by Debby Mayne
“A great idea.” Lance tilted her face to his and planted a soft kiss on her lips. “Forgiven?”
“How can I stay angry when you’re concerned about my welfare?” She smiled and pulled away. “Crank up this beast and let’s get out of here.”
*
Molly would hate to see Lance really mad if his reaction a few minutes ago was any indication of his pressure point. He’d resembled a simmering volcano. She laid her hands on the tense muscles in his shoulders. Not angry anymore, her foot. At least he hadn’t raised a fist in her face. She bit her lower lip. How long would it be before she stopped comparing him to Vince? Could she really trust Lance not to raise a hand in anger toward her?
The bike vibrated under her as the beauty of Maui whipped past. They’d had to grab sightseeing and fun around tragedies. Molly sighed. So much for a job slash vacation. Look at that; run for your life. See that; run for your life. She laid her cheek against Lance’s broad back. Thank you, God, I’m not going through this alone.
They lurched to the left, then right around the car in front of them. Lance hugged the bike against the mountain, and increased their speed. Things whipped past in a blur. Her hair slapped wildly against her back. Lance had increased their speed.
Molly’s breath lodged in her throat as the rear tires sprayed gravel. Why was he driving like a lunatic? “What are you doing?”
“Trying to outrun the car on our tail!”
Peeking over her shoulder, Molly choked back a scream. The dark colored sedan they’d seen in the parking lot filled her vision. The driver wore a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. His only discernible physical trait was a strong chin.
The car advanced until mere inches separated them.
“Hurry!” She tightened her hold around Lance’s middle.
Their pursuer pulled closer until he was between them and the thick foliage. Molly glanced down at the ocean thundering against the rocks. Why weren’t there barricades along the entire length of this road? There’d be no possible chance of surviving the impact. They’d burst into flames if they went over.
Lance gunned the engine and they jerked forward. Molly’s feet slipped from the grips, and she almost lost her hold.
Like a souped-up navy blue beast the car swerved until its fender almost touched Molly’s thigh. She screamed as the bike edged closer to the cliff.
“Hold on!” Lance yelled and shifted into a higher gear. The engine roared.
The trees and water zipped past them in a dizzy array of colors. They approached a curve in the road, with, thankfully, a metal barricade. The car closed in. The bike teetered until Molly thought they’d leave flesh on the only thing preventing them from sailing into the sea.
She lifted Lance’s shirt and yanked his pistol from his waistband, keeping a firm grip around his waist with the other. With her heart in her throat, she aimed behind them and pulled the trigger. Nothing. What was wrong with the stupid thing? It looked so easy in the movies.
“What are you doing?” Lance yelled.
“Trying to make him fall back.”
“The safety’s on. Put the gun back where you found it before you shoot someone.”
“That’s the idea!”
Lance zigzagged through oncoming traffic before whipping down a road marked with an arrow pointing toward The Seven Pools.
Molly glanced back again. The sedan was stuck behind a convertible occupied by two middle-aged couples. She released a shuddering breath and let her arm fall to her side.
Several minutes later, Lance pulled the bike to a stop in a crowded parking lot. He leaped from the bike and grabbed his weapon from her hand. “And you call me crazy. Have you shot a gun before?”
“No.”
Lance released his breath in a huff. “Come on. We can’t stay here. We need to mix with the crowd.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him.
“I’m sorry.” She jogged to keep up with his pace. “I thought for sure we were going over.”
“There were other people on that road, Molly. What if you would’ve hit one of them?” A muscle twitched in his jaw.
She hadn’t thought of that. The gun had poked her stomach the entire ride, reminding her of its presence. She’d done the only thing she could think of. Other than faint. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head and squeezed her hand. “It’s good to know you’ll react violently when your life is in danger.”
She’d responded without thinking. Survival trumped fear.
They merged with a group of sightseers on tour and hiked to the resplendent seven pools. Sunbathers lay on the emerald grass. One pool fell into another until the scene changed to a rock wall overlooking the ocean, a rainbow its crowning glory.
