It would break him.
Moj would leave Rania alone and enjoy Alton’s food and Cloude’s encyclopedic knowledge of music.
He had decades to find love again. He wasn’t ready.
Not tough enough, Mom’s voice drifted down.
She was right.
* * *
Once Moj left her alone, Rania swayed against the corridor wall.
“Well, shit,” she whispered. “What do I do now?”
Only one thing to do.
She continued to the engine room, her heart thudding in her chest, her breath ragged. If she’d kissed him, she wouldn’t have stopped there. She would have taken him down and done wonderful things to him, and then what?
Back at the Scania DI13, back into the smell of diesel and oil, she was in the one place in the world where she always felt at home. And yet, she couldn’t concentrate.
Then what?
Those two words kept ringing through her head. Then what?
Since Moj and Cloude weren’t serious, Rania could become Moj’s steady girlfriend. Could they really make it work? Would Moj want her?
It wouldn’t be just a long-distance relationship, it would be long-distance love scrutinized by the media, gossip blogs across the planet, and millions of Moj’s fans. She wouldn’t be able to hide, and Moj might think he could devote himself to her, but she doubted he could.
Men like Moj always thought they could balance love and their celebrity status, but not one in a million could make it work.
Even Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie broke up.
“No,” Rania said to the engine. “I can’t have him. It’s too dangerous. Fayed would find me, and I can’t let that happen.”
Those words hurt to say. She had never wanted a man more, and she had the idea that Moj was equally as tortured. The heat between them had been unbelievable.
She found herself grinning like a fool as the fantasies of her and Moj together filled her brain. She was done working. She was going to go back to her cabin and dive into her fantasies. The events of the day had her all keyed up, but she knew a sure-fire way to relax.
Her naked alone time would have to wait.
Tommy stood outside her cabin, smiling at her.
“So what happened between you and Moj?”
Heat blistered her cheeks. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Tommy grinned. “He doesn’t know we saw him strip, but he’s swimming around out there, not a stitch of clothes on. I’m thinking it’s his equivalent of a cold shower.”
The thought of Moj naked in the water didn’t help her blush. She felt the red bloom down her throat.
“We talked. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s a huge deal,” Tommy said. He squinted and sighed.
“Why?” Rania asked.
“Not sure I should say anything,” Tommy said. “I don’t want to tell stories out of school. That means—”
Rania grabbed his arm. “I know the idiom. Tell me.”
“I read a Cosmo article on getting involved in other people’s relationships. It’s never a good idea.”
Rania let go of him, shocked. “That’s right. Alton said you love to read Cosmopolitan. Lindsay calls you the Cosmo Yoda, full of ancient newsstand wisdom.”
“Last month’s wisdom, at any rate,” Tommy said. He raised his hands and smoothed his silver hair, pulling at his pony tail.
“Okay, you have to know a little about Moj, since there’s something obviously brewing between you two.”
Rania kept quiet, letting him talk, afraid he wouldn’t.
“Moj lost his wife Fiona to an obscure form of cancer. She’d been sick, off and on, for years, forever looking for a cure. We all thought she was makin’ it up.
”There was this one time, Fiona was with us, and we went to this witch doctor on Bequia, and she thought she’d found the answer in some kind of enema. I won’t go into detail. Anyway, it helped for awhile, as did Alton’s cooking. Fiona swore Alton could do more with his food than just fill our bellies. That he had a kind of magic.
“In the end, the cancer took her. Damnedest thing. The best doctors in the world missed it.”
“That’s horrible,” Rania said.
Tommy shook his head.
“Moj took it hard. What he felt for her was pretty intense.”
“We almost kissed,” Rania said in a rush, wanting to tell someone. “I stopped him.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have,” Tommy said quietly. “If he’s taken to you, maybe it’s what he needs to get himself back on his feet.”
Rania leaned against the door to her cabin. It was a pretty big responsibility to be the next woman for a widower. She wasn’t sure she was up to the task, especially since they’d started off on the wrong foot. One more thing keeping them apart.
