Her gaze lifted to his, and despite the steel, despite the strength, he was struck by the glimmer of vulnerability. “This isn’t a game to me, Colin. This is very, very real. You need to stop this amateur sleuthing before you get hurt.”
Colin chewed the inside of his cheek. There was something ironic about a veteran undercover cop getting lectured on ‘sleuthing’ by a young woman playing detective. She had no idea.
“Look, why don’t we work together, for now?”
She shook her head. “No. You need to get out while you still can. I don’t know what he’s promised you, but—just walk away. Please.”
Was she—no. He frowned. He’d already gathered she wasn’t in cahoots with Lowry, but she certainly seemed to be waging some sort of war against the man. Why wouldn’t she let him help her, unless… “Are you—are you trying to protect me?”
The idea was ludicrous. Insane. Adorable.
Her features tightened. “I like you, Colin. Don’t ask me why, because you’re a rude, arrogant, blackmailing sonovabitch, but you hold a certain charm. Just…walk away.”
He sat back on his haunches. Uh, wow. That was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to him. He reached over and clasped her gloved hand.
“You look after your mum. You look after your boss. Who looks after you, Mel?” he said the words quietly, and she responded by looking out over the river.
“I can look after myself, thank you very much.” The words were quiet, small, and so telling.
“You don’t need to do this by yourself,” he said, tightening his grasp on her hand, so seemingly fragile, yet so strong. “I’m here, and your stepfather doesn’t scare me.” He gestured to the boat. “We’re both here. It would be a shame to waste this opportunity. Let me help you.”
She glanced at him, and he felt like a fly under the microscope as she met his gaze with a direct one of her own. He didn’t need to fake the sincerity. Her stepfather didn’t faze him. Lowry wasn’t the first slime he’d investigated. He could handle the prick. He truly wanted to help Melanie.
He told himself it was because her goal was his: get Lowry. It had nothing to do with her character, her beauty, inside and out. No. It was totally professional, all the way. Whatever it was. Had nothing to do with how she made him feel when her lips were pressed against his, her legs wrapped around his waist. No, because then all the other guys in the squad would tease him about being led around by his…emotions, and not with his head. Then he’d be looking for another job. No, he was being professional. Sincere.
And apparently she believed him. She nodded.
“Okay, but just this once, all right?”
Yeah, right. “Uh-huh.”
They both crawled over to the cabin door, and she used her key to unlock it. Cole helped her draw the door up, and hooked it to the railing. He heard a faint click, and a low light from Mel’s torch illuminated the teak and brass-edged stairs that led down into the saloon. He frowned.
“Where the hell did you hide that?” He’d tussled with her, and sure as hell hadn’t felt it.
She flashed him a grin as she passed him and crept down the stairs. “I can’t tell you all of my secrets,” she whispered.
He shook his head and grinned as he followed his sweet, kick-arse prowler into the heart of the ship.
Chapter 16
Melanie sat back on her heels by the king sized bed in the master cabin and blew out a breath. Nothing. She wiped the perspiration from her brow. It was like an oven below deck, and she was dressed head to toe in black garments designed to be flexible yet tough. She was sweltering.
The boat rocked, and her stomach heaved at the motion. She clutched herself around the middle. Oh, God, she hated boats. It was what had so amused Lionel when he’d put the asset in her name, knowing there was no way she’d receive any benefit from owning it. She swallowed, tasting bile. Damn, and this was just at the dock. She shuddered to think what it would be like to cruise on the river, or worse, on the open sea.
She’d been on the boat for too long, and below deck, of all things. They’d closed all the blinds so that they could turn on some of the lamps. No refreshing breeze. Nausea bubbled within her gut like a kettle on a slow boil. If she stayed down here any longer, she was going to add to the opulent décor with a not-so-tasteful accent of puke.
Colin entered from the hall, shaking his head. “I’ve searched the engine area, and all the service areas. Nothing. No safe, no hidey-hole.” He frowned when he got a good look at her.
“Are you okay? You don’t look too good.”
