by Frost, E J
I wait for the questions, but all Niall asks is, “What do yeh need from me?”
Good man.
“Emily’s asleep in her cabin. I don’t want to leave her alone while I do what I need to do.”
Niall nods. “Want meh in here or in there?”
“In here. I think she’ll be frightened if she wakes up and you’re in her room. I’ve barred her door, so no one is getting in there except from in here.”
“Aye. Okay if I text Shaan and tell him where I am?”
“Yes, of course. Sorry to disrupt your morning.”
“No problem. Glad t’be of help.”
Niall gets busy with his phone; I take the moment to send a text to Emily.
Niall’s in my cabin. If you need anything, knock three times.
She doesn’t respond and I take that to mean she’s asleep.
Feeling like I’ve covered my bases as best as I can, I leave Niall watching the morning news while I head to the bridge.
Bureaucracy is my least favorite thing. Well, maybe my second least favorite thing after real-life pirates. But it’s pretty far down there. I hate forms. With the stifling bureaucracy of the modern armed forces, you’d think I’d be used to filling out forms. But I still hate each and every one, and I expect to fill out a lot of them this morning. Complaint forms, incident forms, waiver forms. Whatever it takes to make our cabins safe again.
But Captain Lopez surprises me. As soon as I give my name to a purser, she appears, crisp and professional, despite the early hour. She listens attentively when I explain why I’ve disturbed her, then escorts me down to maintenance. There, she gives precise orders to the man who answers the door: a pot-bellied bloke who can’t be much taller than Emily and looks as rumpled as though he’s slept at the little desk in his office. He nods in response to the captain’s orders and offers me a thick-fingered hand, each nail outlined in black grime.
“Earl,” he grunts.
I shake. “Logan.”
“Let’s fix yer door.”
Captain Lopez nods at me. “I’ll leave you in Earl’s capable hands. If there’s anything else you need, let me know.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
I wait while Earl puts some tools and two spare locks in a canvas bag. Out of his little den, he moves at a trot, forcing me to stretch my legs to keep up with him. He eschews the elevator and trots up the four flights of stairs, pausing at each landing to catch his breath.
“Misses says I could stand the exercise,” he explains, patting his belly, which makes my lips twitch. “Yer a big feller. Military?”
I nod. “Navy.”
“Eh? You should be right at home on a boat, then.”
“Subs and gun-boats are a little different.”
Earl grins, showing teeth that have seen many years of both coffee and cigarettes. “That’s the God’s honest truth. C’mon, let’s fix yer door.”
I almost point out that it’s not broken but leave it. I’m guessing in Earl’s mind there are two states of being: broken and fixed.
The door locks turn out to be horrifically easy to remove. There’s one long screw that Earl whips out with an electric drill in less than ten seconds. Then he touches a little fob to the plate of the lock, and it falls off on either side of the door while Niall and I watch with dismay.
“Magnetic,” Earl explains. “Supposed to be the latest in security.”
I’m not feeling very secure.
He fits my door with a new lock even faster than he removed the old one and hands me a keycard. “For VIPs,” he says. “Only the captain’s master key and that key will open this lock now. You’ll need to let the cleaners in every day. Their keys won’t work.”
Only the captain’s master key, the key in my hand, a reversing drill, and a magnetic fob, that anyone might be able to duplicate, will open the new lock.
“You had the lock off in less than thirty seconds,” I point out.
Earl shrugs. “Latest and greatest. So’s they tell me.”
Fuck.
“Okay, thank you very much. I’ll need to open Emily’s door. Give me just a minute.”
I leave him packing the old lock in his bag.
Niall trails me. “That’s nae safe,” he says, his brogue so thick I can almost see it in the air, like a spill of malt whiskey.
“I know.” I’m cursing myself for believing my client when they told me they had serious security aboard. “We’ll use the manual latches when we’re in the cabins. Better than nothing.”
“And when yer out?”
I shrug. I don’t have an answer for that yet.
Niall puts his hand on my shoulder. “Logan, this is nae safe. Emily is nae safe.”
