A Dangerous Arrangement (11 page)

Dean's body hardened at the memory. He could have sworn she was as affected as he was. And there'd been real fear in her eyes when she'd left.

‘It's your call,' said Rask. ‘What do you want to do?'

‘Get to the bottom of it.' Dean flinched as a call alert vibrated in his ear. ‘She'll disembark around midday. Order a hire car and pick her up. Bring her to the yacht. I'll be waiting.'

‘No problem.'

‘And Rask—don't let her out of your sight.'

‘Got it. We're due to dock around six in the morning. I'll call at five if that changes.'

Rask put Alain on the line then, and Dean spent the next few minutes sorting out some fuel consumption issues with his first mate.

When Alain hung up, Dean checked his phone.

One missed call.

One voice message.

Jaw clenched tight, he returned to the balcony and rang his voicemail. The computerised voice droned its instructions, then Marina began to speak.

‘Hello, Dean, it's Marina. I'm calling on the satphone. We're in some sort of dead spot and I have no signal. I need to talk to you urgently. Can you call me back? They'll let me know when the call comes through. It doesn't matter what time, just—call me.'

Dean shook his head. He was too angry to call her tonight, and what he planned to say was best said face to face.

He had research to do.

Chapter Twelve

The next morning Marina stood ready to board the tender and let Harmon catch her up in a hug. At 11.45 am, his hair was ruffled and he looked barely awake.

‘Why are you leaving so early?'

‘I'm taking the train into Rome.'

‘She has five days to see the ruins.' Eli shouldered his brother out of the way, then leaned forward and kissed her on one cheek, then the other.

‘Let me know what you decide,' Marina whispered in his ear before he drew away.

He gave her a conspiratorial smile then stepped back while Vlad came forward. A little weightier than he'd been in college, threads of grey textured his hair and beard.

A lump built in Marina's throat. ‘Vlad …'

‘You're welcome—as you Americans say.' Big hands closed over her shoulders and he looked into her eyes. ‘Don't start—or you'll have me blubbering too.'

She nodded, aware of the twins moving away, giving them space.

‘You're one of the best, Rina. You have nothing left to prove. Overpractise at your peril.'

She nodded again, hot tears pricking the backs of her eyes. How she wished they lived closer. ‘I'm coming back as soon as I can. I want to see Elena and the kids.'

He wrapped his arms around her in a massive bear hug, rocking her from side to side, his beard tickling her face until she smiled through her tears. ‘Thank you so much.'

He let her go, and she took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. She'd come through the performances, and it was a massive relief, but she could still lose her job if Victor made good with his threat.

But she wouldn't burden Vlad with that news.

A luggage porter approached and pointed at her suitcase. ‘Is your bag ready to go, Miss?'

‘Yes, please.'

‘The violin?'

Marina shook her head. ‘I'll take that.'

The porter grasped her case and carried it towards the waiting tender. Vlad picked up the Strad and handed it to her. ‘You'd better be on your way. The train waits for no-one.'

She smiled a little, and with a final wave to Eli and Harmon prepared to board the tender.

‘Marina!'

She swung around at the sound of Vlad's voice. ‘What is it?'

‘Stay away from hot-looking guys on Harleys. Come off one of those and you'll be in trouble.'

‘I thought I was going to escape without you mentioning it.'

‘Not a chance.' He raised a hand. ‘Be in touch.'

***

Fifteen minutes later Marina was on the dock wheeling her suitcase towards the exit. From behind the shield of her sunglasses she scanned the area looking for Victor. If he approached she was ready, the USB tucked inside her bra.

She pressed her lips into a straight line, conscious of her hammering heart. Goddamn Dean Logan! She'd tossed and turned all night waiting for him to ring back. Even her call this morning had gone through to voicemail. Okay, so she'd been a bit abrupt yesterday, but he was a big boy—surely she hadn't pissed him off that much.

She exited the terminal and followed the signs to the cab rank. Ahead of her, around twenty tourists formed a queue, passengers from the blue and white clipper that had moored beside them. She'd have a five-minute wait at the most.

