Free Edge of Time by Susan M. MacDonald Page B

even trying
.
    It was both deeply weird and strangely pleasing. Weird, because having a power you couldn’t feel, never mind control, was rather scary; pleasing, because Darius looked pretty impressed and Riley had been shocked and probably jealous. Part of his brain kept running over and over what had happened in the bunker. The other part of his mind was trying to keep up with what was going on around him.
    Beside him, Bjorn prattled on about ratios and oil pressure while swinging a grocery bag he’d taken from Alec only a moment before, seemingly unmindful that that particular carrier held several bottles of carbonated drinks. Alec only partly listened. He hoped that Bjorn’s motorboat would be one of those massive yachts all around them, with tons of sumptuous accessories. The guys would be totally jealous when he got back home after all this was over.
    Bjorn turned down a narrow gangway, leading past several boats, finally stopping near the end of the jetty. He pointed to the right. “That’s her. The
Inga
.”
    Alec swallowed his disappointment. She was a dull, yellowish houseboat, with peeling paint and rust-stained metal fittings. She seemed forlorn, dwarfed by her more glamorous neighbours.
    â€œCome on aboard.” Bjorn cheerily led the little party towards wooden planking. The side of the boat rubbed up against several tractor tires looped against the jetty. It was an easy step down onto the deck.
    â€œCome on, Riley,” Darius said firmly.
    Alec turned and looked. Riley had a mutinous look on her face, and was standing arms crossed and legs locked against further movement. “I told you–” she started.
    â€œ
Riley
.” Darius’ hand went to his jacket pocket.
    â€œDon’t make me.” It came out like a whimper and Alec knew from the sudden grimace that she hadn’t wanted to sound so weak. He turned his back and pretended not to hear.
    â€œI can and I will.” Darius’ voice had a hard edge.
    Bjorn ducked through the opening into the galley-cum-cabin of what was instantly obvious as his home and Alec followed. A wide futon sofa lined the starboard side of the cabin; cupboards, countertops and kitchen appliances lined the port. A heavy table was bolted to the middle of the floor. A captain’s chair was positioned in front of a wide bank of instruments under a row of windows forward of the living quarters. Everywhere, the detritus of a single man’s life littered the cabin: clothes dropped onto the floor, crumpled newspapers all over the futon, an unfinished meal on the table.
    Bjorn grabbed the books off the table and dumped them into a locker built under the sofa. He gave an apologetic smile as he swept the dishes away. “I made all of the modifications myself.”
    â€œIt’s impressive,” Darius said politely. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind showing me the controls?”
    â€œDon’t,” shouted Riley, hovering in the doorway, one foot still outside on the deck.
    Darius gave her a sharp look. “Sit down and be quiet.”
    Slowly, she entered the cabin and crossed to the sofa. She sat on the edge and gritted her teeth.
    â€œPlease.” Darius held out his hand, indicating the instrument panel. Bjorn nodded.
    Alec stuffed another handful of chips into his mouth and chewed contentedly as he inspected the framed photos of sailing yachts along the wall.
    â€œWhat the hell are you so happy about?” Riley muttered.
    Alec glanced down. “Nothing.”
    â€œHe’s using you,” she said, her eyes darting towards Darius, now deeply immersed in conversation. “You’re just a pawn in some game he’s playing.”
    Alec swallowed and took another handful, giving himself something to do until he’d thought of what to say. Cute girls always made his tongue tie up in knots.
    â€œHe’s lying to you. Don’t you get it? Telling you you’re so special.”