Christmas Is for Lovers: 6 Hot Holiday Romances

by Box Set

  Barry let out a loud huff of air. “What is it now?”

  The man was certainly testy. Rider questioned the wisdom of involving him, wondering again how invested Barry was in passenger safety versus his employer’s bottom line. Still, there wasn’t anyone else to involve. If someone actually attacked Sara, Barry was the only person on the ship who could officially look into it.

  “We have a problem,” Rider said. “There’s an issue with the woman in the suite next to Trish’s, room 326. We have reason to believe she’s missing. And Trish may have overheard her being attacked last night. We need you to come check it out.”

  “Why are you just reporting it now if the attack was overheard?” Obviously, Barry wasn’t impressed by this newest emergency.

  “Just get down here,” Rider said. “Unless you want me breaking the door down and going in there to check it out myself.”

  Barry let out a low growl. “Damn it. I’m on my way. Don’t touch that room.”

  Rider hung up. “At least he’s coming.”

  Trish sat on the edge of the bed. “I take it the news wasn’t well received?”

  Rider wasn’t about to admit Barry wondered why she didn’t say anything yesterday. That would only upset her further. If the killer attacked Sara, it wasn’t Trish’s fault for leaving. Sara had told them herself she was vocal in bed, then proved it with Malcolm that first night. Trish had no reason to suspect anything more happened. Truly, Rider hadn’t questioned it either.

  It was the sudden illness Sara suffered, combined with the fact that Malcolm hadn’t been with her, that had Rider suspicious. He knew Trish wanted to believe Sara sent Malcolm away so she could hook up with a new guy, but that was an elaborate scheme if all she wanted was to move on. Sara seemed direct enough to tell Malcolm the truth. Besides, Malcolm said she’d vomited for hours before insisting he left.

  “Let’s get back out there and wait for Barry,” he said. “We shouldn’t leave Malcolm alone more than we already have.”

  “Isn’t he going to wonder when security shows up instead of housekeeping?”

  She had a point. Maybe they should try to prepare him for Barry’s arrival.

  When they stepped back into the hallway, Malcolm was sitting on the floor slumped against the wall. The dejection and fear on his face cut through Rider. The man was out of his mind with worry after just knowing Sara for a few days. Rider had to wonder if the budding relationship he had with Trish was anywhere near that powerful.

  “Malcolm?” Rider crouched to be on eye level with him. “I don’t want you to freak out, but I agree with you that Sara probably didn’t cheat on you.”

  He blinked owlishly, looking as though everything was just too overwhelming to handle. “Then where is she?”

  “I’ve called the head of security. He’s going to figure that out.”

  Within minutes, Barry arrived, glowering as he marched down the hallway. “I’m praying you just wasted my time, Stone.”

  Rider tipped his head in a nod. “Me too.”

  Barry tapped on Sara’s door, probably hoping she’d magically answer even though Malcolm had been pounding on it for a long time. “Everyone stand back,” he bellowed.

  Although Malcolm complied, standing up and walking toward Trish’s doorway, Rider wouldn’t be so easily ordered around.

  “I’m going in with you,” he said. “I’m an investigator. I won’t screw anything up if there’s evidence in there, but the FBI will need more information than what you can give them.”

  Barry’s eyes narrowed. “Still don’t trust me? I shared all that information with you yesterday.”

  “And I appreciated it, but this is turning into something too big. Unless you plan on locking me up, I’m going in that room with you.”

  Trish’s head whipped back and forth between them. “I’ll stay with Malcolm,” she whispered. “Whatever you find in there, if it’s bad, I don’t want him seeing it.”

  Rider had a feeling she didn’t want to see it either. One look at her face told him the guilt was eating her alive. “I don’t like splitting up, so be careful,” he cautioned. “I’m not saying he’s the one who did something wrong, but don’t trust anyone. Stay in the hall, and yell for me if he tries anything.”

  She nodded. “You’re the only one I trust.”