“I’m fine.” I’m going to heave any second. “Let’s call it a night. I can’t find anything here.”
“Did you search the galley?”
Oh, crap. Just the thought of a kitchen, food, anything involved with eating, was enough to make her stomach roil. “Yep,” she bit out.
“What about the guest cabin?”
“Yep.”
She rose to shaky feet, trying to keep her balance. The boat was only gently pitching, but she felt like she was standing on a rollercoaster without a safety belt.
“Maybe you should sit down,” Colin suggested gently.
“I’ll sit down as soon as I get off this damn boat,” she muttered, no longer trying to hide her discomfort. She took a step away from the bed, then teetered backwards as the boat rocked again, her foot kicking against the bedboard as she tried to grasp the rim for balance. Her world shifted, and she gritted her teeth, trying to stand upright.
“Let’s go.” She had to get out of here before she disgraced herself.
“Wait. Do that again,” Colin said, staring at the bed.
She frowned. “What?” The graceless two-step or the oh-so-attractive dry retch, she could possibly accommodate him by doing both.
He pointed to the bedboard. “It moved. Do whatever you did.”
She looked down at the bed. Her skin crawled just looking at it, imagining Lionel in there with whichever woman he’d hired for the night. It was a sumptuous bed, fitted out in tones of gold and brass. The comforter was thick, the pillows a-plenty, and the timber frame inlaid with some sort of gilded finish. A timber frame that gaped just a little at the foot of the bed.
She nudged the base with her foot, and the rim she clutched shuddered in her hand. She shot Colin a quick glance over her shoulder, and he crossed the cabin to help her. Pushing down on the rim, the frame tilted down like the lid of a tipped over trunk.
Melanie dropped to her knees and stared at the dark cavity revealed. What in the world…? There was a neatly stacked pile of folders, bundled together with red ribbon like that used to tie up legal documents at solicitors offices. She reached for a little metallic box, like the petty cash tin she used at the real estate office, except this didn’t have a lock and key, it had a keypad.
She tried entering Lionel’s birthday, then hers and her mother’s, even Robert’s. It didn’t work. She tried Lionel’s and her mother’s wedding anniversary, still no luck.
“What about a password?” Colin suggested, gesturing the numerical touchpad. Each key had a series of letters on it, like a phone. She sat back on her heels to think.
“I’m not sure what word would really…” she racked her brain, trying to think of any conversation she’d had with her stepfather that might provide a clue.
“Does he have any hobbies, any places he likes to go to, books he likes to read?” Colin shuffled over to kneel beside her, his green eyes curious.
She shuddered. “Ugh. He’s fascinated with Roman mythology, I know that.” She’d been forced to endure many dinners where he’d expounded on his favourite subject, as though he was a leading scholar on the subject, only she’d studied ancient history in senior school, and she knew some of his facts and ideas were incorrect. She’d learned early on, though, that you couldn’t disagree with Lionel Lowry. And she hated that painting of Mars in his office, the one of him cuckolding Vulcan’s wife, Venus. Too close to home, damn it.
Her fingers hesit
ated over the keypad as she glanced up at Colin, her heart pounding. What did her stepfather keep hidden in this tin? A tin hidden away in a secret compartment on a boat? And what was something that really resonated with him, that he would use it as a passcode?
She pressed the keypad with shaky fingers. Six. Two. Seven. Seven. M.A.R.S.
A click in the lid of the tin signalled the released of the lock.
“Good job,” Colin murmured, patting her on the back.
Her smile was tremulous as she raised the lid. The tin contained several rolled up bundles of green hundred dollar notes, and Colin whistled as Melanie gaped at the stash. Oh. My. God. There were thousands of dollars inside. There were also compact disks and smaller flash disks. She could only imagine what would be stored on them.
A dull metallic gleam in a corner caught her eye, and she reached for it. She pulled it out of the dark interior and held it up to the light.
