Means To An End

by Carol McPhee

  "Could I see the crew's quarters?"

  "The crew left the boat in Halifax and may not have tidied up.” Rand made no move to lead the way.

  Hmm, are secrets abounding in those rooms?

  Her thoughts must have penetrated his detached persona. He stepped aside. “If you're interested, take a look."

  "Mess doesn't bother me. I've been inside prisons after an uprising.” What mattered was that she pick up clues why he seemed so secretive with her. Not able to place where she'd seen him before could eclipse her attempt to get her mind in top shape. He led her to the first door and opened it, then moved to the side. She squeezed past him, careful to avoid a repeat of the last contact's surge.

  The cabin didn't need to be tidied. The mattresses on the four berths had been stripped and the four trunks for storage were stacked out of the way. How could he not know this?

  Rand's shoulders slumped. “George handles the cleaning and with his boating skills, he's really all I need for general cruising.” Rand had picked up on her silly vibes.

  "I see.” She didn't see, but wasn't going to cause discomfort for them both. His distress was apparent by the rush of crimson from his neck to his forehead.

  "I guess you'll want to see the captain's cabin, but I think I'd better prepare you by saying it's a little unusual."

  "There are other doors down here; could we save it for last?” She had no particular reason, but his willingness to show her must mean she was in for a surprise. She liked surprises, not having many of them in her life of late.

  "Sure. Go ahead to the next door, I dare you."

  "You dare me? Is there something here I shouldn't see?"

  The laughter in his eyes gave her a warm glow. She murmured more to herself than to him, “I wonder what could be in here.” Then she raised her voice to her normal tone. “You don't have a dungeon down here, do you?"

  He laughed. She liked the sound's throaty depth. “Nope. No shackles or chains. This isn't a pirate ship."

  She liked the way his eyes declared his emotions. She liked the hint of fun behind his soft stare. She liked ... She mustn't like too much. Lori turned the doorknob of the next room and pushed the door open.

  George lay on a bunk reading. He mumbled a sober, “Hello, again, Rand giving you the grand tour?” and turned his nose back to the book before she could answer.

  "I'm sorry to tread on your superstition by being onboard, George."

  He looked up from his Stephen King mystery. “You're not treading on anything, ma'am. I'm not superstitious."

  "Oops, sorry, my mistake.” Lori retreated back through the doorway. She heard Rand's groan. If looks could kill, the scowl from Rand's face toward George would do the job effectively. Neither man made a move to look away. Were they trying to communicate in silence? If so, they weren't successful. George looked confused. Lori broke the standoff. “The last room at the end of the hall is the bathroom?"

  "Yes, it's just standard fare with a shower. Take a peek."

  She glanced in and found it was as Rand said. Very small, there was barely room to turn around. As he closed George's bedroom door, she asked, “Okay, can we go back to where the captain sleeps?"

  "This way. I've saved the best for last. You like suspense don't you?"

  "I've had enough suspense—suspense over whether I'd walk again, suspense over the outcome of the hearing—but mystery I do like, and you were mysterious about your room. Rand, I do appreciate you putting up with my nosiness. I'm ashamed of myself.” She splayed her hands. “I'm ready."

  Rand's face filled with what Lori construed as pure glee. He slowly opened the door to his private quarters. She waited patiently, not losing eye contact. When the door slid ajar, the full splendor of the master bedroom exploded in front of her. Soft apricot walls and light fixtures set off a deep purple satin duvet with matching sheets and pillowcases. A spectacular aura of fantasy blossomed before her. A mirrored ceiling and large vertical mirrors on the textured wall panels drew her eye in every direction at once. Through his reflection, she caught sight of Rand's beaming smile.

  Subdued lighting, filtering from a lamp on the dresser, sprouted a desire more potent than any she'd received from watching movies or reading books—a desire to try the bed on for size. Her intuition begged her to hang back and get to the door, yet the room drew her inward like a magnet.