She pressed on, eyes peeled for Victor. Maybe she'd try calling Dean again while she was waiting.

‘Need a driver, Miss?'

She jumped. A slightly built, swarthy civilian had joined her on the sidewalk.

‘No, thank you.'

‘It's a nice comfortable Fiat, air-conditioned. Good price.'

She shook her head and kept walking. Victor had gone to extreme lengths, who knew how far he'd go? Despite having to wait in line in full view of everyone, she'd stick with a licensed cab company.

The instant the man gave up, another appeared, this time taller and younger. ‘Going to the airport? Rail?'

‘No.'

She quickened her step, a sheen of perspiration breaking out on her skin. Her gaze flicked left to right.

No sign of Victor.

‘Miss Wentworth. I'd like you to come with me please.'

Marina froze, pulse sprinting, body hot beneath her cool summer shift. A heavily set man had approached her from behind. He had a barrel chest, deep-set eyes and an accent she recognised.

She stood up her suitcase. ‘You're Rask?'

He blinked.

‘I'm a musician. I have an excellent ear.'

He raised his eyebrows and gestured towards a general parking area off to the right. ‘I have an excellent car.'

Marina looked him up and down. ‘I've only spoken to you on the phone,
once
. How do I know I can trust you?'

‘Mr Logan sent me.'

So Dean hadn't bothered coming himself.

‘And that's supposed to make me feel better?'

‘I'll take your suitcase,' said Rask, puffing a little.

Marina bristled and tightened her hold on the violin. ‘I'd planned on taking the train to Naples, then continuing to Rome and going directly to the police.'

Rask's hand closed over the handle of her suitcase. ‘Mr Logan's instructions are to bring you to the yacht.'

‘And what Mr Logan wants, Mr Logan gets.'

With a sigh, Rask took a cell phone from his jacket pocket, touched the screen and handed it to her.

The screen read ‘Calling Dean Mobile'.

Marina held it against her ear.

The call connected after a few seconds.

‘Rask? Do you have her?'

Marina lowered the phone and killed the call, handed the phone back to Rask. ‘Okay.'

He cocked his head. ‘This way.'

Marina followed, uncomfortable, as though a target were pinned on her back. Dean needed to know about Victor's blackmail threats, and the longer she stood out here in full view of everyone, the more chance she had of Victor seeing her. Was he here, watching these proceedings from behind a newspaper, or from the interior of a parked car? She could only hope he'd read through her itinerary and made the same assumption as Dean—that she was on board until the cruise terminated in Rome. Hopefully, his plans were to approach her at one of the other stops, not here.

Towards the rear of the car park, a chauffeur sat behind the wheel of a shiny black town car with the engine idling. On their approach he hopped out and opened the rear doors before stowing her suitcase in the trunk.

Marina watched Hektor Rask out the corner of her eye as she settled herself in the back seat. He didn't bother with his seatbelt, just leaned forward, his keen gaze checking out every detail of their surroundings like she'd seen bodyguards do, and the secret service back home.

‘How far away is the boat?' she asked when they'd cleared the car park.

‘Five minutes. It's berthed in a private marina on the other side of the bay.'

‘Where's Mr Logan?'

‘On board.'

‘I phoned him twice and he hasn't returned my calls.'

Rask didn't comment.

A building anticipation overrode her underlying anger. Yesterday, at the amphitheatre, they'd talked about her next port of call, but she'd never expected to see Dean again so soon.

‘Was it always your intention to dock in Sorrento?'

‘What's with all the questions?'

‘I'm not allowed to ask questions?' Rask's attitude would change if it turned out the USB held Dean's new designs.

He gave a weary sigh, like she was testing his patience. ‘Yes, you're allowed to ask questions.'

‘But you won't answer them?'

‘Mr Logan's having an emergency skype meeting with his America's Cup crew.'

She'd watched bits and pieces of the America's cup race a few times over the years. ‘I thought he built motor yachts.'

‘He does.' Rask still refused to look at her. ‘But he comes from a sailing background. He began racing dinghies when he was eight.'