A chill crept over her when she recognised what she grasped in her gloved hand, small and grey against her black glove.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, her breath hitching. Omgiod, omigod. The phrase kept repeating itself over and over in her mind as she gazed at the ring, her brain stuttering as it tried to process what she held, and its meaning.
Colin leaned closer to look at it. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She swallowed. “It’s my father’s ring.” She gave him the tin to hold and pulled the glove off her other hand with her teeth. Very carefully, she slid a thumbnail under the crest, and flipped it open.
She sucked in a breath, tears gathering in her eyes. Her father’s ring. She hadn’t seen it since — since the day he died. Comprehension dawned. “Oh, no. No, no, no.” She cradled the ring in her hand and pressed it to her heaving stomach as tears trailed down her cheeks. “I can’t believe it.”
Colin stared at her in consternation. “What’s the matter, Mel? What’s wrong?”
She wiped her sleeve across her face. “The last time I saw this was the day Dad died. He was wearing it when he left the house with Mum.”
Colin frowned. “I’m not following you. So Lionel has your father’s ring. Creepy, I know, but what’s the big deal?”
She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I tried to get this ring back. Mum was in a coma in the hospital, Dad was gone. I really wanted this ring, it was symbolic, something secret I shared with Dad. None of the cops or the emergency crew who responded to the accident could find it.”
“Maybe it turned up later, and they didn’t want to give it to you in case it brought all those memories back?” Colin suggested, and she stared at him, not bothering to respond. He nodded. “Okay, so that sounds too caring and diplomatic for Lowry. I don’t understand.”
“The accident was on the Old Princes Highway, late at night. They never found the other driver, or the other vehicle. They never found Dad’s ring.” She stared at the ring, blurred through her tears. “The only way Lionel could have this ring is if he was there at the time of the accident.”
“Very good, Melanie,” a voice drawled from the cabin entry. Melanie whirled around and met her stepfather’s gaze. He stood in the doorway with Robert Dunn, and both had guns trained on them.
Chapter 17
Cole shifted, just a little, so that his body stood between Melanie’s and her stepfather’s weapon. Lowry’s lips lifted in a smirk.
“You always were a smart girl. Too smart for your own good.” He gestured with the gun. “I’ll take that, thank you.”
Cole glanced down at the tin in his hand. Damn. It probably contained everything the fraud squad needed to arrest and convict the man, and he had to hand it over. He flipped the lid closed and held it for a moment longer. The game had changed, though. The stakes had risen. If what Melanie had surmised, and if what Lowry’s current actions suggested, they weren’t just looking at fraud.
Now, they were looking at murder.
Cole knew what would happen next. Once they had the evidence, Lowry and his partner would remove any witnesses—being him and Melanie. There was no way Lowry would let them tell the cops of Melanie’s suspicions that Lowry had been involved with her father’s death.
They were already on a boat, damn it. They were only a few kilometres from where the Georges River flowed into Botany Bay, and just a little further on they could leave the bay and head out into the Tasman Sea. Nobody would hear the gunshots there. If they bothered with expending bullets. They could always just toss him and Melanie overboard, use them as shark bait.
“Come on, damn it,” Dunn growled.
Lowry gestured with the gun. “Melanie, take the box and give it to me.”
Cole turned to hand the box to her, but was surprised by the mutinous glare she was sending her stepfather. Her complexion was pale, and he could see the beads of perspiration dotting her lip and forehead, but her blue eyes were dark and stormy as she eyed her enemy. In her black clothing she looked less like the socialite princess, and more like a sexy ninja. A sexy ninja who was pissed off to the max.
“Come and get it,” she said, her voice low in challenge.
Lowry laughed. “Oh, darling, I’ll get it, all right. I’ve finally got you right where I want you.” His expression was far from fatherly, and Cole stiffened at the threat in the man’s words, and in his stance. He thought of what Melanie had told him, about him getting too close, and a dark fury rose within him.
Melanie snorted behind him. “Of course you have to take, because it would never, ever be offered. You’re nothing more than a bully, Lionel. A low-down, dirty little bully who has to throw a tantrum and hit out when he doesn’t get what he wants.”