  As she stepped back to console Malcolm, Barry stuck the master key in the door, and it beeped to admit them. “I hope you’re wrong and that woman’s down in the lounge getting drunk.”

  “I hope so too,” Rider said.

  As the door swung inward, there was nothing alarming on first glance. Light filtered in from the balcony door, softly illuminating the empty but messy room.

  Barry pulled a set of latex gloves from his pocket, handing one to Rider and putting the other on before finding the light switch.

  As the room flared to life, the disarray was evident. One look at the space and Rider stepped further into the room and closed the door behind him. “I don’t want Malcolm to see this.”

  Barry grunted something that could have been agreement.

  The room wasn’t simply messy. Anything that wasn’t bolted to the floor had been thrown around the cabin. Clothing and garbage alike littered the floor. Rider imagined lamps would have been broken and pictures knocked askew if they weren’t held in place. All the drawers from the desk and wardrobe had been yanked from the locks that secured them into place and splintered wood was mixed in with the mess.

  “We didn’t hit any rough water last night,” Barry said. “And I don’t believe the roughest storm would have ripped those drawers out.”

  Rider looked toward the bed, which was freed of any covers and had only one white sheet left in place. Well, mostly white. “Look.” He pointed at the small droplets of dark brown splattered in stark contrast to the white. “That looks like dried blood.”

  “Shit. I don’t need this,” Barry muttered, walking across the room to examine the bed more closely. “Why didn’t your little girlfriend call this in last night when it was happening?”

  Rider sighed. He didn’t want Barry writing Sara off because the woman was sexually promiscuous and liked to scream while having fun. At the same time, this wasn’t Trish’s fault. No one should look at her sideways for not reporting it.

  “Sara was a self-admitted screamer in bed,” he said. “She told me and Trish that the first night, then went on to prove it by keeping Trish awake. When the screaming started again last night, Trish assumed it was Malcolm in here with her, and she decided to sleep in my room.”

  “It still could have been Malcolm,” Barry pointed out. “Maybe they had a fight afterward and he hurt her. Maybe it was an accident.”

  “And then what? He trashed the place to make it look like a crazy person did this?” Rider couldn’t believe that. “I think it’s a little much to assume there are two different people with murderous intentions on this ship. Malcolm is clearly upset. I don’t think he’s faking that. He couldn’t be the one who hurt Carl because he was definitely in here with Sara.”

  “But we had Bill under surveillance last night so he didn’t do this either.” Barry ran his hand across his chin, looking even more tired than he had yesterday. “If it isn’t him, I’m back to square one. Trish’s hunch was the only thing I had to go on, and I had hoped she was right about Bill.”

  “There’s still another question to answer,” Rider pointed out. “Where’s Sara? This isn’t enough blood to have killed her.”

  Barry looked toward the only other spot she could be. “We have to check the bathroom.”

  Rider’s stomach turned. What if the killer left her in there? He’d seen a lot of bad things in his days as a PI, but he’d only seen one dead body in his life. That was one too many, but he needed to help Sara if there was any way to do so. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Barry nodded and pulled on the door.

  The bathroom was sparkling clean and smelled of fresh bleach.

  “Someone sc
rubbed this room down,” Rider noted.

  “It’s probably where they finished Sara off. Judging by the bleach, this killer knows exactly how to destroy evidence.” Barry stood outside the bathroom door, shaking his head. “We’re never going to catch this bastard.”

  Chapter 16

  An hour later, Trish paced her room while Rider told her what they’d found in Sara’s room.

  “The official story Barry decided to tell Malcolm is that everything in the room was fine, and he believes Sara missed the port call and stayed back in the Dominican Republic. She’ll meet up with us later in the trip.”

  Trish stopped walking, turning toward Rider where he sat on her bed. “And do you think that’s what he’ll tell the FBI?”

  Rider looked away from her and shrugged. “He claims no one’s going to touch that room until we reach Florida, but I have a suspicion it might be cleaned before then.”

