“Not that,” Rowan said, rolling her eyes. “That.” She pointed toward the corner of one photo. The death omen was back.
Quinn furrowed his brow as he studied the symbol. “What do you think that is?”
“It’s the same thing from the first photo.”
“Yes, but shouldn’t it be gone now that Jessica is missing? Wasn’t it aimed at her?”
“Unless it wasn’t,” Rowan hedged. “I’m not an expert on this, mind you … .”
“Since you’re the only one I’ve ever known to have this problem, you’d better make yourself an expert,” Quinn interjected.
Rowan ignored him. “Like I said, I’m not an expert,” she said. “I think it could mean two things, though.”
“Which are?”
“It could mean that Jessica really is alive and she’s somewhere on this ship and one of her friends is in danger,” Rowan said. “It could also mean that Jessica is dead and now whoever did it is going after one of the other girls, too. The danger for this second girl could be new and fresh.”
“You’re insinuating we have a serial killer onboard.”
“I’m not insinuating anything,” Rowan argued. “I’m merely stating that those could be two of our options.”
“Okay, then what’s our next step?” Quinn asked. “How do we figure out which girl is the target?”
“There’s only one way I know.” Rowan’s smile was impish as she locked gazes with the moody security guru.
“Oh, I’m going to hate this,” Quinn muttered. “I can already tell.”
“You’ll live,” Rowan countered, patting his arm. “I’m going to need you to make it happen, so you have no choice but to put up with it.”
“Well, great,” Quinn said. “What do you want me to do?”
“HAVE YOU found out anything about Jessica?” Hayley swung her legs over the side of the lounger and focused on Quinn as he approached. “We’re dying for information.”
Quinn didn’t bother pointing out that people who were “dying for information” often didn’t seek it by drinking and flirting on the deck of a cruise ship. “We’re still searching.”
“Does that mean she’s dead?” Kara asked, her eyes cloudy. “That’s what that means, right?”
“It means nothing of the sort,” Quinn countered. “We don’t know where Jessica is. That doesn’t mean she’s not holed up in a room somewhere. The only way we can rule that out is to go room to room, and that will take a mighty long time and special compensation from the guests.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Kylie said. “Special compensation?”
“The guests would have to invite us into their rooms,” Quinn supplied. “If they didn’t want to do it, we would need special warrants and … well … it becomes a big mess.”
“Isn’t that worth it to find Jessica, though?” Kara pressed.
“We’re not ruling anything out.” Quinn kept a friendly smile in place even as he glanced over his shoulder and glared at Rowan. She had her camera ready and was pretending to be interested in the other guests. In truth, she was waiting for Quinn to isolate each girl so she could snap a photograph of her alone. Whoever the death omen appeared for would be their focus.
“So, what should we do?” Kylie asked. “Is there something we should be doing to help find Jessica? I mean … she is our friend.”
“I’m not sure what you can do,” Quinn said. “You need to relax as much as possible and not panic. That’s the most important thing.”
“It’s hard when you feel worried about your own safety,” Kylie said, her eyes wide. “I mean … I’m terrified. Since you’re head of security, it’s probably your job to make sure I’m not terrified, right?”
Quinn swallowed hard. “I … guess.”
“That’s good,” Kylie said, beaming. “I think you and your muscles being here is going to make all of us feel better.”
“Yes, well, I’m glad to be of service.”
IT TOOK Quinn almost a full hour to follow instructions, and by the time he managed to extricate himself from the girls he felt as if he needed a shower.
“I think Kylie must be an octopus or something,” he grumbled as he sat next to Rowan and watched her load the new photos onto her laptop. “She has eight arms. I swear.”
“And all of them keep trying to get in your pants,” Rowan teased.
Quinn studied the planes of her face, enjoying the way a smile lightened up her already pretty features. She had an inner glow that he couldn’t put a name to. It was mesmerizing, though. “Yeah, well, she’s a little young for my taste.”
“Her boobs are magnificent, though,” Rowan said, tapping a few keys on her computer and waiting for the images to blur by. “I’m sure they make up for a worldly view. I would love her boobs.”
“They’re too big and she always has them out on display,” Quinn countered. “Yours are nice, though. They’re better.”
Rowan pressed her lips together and stared at her screen, mortified. “I … did you really just say that?”
Quinn refused to be ruffled by her tone. “I thought that was the game we were playing,” he said. “We both make sexually suggestive things to each other and then pretend we didn’t say them. Isn’t that our routine?”
Rowan giggled at his calm expression. “You’re … so weird.”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from the girl who thinks she sees death omens in photos.”
Rowan snapped her head up and glanced around, her stomach twisting as she searched for familiar faces to make sure no one was eavesdropping. It took Quinn a moment to realize what she was doing, and when he did, he was instantly contrite.
“I’m sorry,” he offered. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s fine,” Rowan said, waving off his apology. “I … it’s fine.”
“It’s obviously not fine. I shouldn’t have said it. I got lost in the moment. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“I don’t care about that,” Rowan scoffed, wrinkling her nose. “I can take the teasing. I just … I don’t want other people to know. You have no idea how people look at you once they’ve decided you’re crazy.”