Lionel’s mouth twisted, and the gun in his hand shook with his anger. “Oh, I’m so going to enjoy taking you,” he rasped as he stepped closer. “But first, I want lover boy up on deck. I don’t want to get blood all over the cabin, see,” he explained.
Cole kept his expression composed, but had to concede Lowry had a point. If anything happened down here, then forensics would be able to easily locate the evidence. Better to move them to a different location, but even that presented its own risks in the logistics of such a move, for both parties. Lowry and Dunn would obviously be moving them to a more remote place, but the chance of someone seeing them, or of he and Melanie fighting back, were higher. He’d seen Melanie in action. She was no simpering, powerless ditz. He couldn’t quite figure out what Lowry intended, though, or just how the hell he could get Melanie out of this mess.
Lowry and Dunn separated, to give them room to pass. “Get up there.”
Cole silently walked out of the main cabin and into the hallway, and felt the hard rim of Dunn’s gun as it pressed against the back of his head. This is getting ugly. What would happen once they got up on the deck? They couldn’t shoot them, surely? That would draw attention. Were they going to leave the boat? What exactly had these two planned?
“Hands up,” Dunn growled, and Cole grimaced as the barrel of the gun was pressed harder against his head.
He heard a soft cry behind, and turned to see Lionel’s arm wrap across Melanie’s shoulder and neck, clutching her to him. He forced his gun against her temple, smiling as she tried to move her head out of the way.
“Leave her be,” Cole demanded, and Dunn smacked him in the side of the face with the butt of the gun. Cole whipped around, but halted when the barrel of the gun was pressed to his forehead.
“Move on,” the detestable man said.
Lowry smirked. “What are you going to do, lover boy? You’re not really in a position to do anything.”
Cole eyed Melanie, who looked visibly ill. She gave him a shaky nod.
“I’m okay,” she rasped, then grimaced when Lowry pressed his lips to her temple.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of my little princess.”
Cole clenched his hands into fists, and had to bank his fury. The time would come. He wasn’t going down without a fight, neither would Melanie, and these men would pay.
> Cole turned and climbed the stairs to the main saloon. Dunn shoved him against the table, and Cole fixed him with a dark glare, and felt a tiny flare of satisfaction as the man momentarily hesitated before waving him out to the deck.
“So, tell me, Lowry, why exactly did you kill Melanie’s father?” he asked conversationally as they all trooped out onto the deck. The wind had picked up whilst they were below deck, a warm, summery breeze that had the boat rocking gently against the pontoon. Some boats were out on the river, as small parties enjoyed an evening cruise, but none were within hailing distance. He looked back toward the shore. Lights still shone in the homes situated on the banks of the river, but most were running air-conditioning, and closed against the sapping humidity and the mosquitoes. Not many people about, and none within any close range to offer help.
“Do you think this is like some crappy T.V. show where I confess to everything, only to be caught at the end? I’m not that stupid.” Lowry shifted his grip, pulling back from Melanie and holding her by the back of her neck as he forced her onto the deck in front of him.
She lifted her hands, as though trying to find something stable to hang on to, and stumbled over to a deck chair.
“Why, Lionel?” she choked. “Why are you doing this? Think of Mum, what it would do to her.” Her voice was low, quaking. Cole glanced over his shoulder. She was a mess. Her shoulders were hunched up around her ears, and tears streamed down her face. Her hands were visibly shaking as she held them in front of her in the universal ‘please don’t hurt me, I’m unarmed’ position. Where was the woman from earlier in the night? The one who’d kicked him from one end of the deck to the other?
Lowry snorted. “Don’t worry about your mother. She’ll cope with it, just like she coped with your father’s death. It will be so sad, I’ll admit, when she loses you so violently. But I’ll be there to help her through it, just like I helped her after your father’s death. Lover boy here will kill you in a jealous rage, and then we’ll kill him in self-defence.”
Melanie shook her head, frowning in bewilderment. “A jealous rage? We barely know each other. Who would believe that?”
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