Bloody Ducaine." It was impossible to add any more scorn to a voice.

"Actually, it isn't Marloth Bloody, it's—" A discrete cough from Faran stopped him mid-flow. "Er, anyway, why do you ask?"

"Come off it, Dylan. Contrary to what my stupidity tonight may indicate, I'm not buttoned up the back you know. Don't treat me like a moron. An idiot for coming here, maybe, and an even bigger idiot for falling for you and your tired old gigolo lines. 'I don't really work here'," she parroted. "Bullshit. Total garbage and utter pathetic lies.
Crap.
And what—" She spluttered as with an oath cut short, Dylan shut her up by the best method possible. He kissed her.

There was an interruption from Faran. "The speedboat is here," he said calmly, "Just docked. Marloth and Semper are with them."

"Good." Mia pulled away and wiped her mouth. "Huh? Semper? Not another weirdo? There's more stupid names around here than useful cocks."

Uh–oh, that's not a good sign.

She glared at him, and Dylan watched her hands. Her eyes flashed as she turned to Faran, and stamped her bare foot onto his boot clad one. She winced and Faran didn't move a muscle.

"For a Chief of Security, you're pretty crap. You let that . . . that excuse of a man over there molest me, and didn't even batter an eyelid." She peered closely at him. "Do you even have eyelids?"

He smiled, a curiously feline smile. The smile of a predator.

Mia shifted from one foot to the other. Unease showed in every movement. Dylan could have felt sorry for her, but he was more concerned with what was about to happen when the passengers from the speedboat arrived. He cleared his throat. Mia flushed, and glared at him.

"Sorry, that was rude." She turned to the woman standing next to Faran. "I apologize; I'm a bit uptight here. But he is a
bit
strange, don't you think?"

"But, of course," the woman replied. Her smile lit up her face. "He's supposed to be."

Faran laughed. It was deep, powerful, and definitely stomach curling, although whether in a good or bad way, Mia wasn't sure.

"I forgive you." Faran spoke in a rumbling voice. Mia decided it sounded like the prelude to a tiger's roar. "Both of you. You're somewhat enraged."

The elegant woman growled something unintelligible, and Mia fired up.

"Somewhat? Asshole. I'll show you all what somewhat is. Lead me to that sorry specimen of a man outside." She didn't deign to say whom she meant. She was sure they all knew. Faran grinned. Mia guessed that was what he was doing anyway because it looked more like he bared his teeth.
Seriously, the guy is weird. Come to think of it, he reminds me of that asshole Marloth.

"Be gentle with him, with everybody. You're all a bit wound up at the moment." Faran touched her arm. "Please? And I need my security staff. Marloth is eager but green."

Mia jumped and stared at Faran. "Shit! Am I thinking aloud again? Sorry."

He didn't reply, just smiled that strange feline grin as he nodded and turned toward a screen on the wall. Mia couldn't make head nor tail of it. It was covered in strange symbols.

She turned to Dylan. There was nothing she could do here. She was going to find Meryl, drag the truth about this sorry excuse for a holiday, and demand to get the hell out. "Are you going to show me the way to the dock, or shall I just blunder about until I find it?"

"I'll take you." He went to take her arm, but Mia shook him off. If he touched her in any way with even an ounce of compassion, she'd lose the plot, and either bawl all over him or kick him where it hurt the most.

"I don't want you to touch me. Not now, definitely not until I cool down, and maybe not even then. You understand?" She stamped her foot.
Damn, I need shoes.
She turned to the unknown woman.

 
"I need shoes. As you seem the only half-sensible, note I didn't say normal, person here, can you find me some? Please," she added belatedly. Her manners seemed to have disappeared with her temper.

The woman inclined her head and bent down to remove her flip-flops.

 
"Will these do?"

"Thank you, yes." Mia turned to Dylan. "Cat got your tongue?"

Faran let out a bark of laughter.

Mia turned and glared. He put his hands in the air and said nothing. Mia turned back to Dylan. "Well?"