“I’ll rework her schedule so she’s never in her cabin when I’m not here.”
He runs his hand through his hair, looking troubled. “I don’t like this. Yeh don’t know meh well—”
“I called you,” I point out. “I could have called security.”
I didn’t because I don’t trust anyone who reports to Dan Reyes.
“Aye. Will yeh—would yeh check in with me every two hours? I know that’s nae reasonable, but this is all wrong. Searchin’ yer room, with Emily right next door? Fecking nightmare, that is. It’s what I ask me crews to do when they’re workin’ in bad areas. I know—”
He doesn’t need to convince me. “Niall, I’ll check in every two hours. I appreciate it.”
The fight drains out of him. He went into Dom overload for a minute there, and I don’t blame him, because I did the same thing, whipping out my baton like I was going to beat down the motherfucker who threatened my baby girl’s safety. It’s instinct, and that instinct doesn’t stop screaming just because the room turns out to be empty.
“I’ll spell yeh keepin’ an eye on Emily,” he continues. “Whenever yeh need meh. Just say the word.”
“Thank you.” I hold my hand out. “I’m glad to have a security buddy. Tell me if it becomes an imposition.”
Niall shakes, the lines on his forehead lightening. “Glad I didn’t have to knock yeh inta agreeing.”
I chuckle as I open the connecting door. “Do I really look like that kind of idiot?”
Niall’s chuckle echoes mine.
Emily’s cabin is cool and dim. She’s still curled on her side, tucked around her bunny, when I wake her for the second time this morning. I hate doing it, but the last thing I want to wake her is a strange man unlocking her door.
She blinks up at me sleepily. “Daddy, is it time to get up?”
“No, sweetheart. We’re changing the locks,” I tell her. “It’ll only take a minute, then you can go back to sleep.”
She yawns. “Okay.” I see her register Niall standing in the doorway. She waves at him. “Hi, Master Niall.”
“Caileag, did yeh have a big sleep?”
She nods and snuggles back down in the pillows.
Earl has the lock off Emily’s door even faster than mine, if that’s possible. I wince as the lock halves fall to the floor. He fits the new lock and hands me the key. “There you go, all fixed.”
“Thanks, Earl.”
He scratches his graying hair. “Need anything else, you just come down and find Earl. You don’t have to bother the captain, eh?”
“Okay, thanks for that.” I shake his grimy hand and watch as he packs up his bag.
Niall pats me on the shoulder. “Need meh anymore?”
“No, thanks for everything.”
“See yeh at eleven.”
“See you then. Cheers, mate.”
I close the door behind him and throw the safety latch, which is separately bolted to the doorframe and looks pretty solid. I still might try to get portable latches shipped to one of the ports of call. I know from bodyguarding that you can only make a room so secure. The more important thing is to keep the body you’re guarding from harm. From now on, I’m treating Emily like I’m her body man.
I lock up my room and the connecting door before I return to
Emily’s bed. She smiles up at me. “Hi, Daddy.”
I kiss her forehead. “Hi, baby doll. How’re you doing?”
“Good. Is it all taken care of now?”
“Yeah, nothing to worry about. You can go back to sleep.”
“Kinda not tired.”
I lean down so I can rub noses with her. “Kinda not, huh?”
“Can I get up and be with you?”
She gives me the big eyes, but she doesn’t need to break out those guns; I’ve already given up the idea of going on a run. It’s Sunday, after all. I’m due a lie-in.
“How about I come back to bed with you?”
A huge grin blooms on her face. “That’s a better idea.”
“Uh-huh, Daddy gets them from time to time.” I shuck off my sweats and pull back the covers. “Scoot back, little girl.”
She flops onto her back and spreads out her arms and legs. “Can’t. I’m a mattress.”
Fuck, she’s cute, and so sweetly playful, even after a scare like she had this morning.
“Are you?” I cup her soft breast through her onesie. Tease her nipple to a peak between my thumb and forefinger. “You’re a lumpy little mattress.”
