“He also requested that Mary Katherine come in. She’s on her way. So are Sara and a few other girls, as well as a couple of dealers, one bartender and some of the kitchen staff.”
“New girls don’t do these private cruises,” Chance said flatly as the first hint of panic curled in his stomach.
“They never have before.”
“Can you stop her from boarding the boat?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
He dressed quickly, grabbed his pager and started out of the bedroom, then abruptly stopped. Something was wrong, he thought, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Something was…missing.
His gaze settled on the coat he’d worn last night. The coat in which he’d placed the flash drive in the pocket with his pager. And yet when he’d retrieved his pager for Jimbo’s call, he hadn’t noticed the drive. Jerking up the coat, he shoved his hand into the pocket and found it empty. So were the other pockets.
He swore loudly and profanely as he dropped the coat and left the apartment. Had the drive dropped out of his pocket in Casey’s office? Had Ianucci somehow palmed it when he picked up the coat and handed it to Mary Katherine? Or—he swore again—had she taken it in those minutes they’d left her alone to get dressed?
Breaking the speed limit and running a red light or two got him to the Queen in record time. He parked beside one of two limos in the lot and headed to the guard shack, where Jimbo waited alone. “I couldn’t talk to her,” he said, stalling Chance’s question. “Dunigan was down here hanging out. He went on board right after she did. As far as I can tell, she’s still in the locker room.”
The women’s locker room was two decks down and clearly marked on the door No Men Allowed, but that didn’t stop Chance. He pushed it open, aware of a blur of women in a flurry of feathers and sequins but saw only Mary Katherine, standing in front of a mirror, applying lipstick.
“O-oh, Chance, we’d always hoped you’d wander in here,” one of the half-dressed waitresses teased as he passed her.
Grabbing Mary Katherine’s arm, he pulled her across the locker room and outside into the passageway. “You’ve got to get off the boat.”
The look she gave him was too innocent. “But they asked me to work and I said yes.”
“I don’t give a damn what you said. You’re getting off the damn boat and you’re not coming back ever. Do you understand?”
“You’re not my boss, Chance. If you want to give me orders, you’ve got to tell me why.”
“Just once can’t you trust me? Can you do that?”
For a long time she continued to look at him, judging him, weighing her answer. After a moment, a bit of softness came into her expression and he would have sworn for that moment that she did trust him. But then she smiled gently and shook her head. “I can’t leave the boat.”
“Damn it, Mary Katherine—”
She touched his arm, then gestured behind him. “We’re under way. We’re here for the duration.”
Whirling around, he stared at the receding shore. He’d been so focused on finding her, convincing her, that he’d neither heard nor felt the Queen’s departure. A sick feeling washed over him. Irrationally he wondered if they could possibly survive a jump, but the river was too shallow. Only a fool would take the chance.
“What’s wrong, Chance?”
He looked back at her. “I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here, but I don’t think it’s good. New girls never go on these private cruises. The money’s so damn good that it’s reserved as a reward for those who have been around awhile.”
“That explains why they were surprised to see me,” she said with a nod toward the locker room. “Do you think—do you think it has anything to do with last night?”
The mention of their little escapade jogged his memory, and he threateningly advanced on her. He’d backed her into the wall when the locker room opened and the waitresses came out. They were in high spirits—the promise of a big payday brought that out—and they whistled and snickered with every bit of the class the guards had shown last night when they’d found them in Casey’s office.
“Jeez, Chance, can’t you keep your hands off of her for five minutes?” one teased, followed by another. “Yeah, give the poor girl a break—and put ’em on me.”
“Kiss him good-night, Mary Katherine, and catch up with us,” Sara said. “We’re going to the Pacific Lounge. Don’t be late.”
Once they were out of sight, Chance moved in close again. “Where’s the flash drive?”
“The what?” Then realization dawned, and a flush tinged her face. “In…in my purse.”
“Why the hell did you take it?”
“I wanted to know what you were doing,” she said defensively. “I wanted to prove—”
That he was one of the good guys. Was it a tribute to his acting abilities that she still wasn’t sure? Or a sad comment on the lack of trust in their relationship?
“Where’s your purse?”
“Locked up inside.”
“Get it.”
“But—”
He leaned menacingly close. “Angel, you and I could be in more trouble than we know how to get out of. Get me the damn flash drive. When this cruise is over, we’re going to pack our stuff and get the hell out of Dodge, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know, okay? But right now I need that drive.”
With a subdued nod, she slid away from him and went into the locker room. He waited impatiently for maybe a minute, then went in after her. She was standing in front of her locker, digging in the small suitcase that passed as a purse. He watched her a moment, then took it from her, swept the makeup from a counter at the mirror and dumped the contents of the bag.
Scattered across the counter was everything a woman could possibly have any use for away from home, along with a few oddities—paper clips, rubber bands, a battery. But there was no flash drive.
“Where is it?” he demanded.
