Darius stared at the door. His door.
Behind it, his bed. In which she would be sleeping. Alone. How had that happened?
His gaze narrowed. Not how, who.
Irritated - and ego slightly bruised - he stomped to the bridge to find the two culprits pretending to sail the ship. Tanzie and Jorah both studiously ignored him.
Darius crossed his arms over his chest before saying, "Were you ever going to tell me we were harboring a fugitive?"
"Yeah," Jorah mumbled.
"When?"
"Looking for da right time."
"Is there ever a right time to tell your captain you're putting his ship and its crew at risk?" Anger simmered inside him. Did they not understand the kind of bulls-eye they'd just painted on his ship? Their ship, too. This was their home.
"Sorry." Jorah rubbed the toe of a giant-sized foot. The chagrin rolled off him.
Darius eyed Tanzie. "Anything you'd like to say?"