“No, I’m super comfy to lie on.”
“Super comfy? Well, let’s put this to the test.” I roll on top of her and grin at her squeak. “Pretty comfy, I’ll admit.” I stretch and settle, so she’s bearing my full weight. She pants as she tries to breathe. “How’s that for you, little mattress? You comfy?”
“Not so much, Daddy,” she huffs. “You’re heavier than an ephalump.”
I chuckle and slide up onto my forearms so she’s not taking my whole weight, then balance on one arm while I reach down between us. I open her onesie and arrange it until I can slide the tip of my cock up between her legs. I hum with pleasure as my crown rubs across her pussy lips. She’s not wet yet, but I’m pretty sure I can change that.
“I think you need to be tired out, little girl, and then you’ll be able to get back to sleep.”
She winds her arms around my neck and looks up at me with such eagerness it would shoot my cock hard as a rock, if it wasn’t already. “Will you help tire me out, Daddy?”
“Yes, my eager little beanie, I sure will.”
I’m gentle with her cunt, but brutal with her ass when we wake again, and I give her the promised ten with Belphegor. She whimpers and whines through the paddling, but wears the biggest, most beatific smile I’ve ever seen on a sub’s face while we shower, rub T-Relief into her many bruises and Vitamin E into her very red labia, dress, and head to brunch.
* * *
She doesn’t join me in Eggs Benedict, but I don’t have to talk her out of dry toast and grapefruit. She hovers at the waffle station while we’re walking through the buffet line. When I touch her cheek and nod my approval, she bites her lip and asks, “Just for a treat? Because it’s Sunday and this is breakfast and lunch together?”
“Absolutely, baby doll.”
She picks whole-wheat waffles, so they’re still healthier than I could stomach. She refuses butter or whipped cream but gets blueberries from the fruit bar and tops the waffles with them. Feels like Christmas.
While we eat, I tell her about the work I’d like her help with today. She listens and when I’m finished explaining, nods eagerly. “I can do that, Daddy.”
“Good girl. I thought you could.” I don’t know anything about writing novels, but I’m guessing she’ll need to make timelines for her books and that’s what I want to do: create a timeline of Bill Black’s comings and goings during the last three days of the cruise. And of anyone who came and went from his cabin. “We’ll take a couple of breaks from the exciting work of reviewing CCTV footage,” I say, to her grin. “We’ll have a little workout with Niall, then your class at four, and we’ll go watch this Sunday Showcase that Michael mentioned. No scenes for us today, but if you want to watch some, just tell me.”
Her grin softens to something shy and she shifts on her seat. “I wouldn’t mind having a day off.”
“I know you must be sore, sweetheart.” She gives me a small nod. “Day off it is. Since you gave me a great foot-rub yesterday, I’ll return the favor today with a massage. We could have a Jacuzzi after our workout, too. That will help ease your aches and pains.”
She gives me a much happier nod. “I’ll be all better by tomorrow, Daddy. Promise.”
I take her hand and rub my thumb over her knuckles. “Don’t push yourself. We’ve got a whole week ahead of us. Tomorrow’s Cabo. I thought we might go to the beach in the morning and build sandcastles before we meet Michael and Teresa for lunch. Then we’ll do some sightseeing in the afternoon. Nice, relaxed day that’ll leave us with plenty of energy for our big scene.”
Emily turns fiery red, even her little ears pinkening, and becomes very involved in pushing the last few bites of waffles around on her plate.
“Are you still okay with the Princess Amber scene, sweetheart?”
She nods but doesn’t lift her eyes from her breakfast.
“Talk to me, Emmy. What’s worrying you?”
“What if I don’t react right?”
React right? How could she react wrong? “Emmy, you’re wonderful in scenes. You go so deeply into character I barely recognize you.”
She smiles but continues playing with the remains of her waffles. “It’s going to be hard treating you like a scary stranger, Daddy.”
“Ah.” I see the source of her concern. “I don’t have to be a stranger, do I? The Black Knight could have met Princess Amber before at tournaments and things. Is it important that they’re strangers?”
