Beauty & the Beast (8 page)

“No, and if I am, I will explain to him—or her—that I am unable to be of service.”

Like hell you will.

Yes, faith was not the same as trust. The best strategy he could employ was to diminish the value of the chip to anyone but himself. No one else need wonder why he wanted it. Even though, of course, any good businessperson would.

“Once we hang up, I’ll move them in. And I won’t call until I have results,” Escalante continued.

At last. Someone who is competent.

“Good.” Anatoly disconnected. He clicked a button on his laptop computer and sent the money to the proper account. Done.

He took the incoming call from Svetlana.

“If we don’t untie her legs, she may lose them. There is no circulation,” Svetlana said. “She may die.”

They both already knew she was going to die. It was just a matter of timing. “Okay. Our business may take a while. Untie her, but watch her.”

“She’s harmless. But of course I will.”

You’d better.

Anatoly would breathe easier once that stupid little idiot was dead. Stupid people were more unpredictable than smart ones. Anyone who tried to double-cross him was pretty stupid. And no one was harmless.

No one.

CHAPTER TEN

JT groaned and turned over. He nudged Tess with his elbow.

“You know the rule,” he mumbled. “You wake her, you walk her.”

Princess Mochi yipped in agreement. Without opening his eyes, JT grimaced. Mochi understood a few words, and one of them was W-A-L-K. You were supposed to spell it or say something like “that thing she likes to do” or else there would be no peace in New York City until one of her human minions got up, got her leash, and got going.

“Well, you woke her up.” Tess was barely coherent. She sure was sleeping a lot. When they’d gone to bed last night, she’d looked really tired.

“I didn’t wake her up,” JT said. “You’re the one who used the bathroom.” She sure was going a lot. Maybe she was sick.

Tess grunted. “You got up after that to drink some orange juice. I heard you. It was like five minutes ago.”

Whoops.
He hadn’t realized she’d been awake. But wait, she’d gone
again
right after that. “Yeah, but then—”

“Yip, yip, yip!” Mochi demanded.

They both sat up and slung their legs over opposite sides of the bed. Both of them had on T-shirts and underwear. It was easier that way, so they could slide on more clothes and take Her Royal Highness outside at a moment’s notice.

This was a stupid argument. He was not going to bicker with Tess over who had to walk a three-pound dog.

“I’ll do it,” he said. “You need your beauty rest.”

“What’s
that
supposed to mean?” Tess snapped.

He raised his brows. Why was she taking offense when he was letting her off the hook? She didn’t want to get up, he didn’t want to get up.
Jeez, cranky
. Had she contracted rabies or something?

“It means nothing. It means that I’m trying to be nice to you.” Her face shifted, but not in a good way. He tried again. “You just looked tired when we went to bed.”

Without having sex
, he added silently. Tess had declared she just couldn’t do it in front of their miniscule houseguest. So did that mean he was cut off for a week?

Glowering, Tess stood and lifted her sneakers off the nightstand. She had moved all her shoes up so high a mastiff couldn’t have reached them. She said, “I can’t go back to sleep. I’ll take her out.”

JT zipped up his jeans. “Here’s a thought. Why don’t we both take her? And do something together like we used to?”

Tess shrugged. “Okay.”

Her lack of enthusiasm wounded him. While she put on her sneakers, he crouched over the wriggling pup and attached her leash to her collar. For his trouble, Mochi tried to bite him. He gently held her muzzle.

“Grrr, grrr, grrr,” Mochi said, obviously dog-speak for “thank you.” So very not.

“I’m ready,” Tess grumped.

We just started taking care of Princess Mochi. How are we going to last a week? God, what if Vincent and Cat have a kid and ask us to babysit? We’d probably kill each other.

JT’s blood ran cold.

* * *

“Wow,” Cat murmured. “It’s so big.”

“Enormous,” Vincent agreed.