“What are you thinking?” Tommy asked.
Rania took in a deep breath, held it, mind spinning.
“Let’s say Moj and I do get together, and maybe I’m just a fling. No, that’s not the right word. In English, there’s a basketball term for what I would be.”
“Rebound?” Tommy offered.
Rania snapped her fingers. “That’s it!”
“How on earth do you know about basketball?”
“I played in Cairo,” Rania said. “My father said I needed some kind of sport. I had to wear my hijab, which made it harder, but I liked the movement and the physics.”
“You liked the physics?” Tommy asked, chuckling.
Rania frowned at him. “Sports are objects in motion with easily understood vectors. Athletics are mathematics.”
Tommy held up a hand. “Gotcha. We’re getting off track. So, what if you are just a rebound relationship for Moj? Would that be okay?”
“It would,” Rania said. “But there’s Lindsay to consider. If Moj and I get together, she’s not going to like it.”
“Oh, do you mean like what happened between her and Alton? They met on a cruise on the Bonnie Blue. If you don’t make it a big deal, it won’t be.”
Rania’s lips pinched together.
“I’ve already made it a big deal.”
“The phone thing.”
“The phone thing,” Rania agreed.
“Ancient history,” Tommy said. “Lindsay just wants things to run smoothly, and if there’s a hiccup, as long as you deal with it, it’s all good. You did, so it’s all good. I think you and Mojjy should follow your hearts. Lindsay will be fine.”
“What if I won’t be fine?” Rania asked. “What if I fall for him? I can’t do his lifestyle. I’m a very private person, and I hate the cameras and all that. And there is no way I can be the good little Muslim girlfriend the world will expect.”
“The world?” Tommy rolled his eyes. “No, this doesn’t have anything to do with the paparazzi or all that. It’s about you falling in love. You ever been in love?”
“No,” Rania said. “Not really. I’ve been with men, but it was more about biological needs than love.”
“God,” Tommy said a bit too loudly. “You are such an engineer. Get out of your head, Rania. Let it happen if it’s going to happen.”
“Keep your voice down.” Rania opened the door. “Did that come from Cosmo?”
“Nope. From my own experience. I was married for a long time. I know the risks and rewards. Think about it.”
Rania stepped back into her room. “Thanks, Tommy. Good night.”
“Good night, Rania.”
She closed the door and then put her forehead against it. Was she afraid? No, she didn’t think so. She was being logical. Moj needed to grieve his wife, and he had Cloude, and Rania would only complicate things.
But then she couldn’t stop thinking about Moj’s big hands on her, rolling her around like a basketball, both of them playing somewhere private, away from all prying eyes.
Her heart spiked.
And right now, he was outside naked in the water. Such a delicious thought.
She l
ocked the door, slid onto her bunk, unsnapped her overalls, and stepped out of her bikini bottom. Once on her bunk, she pushed her fingers down between her legs as she thought of Moj, his smile, his powerful eyes, and the smooth playground of his skin.
She let the fantasies overwhelm her. They were far safer than reality.
* * *
Vikram stood over the chart table, Bert on his right and Wally on his left. They had the Fukawe anchored for the night. Vikram hated the name of the eighty-foot motor cat.
“They’re here,” Vikram said, pointing at the remote anchorage near Malé. “We have the element of surprise. We’ll watch them, and when the time is right, we’ll strike.”
Bert pulled on his beard and licked at his mustache.
“I still don’t like this idea. I mean, I don’t know Moj personally, but I still don’t like kidnapping such a musical genius. Have you listened to the new Seventh Generation album? It’s hella tight.”
Vikram scowled.
“No one is going to get hurt. We’ll grab him, his people will wire ten million dollars to our Swiss account, and we’ll let him go. No more smuggling cigarettes. We’ll be rich.”
Wally lit up one of the cigarettes he’d taken from the hold.