God’s promise. Everything would be all right.
Lance laid his arm around Molly’s shoulders and pulled her close to his side. He kept his right arm cradled close to his body. She’d forgotten about his injury. Fighting to keep the motorcycle upright must’ve been a hefty price.
“You should have the doctor look you over again when we get back.”
He glanced down at her. “Why?”
“Your arm.”
“It’ll be fine. I need to start using it.”
“In moderation, I’m sure.” Molly transferred her attention back to the colored arch over their head.
Her entire life had been spent with her head down, avoiding direct contact with people. That was one reason why she’d chosen a profession as a photographer. Safety behind the lens. What she’d gone through with Vince had strengthened her. A sign of God bringing good from the bad.
She slid in front of Lance, pulling his arms around her from behind. There may only be a few more days of his company, he may only be passing the time in order to protect her, but she’d cherish every minute with the wonderful man.
He nuzzled her neck. “I don’t think the man trying to run us off the road was Morrison.”
“Why?”
“Because Mr. Morrison is getting cozy with a waitress from the ship.” He turned Molly to face behind them.
Morrison and a girl Molly didn’t know rolled around on a beach towel oblivious to the families around them. From their passionate embrace, they’d been there awhile. The girl suddenly giggled, leaped to her feet, and dashed off, Robert Morrison in hot pursuit. Molly’s cheeks burned.
Lance laughed and turned back to the thundering surf. “Doesn’t seem like the sour faced man we’ve come to know, does it?”
“If Morrison isn’t the one after me, then who is?” She pulled away and scanned the thinning group of people around the pools.
No one seemed suspicious or overly concerned about her or Lance. How could she have been so wrong about Morrison? Antonio said the guy had graying hair. She stomped her foot. They needed more to go on. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she struggled to control her breathing. Having a face to put with the person threatening her was safer than an unknown assailant.
“Come on.” Lance unfolded her arms and entwined the fingers of his left hand with hers. “We need to go. The crowd is leaving, and we don’t want to be caught alone. Plus, we’ve a police report to file.”
21
M olly kissed Lance on the cheek. “Pick me up in an hour?”
“On the dot.” He cupped her cheek before opening the door to her cabin.
A willowy blonde sat on the extra bunk. Her short hair slicked back from her face. Ruby lips shone against her pale skin. She speared Molly with eyes the color of a summer sky. “I’m Natasha. Your cabin mate, yes?”
It’d taken longer than Molly thought for the cruise line to replace Hilga. “I’m Molly and this is Lance.”
Lance nodded, glanced around the cabin, then backed out. “See you soon.”
After closing the door behind him, Molly laid her camera and bag on her bed. “Boarded in Lahaina?”
“Yes. Transfer from another ship.”
Molly strained to understand Natasha’s heavy Russian a
ccent. “This one is a step up for me.” She lifted a hand mirror and tucked her short hair behind her ears. “Your boyfriend is handsome.”
Molly plopped beside her equipment. “He isn’t exactly my boyfriend.”
“A ship romance, yes?”
“No.” She gave a nervous laugh. “It’s … complicated.”
“He doesn’t work onboard. I know this. I have asked questions about you.” Natasha rose, standing close to six-feet tall. “What does he do? He is more than just passenger.”
“Uh…” Why the third degree? She asked questions? Molly’s stomach tightened, and she glanced at her watch. “Look at the time. I’d better hustle if I’m going to be ready to hit the deck. Duty calls.” Her spine tingled at the other woman’s stare. Molly forced a smile and ducked into the bathroom.
She turned the faucet to the desired temperature and sat on the closed toilet lid while the water adjusted. The crazy car chase, then being grilled for an hour by the local police, left her battered. They hadn’t believed her anyway. Not until Lance showed his ID. Natasha’s questions were most likely innocent enough. Who doesn’t want to get to know their roommate?