The
Sea Majesty
had been billed as “fifteen decks of aloha, elegance, and fun.” It would carry nearly two thousand passengers. Back in New York, Cat had studied all the images in the downloads about their cruise, but until they’d actually arrived at the cruise lines hub at the Port of Los Angeles, located in the town of San Pedro, she hadn’t had a handle on the scale of the ship. It was like a small floating city rising high above the dock, topped by a control tower as tall as three billboards. Aboard, the walls were painted in beautiful murals of coral, blue, white, and silver and washed with golden California sunlight. Wood and brass gleamed everywhere. Many of the other passengers were wearing aloha shirts and flowered dresses. Vincent had on a loose light blue silk shirt and khaki pants, and Cat was wearing a white shell top, dark blue linen walking shorts, and matching blue wedges. Her straw purse, a gift from Heather, was tiny.

“Three pools, hot tubs, a spa, a dozen restaurants, and a casino,” Vincent said happily. “Are you feeling lucky?”

“Oh, yes. Every minute of every day.”

Hand in hand, they joined the line of check-ins boarding the
Sea Majesty.
Hawaiian slack-key guitar music was playing and as each passenger stepped onto the ship, a woman dressed in a coral-colored sheath and a necklace of darker coral placed a lei over his or her head and said, “Aloha. Welcome to your journey to paradise.” It sounded corny but Cat didn’t care. She’d been looking forward to this cruise for months. Last night’s bump in the road had only served to underscore just how badly she needed a vacation.

At their hotel last night, it had been too good to be true to assume they wouldn’t get a visit from LAPD before they went to bed, and sure enough, after their whirlpool soak, one Sergeant Gutierrez had taken their statements and double-checked to make sure they hadn’t discovered that something was missing. When Cat had revealed that she was NYPD, he’d been a bit more forthcoming about the burglaries, even though there wasn’t much to tell: They suspected that it was some local teenage rich kids who made a game out of breaking into homes and hotels in the area on a dare.

“We can’t prove it yet,” he continued, and he sighed. “Even if we get something ironclad, it might just go away.”

Cat lifted a brow. “Let me guess. Rich kids have rich parents.”

“Rich parents with publicists,” he affirmed. “Those movie stars you see on the big screen? They’re too busy being famous to raise their kids. The kids notice. Act up to get attention. And it still doesn’t work.”

Ouch.
She thought about Mitchell Samosa. What if he’d already had kids of his own, who learned of his tryst because of this stunt?

Back on the
Sea Majesty
, Vincent gave her hand a squeeze. “You’re off duty,” he reminded her. “You’re still thinking about the break-in, right?”

She flushed. “Is it that obvious?” She moved her shoulders. “There. I’m letting it go.” She nodded. “It’s gone.” Wrinkled her nose. “Almost.”

Soon there was just one passenger in front of Vincent and Cat, a man in a black business suit wearing a pair of sunglasses. He looked distinctly out of place, and reminded Cat of one of the many FBI agents she’d dealt with since her life with Vincent had begun. Curious, she watched him accept his lei but wave away the offer to have his photograph taken in front of a backdrop of curving palms framing a beautiful Hawaiian sunset.

“Ready to be aloha’ed?” Vincent asked her. His eyes glittered mischievously.

“So is that what we’re calling it these days?” she replied, snuggling up against him.

Once upon a time, their secret world had consisted of lies, sneaking, and stolen moments. Now it was made of shared memories, in-jokes, and code words. They had traded the thrill of danger for the excitement of building a life together—one rooted in true love.

“I can’t wait to aloha with you in our cabin,” Cat whispered.

Then, as the woman in the sheath prepared to put the sweet-smelling lei over Cat’s head, she looked over at Vincent and said, “Wait. I think you two need to be photographed together. I just can’t imagine one without the other.”

Cat glanced in surprise at Vincent and he smiled and shrugged good-naturedly, moving up beside her. The woman, whose nametag proclaimed her “D
ANA
C
USHING
, C
RUISE
D
IRECTOR
,” arranged Cat’s lei on her shoulders, then stood on tiptoe in an attempt to do the same to Vincent. He bent down and lowered his head.

“Is this by chance your honeymoon?” the woman asked. “You’re both just
glowing.
”

“Actually, yes,” Cat said. “We’ve been married for a while, but we had trouble getting away.”

The woman held up a cautioning finger. “Words like ‘trouble’ are not to be spoken aboard your floating paradise. We’re here to melt your cares away, and cater to your every whim.” She led them to the scenic backdrop. “Put your arms around her. Good. Smile at each other.” She half-turned her head and waved at a man dressed in a coral flowered shirt and navy blue trousers. He stood behind a small camera attached to a tripod.