“I don’t know!” God knows, she’d lied to him enough in the past twenty-four hours, but he believed her this time. Her face had gone pale, and her eyes were rounded. “I put it in there, I swear. I came here when I left you, and I put it in my purse and locked it up. After the late cruise, I changed clothes and…and my purse spilled inside the locker.”
Spinning around, he returned to the locker and began yanking out the clothing stored on the bottom.
“I picked up everything,” she protested.
He held sandals, dress, panties and bra, a makeup bag and three slim packages of panty hose, and the locker was empty. “You remember picking up the flash drive?”
“N-no. I—I guess I just assumed it was still inside. Not everything spilled.”
“Then where the hell is it?” he demanded harshly.
She shrank back. “I—I don’t know. Oh, Chance, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”
He exhaled heavily. He’d been in tight situations before, and had always survived. This one wasn’t any different.
Oh, but it was different. He didn’t have to worry about just himself this time. If anything happened to Mary Katherine… God help him, he wouldn’t want to survive.
Reaching out, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her close. “Listen, angel, we might be in trouble here. You’ve got to go up there to the Pacific Lounge and act as if nothing’s going on, all right? You’ve got to smile and flirt just as if it were a regular night on a regular cruise. Can you do that?”
Though her body trembled, her voice was steady. “I can try.”
“Trying’s not enough, sugar. Our lives might depend on it.”
She put on a smile that he would have sworn was genuine if he didn’t know better. “I’ll do my best.”
He kissed her hard, then turned her toward the door. “Go on. I’ll put your purse up for you.”
Still smiling, she hurried from the dressing room. He returned to the counter and began
scooping things back into her bag. When he came to her wallet, he stopped. It had come open earlier, revealing a driver’s license, a couple of credit cards and a photograph. Though he’d never seen the photo before, he remembered it. It had been taken one sunny afternoon at the garage in Oxford, and he’d been leaning against the Cuda, grinning at the first and only girl he’d ever loved. That night she had come to him, and they’d made love all night. The next day he’d broken her heart.
But she’d kept the picture.
“Oh, angel,” he whispered. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
And he always kept his promises.
The party in the Pacific Lounge was intimate. The seven guests had dinner first, with all sorts of delectable dishes that reminded Mary Katherine that she hadn’t had time to eat her own dinner before reporting to the Queen. The Caesar salads looked fantastic, as did the lobster tails, and the flamed strawberry dessert practically made her drool.
Once the dishes were cleared away, the poker game started, and she and the other girls went to work. She did her best as she’d promised Chance, but it was hard, smiling and flirting with strangers while wondering where he was and what was going on. What if he was in danger at that very moment? What if Ianucci had found the drive and connected it to Chance? God forbid, what if he died because of her?
“You look like your feet are hurting,” Sara murmured as she joined Mary Katherine at the bar to pick up drinks.
Mary Katherine increased the wattage on her smile a bit. “Do you think I’ll ever get used to these heels?”
“Hon, I’ve been doing this for five years, and my idea of heaven is still a hot soak and a foot rub.” Sara gave her a sidelong look. “You’ve really got Chance hooked, haven’t you?”
A heated blush crept into Mary Katherine’s cheeks. “We’re just…just—”
“Oh, hon, if you say just friends, I’m gonna slap you. Chance and I are just friends. Chance and every girl on this boat are just friends. But Chance and you… The boy has fallen, and hard. You’re the envy of every woman on the Queen—and not just because you got to work tonight.”
Gratefully Mary Katherine seized the chance to change the subject. “Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know. Maybe your gentleman friend over there has a weakness for big brown eyes, lush curves and mile-long legs. He certainly seems enamored of you.”
Mary Katherine glanced back at the table and saw her customer watching her. There was definite admiration in his look, but it did nothing for her. She just hoped Sara was right, and that her presence on the cruise tonight was nothing more than a matter of having the right physical attributes.
But it wasn’t long before she came to the sickening realization that that wasn’t the case.
The clock showed nine o’clock, and the night was dark, but the lounge was alive with laughter and good-natured fun. She’d been given a ten-minute break and had just stepped outside the lounge when two of Chance’s security guards intercepted her. The bigger one, Dunigan, blocked her way. “Miss Monroe, would you come with us, please?”
Not Chance’s guards, she reminded herself. Ianucci’s. Swallowing hard and hoping to heaven that she neither looked nor sounded as panicked as she felt, she asked, “Where do you want me to go?”
“Mr. Ianucci would like to see you in his office.”
“But…I just have a short break.”
“He’ll extend it for you. He’s the boss. He can do that.” Dunigan took hold of her arm just above her elbow and turned her in the opposite direction.
Ianucci’s office was at the opposite end of the same deck. One man stood guard outside. Inside she found several others, including Clyde Ebert—and Chance. When he saw her with Dunigan, alarm flashed across his face, then quickly disappeared behind a coolly blank mask. She tried to duplicate the mask herself, but it was hard to be cool when she was scared out of her wits.
“Miss Monroe,” Ianucci said. “Will you have a seat?”
She’d rather not, she wanted to retort. But since she was the only unarmed person in the room, being flippant or rude didn’t seem the brightest idea.