Molly dropped her clothes on the floor and stepped into the shower. The warm spray washed away the sweat and grime, swirling the dirt down the drain with her tension. God, I want it over. No more deaths. No more disappearances. Couldn’t he swipe his mighty hand and make it all go away? She lifted her face to the spray.
What could she and Lance do to find out who wanted to hurt her? Pinpointing the culprit would end it all. After tomorrow, they’d be at sea for five days. Nowhere to run if the danger escalated. She closed her eyes and let the water run through her hair.
Maybe she should’ve visited a church while on one of the islands. Received some spiritual renewing. Life on board a ship didn’t leave a lot of time for church attendance. Her Bible rested on the shelf above her bunk, waiting for her to pick it up. No excuses there. Occasionally, evenings and time off allowed some time to read. Priorities needed to be set. Maybe she could start a Bible study among the crew.
Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped a towel around her body. Peering at her reflection in the mirror, she fingered curl serum through her hair, brushed mascara through her lashes, then slicked on rose-colored lip gloss. As good as she could get.
Red tinge around the whites of her eyes and dark shadows showed her exhaustion. It’d take too much effort to hide the effects of little sleep. Molly stepped from the bathroom, pulled on a pair of navy pants and a red and white striped blouse, before clipping her badge to her waist.
An open suitcase on Natasha’s bunk screamed for Molly’s attention. Her gaze flicked to the unlocked door. Her blood chilled at the thought of someone sneaking in while she’d showered.
The suitcase continued to beckon, drawing Molly with sinewy fingers. She knew she shouldn’t, but curiosity nagged at the corners of her mind. She stepped over and turned the lock. Despite knowing it was wrong, she bent over the bunk and rifled through the red, white, and blue clothes required of Midnight Cruise employees, undergarments which brought heat to her cheeks, and a light sweater. Beneath all of it lay a manila envelope.
Without removing it from the case, Molly unclasped the lip and slid her fingers inside to pull out a handful of photographs. Her stomach clenched. Her knees buckled. The top picture on the stack was of her, leaning over the rail of the ship, camera in hand.
Someone knocked on the door, pulling a startled squeal from her. She shoved the photos back into the envelope, closed it, then let the clothes fall back into place.
“Molly?” Natasha’s clipped tone reached her ears. “Why is the door locked? Open so I do not have to dig out my pass key.”
Molly swallowed past the ball of cotton in her mouth. Her hand shook as she reached for the lock. Who was her new bunkmate?
Natasha frowned as she brushed past Molly. “This is my room too. Do not lock me out.”
“I was changing. Didn’t want anyone to barge in on me.” She turned away from the flimsy excuse. She needed to request a new room. But how? What could she tell the chief purser? That Natasha had photos of her? Would he think it worth troubling himself over? She wished for more time to look through the rest of the envelope’s contents. Maybe Natasha had photos of other employees. Maybe it helped her remember who was who.
Molly shook her head. Not even she believed such a story.
*
Lance rapped on Molly’s door. She burst out like Satan’s hounds were on her trail and grabbed his hand. “Come on. Don’t want to be late.”
“Don’t you need your camera?”
She dashed back in the cabin and was back at his side in seconds. “Let’s go.”
He lengthened his stride to keep up with her fast pace. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you later. When we’re alone.” She glanced over her shoulder.
“We are alone.”
“More alone.”
“On a ship? That’ll be hard to accomplish.”
She ducked into an empty elevator. “This’ll do.” The doors closed and she hit the stop button, halting them between floors. “Natasha has a picture of me in her suitcase.”
“You went through her things?” Lance ran a hand through his hair. “Does she know?”
“I don’t think so. Should I be worried?” Molly gazed up at him. A crease marred the skin between her eyes. “Why would she have pictures of me?”
“It doesn’t sound normal.” Lance leaned against the wall. He’d have to call the mainland. See if the office could dig anything up on the woman. Maybe his contact at the FBI could find out something. “Do you know her last name?”
