O-Dark-Hundred

by Holly Copella

“Change of plans,” Beck informed her. “There’s something big going down around here, and Pinto’s going to be sitting in the middle of it. I can’t leave her unprotected.” He straightened proudly. “After you drop me off at the resort, the rest of you can go home if you want, but I’m staying.”

  Monroe and Jackie groaned softly. “We’re not leaving you,” Monroe announced with limited enthusiasm. “If you’re right, you’re going to need all the protection you can get.”

  “We’ll need to discuss this someplace less public,” Jackie announced. “I just saw Dr. Sherman in the casino. He’s here on the ship. If he sees us--”

  “I already ran into him,” Beck replied. “He’s one of us, sort of. It’s fine.”

  “You’re digging your hole deeper,” Monroe informed him. “If you’re wrong about any of this, Pinto’s going to bury you.”

  “Rather she buries me than the other way around,” Beck remarked. He then looked around and appeared puzzled. “Where’s Bogart?”

  Jackie looked back at the blackjack table. Bogart and Emily Banks were gone. She groaned softly. “Oh, great,” Jackie muttered. “Our charming country boy is about to do something stupid.”

  “You mean Bogart and Mrs. Banks?” Monroe suddenly gasped and looked around. “No, no, no. You don’t mess around with a mob wife. He’ll be floating face down by morning.”

  “We better go after him,” Jackie replied with a soft sigh. “Once the blood leaves his head, he lacks morals and judgment.”

  Jackie walked away leaving Monroe and Beck staring after her with their mouths hanging open.

  “Can you believe the mouth on that one?” Beck huffed.

  “She’s been spending too much time at Zack’s finishing school for wayward girls.”

  Beck chuckled at the comment. Monroe laughed with him then indicated the door. Both men left the casino.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Zack stood outside the stateroom suite with his rolling dinner cart and stared at the familiar number from his last room service visit. He groaned softly, straightened proudly, and promptly knocked on the door. The door opened to reveal an attractive woman in her early thirties dressed in a sexy nightgown with matching satin robe hanging open, allowing him a generous peek at her toned body. She smiled pleasantly and stood aside, allowing him to enter.

  “Good evening, ma’am,” he announced with renewed cheerfulness.

  “Good evening,” she replied and shut the door behind him.

  The arrogant man stepped out of the bedroom while attaching his expensive cufflinks to his overpriced shirt. He saw Zack and immediately frowned.

  “You can put it by the balcony,” he snarled.

  The woman darted a disapproving look at the man. As Zack pushed the cart toward the balcony, the man glared at the woman.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded. “Close your robe. You don’t need to be giving the hired help any ideas.”

  Zack twitched but continued converting the cart into a table. He lit the candles then turned, forcing an unsettling smile. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

  The man stood directly in front of Zack, folded his arms across his chest, and stared down at him, standing at least four inches taller.

  “Yeah, you can stop ogling my girlfriend,” he snarled.

  “I don’t recall ogling the young lady,” Zack remarked, “but I’ll be sure to mind my eyes.”

  “He wasn’t looking at me, Glenn,” she protested from across the room.

  “Stay out of this, Rhonda,” he barked back without looking at her. “I know how these horny cruise ship guys operate.”

  “Will there be anything else, sir?” Zack repeated with a snarl in his tone as his eyes locked onto the man blocking his path.

  “You’ve got a problem?” Glenn demanded and waved him on. “Take your best shot, little man.”

  “Best shot?” Zack questioned, allowing a throaty laugh to escape. “You don’t want my best shot.” His eyes narrowed, resembling a rattlesnake about to strike. “Too much blood. Very messy.”

  “You think you’re funny?”

  “Glenn, that’s enough,” Rhonda insisted.

  “Funny? No, I’m not the funny one,” Zack replied then sneered. “I’m pretty fucking serious.” He eyed the woman. “Pardon my language.”