  Trish collapsed on the bed next to him. “I should have knocked on her door. Pounded until they opened it last night. I might have saved her life.”

  Rider slung an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss into her cheek. “Or the killer might have yanked you into the room and killed you too.” A shudder went throughout his body. “I’m not letting you out of my sight again. This is getting ridiculous. So much for a holiday cruise. This is something you’d expect at Halloween, not Christmas.”

  “I wish it was a murder mystery cruise and none of this was real.” Trish blinked back tears, unable to stop feeling guilty. “What do you think happened to Sara? I mean, I know she was attacked, but where is she?”

  “My guess is over the side of the ship, same as Carl.”

  “Is Barry checking the tapes?”

  Rider shrugged. “That’s my assumption, but I don’t believe the balconies have cameras. People don’t want security spying on their private time. Can you imagine the nightmare it would be if a cruise ship filmed you while making love in your own room? That balcony is an extension of these suites.”

  “And if the killer made his way into her room undetected or in some sort of disguise, he’ll be just as impossible to identify as he was in the footage where he threw Carl overboard.”

  “Yep.”

  She felt guilty keeping part of the puzzle from the people trying to stop the killer now that someone else had been attacked. “Should we tell Barry about that life vest room? It might help them figure out who’s doing this.”

  “Not when we have reason to suspect he might make evidence disappear to help out his employer.”

  Trish thought about that tiny room’s position. It would share the other wall of Sara’s room. The killer must have sat in there most of the night after killing Carl. That meant, just like Trish, he listened to Sara scream all night while she and Malcolm rode the heights of passion.

  “I wonder if that’s what made him want to kill her,” she muttered.

  “What?” Rider asked.

  “Hearing what a good screamer she was the night before when he was killing Carl. I thought Bill was after Carl over a woman, which would at least make sense. People lose their minds over lust all the time.” She chewed on her lip, not liking the direction her thoughts took her. “What if it’s random? This could be a person who has always wanted to kill but never had the opportunity. He started with Carl because Carl happened to be in the hallway alone. Wrong place, wrong time.”

  “And then he liked killing,” Rider continued, “so decided to go after the woman he’d heard screaming all night, perhaps turning him on while he choked the life from Carl or whatever he did to the man.”

  “Exactly,” Trish agreed. If someone came here planning to kill, he’d have had whatever tools he needed. “It wouldn’t have been hard for him to put something in Sara’s food when she wasn’t paying attention last night. Maybe he ate dinner at her table. He overheard how much Malcolm wanted to go to the party at the casino. After poisoning her, he sat back and waited, knowing Malcolm would eventually leave her alone.”

  “And Sara was so sick that when someone knocked on the door, she assumed it was Malcolm coming to check on her and opened it without verifying who was out there.”

  “And the killer pushed his way in.” Trish nodded. “It certainly could have happened that way.”

  “And we already know one man on this cruise with drugs to incapacitate women.”

  “Ryan.”

  Rider cupped her cheek in his warm palm, running his thumb across her lower lip. “I wanted this day to be perfect for us, Trish. I’m sorry we came back aboard to this mess, but I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Trish closed her eyes, savoring his gentle touch. It was too bad she’d been so suspicious and stubborn. If she’d agreed to start dating Rider after they first met, they might be safe in Sayle right now, helping her sister’s family decorate for Christmas instead of stranded on a ship, hoping they could dodge a killer.

  “Should we get plane tickets at the next port and head home?” she asked. “Part of me feels a responsibility to figure out who’s doing this and stop him before he hurts someone else. The rest of me just wants to go somewhere safe where you and I can spend more time getting to know each other without having to worry.”

  Rider kissed her softly. “Would you worry about the people on this cruise any less if we left? I’m not ready to go back to Sayle yet, and I want to make sure the person responsible for this pays.”