“I kind of like the smuggling. It keeps me in smokes.”
Vikram plucked the cigarette off Wally’s lips. “I told you, no smoking inside. The smell gets in my clothes.” He walked to a porthole and tossed it out.
“That’s littering,” Bert said. “We have to keep the Earth green, right?”
Vikram whirled. He wanted to gun both men down. Worst. Partners. Ever. But he didn’t have the leverage quite yet to use a stick. So he opted for the carrot.
“Bert, you still owe the bank on this boat, don’t you?”
Bert nodded.
“And you.” Vikram pointed at Wally. “You want to expand your family’s convenience stores from Durban to Johannesburg, correct?”
“Yes, I do,” Wally said. “And three million dollars will help. You sure no one has to get hurt?”
Vikram felt his jaw muscles tighten. He loosened them through sheer force of will.
“On the Bonnie Blue is a Dutch kid, no military background. Alton Maura is a cook. Captain Lindsay Fisher is the captain and has no combat experience. The engineer is a bit of a mystery, but she is a woman and most likely not a threat. So who is left? Moj and Cloude? Musicians. Their security is severely lacking. We have guns. All we have to do is threaten them. This will be simple.”
“But I heard Moj was some kind of gangsta in Tampa Bay.” Bert threw a hand up in a half-assed attempt at a gang sign.
“Incorrect,” Vikram said. “Moj grew up in England, where his father taught Italian literature at Oxford. He is not a gangster, I assure you.”
“It’s pronounced gangsta,” Wally said. “You’ve not listened to MC60, have you? Moj produced his last album.”
Vikram slammed his fists down onto the chart table. “Are you with me or not?”
“Yeah, Vik,” Wall said. “We’re with you. We’re just a little nervous.”
Bert nodded in agreement.
“Don’t be. Trust me. Haven’t I handled things perfectly?” Vikram asked.
“You have,” Bert said. Wally ducked his head in assent.
Vikram turned and swept up an AK-47. He worked the action. “I’m the gangsta in these waters, and nothing will stop me.”
For a second, no one said a word.
Then Bert howled, “Holy shit, that was badass! You go, Vik!”
Vikram ejected the empty magazine from the assault rifle’s chamber and pushed a loaded one back into the clip.
“I will go, Bert. All the way.”
“All the way,” Wally echoed.
Vikram nodded. “Good.”
Both Bert and Wally agreed to the cut, three million each, and Vik would get four.
But Vikram had no plans to share. He would take the money, take the boat, immediately change the name, and leave his stupid partners floating face-down in the ocean.
CHAPTER SIX
04º10’31”N, 73º30’32”E
April 16, Aboard the Bonnie Blue
Malé, Maldives Anchorage
Moj caught Lindsay off-guard at the nav center the next morning.
After all the drama of sat-phone tossing and multiple apologies, she wasn’t ready to careen down the Moj-Rania road again. She’d already chewed out Tommy for playing matchmaker and Alton for gossiping with Chewy.
Lindsay bent toward the control board and covered her mouth, resting her chin in her hand to play for time. Everyone assumed she was doing something important when she stared at the high-tech panel of lights aboard the Bonnie Blue. Luckily for her, few people except Tommy realized how little input was required from the captain. The beautiful ship practically sailed herself. But no one else needed to know that.
Moj’s monologue was nervous and rambling: He’d always wanted to dive the Maldives, he was sorry he hadn’t given her advance notice he’d be needing gear, and, oh yeah, wouldn’t it be easier if Rania just took him out in the launch to find a good dive spot?
His chatter stopped when Lindsay swiveled in her chair abruptly and stared into the depths of his expressive eyes. He wanted Rania. Raw need was plastered all over his face.
God. She felt like she was watching two trains headed for a collision in slow-mo. But then, she and Alton had broken every rule in the book when they first met, and that turned out right. Eventually.
“We have all the gear your little heart could desire,” she said. “But are you sure you want to tangle with the fiery Egyptian diva so soon after your last encounter?”