  Lori's fantasy refused to be dismissed this time. This was a site for seduction and the lure was working its erotic charm on her. She felt a deep ache low in her body; lust that had lain dormant for a long time surfaced. She gasped. “Wow!"

  * * * *

  "The Destiny came this way. I didn't decorate it.” Rand's face felt as if it were in an incineration mode. He didn't realize he'd be embarrassed at the way this room advertised the potential and probability of high-powered sexual exploits. After all, they were adults, but he'd suddenly been cursed with the hope that she not see him in a frivolous light. Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “The previous owner liked to entertain ladies well."

  His hand touched her shoulder, but her sharp reflex made her jump and back off as if he held a torch between his fingers. It was then he knew how powerful this room could be. Damn, he'd like to try it out with her. Lori was not the shrinking violet he'd seen in the dining room. Inside, her heart beat like anyone else's and merely needed the right stimulation to quicken. He could start by running his fingertips along her arm, maybe bend low and whisper things in her ear that would set the mood for foreplay. They had plenty of time and all the privacy needed. What would be the harm?

  Rand knew the cost for her and for himself. His restraint penetrated deep. He couldn't take advantage of her and keep his pride, too. Not this way. Not even for the RCMP. “Let's go back to the galley and I'll make us a snack.” He backed to the threshold.

  "I'm not hungry, thanks. Does this other door in here lead to a bathroom?"

  He stopped and leaned his shoulder against the wall, arms folded across his chest. His breath seemed labored; he needed to cool down. “Yes.” He nodded to the closed door, then stood up straight and ruffled one hand through his hair. There was no turning back.

  "It's elaborate in there, too,” he warned. He waited for her reaction.

  * * * *

  Instead of being ticked when she had backed off from the shock of his touch, Rand had obviously taken her involuntary movement as a sign that romantic overtures would be wasted on her. She breathed a sigh of relief, well aware of her circumstances and her vulnerability. One more room, then she'd be out of here like a bullet on the fly. Away from the high tension. Away from the danger of giving in to the fantasy.

  She had no business making him red-faced and uncomfortable as he seemed. He'd played the gracious host and hadn't done anything to cause her worry. That's why she'd had no second thoughts about coming down to the bowels of the yacht, knowing deep in her psyche he was safe to be around.

  Her hand rested on the doorknob, and when he didn't protest, she opened the door. Already amazed by the beauty of the captain's suite, the Jacuzzi overwhelmed her. She might have foreseen one in the bathroom of a mansion, but not on a sea-going craft. Even the resort didn't boast such luxury. The accompanying facilities were not the standard enamel and chrome fixtures, but well designed and elegant. The gold taps sparkled, not a trace of soap stuck in the grooves. Whoever cleaned this boat hadn't left a trace of dirt or grime, and she'd bet it wasn't George. The spotless interior of the craft had been gone over with a fine-toothed comb. And that didn't jive with being away at sea.

  "You live like a sheik, Rand. The only thing missing is your harem.” The ending of the tour brought up her playfulness. “Or do you have one?"

  "Why? Would you like to send in your resumé?"

  She stepped back, not sure how to take his flirtation. She saw his eyes glisten in anticipation. “Okay, I asked for that."

  He laughed out loud. “I'm sorry to disappoint you—no harem. Let's move back to the kitchen."

&n
bsp; "It must be fantastic to live like this.” Lori didn't budge. His hands flexed at his sides. Was it embarrassment that kept him at the threshold, encouraging her to leave? Or was it something else?

  "I've been lucky, that's all,” he muttered and backed into the bedroom.

  A lingering inspection of the bathroom extracted a touch of reality from the fantasy. Rand had to have riches beyond her imagination. When she shifted her eyes from his face to the radiance of the bedroom behind, the knowledge deflated her. She had found herself attracted by Rand's dynamic presence and mysterious habits, not by his money. Those qualities had brought her the hope of a stimulating evening. Now she saw herself as the only thing not beautiful on the yacht. Conscious of her disfigurement and awkward gait, she returned to the bedroom. In doing so, her hand brushed against a large sheet of paper on the dresser. Spread under the lamp lay a map.

