Chapter Seven
“I’m king of the world.”
Loren stood at the helm of the yacht as it pulled away from the Turkish port. Her feet were hooked on the railing and her arms were thrown wide. She could’ve easily fallen over and into the depths. It might not kill her, but it would certainly injure her.
“Loren,” I called. “Get down from there.”
“One more minute, Mom.” She flung her head back and let the wind catch her blonde locks as the ship picked up speed. “Near . . . far . . . wherever you—oh!”
She wobbled, and I grabbed for her. She landed in my arms like a damsel swooning. Only difference was the bag slung over her shoulder with a deadly weapon in its belly. The cane that sheathed a sword dug into my ribs.
“See what I mean?” I admonished. “I told you to be careful.”
“I was fine,” she in