Quinn’s expression softened. “I’ll be more careful.”
“Thank you.”
“Besides, I like having a secret with you,” he added, trying to lighten the mood. “It makes what we’re doing feel all dirty and clandestine.”
Rowan rolled her eyes. “And we’re back to the flirting.”
“I have to get my jollies somewhere,” Quinn said, leaning forward when the photos popped up on the screen. “Anything?”
Rowan bit her lip and nodded as she leaned forward. “It’s Hayley,” she said after a beat. “The omen doesn’t appear in Kylie or Kara’s photo. It’s clearly here, though.” She tapped the computer screen for emphasis.
Quinn wasn’t sure he believed in the power of the omen, but he did believe in Rowan. He had no idea why he was convinced she was right, but all he could do was nod. “Okay. She’s the one we’ll watch.”
“And then what?”
“I have no idea. We’ll take it one step at a time and go from there.”
13
Thirteen
“I feel kind of … dirty … for doing this.”
Rowan set her heaping plate of seafood on the table and ignored Quinn’s chuckle as he settled next to her.
They’d spent the better part of their day watching the girls. They tried to do it as unobtrusively as possible – which wasn’t easy because Quinn got attention from Kylie whenever she caught sight of him – but the three young women had remained happy and safe throughout the afternoon.
The “safe” part made Rowan feel better. The “happy” part was a different story.
“I told you not to worry about it,” Quinn chided, cracking a crab leg and dipping it in the large container of lemon butter sauce Rowan grabbed before finding them a table. “I’m allowed to eat in the main dining room whenever
I want. If anyone questions you about it, direct them toward me.”
Rowan quirked an eyebrow as she watched Quinn suck the crabmeat from the shell. “Not that,” she said, shaking her head. “We need to talk about sharing sauce if you’re going to suck on the shells like that, though. It can’t be sanitary.”
“Oh, don’t be such a worrywart,” Quinn muttered. “It’s fine. I’ve had all of my shots and everything.”
Rowan made a disgusted face. “That’s not the point. It’s just … gross.”
“Do you have a weird thing with food or something?”
“I … no. I’m very easy to get along with. I like all types of food.”
“That’s not what I was referring to,” Quinn said. “I was more interested in sharing food. A lot of people have issues with it. I saw it in the Marines almost every day.”
“I … have no idea what you’re talking about.” Rowan was understandably confused. “I share food all of the time.”
“Do you?” Quinn wasn’t convinced and he purposely cracked another crab leg before dipping it in Rowan’s sauce. He practically dared her to say anything when he lifted the shell and grabbed the meat with his teeth and made an obnoxious sucking sound.
“That’s just … so gross,” Rowan muttered, shaking her head.
Quinn couldn’t hide his smile as he regarded her. “That’s what I thought,” he said after a beat. “I’m sorry if I offended you. I won’t do it again.”
“Suck the meat out of the shell or steal my butter sauce?”
“Suck the meat out of the shell,” Quinn replied, not missing a beat. “I have a feeling I’m going to be stealing your butter sauce on a regular basis.”
Rowan’s cheeks colored as she stared at her plate, embarrassment overwhelming her. “You’re a piece of work.”
“I do my best,” Quinn said. “As for feeling dirty about eating in the dining room, there’s nothing to worry about. We won’t get in trouble.”
“For the record, that’s not what I feel dirty about,” Rowan explained. “Er, well, I kind of feel dirty about the way you eat, but that’s neither here nor there right now. I’m fine eating in the dining room. I find it to be a unique … treat.”
“It doesn’t have to be unique, but we’ll deal with that later,” Quinn said. “If you don’t feel dirty about being in the dining room, what do you feel dirty about?” His smile was laced with flirty innuendo when he asked the question. “If it’s about being so close to me, I’m flattered, by the way.”
Rowan’s mouth dropped open as she shook her head. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“You bring it out in me,” Quinn said. “I have no explanation or excuse. I simply cannot seem to help myself.”
“Try.”
“We’ll see,” Quinn said, wrinkling his nose. “Seriously, though, what do you feel dirty about?”
“Following the girls,” Rowan answered, gesturing toward a table about thirty feet away. She didn’t miss the fact that Kylie looked in their direction as she swept out her hand, the younger girl narrowing her eyes as she watched Rowan and Quinn dine together. “Whoops. I think I might’ve screwed up your potential love match. Kylie doesn’t seem happy that you’re with me. And here I was worrying about invading their privacy.”
“She’ll get over it,” Quinn said, unbothered. “There’s no potential love match there. She reminds me of a petulant middle school student with grand plans for a life she can never hope to live.”
“That sounds a little jaded,” Rowan said. “Why would you say something like that?”
“Because she seems to think she deserves whatever she wants. You can’t force other people to like you. You can’t go through life manipulating people to secure an outcome. That appears to be exactly how Kylie expects to live her life. I don’t have a lot of respect for people who believe things like that.”