Molly shook her head.
“Doesn’t matter. I can find out.” He reached around her and hit the start button. How could he protect her if her cabin mate was a potential threat? He’d have to get the captain to listen to reason. The SVP didn’t seem to have enough sense to put one foot in front of the other, much less see the potential danger.
He studied the face in front of him. The jeweled eyes, the sprinkle of freckles, the hint of a dimple. How could he keep Molly safe when evil might share her room? For the first time since he’d made his promise to her, he doubted his ability to follow through. His arms ached to gather her and jump ship. Get her as far away from whatever she’d stumbled into as possible.
“What is it?” Her eyes widened.
“Nothing.” He forced a smile. “Let’s get to the dining room. I’ll figure out what we need to do about sleeping arrangements.”
The trust in her eyes as she gave him a slow nod, tugged at his heart. Please, God, let me be able to keep my promise.
They stepped out of the elevator into the din and crush of passengers making their way to the dining room. Molly halted, causing him to stop short to avoid bumping into her.
“Maybe we should post the picture somewhere.” She turned.
“What do you mean?”
“Obviously, the man in the photo thinks I know who he is. If it’s Morrison, then I took his picture again at the lighthouse.”
“Why would he care, Molly?” Lance led her to a sofa in the foyer. “If you knew who he was, you would’ve reported him to the police when we found Antonio’s body.”
She bit her lip. “Okay. Then we set a trap. Make him think I want something from him. Blackmail, maybe.”
Dangerous, but it might work. Could it be possible Morrison actually did think Molly played some kind of a game? That he thought she’d found the money and taken his picture on purpose? Lance felt there was more to the story. He doubted Morrison worked alone. What, exactly, was going on aboard the Destiny? It had to be more than a couple of snapshots.
He spotted Natasha entering a door opposite the elevator.
Lance grabbed Molly’s elbow and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go back to your cabin.”
“Passengers aren’t allowed—”
“I know, but I’ve had a brainstorm.�
� He left at a pace that caused Molly to jog beside him. When they reached the cabin and she unlocked the door, he motioned her inside, then closed them in.
“Sorry for the impropriety.” He stood and glanced around the room. Sheets of paneling covered the walls. Removable tiles covered the ceiling. He yanked open the small closet and felt around the carpet. Nothing.
“Watch the door.” Lance stood on top of Molly’s bunk and popped one ceiling tile after another until he found one that didn’t move easily. Bingo! “Climb up here, Molly.” The mattress bounced with her weight.
The space between the ceiling and the floor above them was maybe six inches, small enough for Molly to squeeze an arm inside. “I’m going to lift you. See if you can find anything in there.” Putting his hands around her waist, he lifted her with ease.
Molly tried fitting her head into the opening. Lance’s legs wobbled on the mattress.
“Hold still.” He wrapped his arms around her. His healing wound protested. “You won’t fit through there.”
“I see something.” She squirmed some more. Her flailing legs caught him in the upper thigh. He sagged against the wall.
“Don’t drop me!”
“Stop kicking.” He braced himself by bending his knees and balancing her on his thighs.
“There’s a duffel bag! No, wait, there’s two!” She grunted and dragged one toward her, letting it fall at his feet. The second one followed.
Lance lowered Molly then jumped to the floor, his leg muscles screaming in protest. She grinned up at him. “Case solved.”
“Not yet, sweetheart.” He unzipped one of the bags. Stacks of bills filled it. He grinned at Molly. “Your taking that picture was purely coincidental. This is what Morrison is after.”
She leaned closer. “The money he’s embezzled! Why my cabin?”
“No idea, but we need to let Cohn know.”
“Do you think he’ll resolve the issue when we land in the morning?”
“I imagine so.” A weight lifted off Lance’s shoulders. The days at sea would be much safer for Molly. Now, to find a place to stash the money until he found Cohn.