  “But what can we do?” she argued. “Barry has sworn us to secrecy, so we can’t warn people. All we have to go on is the fact that one guy tried to drug me our first night here. He might not even be the one doing this. Maybe it was Ecstasy or some other drug in that baggie Ryan had, hoping to make us horny and more willing to screw him.”

  “I know. It’s not much to go on.” He shrugged. “But it’s all we have. Let’s go to the eight o’clock dinner where most of the singles will be. Maybe we can be more friendly than we have been, talking to the others and seeing what the chatter is. People have to be ready to gossip after seeing Malcolm have that breakdown, even if they aren’t aware of what is actually going on. Something useful might come from it.”

  Trish looked over her shoulder at the inviting bed. Her plans had been so different for tonight. For the first time in her life, she’d decided to stop playing by the rules and go wild, and now all this happened. “I’ll change my clothes.”

  Rider couldn’t help but smile when he saw the envious looks thrown his direction from the other men at dinner. Wandering around with Trish on his arm was better than he’d thought it would be. Although he was used to seeing her in the stark business suits and practical low heels she wore for work, the shopping trips she’d taken with her sister really paid off.

  The little black cocktail dress she had on showed off her legs, making them seem longer than they were. With her sister’s sense of style obviously playing a role in picking the outfit, the top plunged down daringly, showing off Trish’s cleavage. It made Rider wish they didn’t have to worry about anyone tonight but each other.

  He leaned down to whisper directly in her ear. “Have I told you what a knockout you are? It’s hard to concentrate when all I can think of is going back to the room and having my way with you.”

  “I always think you look hot.” She flashed a wink. “But I miss the trench coat.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “I could unpack it and wear it for you when we get back to my room.”

  Her tongue darted out to moisten the corner of her mouth, looking utterly sexy. “The coat and nothing else?” she asked, sounding hopeful.

  “Hey, guys!” Carrie’s joyous voice intruded, recalling Rider to the fact they were in a room full of people.

  Trish startled and jumped slightly away, turning to look at Carrie. “I thought you had a date?”

  “Oh, I do.” Carrie waved at someone across the room, and the thin man who’d shared the table with Carrie and Rider that first night came ambling across the ship. “I’ve been talking to so
me of the people here. Is it true that hunky black guy had a meltdown when some woman dumped him?”

  Rider exchanged a look with Trish. Bingo. People were starting to talk. “The guy’s name is Malcolm,” Rider said. “We were with him this afternoon.”

  “You were?” Carrie’s eyes went round. “I heard she left him for someone else. Who’s better looking than that guy?” She licked her lips as though contemplating eating something delicious. “Sorry, Rider. Not even you.”

  Her date came up behind her, slipping his arm around her waist. “I’d like to think I’m at least in the running,” Patrick said, smiling as he nuzzled his face into her hair.

  Rider nodded in recognition at the newcomer. “Good to see you again, Patrick.”

  “You too.” He stuck his hand toward Trish. “I don’t think we were properly introduced before. I’m Patrick Clarkson from San Diego.”

  “Trish,” she said, not offering more information as she shook his hand.

  “One of the shy ones, huh?” Patrick asked.

  Although Trish’s body stiffened against Rider as though she’d like to give Patrick a tongue lashing, she let out a fake giggle. “Of course I’m not shy. I have all the man I can handle, so don’t see any reason to overshare my personal information.”

  Rider leaned down to her ear again. “We’re supposed to be making friends.”

  However, considering Patrick’s behavior during their first dinner, he was another man Rider wouldn’t want anywhere near Trish alone. He objectified women, only looking for a quick lay. Rider had to wonder how far one had to deviate from objectifying people as sex objects to wanting to kill them.

  Trish might only have one suspect on her radar in the form of Bill, but Rider could see possibilities for many of the single guys on this trip. It would be the perfect cover to go on a killing spree. People would be on their own, so their family or friends wouldn’t be constantly checking in with them to know if they went missing. Also, the killer wouldn’t have to deal with coming up with excuses to whoever he traveled with for his own disappearances.