Rowan wanted to argue, but she found she agreed with Quinn’s assessment. “I think it’s part of the age group thing,” she mused, making sure she had a pile of crab meat removed from the shell before grabbing her fork. “I know a lot of girls who felt exactly like Kylie when they were that age.”
“Yeah? What happened to them?”
“Life disappointed them,” Rowan answered. “They spent years expecting the perfect life to fall into their laps. It never did. They were disappointed. Then they settled for the next best thing, which almost never turns out to be a legitimately good life choice.”
“I see you’re something of a philosopher,” Quinn teased, smirking. “I do like the fact that you have your head screwed on straight, though. That’s rare in cruise ship circles. Most of the women who come here expect to live out some wacky romantic fantasy. They become disillusioned and jaded when it doesn’t happen.”
“I hope I have my head screwed on straight,” Rowan clarified. “Sometimes it feels as if I’m drowning because I can’t wrap my mind around certain things, though. Hiding under the covers for days at a time seems like a viable option when that happens.”
“You’ve been dealt a difficult hand. You handle it well, though. I’m impressed.”
“I think you’re just saying that because you want me to share my … sauce.”
Quinn barked out a laugh, delighted. “You might be right,” he said, staring at Rowan for a long moment before letting his gaze drift back to the girls. “They’ve been quiet all day. I guess I’m going to have to watch them all night to make sure they’re safe, though, huh?”
“I don’t know another way to do it,” Rowan conceded. “They’ll probably go back to the deck for drinks after dinner. I can help watch them. I mean … if you need backup, that is.”
Quinn’s expression was unreadable. “I … .” He didn’t get a chance to finish his statement because a loud rumble of thunder echoed throughout the room, cutting him off.
“What was that?” Rowan asked, alert.
“It’s a storm,” Quinn answered, shifting his eyes toward the main door. “I saw the weather reports earlier but forgot about them with everything else that happened. It’s supposed to be a big one.”
“That might be good for you. The girls might be forced to return to their room instead of partying.”
“That would be a nice development.”
Rowan shoveled a huge forkful of crabmeat into her mouth and swallowed, surprisingly content with her dinner and date options. She opened her mouth to tell Quinn just that when the ship lurched and caused her to slap her hands on the table to keep her balance. “What the … ?”
“I told you it was going to be quite a storm,” Quinn said, his eyes sympathetic as he watched her rub her stomach. “This is your first storm at sea, isn’t it?”
“Does that matter?”
“It might,” Quinn replied. “Do you have motion sickness medication in your room? Now might be a good time to take it.”
“I don’t get motion sickness. I’ll be fine.”
“Even if you don’t get motion sickness under normal circumstances, a storm is different,” Quinn said. “I would suggest taking some medication if your stomach is fluttering. You’ll thank me later. Trust me.”
Rowan rolled her eyes. “I don’t have a weak stomach. I’ll be totally fine.”
Quinn watched her shove another huge mouthful of crab past her lips, as if she was defying the storm gods and him while willing herself to prove a point. “If you get sick, I don’t want to hear about it.”
“I won’t get sick. Stop being a … pain.”
“Fine.” Quinn held up his hands. He had a feeling this was one lesson she’d have to learn on her own. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I THINK I’m dying.”
Quinn wanted to laugh and say “I told you so” when he let himself into Rowan’s room two hours later. He used his master key to bypass the lock, but she didn’t seem surprised to see him.
Instead she sat on her small bathroom floor, her back pressed to the wall, and rested her hand on the toilet seat in case
the storm should cause another stomach explosion. She’d thrown up everything she’d eaten in the last few hours, though, so she had no idea how that would be possible.
“You’re okay,” Quinn said, wetting a washcloth and pressing it to the back of her neck as he sat with her. The restroom was so small he had no choice but to sit in the doorway. “You’ve probably already thrown up most of your dinner.”
“This is so mortifying,” Rowan muttered, resting her cheek against the toilet seat as her stomach lurched. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“It happens to the best of us.”
“Did it happen to you?”
“Not on this ship,” Quinn clarified. “It happened the first time I went out on a training mission after I joined the Marines, though.”
“Well, I guess I feel a little better.” Rowan was marginally mollified. “If a strong tough guy like yourself has faced something like this … .” She trailed off before groaning. “I feel terrible.”
“I know you do,” Quinn said, shifting the washcloth and resting his fingers against her forehead. “You don’t have a fever. That’s good. You should be fine once the ship stops tossing about.”
“And when will that be?”
“Not for a few hours.”
“Well, great,” Quinn intoned, faux enthusiasm practically dripping from her tongue. “That won’t be too embarrassing or anything.”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Quinn said, resting the back of his head against the doorframe. “Close your eyes. If you’re lucky you’ll fall asleep and when you wake up you’ll be fine.”
Rowan narrowed her eyes as she regarded him. “Hold up … how did you even get in here?”
“I’m head of security.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“I followed the girls back to their room and waited for thirty minutes to make sure they were in for the night,” Quinn explained. “I returned to the dining room because I was expecting to find you there, but Sally said you got sick and took off. I figured I should check on you.”
Welcoming Seas (A Rowan Gray Mystery Book 1) Page 11