  As Zack looked back, Glenn threw a tight fist for his face. Zack blocked the punch with his left hand and smacked him across the face with his right, stunning the man with the hard slap. Zack grinned, pleased with himself. The man became upset and threw another punch. Zack caught his wrist then backhanded his crotch with his free hand. Glenn gasped and writhed with discomfort, although he was lucky Zack hadn’t put him on the floor. Zack released his wrist and smirked.

  “Are we done here?”

  “You asked for it,” Glenn snarled and attempted to snap kick Zack.

  Zack caught his ankle and held his foot in the air while Glenn tried to keep his balance. Zack appeared baffled while glaring at the man. “What the hell what that supposed to be?”

  Rhonda folded her arms across her chest. “He thinks he knows karate.”

  Zack released his foot, waited for him to catch his balance, and then kicked him lightly in three places along his body in one kick. Glenn groaned from each shot, even though they weren’t very hard.

  “Like that?” Zack demanded and glared at Glenn. “Or--?”

  Zack spun into a roundhouse kick and struck Glenn in the chest, sending him into the sofa. Glenn hit the sofa and fell to the floor while groaning.

  “More like that?” Zack teased with an amused chuckle. He then eyed Rhonda and gave her a serious look. “I think you should consider finding a better man. Eventually, this one is going to strike you, and you’ll end up putting a steak knife through his chest.”

  As Zack headed for the door, the woman hurried after him and stopped him. He glanced at the odd expression on her face. She grabbed his shirt and kissed him passionately on the mouth, startling him. She broke off the kiss and smiled lustfully at him.

  Zack remained slightly surprised, stared at her a moment, and then smiled politely. “Good evening, ma’am.”

  As he left the room, she sighed dreamily.

  †

  Now changed into his basic black combat outfit, Zack made his way undetected through the belly of the ship. The noise from the engines was near deafening. He moved into a dark alcove and blended in until one of the workers passed then continued on his way in search of answers. The crewman he followed never saw him, despite seemingly looking for anyone tailing him. His behavior was moderately suspicious, but his reason for being in the engine room was what made Zack follow him. A wine steward had no business in the engine room, yet there he was. He met another man in a secluded area far from the activity. The other man was with the maintenance department. They talked too softly for Zack to hear and getting closer would be next to impossible. The maintenance man indicated a drum toward the back. They continued their conversation then went their separate ways.

  Zack waited a moment then approached the area containing the drums. He searched each drum. It wasn’t until closer inspection that he noticed something was off with the drum toward the back. He pried open the drum to reveal two suitcases. He didn’t have to open them to know what they contained. They were bombs! He returned the lid to the drum and was about to leave when he heard movement from nearby. He darted for the nearest crow’s nest and easily climbed up and out of sight. The same two men returned and noticed someone had tampered with the drum. They looked around then immediately retrieved some hidden weapons. They cocked their semiautomatics containing silencers and scanned the area.

  A handprint on the once dirty pipe was enough to force both men to look up to Zack’s perch. Zack dove off his perch into a forward flip and landed just past the men. He no sooner landed before spinning into a roundhouse kick, taking out the first man. The second man attempted to shoot him, but he spun for the return kick and knocked the gun fr
om his hand. He punched the man twice in the face and grabbed him by the head. Zack suddenly hesitated. He had to take them alive. He needed answers.

  Zack held him in a headlock. “Who do you work for?” he demanded while squeezing the man’s neck. “Who wants to blow up the ship?”

  The man gasped what sounded like a response. Zack felt the man twitch. When he looked down, the man was dead and he could feel his broken neck beneath his grip. Zack released the man and watched him fall lifeless to the floor. He didn’t mean to kill him yet somehow he did. When Zack looked back at the second man, he was also dead. It appeared as if he hit his head against the metal and either crushed his skull or broke his neck. Possibly a combination of both. He stared at both men with confusion while running his fingers through his short hair. He couldn’t make sense of what just happened. He’d purposely tried to keep the men alive, yet they seemed to drop dead on their own.

  “Not again,” came the familiar Russian voice.

  Zack looked up and saw Katya standing only a few yards away. She shook her head in disbelief.

