Dark Moon (13 page)

He looked around the plush office, taking in the artwork and the expensive furnishings.

“Is that a real Picasso?” he asked.

“Yes,” Del Conte snapped as he inspected Cole’s wet hair and clothing. “What happened to you?”

He grimaced. “I didn’t know you had an indoor waterfall.”

“You would have, if you’d taken the normal route to the Tropical Lounge.”

“I didn’t know you had a Tropical Lounge. It’s not on the map.”

“It’s a restricted area for special guests.”

“What’s the normal route there?”

“An invitation from me.”

“Well, when the shooting started in the dining room, we thought it might be prudent to leave.”

“A reasonable decision. But how did you find my private doorway? That’s not on the map, either.”

“We saw you come in,” Cole answered, “so we knew where it would be.”

Del Conte nodded. “I should thank you for coming to the aid of my guests.”

“No problem,” Cole answered. “But perhaps you could tell us about the attacks. There was a disturbance when we arrived. Then in the dining room—and the Tropical Lounge.”

“There’s some unrest among my crew members.”

“And they’re trying to kill your paying guests?” Cole snapped.

“It seems some of the people my senior staff hired were not properly vetted. I’ll have the situation back under control shortly.”

“I hope so. I thought this was a safe place to bring my sweetie for some fun and games.”

“It is!” Del Conte snapped. “In fact, I’d like to make amends by inviting you to the party I’m giving tomorrow morning for special invited guests only.”

Cole felt his chest tighten. He wanted to refuse, but he knew this must be some kind of test. Del Conte had invited them to dinner. Now he wanted to observe them in a party situation. Presumably with people he trusted. He looked at Emma. “How about it, honey?”

“Sure,” she said in a weak voice, and he knew her reaction was the same as his. But she understood the stakes.

“What kind of party?” he asked.

“We’re using a Mayan theme.”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s very appealing. You may find it as interesting as your love of Ancient Roman and Greek culture. It’s at eleven on Deck Three. You should arrive an hour early—to give you time to get into costume.”

“Costume?”

“Of course. That always enhances the reality of the fantasy experience.”

He stared at them for several seconds then turned back to the papers on his desk.

oOo

Stinger Henderson pushed his chair away from the computer, stood and brushed back his long hair. He’d been hunched over the keyboard for hours, and he stretched cramped muscles before striding down the hall to Frank Decorah’s office and knocking.

“Come in,” his boss called.

Decorah, who had come straight back after dropping off Cole and Emma in Florida, looked up, his eyes bloodshot and wary. He’d given orders not to be disturbed unless absolutely necessary. And he’d put other assignments aside to personally focus on the Karen Hopewell kidnapping. He’d given orders not to be disturbed unless absolutely necessary.

Seeing the worried look on his computer guy’s face, he snapped, “What’s the bad news now?”

“I’ve been monitoring the online information pertaining to Cole Mason’s legend.”

“It’s not holding up?”

“It’s holding so far. But someone is doing a lot of checking into the details. Not just his. Also Emma’s.”

“Someone from Del Conte’s security, I take it.”

“That’s a good assumption.”

“Make sure they get the right impression.”

“I’m trying. But there may be ways to get around the story we’ve built up.”

“Perfect,” Decorah muttered. “Are you telling me Cole and Emma are in more danger than we anticipated?”

“Yes.”

“We can’t pull them out. I mean even if we wanted to, there’s no way to reach them.” He gave Stinger a direct look. “Do what you can to protect their cover.”

“I am. I just want you to be prepared in case we have to come up with some other way to spring the Hopewell woman.”

“We’ve got a ship standing by, but it’s not equipped to attack the
Windward
. And if it did, that might trigger undesirable actions on Del Conte’s part.”

“Like killing the hostage—and Cole and Emma, too.”

“Exactly.”

oOo

Cole exited Del Conte’s office.

Glancing back, he saw Emma following him, her gait stiff. His emotions were churning. He wanted to take her back to their room, lock the door and pull her into his arms so that he could comfort her—and himself.

He made a dismissive sound. Not exactly the right strategy for two operatives on a mission.

Which meant he had to jerk himself out of defensive mode. About fifty feet down the hall he slowed his pace and allowed her to catch up with him.

“That was annoying.” he said aloud. “I don’t like being attacked when I’m on vacation—then dressed down by the cruise director.”

“Try to relax,” Emma answered, unwittingly helping to set up the scenario he’d decided on. He leaned toward her, speaking in a barely audible voice. “I think this might be a good time for us to have a fight.”

“What?”

“Be on the outs.”

He raised his voice again. “I spent a lot of cash on this vacation, but I’m not having much fun. And you’re part of the problem.”

“You’re blaming what just happened on me?”

“You weren’t exactly being friendly to Del Conte.”

“You just said you didn’t like the way he was treating us.”

“But he did invite us to something interesting tomorrow.”

“You know I don’t want to do it,” Emma retorted, speaking for the character she was playing and for herself as well.

“Well, you damn well better.”

 She gave him a stormy look as they stepped into the elevator, probably wondering what he had in mind, exactly.

When they reached Deck Seven, he stepped out and marched down the hall, keeping several paces ahead of her, thinking about what he was going to do next.

Once they were in their room, he turned to face her with an annoyed expression on his face. “I’m getting tired of your acting like a wet blanket.”