  In a mirror, she saw Rand's face turn sober and pale. He stepped aside. “This way please,” he said curtly.

  Her dejection instantly forgotten, Lori turned back to the dresser and walked her fingers across the map's surface. “Okay ... Is this your bedtime reading?"

  He hesitated. “In a matter of speaking, it is."

  A glance was all she needed to assess the map was a nautical chart. Part of her job description at work was to see that all evidence was secured safely. She'd seen such diagrams in the courthouse when they were used in drug-smuggling cases. Her eyes darted downward again and latched onto dark markings.

  Circles combined with arrows pointed to one specific area in the Atlantic, a fair distance from shore. She looked up into the mirror and saw Rand's full attention on her. She immediately pulled back and looked around one last time. “Whoever decorated this room had a vivid imagination and a romantic soul—a deadly combination.” She smiled, satisfied she appeared disinterested. She walked into the hall. “A Coke would hit the spot now, Rand."

  "Great."

  Dammit, something's going on. Rand's relief that we're going topside is clear. She noticed a heightened electricity in the atmosphere and it ruined the promise for a relaxing evening. Lori flinched as her tense body passed his towering frame, knowing she'd been too pushy this evening. Not like herself at all. She hurried up the steps to the lounge, not daring to look behind her. She knew he followed.

  * * * *

  Rand's temples pulsated with pressure from Lori's glance at the chart. Chances were good she wouldn't know what she was looking at and what it meant. He cursed to himself over George's carelessness at leaving the map open for anyone to see. But then, how would he know there'd ever be an outsider in this cabin? An outsider whose mind-workings Rand hadn't figured out yet.

  The possibility of having her innocently fill the role of a romantic liaison started out well when she came on board, but she constantly surprised him, weakening the idea. Perhaps he should reconsider his security restriction. If he could get her cooperation to act out the part, it would go a long way toward firming up his pseudo image. Confiding in her was risky though; first he had to find out how much she'd picked up from the map. More than anything, he needed to assess if he could count on her help before he disclosed any details.

  The consequences of her battle with the legal system must have been devastating, but it shouldn't carry over to the police. They'd done their job in seeing charges laid against the driver. He decided to work on his dilemma with subtle questioning during the evening. But he'd have to get them both relaxed first. “I'll get us our drinks now."

  Lori seemed extra fidgety in the lounge. Were her nerves on edge because she wondered about his motives in bringing her here, or was it suspicion about the chart? He strolled to the bar. “You said Coke?"

  "That will do nicely, thanks.” She moved to the sofa and sat down, trying to see through the impenetrable fog. “It's still spooky out there."

  "Sure you don't want something stronger to take the edge off?” When she shook her head, he poured her soda and a Sprite for himself, then joined her. The coziness and the smell of her perfume brought up a yearning to be bold and get close to her. Besides, he wanted to see how she reacted to contact with a man. Her fingers gripped the glass with a steady hold. If she wasn't nervous of him, he could work within those bounds.

  By starting on ground familiar to her, he could put himself at ease. “I'd like to know more about your accident."

  Her exotic perfume became more pronounced, almost negating his determination to remain disengaged. He tried to nullify the sensual stimulation and placed his mind in neutral.

  "My sister was killed by a speeding driver who crashed into us. That's all there is to tell.” She cut him off and confusion registered for a moment until his bulldog tendency butted in. There was something she was trying to avoid. He took a swig of Sprite.

  "You were driving the car?"

  Her disgusted sigh reinforced her dislike of his prying.

  "Yes."

  His energy level picked up the challenge. Access to her side of the story might give insight into her thoughts and also explain why she interested him so. He waited for her to offer details of that day.

  Silence.

  When her body tensed even more, his hand automatically reached up and lightly fingered the scarred flesh. Their eyes met, and in that moment, he was certain he could see into her soul. Her magnetism communicated a powerful urgency for understanding and he thought he might explode from the impact. She took his breath away. He wanted her in a way that had nothing to do with using her and everything to do with being in tune to her needs. Maybe there was a chance she felt the same way and they could work as a team.

