by Debby Mayne
The jingle of his bedside phone, startled him and he reached for his gun. He grinned at his touchiness and hit the speaker button. “Hello?”
“It’s me. Molly.”
As if he wouldn’t recognize her voice. “Are you okay?”
“I didn’t wake you, did I?” The raspiness of her words told him she was close to sleep herself.
“No, not yet. What’s up?”
“Did they find anything? I know you probably didn’t go straight to your room.”
He chuckled. “You’re correct. Unfortunately, there’s no sign of Cohn or foul play. But someone did tear up my room pretty good.”
She gasped. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I wasn’t here. Nothing’s missing. It’s just a warning.”
“It could be anyone, Lance. Morrison shouldn’t have access to pass keys.”
“Someone’s helping him. If he’s our suspect.”
“You sure don’t like to admit the obvious, do you?”
“I suspect him, just don’t want to say for sure until we have more evidence.” He grabbed a shoe from the floor and tossed it at the light switch. Bingo! The room plunged into darkness.
“What was that?”
“Turning off the light.”
“Okay.” She paused. “Thank you, Lance. For helping me. I bet you didn’t expect your vacation flirtation to end up like this.”
“You’re welcome, gorgeous. And no, but you sure keep things interesting.”
28
M olly woke the next morning refreshed and smiling from falling asleep after talking to Lance. She could get used to his voice being the last thing she heard each night.
She pulled a sundress from the closet. No sense in dressing in Midnight Cruise Line’s uniform if she wasn’t working for them. Out of habit, she reached for her camera. No need. Without it, she wouldn’t be at risk of capturing the killer’s photo. No, it’d be safer to leave it behind.
But where? Not in plain sight. If someone broke into Lance’s stateroom, the possibility of them entering to steal the Nikon was greater than she wanted to risk. She glanced up and smiled. She’d stash it where they’d found the money.
Camera hidden, she headed to finish getting ready, grateful for the opportunity to dress feminine. With a touch of light makeup, and her curls fluffed around her face, she was ready when Lance knocked.
“Good morning,” she sang.
“You look pretty. All girly too.” He reached behind her and pulled the door closed.
He seemed rested. The circles beneath his eyes had faded. In his tan carpenter shorts and black tee shirt, he looked like a California guy headed to the beach. She looked down. Yep, complete with sandals. “And you’re casual, too.” And looking mighty fine.
“Buffet or sit down breakfast?” Lance cocked his head.
“I haven’t done the sit down on the ship. Let’s try that.” Molly slipped her hand into Lance’s. They were like a dating couple. The end of the cruise would leave a huge hole in her life. Hopefully, she’d get her job back to help fill the void.
Lance wanted to pursue a long distance relationship, and she’d promised to try and make it work, but there was a long way between the mainland and ships at sea. With Lance’s good looks, she didn’t hold much hope that he’d be waiting long. Once he healed from losing his partner, he’d realize the foolishness in what he thought could work, and some gorgeous woman would get her hooks in him.
She shook off the thought. She still had a few days left with him. Anything could happen in that time.
The formal dining room was less busy and much quieter than the buffet. The soft chink of silverware against china and the low murmurs of conversation added to the ambiance.
The other photographer, Daniella, nodded as Molly and Lance entered, then returned to her job. Molly shrugged. What could the other woman do? Convince the SVP to give the job back? Chances were, the other crewmembers weren’t aware of the circumstances around Molly’s dismissal.
Lance held a chair out for her then sat in one beside her. “What would you like to do after breakfast? A stroll around the deck? I don’t gamble, but we could visit the casino if you wanted. There’s also a pottery class, I think.” He lifted the menu. “There’s a variety show this evening, and we could practice our dancing after that.”
She twirled her water glass. Besides swimming and shuffleboard, the gym or spa, there wasn’t a lot to do during the day except wander the ship. “A stroll sounds fine.” Molly lifted her gaze to him. “Won’t you get bored on the ship for five days?”
“Not with you.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “What better way to get to know you without any distractions?”
“True.” She pointed at him. “But you’ll have to play along. I won’t talk only about myself.”
“Fair enough.”
The waitress arrived, poured coffee in Lance’s upturned mug and asked for their orders. Molly ordered strawberry crepes. Lance asked for a three egg omelet and bacon. At Molly’s questioning look, he answered, “I’m on vacation.”
“I didn’t say anything.” She spread her napkin in her lap. “Did you hear back from the FBI?”
“Yep. I checked before getting you.” Lance took a sip of his hot coffee. “Cohn had no family. Parents dead. No siblings. He’s a desk jockey given his first opportunity to prove himself. All he needed to do was keep an eye on Morrison. Not to come into contact with the man. The bureau will have a couple of agents waiting when we dock in Vancouver.”
“Anything can happen between now and then.”
“It can, but the perpetrator has nowhere to go except overboard.”
She supposed that thought should make her feel better, but it didn’t. Instead it increased her anxiety. They were all stuck in the middle of the ocean. Together.
The food arrived. Molly tried to enjoy the cream filled pastries covered with strawberries, but they tasted like dust in her mouth. Lance dug into his like a starving man.