“You’ve been with us almost two weeks, haven’t you?”
She nodded.
“Did Sara tell you about the two-week evaluation? That’s where we look at your performance and determine whether to keep you or terminate you.”
She did wish he would stop using the word terminate. Fire, get rid of, let go—they were all appropriate substitutes. But terminate just sounded so damn final…and she was afraid that was exactly what he had in mind.
“Clyde and I have been evaluating your performance. As a waitress, you’re quite good. The clients like you. The other employees like you. But there seems to be some question of your trustworthiness and your loyalty. Loyalty is very important to me, as you can well imagine.” He paused to light a cigar and was careful to blow the smoke away from her. “You’ve asked a lot of questions since you came here. You’ve called the Queen’s integrity, and therefore my integrity, into doubt. You were caught snooping in an office in which you don’t belong.”
“Sir, she wasn’t—”
He raised one hand to silence Chance’s protest. “Why, Miss Monroe?”
She desperately sought an answer that would sound reasonable, but came up with nothing. “I—I was just curious.”
“How curious? Schoolteacher curious? Maybe reporter curious? Maybe even police officer curious?”
Mary Katherine’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. No, no, no. You want the truth? My grandfather was aboard the Queen last month, and he lost everything. He swore he was cheated, and he asked me to get a job here and prove it. Yes, I was asking questions and I shouldn’t have been in that office last night, but I wasn’t doing anything. I was just humoring an old man.”
Ianucci looked at Ebert, who shrugged. “It sounds stupid enough to be true. What’s his name?”
“Paddy—” Mary Katherine swallowed hard. “Patrick O’Hara.”
Ebert went to the computer, gave it a few commands, typed in a few strokes, then nodded. “Here it is. He lost forty grand.”
“Interesting. But that doesn’t explain what you were doing with this.” Ianucci held up the small drive that, last night, had been tucked safely in her purse.
“I—” She didn’t dare look at Chance for fear she’d give in to the terror rising inside her and beg him to help her out of this mess. “I—”
“Tell me, Miss Monroe, how were my money-laundering records going to help you prove that your grandfather was cheated? Or did you intend to use them to blackmail me? Or possibly to seek revenge by turning them over to the authorities?”
“I—I—”
Ianucci laid the drive on the desk, then waved her to silence. “It doesn’t matter. No harm done us. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to say the same about you. Chance.”
Chance stepped forward into her line of vision, but she still couldn’t look at him. She was too afraid of what she would see on his face, too afraid, period.
“We hired her on your say-so, and yet when we found her in Casey’s office, you were there, too, providing her with an alibi. She’s a stranger. I have no reason to trust her. But I have plenty of reasons to trust you—and only one to doubt your loyalty.” Ianucci paused for effect, and the effect damn near sent Mary Katherine into hysterics. Her entire body was trembling, and the only breaths she could manage were shallow and terrified. The room was utterly silent except for the rushing in her ears and the pounding of her heart. Then Ianucci quietly spoke again. “She’s become a problem. And problems must be resolved before they become bigger problems.” He held out a hand to Ebert, who moved forward and laid a pistol in it. Ianucci offered it to Chance. “This is your opportunity to redeem yourself.”
Chance stared at the gun as if he’d never seen one before. He was sure he couldn’t move to save his life…but there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to save Mary Katherine’s. Stiffly, he walked forward to ac
cept the gun, resisting the impulse to recoil from its cool touch with revulsion.
“Mr. Ianucci, I’ve worked for you a long time. You just said you have plenty of reasons to trust me and only one not to. Don’t make me do this. Don’t make me—” He glanced at Mary Katherine and couldn’t go on. She looked terrified, as if she just might faint where she sat. He felt terrified.
“I’m looking for one more reason to trust you,” Ianucci said smoothly. “I understand she means something to you. That’s why I consider it an appropriate test of your loyalty.”
Chance tore his gaze from her and looked back at his boss. There was no point in arguing. If he refused to kill Mary Katherine, he would fail the test and there would be two problems resolved tonight. Besides, it was probably in their best interests for him to agree. There was no way Ianucci would have someone killed in his own office—blood stains were so hard to get out of priceless Oriental rugs. Anything that got them out of the office—and hopefully away from some of these people—had to be in their favor.
He wrapped his fingers around the grips, testing the fit, then slid the gun into his coat pocket as he approached Mary Katherine. “Sorry, sugar,” he said as he pulled her to her feet. He’d been right. She was unsteady. She practically fell before catching herself, then jerking away from him.
She backed against the desk, shaking her head frantically from side to side. “No, no, you can’t do this. I didn’t know—I didn’t—”
He took hold of her arm in a grip she couldn’t break, and steered her toward the door.
“Dunigan will go with you to make sure you don’t succumb to Miss Monroe’s charms one last time,” Ianucci said behind them. “Once you’re done, come back, Chance. I’ll have something for you.”
What did you give somebody who’d just committed his first murder for you? Chance wondered cynically. A fat bonus in his paycheck? Or maybe his own bullet at the base of the skull?
Who Do You Love? Page 22