When he delayed answering, Lindsay pressed on.
“She’s crew on my ship, which happens to be at your command for the next month. Do you really want to be stuck on the launch for the day with the same woman who made you crazy less than twenty-four hours ago?”
“We’re both adults,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll be fine for just a day with me.” A sudden look of recognition crossed his face.
“Is she afraid to be around me now?” he asked, “because—“
Lindsay sighed and interrupted his polite dancing around the subject.
“When would you like to go?”
He’d obviously expected resistance and looked down, examining his bare feet.
“How about today?” he ventured. “I know you need her here, but—“
She stopped him short by extending her hand.
“You may find this hard to believe, but before Rania came to work with us, she was a personal guard for a number of wealthy families in the Middle East.” Lindsay did her best to stifle a smile at the look on his face. “Close your mouth,” she said. “Gaping is not a good look for you.”
“She doesn’t need to protect me,” Moj said quickly. “If you think we’re in any danger, I can call Jeffrey back from vacation.”
Lindsay’s eyes widened. “Things are pretty mellow in this part of the Indian Ocean, and your poor bodyguard probably could use the time off. Trust me on this. Rania worked for the largest global security firm in the world. No harm will come to you on her watch.”
At the heated look in his eyes, she added with a wink, “Unless you’d like some rough handling.”
* * *
Lindsay made her way back to the galley where what might be the world’s tallest celebrity chef toiled away in his lair. As she sneaked up behind him and slithered her hands around his waist, he turned and pressed her to him, ignoring his flour-covered hands.
“Is that dessert for tonight?” she asked, and peered around him at the cutting board where he was rolling out pastries. “You’re throwing in some chocolate, too. Right?”
Alton grabbed both of her hands and whispered, “You are such a naughty captain to bother the chef. We may have to cover you in chocolate.”
Her first mate Tommy chose that moment to barge in and demand, “What’s cookin,’ Alt?” He opened th
e cooler door and bent over, checking out the huge interior. “Any leftovers from last night?”
“Not much. Just a couple of pork cutlets you could nuke for lunch with the last of the raspberry coulis for sauce,” Alton said, and made a face at Lindsay.
Tommy stood with the storage containers and turned toward them. “And don’t think I can’t see you over there, Cap’n, abusing the help.”
Lindsay pushed away from Alton and said, “I’m actually here on official business.”
Both men paused and raised brows.
“Moj wants Rania to take him snorkeling, and I thought maybe Alton could fix a little picnic for them.”
“Really? So Mojjy’s moved from threatening to keel-haul her to dragging her off all to himself for a day?” Tommy asked.
“It would appear so,” she admitted.
“Give,” Alton insisted, and Tommy angled toward them.
“I don’t know what you two are talking about,” Lindsay said, trying to look innocent.
“You know,” Alton said. “Don’t be stingy. Give us the lowdown.”
“This is not the Love Boat, and I’m not the social director,” she said, giving them a warning look.
“What does Cloude think?” Alton asked.
Lindsay threw up her hands and walked out of the galley. At the last minute, she pointed toward Alton and said, “Don’t forget the picnic. They’re leaving in about an hour.”
Lindsay had no more than settled back into her chair at the nav station when her crew radio buzzed.
“Wanna know what I’m packing for the lovebirds?” Alton breathed into the radio.
“No,” she said. “Stop bothering me and get to work.”
“I’m working, all right. Working my food magic and casting culinary spells of love. The menu includes chocolate-covered strawberries, oysters on ice, caviar and crackers. Maybe some chocolate-slathered bananas on sticks. Oh, and, yeah, a dip made from hot peppers and avocados, and—“
“Stop,” she said. “Just stop.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because Moj is on vacation, we’re his crew, and we have to act professional. If he’s attracted to Rania, he can be a big boy and tell her so. But we, his professional crew, are here only to sail the ship and make him happy. As for everything else, you know what we need to do.”
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