“Why aren’t you eating?” He frowned.
“I can’t.” She shoved her plate away and straightened. While she waited for Lance to finish, she drank her juice and glanced around the room.
Most of the diners she’d photographed at one time or another. Her heart ached to think she’d have to spend the next few days not contributing to these people’s cruise experience. Why couldn’t she enjoy the gift she’d been given? The opportunity to be a tourist?
“Okay, let’s walk.” Lance rose and held out his hand.
She accepted and allowed him to pull her outside. Clouds covered the sky and a light mist began to fall. “Guess we’ll have to find seats beneath an awning.”
“This is a nice change,” Lance said. “The sun doesn’t have to shine every day.”
It didn’t, did it? Lance’s presence was a ray of sunshine in itself. She’d enjoy it while she could and take cover when it disappeared.
*
After they’d chosen chairs at a table on a covered patio, Lance folded his hands and leaned forward. “Okay, now we play my version of twenty questions.”
Molly raised her eyebrows. “Should I be nervous?”
“No, they’re easy. First one … what’s your full name?”
“Molly Margaret Nicholson.”
“Land of heritage?”
“My father was English, my mom, Irish.” She cocked her head. “What’s your full name?”
“Lance Michael Spencer. I’m an Italian and Cherokee mix.” A waitress strolled by and Lance raised his hand to attract her attention. When she made her way to their table, he ordered two sodas. A regular for him and a diet for Molly. “Okay, what did you want to be when you grew up?”
“An artist. Photography is close. You?”
“A policeman.” He chuckled. “Well, when I was five, I wanted to be a dinosaur.”
The giggle he loved erupted from Molly’s throat. “At least I stuck with something human. That young, I wanted to be a ballerina.”
She put a finger to her lips. “Hmm. Well, my parents were fairly well-off, so I got most things I asked for. I guess, I’d say a pony.”
“Mine was a rocket ship. Not a toy. A real one.”
“You’re not hard to please, are you?” She accepted her drink from the returning waitress, and stiffened at something she saw over his shoulder.
Lance turned. Morrison leaned against the railing, oblivious to the rain, and flicked a cigarette butt into the sea. Lance returned his attention to Molly. “Stay focused. He’s not doing anything. How old were you when you got your first kiss?”
“First grade.” A flush rose to her cheeks. “I had to stay after school for talking in class and the little boy who had to stay too, kissed me behind the overhead projector screen.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Wanton. I was three. A neighbor girl.”
“A regular Don Juan.”
“I like to think so.”
Molly’s eyes widened. “Natasha just walked by. I think she handed something to Morrison, but handed it over so fast, I’m not sure. Uh-oh.”
“What?”
“He’s coming this way. No, wait, he’s going to the other side of the pool.”
“Stop staring.” Lance reached across the table and turned her head back to face him. “If he does something interesting, feel free to let me know. Otherwise, I’m trying to get to know you.”
“Sorry.” She pursed her lips around her straw. Lance lost his focus and swallowed too much soda, sending himself into a choking fit.
Face red and eyes streaming, he gained control and fought to keep his attention off her mouth. “Uh, what would be your perfect vacation?”
“Maui. Visiting all the secret places that only the locals know about.”
His stomach fluttered as nerves sent barbs into his gut. “Would that include a man?”
Her eyes darkened. “It might.”
“That’s—”
“She did give him something!” Molly slammed her glass on the table. “He’s reading a slip of paper. Oh, now he’s walking away.” She rose. “Let’s follow him.”
They waited until he turned a corner out of sight, then followed, always keeping a few yards between them and him. Morrison ducked into a men’s restroom.
“Guess I’ll have to go it alone.” He speared Molly with a glance. “Under no circumstances do you leave. Understood?”
She gave him a salute. “Yes, sir!”
He shook his head and pushed open the door. Morrison’s gym shoe covered feet showed beneath a stall. Lance approached the mirror and pretended to examine his teeth, not turning when Morrison approached from behind.
The man went to the sink. “Still keeping time with the pretty photographer, I see.”
“Helps pass the time.” Through the mirror, he met Morrison’s unsmiling face.
“I’ve heard danger goes where she does. Most of her friends among the crew have disappeared.”
Lance turned. “And where did you hear that?”
“Around.” Morrison gave him a thin-lipped smile. “I’d be careful if I were you.”
29
M olly studied her fingernails while she waited for Lance to emerge from the bathroom. What was he doing in there? She’d never been good at waiting. Now that she seemed to spend her life on pins and needles, it was even worse. How would she ever handle a long distance relationship? Waiting for the phone to ring or for whatever ship she hired on to dock so she could spend time with Lance? She sighed. It’d never work.
Morrison barged from the room, bumping her shoulder on the way out. “Out of my way, little girl.” He stormed across the foyer and outside.
Lance rejoined Molly. “Don’t worry about him. He’s full of threats today.”
“What happened in there?”
“Not much, but it seems like the man is definitely searching for something.”
“He knows we have the money.” Molly’s throat seized.
“Maybe, and he’s trying to find out where it is. Right along with the Russian Princess.” He motioned his head to where Natasha came out of the women’s restroom.