“Kimo, can you get them both in? I’m sorry. I mean, Cecilio? We had a last-minute substitution for our photographer,” she told Vincent and Cat.

“You two look great.” Cecilio nodded at them and depressed a button on his camera. “Fantastic.”

“Your pictures will be displayed in the Majestic Memories shop every afternoon. Pick the ones you want and they’ll be added to your room charges,” Dana told them.

“Thank you,” Cat said. As they made way for the next guest’s Kodak moment, she added under her breath, “We’re going to have to watch it. It looks like paradise could get expensive.”

His eyes gleamed as he gazed down at her. “No, Mrs. Keller,” he said softly. “Paradise is free.”

“Aloha.” A man balancing a stack of colorful folders on top of a clipboard smiled at the two of them. His nametag said R
OBERTO
. “The Kellers, am I right?”

“You are,” Vincent said. “We’re in stateroom twenty-one on the Maui deck.”

“Not anymore,” Roberto shot back. “You’ve been upgraded to the honeymoon suite, compliments of the
Sea Majesty.
It’s number one, Kuuipo Deck.
Kuuipo
means sweetheart in Hawaiian.” He smiled and lifted the top folder off the stack. “Your passkey swipe cards, maps, and information are here. Your data is encoded onto your swipe cards, but if you lose one, please let us know right away.”

“Upgraded?” Cat echoed. She slid a glance toward Vincent. “Did you do this? Champagne, roses…?”

“No.” He turned to Roberto. “Do you know who informed you that this is our honeymoon?”

“No, sir.” Roberto’s smile never faltered. “Would you prefer not to be upgraded? The honeymoon suite is quite luxurious. It has a beautiful view. You’ll see dolphins, maybe even whales. You have an in-room whirlpool bath and a Baja shower surrounded by plumeria and pikake plants, a movie and sound system, and all the furnishings are handcrafted from native Hawaiian koa wood. It’s often booked as much as a year in advance. It was sheer luck that it was available at such short notice.” He paused. “But if you don’t want it, I’m sure we can move you back into a room on par with Maui twenty-one.”

“No, no, upgrading is good. Right?” Vincent turned to Cat, and she nodded eagerly.

“Upgrading is great,” Cat replied. “I’m all for it.” She grinned at Vincent. “Double aloha.”

“Triple.”

Cat took the folder and looked inside. There were two wood-grain passkeys, one with
Catherine
embossed in gold and the other,
Vincent.
Catherine showed them to her husband. “I doubt we’ll ever be apart long enough to need a separate key, but just in case…”

“Just in case,” he agreed.

“I’ll escort you to your suite and introduce you to your steward,” Roberto said. “He’ll show you around your home away from home.”

Vincent laced his fingers through hers. “Let’s explore paradise.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rubbing her temple, Tess sat at her desk, ignoring the blister from the brand-new black heels she had bought during lunch, and scanned the case file lying open on the blotter. There were a lot of charges—possession of an illegal substance with intent to distribute, possession of stolen property, illegal possession of a firearm, and
resisting arrest
?

Huh
, Tess thought, raising her gaze from the document to the family seated before her. The “kid” who had been brought up on this raft of charges—the one Chief Ward wanted her to clear—was not a kid at all. He was an entitled, sulky, bad-mannered twenty-four-year-old. His parents had accompanied him into Tess’s office and were perched on either side of him, both leaning forward earnestly, waiting for Tess to wave her magic wand and make it all go away. The “kid” sat sprawled with his arms crossed, pointedly sighing and staring off into space as if this was all a gigantic imposition on his time.

“Okay, see—” Tess looked at the file again “—
Scott
, I’m having a problem. These are very serious charges and from what I’m reading in the arresting officer’s report, all the evidence points towards your guilt.”

“No, they trumped up those charges,” his mother—Mrs. Daystrom—cut in. She had been weeping when they’d walked in. The father looked no better. There were deep circles under his eyes and he kept twisting his wedding ring, a nervous tic. She had no idea how old they were but unless Mrs. Daystrom had had Scott when she was fifty, parenthood had significantly aged them both.

“He was in possession of two kilos of pure cocaine,” Tess said.
You don’t trump something like that up.

“They planted that on him,” Mrs. Daystrom insisted.