‘Oh.' She remembered Dean's relaxed stance in the gondola, his comment about them being stable.

A lifetime spent on water, as opposed to a lifetime playing music.

God, this was so unfair! She was at the mercy of Victor Yu, and she'd done nothing wrong other than take him in as a flatmate.

Marina stared at the passing landscape and thought about the designs for the Logan Mach V, the America's Cup sailing race, and the vintage Harley Davidson Dean had purchased.

There was no doubt, the man loved his big boys' toys. And he contacted her when it suited
him
, like when he'd shadowed her in Venice, and now, when he'd ordered her onto the yacht. But when she'd called him, stressing it was urgent, he hadn't bothered calling her back.

Doubts niggled at her mind.

She would like to save his company, but she wouldn't become collateral damage. She needed to protect her career as well.

These men played in the big end of town.

It was time she learned to speak a language they understood.

Time she made a deal with Dean Logan.

Chapter Thirteen

Marina caught her breath as the driver accelerated out of a hairpin bend. Moored alongside a private dock was the
Orion
, a super yacht tour de force, an imposing shape with her cream hull and flared bow. Even to the nautically challenged it was clear this yacht was a masterpiece, a stylish balance between elegance and intimidation.

‘Is that a helicopter on the back?'

Rask nodded. ‘The helipad is top aft.'

At the entrance to a private car park, the driver punched in a code and the boom gate lifted. Parking as close to the
Orion
as possible, he left the engine running while he moved swiftly to open the rear doors.

Despite being small, the dock buzzed with activity. Of the six vessels moored, two were being stocked with supplies, while maintenance work was being carried out on a number of others. A cool fusion of funk and R & B drifted over the water, and an aroma of coconut oil hung in the air where two blondes sunbathed on the back of a wooden Halvorsen.

‘You can leave that, thank you,' Marina said to the driver as he took her suitcase from the trunk. ‘I need to catch a train into Rome later.'

‘Bring it,' said Rask, as if she hadn't spoken.

Marina followed him, gripping her violin and ignoring the curious stares that came their way. Maybe they'd never seen a brunette violinist, or perhaps blatant staring just came with super yacht territory.

She followed Rask up the gangway and at the top they stepped into the cool interior. Marina stopped, blinking away the spots while her eyes adjusted to the dim light. As her vision cleared, she became aware of a tall figure standing in the centre of an exquisitely decorated lounge area.

Against her will, Marina's pulse began to pound and her stomach fluttered with butterflies. ‘Dean?'

He looked different, clean-shaven, the dusty jeans, tee-shirt and boots replaced with a collared sports shirt, cream trousers and slip-on boat shoes. He walked towards her, ice clinking in a glass he carried, looking every bit the affluent naval architect and nothing like the man on the bike with the dishevelled hair and two-day growth.

But it was the coldness in his eyes when he looked her up and down that sent a chill skating across Marina's skin.

He raised his glass. ‘Welcome aboard,
Ms Lane
.'

Oh no!

Talk about terrible timing.

Conscious of Rask standing behind her, Marina put down the violin case, placing it on the parquetry flooring with care. ‘I can explain.'

‘No need. Your neighbour was very forthcoming, said you were out a lot with the symphony.'

So, this was the reason he hadn't called back.

He was angry.

No, more than angry.

Seriously pissed.

Marina took an unsteady breath and ignored his clipped tone. ‘I was going to tell you last night. There's been a new development.'

He laughed, the sound bitter, so different to the way he'd laughed when he sat on her hand. ‘How convenient.'

He put his glass on the ebony-veneered baby grand, eyes glittering with anger. ‘You lied to us from the beginning.'

Indignant heat rose in Marina's cheeks. She was so goddamn sick and tired of being falsely accused. ‘You're wrong. I kept it from you, but …'

He came towards her. ‘You lied by omission.'

‘I did it to
protect
myself.'

‘You did it to protect Victor Yu!'

‘No!'
She raised both hands. ‘Don't come any closer, Dean. Stop trying to intimidate me!'