  "Did they put the driver of the other vehicle away?” He gambled now, trying to draw out her emotions.

  "He got off. Not even a wrist slap. And that's the way crime goes these days. Criminals get off, free to create more destruction in people's lives. The police do nothing, especially the RCMP."

  He dropped his hand. “They do their best."

  "That's highly debatable."

  "What do you mean?” Her eyes lost their soft luster and took on a hard glaze; her mouth formed a grim tight line.

  "The RCMP is more interested in filling out reports and harassing innocent people. I've been through it, Rand. They did nothing for my case. If anything, they ruined it by bringing in a stupid kid for a witness. They should've interrogated him and exposed his lies. He was only out for glory."

  "You sound bitter against the law.” He couldn't argue the point without giving himself away. Down at his sides, where she couldn't see, he balled his hands into fists.

  "Wouldn't you be resentful?” Her eyes widened. She expected full agreement, he could tell.

  "I think I wouldn't be so damn judgmental.” Unwittingly, she had stepped beyond the bounds of his tolerance. He couldn't stand for the way she was putting him and his way of life down. The fact she didn't know was of no consequence.

  She sipped at her drink, then gazed directly into his face. “I think I'd better leave."

  "No."

  "No?"

  Four

  A bitter taste welled up the back of Rand's throat when Lori moved to the edge of the sofa and slammed her crystal glass on the coffee table. He expected the glass to shatter from the force. Miraculously it held together.

  Obviously, she took umbrage at the word “no.” With her grudge against the RCMP, he didn't stand a chance in hell of gaining her cooperation. He should have seen it coming; the vibes had been there.

  "I'm leaving, Rand."

  Rand's mind raced ahead. She couldn't be allowed to go and blow his investigation by grumbling to others, casting suspicion on him. He had to divert her and avoid problems that would interfere with the momentum of his mission. This time he had a chance to not only cut back the spread of drugs in the province, but also to hurt the South American cartel providing the shipments. Holding her against her will wasn't an option he'd want to try, though. She hadn't done anything wrong and it was hardly fair to confine her withou
t another attempt to put their association on an even keel.

  She jumped up, her eyes blistering a warning—back off. Her hands buckled and the movement didn't signify a general uneasiness—it foretold of an imminent eruption of fury. The realization challenged his usual finesse. He leapt to his feet and blocked the door.

  "Look. I didn't mean you can't leave. Of course you can go, but I'm afraid I've upset you. I haven't been through what you have, otherwise, I'd probably be even more hostile with the law. Lori, give me a chance to make up for sounding so sharp ... I'm the one being judgmental ... Please? Stay for the evening. We can understand each other better if we keep the lines of communication open."

  He wasn't shoveling bull this time; he was dead serious. It meant a great deal that she didn't take offense. She had postured, aware she had placed herself in peril. The truth of it was he was stronger and blocking the only escape route. She'd never make it out on the deck. Surely, she was wise enough to give in to his plea while it still was a request. But she wouldn't fool him; she was smart, and he'd have to be on guard for any tricks she might come up with to get away.

  Lori sank slowly to the leather surface and stared out at the gloom. Her pale face reflected her inner turmoil. He wanted to help.

  "Can you forget what I said?” He needed her on his side, but insulting her because he'd let his temper run askew wouldn't cut it. “I had no right calling you judgmental. I'm sure you have reasons for your slant on the case.” Sitting across from her once again, he was surprised by how defensive and angry he'd become in just a matter of minutes. She had slandered the RCMP—his pride and joy—and he couldn't find a way to defend it without making her suspicious. Watch it or those sparkly eyes and her quick mind will do you in, Rand. He wondered if George's prediction that he'd someday meet more than his match had come to taunt him.

  "All right. I shouldn't have sounded so snarky. I came to the resort to try and get past the memory and lose this awful hatred that chews me up inside.” Her shoulders quivered and she rubbed her arms to stop them shaking.