“Why is that woman always around?” Molly shivered at Natasha’s stare.
“Go to the bathroom. See if she follows you back in.” Lance nudged her.
“Have you seen the size of her? She’s six feet tall!”
“I’ll be right out here.”
“Fine.” Molly shrugged and shoved her way through the door. When someone entered behind her, she ducked into a stall.
“I know you are there. Come out.”
“I’m busy here.”
“You are procrastinating.” Natasha pounded, shaking the line of stalls. “Come out and face me.”
Molly closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. She might as well get this over with. With a deep breath, she stepped out. “What?”
“I want my money.” Natasha crossed her arms and towered over Molly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You do.” Natasha poked a finger in Molly’s chest. “You have it. I need it. You don’t know who you are messing with.”
Molly slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
Natasha gave her a two-hand shove that sent Molly reeling into the wall. “I will do more than that if you do not give me back what is mine.”
Molly scowled. “I don’t have it!” She lifted her chin. “Touch me again.” No one laid an angry hand on Molly Nicholson. Not anymore.
“And what will a little woman like you do?” Natasha laughed. “Hit me? Call the bulldog waiting outside? Americans are weak people. No match for me.”
Molly spread her legs shoulder-width apart and tilted her head. “Try me.” Her cousins had been Natasha’s size or larger. With the few pointers Lance gave her, she could take the blond Amazon. She might get some bruises, but she’d leave plenty marks of her own.
Natasha laid the tip of her index finger on Molly’s forehead. “I am touching you.”
With her head lowered, Molly rammed into Natasha, slamming them both into the line of sinks against the opposite wall. The breath whooshed from Natasha before she forced Molly back. A raised knee knocked the air from Molly’s lungs.
“There. See.” Natasha turned, giving Molly the opportunity she needed.
With a primal yell, she launched herself onto the other woman’s neck and grabbed two fistfuls of hair.
“Ow!” Natasha whirled and lost her footing.
Molly reached for the faucet, plastered her hand against the water and sprayed Natasha’s face. Natasha reached over her head to try and dislodge Molly. They spun in circles so many times, Molly felt as if they were in a washing machine.
“I will kill you for this!” Natasha’s shriek bounced off the tile walls.
“You’ll have to catch me first!” Molly yanked back on the woman’s head.
Natasha’s feet slipped in a puddle of water. They crashed through the door and landed at the feet of an astounded Bob Dickson.
“Ladies! What is the meaning of this?” He grabbed Molly’s arm and yanked her off Natasha.
Lance coughed and pulled Molly to him. She curved her fingers into claws and hissed at her former roommate before turning to him.
She glared. “Where were you? And don’t try telling me that cough isn’t you trying to camouflage a laugh.”
“You handled yourself well enough.”
She planted fists on her hips. “What were you doing? Watching through the door?”
“Yes.” His eyes twinkled as he tried to keep a straight face.
“Oh, good grief.” She turned back to the stern look of the purser.
“Miss Nicholson. I’m aware that you have been relieved of your duties onboard the Destiny, but that does not give you the right to attack the other crew members.�
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“She started it!” Molly took a step forward, claws ready. Lance held her back.
“I am afraid for my life.” Tears welled in Natasha’s eyes as she clasped folded hands over her chest. “She is out to kill me for accusing her of stealing. I know this is true.”
“She’s lying.” Molly shook off Lance’s hand. Could anyone in their right mind believe such dramatics?
“Miss Nicholson.” Dickson drew himself to his full height. “I must implore that you stay away from Miss Borovsky. If I hear you approached her again, I will have you confined to your cabin.”
“Of all the stupid, lame-brained—”
“Come on, Molly.” Lance took possession of her arm again and pulled her along with him.
Once they were out of sight of the purser and Natasha, Lance burst into laughter. “You were like a badger. All over that woman. I thought I was going to have to douse you with cold water.”
“Yeah, you should’ve taken pictures. Or charged admission. It’s your fault.” She plopped into the first deck chair she spotted and bent to examine the rug burns on her knees. “My mother would’ve been mortified to see me fighting. And in a dress, no less.” She straightened. “What did you hope to accomplish from all that?”
He perched at the foot of the chaise. “Did she tell you anything?”
Molly tried smoothing her hair. “She wants the money and said I didn’t know who I was dealing with. She might’ve thrown in a ‘I will kill you’ somewhere.”
“She’s scared.” Lance used the end of his tee shirt to wipe a trickle of blood from her knee before bending and blowing a cooling breath across the scrape.
Molly’s heart tried to beat its way through her ribcage.
*
Why did he blow on Molly’s knee? The simple gesture ripped through his gut. He shouldn’t have sent her to meet with Natasha alone. What did it accomplish, but more speculations?
Molly pulled the skirt of her dress down to cover her knees and heat flooded Lance’s neck. He’d become too comfortable with her; too familiar in such a short time. Fear over her vulnerability after the failed romance with Vince nagged at him. Maybe neither of them was ready for something serious. Convincing his heart would be another story. It already belonged to Molly Nicholson.