  “We needed them alive,” she insisted. “What’s wrong with you? Are you turning into some sort of bloodthirsty psychopath?”

  Zack drew a deep breath and collected his emotions. “It wasn’t as if I did it on purpose,” he growled while collecting their weapons. He stuck them into cleverly concealed pockets on his tactical jacket. “I need to bring the guys down here to see this,” he informed her. “Once they see the briefcase bombs, they’ll believe me.”

  “And I’m sure the bombs and the bodies will be gone by the time you get back,” Katya informed him. “You’re going to look like a nutcase again.”

  “So you’ve been spying on me as well?” he demanded. “How else would you know the bodies were gone when I brought the others back?”

  “Of course I’ve been spying on you,” she remarked. “It’s in my job description. It’s all part of the whole spy gig.” She reluctantly groaned. “Fine. I’ll wait here and keep watch on the bodies and the bombs while you get your team together.”

  Zack eyed her suspiciously. “We go back a long way, Katya,” he announced simply. “I’ve allowed you to violate my body three ways from Sunday, but I don’t trust you at all.”

  She didn’t even seem fazed by the insult. A sly smirk crossed her face as if the comment pleased her. “So we’ll move the bombs,” Katya replied. “If we hide them, they can’t remove them. The bombs will be enough to convince your team that you’re not crazy.”

  “And it’ll also keep whoever is responsible from being able to use them,” Zack added.

  “Unless they have a remote control,” she informed him. “Then they could simply blow them whenever.”

  “Wrong type of bomb. I know bombs,” he informed her then smirked. “It’s in my job description.”

  “There’s a job description for deranged lunatics?” she asked without cracking a smile.

  He glared at her. She grinned then chuckled softly.

  †

  Zack and Katya stood outside Kirk’s stateroom door and waited for an answer. While they waited, Zack removed his cell phone and attempted to call each of the guys. He shook his head with annoyance then returned his phone to his pocket.

  “I don’t know why I can’t reach any of them,” he remarked.

  “They’re probably tired of playing cat and mouse with you,” Katya muttered. “They think you’re crazy, remember?”

  “You’re not helping.”

  Zack removed his official master key card and ran it through the lock on Kirk’s door. He opened the door and eyed Katya.

  “I’ll leave Kirk a note,” he informed her. “Then we’ll wait for them within the perimeter of the hidden briefcases.”

  Katya followed Zack into Kirk’s room. Zack headed for the table and the notepad. Katya casually flipped the bolt across the closed door. Zack heard the clunk and immediately turned toward her. Katya smiled lustfully as she approached him and ran her hands along his chest.

  “It’s been a while,” she cooed softly while slipping her arms around his neck as she moved her mouth closer to his. “You know you want to take me right here and now.”

  Zack groaned softly, grabbed her around the waist and by the back of the neck, and kissed her aggressively. She returned the wild passionate kiss and immediately ripped at his shirt. She spun him into the dresser, scattering items to the floor and toppling the chair as she practically climbed his body. She attempted to pull him away from the dresser, knocking over a lamp. It hit the floor and shattered, although neither cared. Zack tossed Katya over his hip and onto the bed, landing roughly on top of her. They wildly pawed at each other while writhing around the bed, attempting to rip each other’s clothes off.

  Katya ran her hands along his abdomen beneath his open shirt and dug her nails into his side. Without breaking off the kiss, he kept her from drawing blood and held her hand to the bed, partially restraining her. As her hand caressed his, he saw a flash of a bloody hand. Zack’s thoughts strayed back to the assignment a little over a week earlier and the incident in the van outside the mansion. He stared at Jackie’s catatonic state and took her blood-covered hand in his. Her eyes met his. Her traumatized expression caused him to tremble. Zack suddenly broke off the kiss and stared at Katya beneath him.

  Katya stared back at him with a strange look of surprise. “This is usually the part where you impress me,” she remarked and continued to stare when he didn’t react. “Can’t get the soldier to salute?”