“And I’m getting tired of your crazy suggestions. Like having your mark tattooed on me. Or playing that I’m a witch. You think that would be fun for me?”

“The witch stuff was Del Conte’s idea, but I can see it. If you get into the spirit of the experience.”

“Oh please. After you had me shaved, what would you do, whip me?”

“Yes. You’re being a pain in the ass.”

“I’m being . . . sensible.”

“Well, if you don’t like what the ship has to offer, you can sulk in the room. I’m going out to have some fun.”

“What?” she wheezed, and he could see she was genuinely startled.

“You can stay here and play with yourself, if that’s all you can think of to do.”

She swallowed hard. “Cole, please.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know. Don’t wait up for me.”

She stared at him. “You’re still wet from that waterfall.”

He stopped short and looked down at his clothing. “Damn.”

Muttering under his breath, he whirled toward the closet and took out a clean shirt and pants. She watched him throw his ruined clothes on the floor, then change into a new set. He strode toward the door, then stopped and turned.

“Lock the door behind me.”

“What?”

“Lock the door, and stay in here.”

“And if I want to enjoy this place on my own?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

oOo

Bruno Del Conte stood up and walked to the liquor cabinet at the far end of his office and poured himself a single malt Scotch. After downing it in one gulp, he poured another shot and sat back down at his desk, this time sipping from the glass.

Things were getting out of control in a way that astonished him. The fat guy from the dinner party had been shot in the arm and was recovering in the infirmary. Thank God nobody else had been injured. The perpetrators were being interrogated now, but so far they hadn’t implicated anyone else.

But how had they gotten into the private rooms?

He fought a sick feeling that he hadn’t experienced in years. Long ago when he’d watched his father with Dieter, he’d known that he should be the one enjoying that warm, close relationship. Fate—and a drunken accident—had changed everything, and Bruno had vowed never to be in a position of weakness again.

He wasn’t going to slip into that hell on earth again.

Turning to the computer, he sent out an executive order.

“All slaves not currently entertaining guests will be placed in lockdown. All requests for private entertainment will be cleared through security. Security will be increased in all public areas with staff working double shifts if necessary.”

Then he fired off a memo to Ben. “Interrogate the man and woman who were entertaining at the dinner. Find out if they let the attackers in.”

His own honor and satisfaction demanded that he keep the upper hand.

He reached for the phone and called Greg, one of his trusted security men.

“Yes sir?”

“Have Karen Hopewell moved from the Tropical Lounge to the brig on Deck Three. Immediately.”

“Yes sir.”

Issuing the orders made him feel better. He would not lose control over his own ship. He’d blow the damn thing up before he let that happen.

Which was an option. He could escape in the boat he kept at the ready. Then activate the charges that were already in place.

It would be sad to lose the ship, but it was insured.

And he could figure out how to start again—more safely.

The decision made him feel better.

oOo

Emma stared at the closed door, trying to understand what Cole was doing. When they’d left Del Conte’s office, all she had wanted to do was get back here and reach for him.

Instead, he’d just walked out. Leaving her confused, angry and feeling hollow inside.

She’d thought she was starting to understand him. Apparently not. She had half a mind to follow him down the corridor, screaming at him. Would Emma Ray do that, or would she roll over and do what her sugar daddy ordered?

Still unsure of her ultimate decision, she crossed the room on shaky legs and locked the door, hardly able to believe how fast everything had changed.

Cole had started a fight—and used that as an excuse to leave her in the room. What the hell was he thinking? Had he decided he could explore better on his own? Or what?

She sighed, aware that she’d gotten emotionally involved in the scenario they’d been acting out for the benefit of the people who were bugging this room. But her nerves were already raw, and she couldn’t hold her reactions in check.

She paced from the door to the bathroom and back again. It would serve him right if she went out and did some investigating on her own.

As soon as that plan formed, a chill went through her. This was a dangerous environment for a woman alone. Some guy would hit on her, and she’d have to fend him off. Maybe with extreme prejudice. Which would be out of character for Emma Ray.

But Cole wouldn’t have any problems with the female staff and guests. And apparently he’d had something in mind when he’d left.

Better wait for him to report back.

Still, his strategy galled her. Not just the strategy. His failure to consult her before leaving. Another male who assumed she’d just fall in line with what he wanted.

The thought sent her mind spinning in another direction. Back to the conversation in the car when she’d taken offense at his talking about her family. But if she was honest, she’d admit that she’d joined Decorah Security to get away from the domination of her father, who’d run their household like a military base. Either you obeyed the rules, or you were punished, often with his belt.

Still, she’d hung on his tales of outwitting thugs, white collar criminals and government operatives. Even so, there was no way she’d work for Kent Richards. Then she’d taken a class with Frank Decorah and thought that maybe he was the right kind of boss, even when she’d been prepared to leave if it turned out she’d made the wrong judgment call.

The job had worked out. Better than she’d hoped. She’d built a career in the company. But was Cole Marshall going to screw that up?

Not necessarily, she told herself. This is just one evening during one assignment. And she wasn’t going to throw their personal relationship into the mix.

She took a deep breath and then another, struggling to calm herself. Getting mad at Cole wasn’t going to do either one of them any good. And how
was he
supposed to consult her? They were in an environment where the walls had ears, to use an old cliché. Maybe even eyes.