She lifts her gaze and looks at me wonderingly. “No, Daddy. Princess Amber would be even more outraged that the Black Knight is sacking her father’s castle if he’s someone she knows. That’s such a good idea.”
“Thank you.” I kiss her knuckles. “I like working up scenes with you. Almost as much as playing them out with you. Yesterday’s scene was one of the best I’ve done; I hit topspace so fast it made my head spin.”
She grins. “You really liked it? I was afraid it was too tame for you.”
“Too tame for me?”
She nods. “Because you’re a wolfy-daddy.”
“I see. Well, it wasn’t.” I chuckle. “That cane has a gorgeous bite. Perfect for a wolfy-daddy.”
She tucks her face into her hands, blushing. Her little-girl blushes are almost as much of a turn on as the thumb sucking. They make my head light and my balls tight, and because I’m thinking with my little head instead of my big one, it takes me a minute to realize why she’s so shy this morning.
“We shared a lot yesterday, didn’t we?”
She grabs her teacup in both hands and hides behind it.
“Some of those things were pretty big. Tough to share with someone you’ve only known for a week, huh?” I reach across the table, unwrap one of her hands from the teacup and hold it in mine. She slowly lowers the teacup, looking at me anxiously. “I feel comfortable with you knowing about those things about me. Are you okay with me knowing about those things about you?”
She bites her lip, then nods. “Yes, Daddy. It’s just that some of them are really embarrassing.”
I’m not sure which of the things she told me last night she finds particularly embarrassing this morning, but it doesn’t matter. What’s important is that she knows she can tell me anything without fear.
“Emmy, the things you’ve found out about me over the last couple of days are more than ‘really embarrassing.’ They’re psych ward commitment-level embarrassing.” That gets a giggle out of her. “But, I figure, you’ve seen the absolute worst of my life this week and you haven’t run away, so it can only get better from here.”
“I wouldn’t run away, Daddy. I want to be there for you. It’s helped, right?”
“Yes, sweetheart. It’s helped.”
“And I want to tell you things. Important things.” Something shifts in her eyes and the
y fill with darkness, then with tears. “I’m just afraid that you won’t want me as your little once you know those things about me.”
What the hell is this? Is she about to reveal some deep secret over waffles and Eggs Benedict? And what could be so bad? What could be worse than the horrors my life has spat at her this week?
“Other than you being a serial killer, there is nothing you could tell me that would make me not want you as my little girl. Are you really a serial killer? Is Matthew actually buried in your garden rather than living it up in Costa Rica?”
She begins laughing, and I join her, taking both of her hands in mine and rubbing her knuckles with my thumbs.
“No, Daddy,” she says when our shared laughter dies down. “I’m not a serial killer.”
“I’m not afraid of your secrets, Emmy,” I say, looking straight into those big eyes so she knows I’m serious. “Whenever and whatever you want to tell me, I will listen. In fact, I think we’ll set aside time for that. And there won’t be any repercussions to anything you might say. It will just be Emmy’s time to tell her daddy whatever she wants. What do you think about that?”
She nods. “I’d like that a lot.”
“Good girl. You ready to do really exciting PI work? I figure we have seventy-two hours of CCTV footage to watch. Seventy-two hours of mostly empty hallway. Sounds knicker-gripping, huh?”
She giggles. “Yes, Daddy.”
“C’mon, beanie. Let’s go play detectives.”
Still giggling, she lets me lead her out of the booth and back to our cabins.
* * *
Because my cabin is still cold enough to give me icicles on my eyeballs, we set up shop in Emily’s. We position our laptops side-by-side on her desk. I like the way they look next to each other. My roses nod in a glass block next to Emily’s computer. I take one out and tickle her nose with the soft petals.
Giggling, Emily starts up her computer and opens a program.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a timeline program I wrote.”
“You wrote?”
She nods. “I took a class on Unix coding through Open University.” She bites her lip. “I told you, I’m really scattered.”