  Zack moved off her and sat on the edge of the bed. He breathed heavily while running his fingers through his slightly mussed hair. Katya sat up behind him and stared at him.

  “Zack?”

  He repeatedly rubbed his hand against his chin while staring at nothing in particular. “This isn’t right,” he whispered then drew a deep, shaken breath. “You’re not real.”

  Katya stared at him then faded away. Zack gently allowed his head to fall into his hand and clutched his forehead while staring blankly at the floor.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Monroe and Jackie followed the irate Beck in their futile search for Bogart. When they checked a few minutes earlier, Bogart wasn’t in his room with the mobster’s wife. Gil and Kirk went to Banks’ suite on the upper deck, but they weren’t there either. Jackie often wondered if Bogart thought much before he followed his hormones into strange women’s bedrooms. Didn’t he realize Emily Banks was married to a notorious mobster who’d have him killed just for looking at his wife the wrong way? No, she supposed he didn’t think of that. Perhaps he hadn’t even been paying attention when they were discussing Banks. If he were her brother, he certainly didn’t get her father’s intelligence. Beck stopped them before the corridor leading to his room not far from Pinto’s room. He made certain the hallway was clear before they proceeded to his room to retrieve his laptop.

  They stopped before his room and waited while Beck ran his card key through the card reader. The door hummed. He attempted to open it, but it caught on the bolt across the door. Beck stared at the jammed door with surprise then pushed harshly against it, succeeding only in straining his shoulder. All three came to the same conclusion.

  “Bogart,” Beck scoffed then shoved his shoulder against the partly open door with a bang. “Damn it, Bogart! Open this door!”

  All three could hear movement from within the room. Something thudded. Bogart peered through the partially open door held in place with the dead bolt. He grinned boyishly with some embarrassment.

  “Hey, uh, Beck,” he announced in a soft tone. “I’m sort of in the middle of something. Could you come back in half an hour?”

  Beck shoved his shoulder against the door, causing it to thud loudly then glared at Bogart through the small opening. “Open this door or I swear I’ll kill you when I get my hands on you,” he snarled through gritted teeth.

  “Okay, okay,” Bogart announced then shut the door.

  There was an unusually long
pause followed by hushed voices on the other side of the door. Beck was seething with rage now, thinking Bogart had purposely locked him out. Bogart removed the bolt and opened the door. He stood in the doorway wearing only his pants. His shirt and shoes were missing. Beck shoved him aside and stormed into the room. The bed was mussed but empty. Despite the absence of Emily Banks, one of her shoes was on the floor among Bogart’s shirt and shoes. Beck looked at the closed bathroom door and shook his head.

  “Tread lightly,” Jackie muttered.

  Beck sneered then knocked on the bathroom door while attempting to control his hostility. The bathroom door opened to reveal Emily, now back in her dress. She readjusted her severely mussed hair.

  “Bogart didn’t say he was expecting company,” Emily announced while managing a smile.

  “Bogart should have gone to his own room,” Beck informed her then glared at Bogart. “Do you have any idea who she is?”

  Bogart indicated the attractive woman. “Yeah, that’s Emily,” he replied then smirked. “It would be rude not to ask a woman her name.”

  Emily smiled sweetly, approached Bogart, and seductively patted his chest. “I think he’s asking if you know who my husband is.”

  “Husband?” Bogart questioned with surprise. “I thought he was your father.”

  She shrugged without care. “Why do you think I came on to you?”

  Bogart groaned and shook his head. “Damn it,” he cursed softly then threw his hands in the air. “I’ve been trying to avoid married women.”

  “Her being married is only the beginning of your problems,” Monroe remarked. “Her husband is a mob boss.”

  He stared at Monroe a moment almost frozen then tilted his head. “A what?”

  “Totally overblown,” Emily informed him then eyed the others. “I’m guessing our romantic interlude has passed. Maybe another time, Bogart.”

  She slipped into her high heels and left the room. All four stared after her until the door closed. Once it closed, the three turned their heads and glared at Bogart.