Free Under the Covers by Roz Lee

he heard through the family grapevine, either or both of them had political genius in spades. He wouldn't mind being the brother of the President, but actually aspiring to the office? Hell no. He shook his head to clear the ridiculous image in his brain. Was it possible his little brother or sister was that ambitious? He didn't know enough about them to judge. He'd left home when they were both little, and his life since then had kept him at a distance.
    He was on his own now. When this mission was over he'd be assigned to a new team, but it took years to build the kind of trust he had with Sean and Celeste. Could he find that again? His life would depend on it.
    He stepped back into his cabin and stopped short. How the hell had he forgotten about Bree? Shit. He'd be leaving Bree behind too. He sank to the edge of the bed. She said she was moving on – but to where? He'd just found her, and he had no intention of letting her go, no matter what she said. Hell, she wouldn't be content as the little woman, patiently waiting for her spook of a husband to reappear in her life. She was too much like him for that. She thrived on excitement, on the thrill of the chase. She was good at her job, and he had no doubt she'd complete this mission successfully. Then what? Where would she go? If the FBI wasn't enough excitement for her, what was?
    He had plenty of questions, and not a single satisfying answer. All he knew for sure was he couldn't let Bree Stanton go. How he was going to keep her, he hadn't a clue.

    ****

    Bree reviewed the report sent from her superior at the FBI and cursed. Still nothing on Vernon Cannon. At this rate, she'd be on this floating rust bucket until retirement age. She clicked through the reports she'd received over the last few months, isolating the bits and pieces of information into a separate file. There had to be something there. Every attack on the Lothario had been more severe than the previous one. The last time, Cannon had arranged to kidnap and hold for ransom the wives of the ship's owners. Where would he go from there? If he intended to escalate the next attack — and she knew in her gut there would be one —well, obsessed people didn't just forget their obsession and move on. She had to figure out what he'd do next. Otherwise, they'd be scraping rust off her, too.
    Bleary eyed, she shut down the computer and said goodnight to the underling who had the overnight shift watching the security monitors. She needed air. Lots of it. For once, she took the elevator to the Mediterranean deck. Air. Food. Drink. That's what she needed, and not necessarily in that order.
    Tonight was oldies night, and a band played slow love songs for the dancers on the deck below. This was one of her favorite times on the ship. The party going on now was nothing like the wild mixers on the first night of the cruise. After days at sea, many of the passengers paired off, so this event was for lovers. Special alcoves were set up around the pools where couples could have some privacy while they 'danced' to the music. Still, some preferred to do their dancing in plain sight of whoever might walk by. A few people stood at the rail nearby, watching the dancers from above.
    She claimed a lounge chair along the port-side rail, stretched out and closed her eyes. Sheets of Plexiglas shielded this portion of the deck from the stiff winds as the ship cut through the ink-black night. She inhaled deeply. The soft, moist air filled her lungs, taking a day's worth of worry with it when it left. For the first time in days, she was aware of the tension in every muscle of her body. No wonder she hadn't slept well. She dredged up a relaxation technique she'd learned in her college years when finals kept her tied in knots and unable to sleep.
    Beginning with her toes and working her way up to her neck, she focused on each muscle group, willing the tension away, until she lay as limp as a becalmed sail. She slipped into a deep sleep, lulled by