Farewell Seas

by Lily Harper Hart

  “Rowan is right here,” the woman in question reminded him, her eyes flashing. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Of course you can, sweetheart.” Quinn didn’t miss a beat as he rubbed his hand up and down her back. “We’re going to do it together. That’s what I meant. I simply misspoke.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “That’s not going to work on me. I know what you really meant.”

  He slid her a sidelong look. “Have I ever told you that I think you’re the prettiest woman in the world?”

  “Yes.”

  “I meant it. Right now, I want to keep the prettiest woman in the world safe. I have to ask these questions. I have no intention of cutting you out of the action. I need to know everything, though. There’s no getting around that.”

  Paul heaved out a sigh as he dragged a hand through his hair. He’d thoroughly enjoyed the time spent with Rowan and Quinn, loved the way they interacted and the light that appeared in her eyes whenever he teased her. He didn’t want to bring down the mood of the evening, but he didn’t see where he had a choice.

  “I don’t believe anyone followed me onto the ship,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I paid close attention when I flew into town, which was three days before we set sail. I moved to a different hotel each night to make sure no one was giving chase. I believe I’m perfectly safe.”

  “And yet you keep looking over your shoulder,” Quinn noted. “I’m guessing you’ve spent the last ten years constantly looking for dark shadows on your tail. That’s an exhausting existence. You seem to be looking for something specific tonight, though.”

  “It’s just ... Julia’s death has thrown me for a loop,” he admitted after a beat, playing with his drink umbrella. “I haven’t been able to shake the idea that her death is somehow tied to me. I know it’s probably ridiculous to think that, but it’s nerve-racking all the same.”

  “I’ve actually considered that,” Quinn admitted.

  Rowan’s eyebrows hopped up her forehead. “You have?”

  He nodded. “We knew your father was coming. We were prepared for it. Of course I was on the lookout for trouble. I simply don’t know if this trouble is related to your father’s trouble.”

  Rowan pursed her lips. “Well, from what you’ve told me, it sounds like she had a lot of enemies. Maybe we shouldn’t chase trouble if we don’t have to. The murder is trouble enough.”

  “It is,” Quinn agreed. “It’s trouble I don’t want. Those Grand Dames I talked to gave me every indication that Roxanne and Rosalind could be involved. That’s how obnoxious they were. I simply don’t know if I can see them strangling a woman with their bare hands. They seem more the type to hire it done.”

  “Maybe they did hire it done,” Rowan suggested. “We don’t know everyone on this ship. Have you looked at their personal assistants? You said Julia had one. I’m guessing the others do as well. They wouldn’t want to look less famous than her.”

  “Have you met them?” Paul interjected, his eyes contemplative.

  Quinn nodded as Rowan shook her head.

  “I know Rosalind and Roxanne a little,” he volunteered. “By that I mean I’ve met them at a few conferences. They’re not easy women to deal with. They both have assistants, and they both treat their assistants like dirt. I don’t happen to believe they’re the type of women who would hire assassins, though.”

  “And you don’t look like the sort of man who has a daughter who can predict death with a camera,” Quinn said quietly. “Looks can be deceiving. Speaking of that, though, why would you attend conferences if you’re in hiding?”

  “Because if I turn into a recluse and never go anywhere, that means someone will make it their life’s mission to track me down and that could turn into a huge story that I most definitely don’t want getting out,” Paul replied. “Nick and I talked about it a long time. When I first decided to make my living writing, I thought I would barely scrape by. Things worked out much better than planned, though, and I’m making a very good living.”

  “So ... you’re basically saying you abandoned your daughter and ended up a millionaire, huh?” Rowan queried, her bitterness on full display. “I guess that’s nice for you.”

  Paul bit back a sigh ... barely. “If you think this was part of the overall plan, you’re mistaken. It simply happened. I was ghostwriting to start and this P.J. Landis thing sort of fell into my lap. Once it happened, though, we had choices to make.”

  “Honestly — and I don’t want to take his side because I’m still angry at what he did to you, sweetie — but honestly, I can see why he did things the way he did,” Quinn admitted, shifting uncomfortably when Rowan’s glare scorched him. “Don’t look at me that way,” he warned, shaking his head. “I promised to be honest with you. I can’t always take your side no matter what.”

  Paul pressed his lips together and nodded. “Thank you.”

  “I would really appreciate it if you didn’t thank me,” Quinn groused. “I hate being on your side, but the way you’ve handled this makes sense.”

  “How so?” Rowan challenged. “How does this make sense?”

  “It’s a private occupation,” Quinn replied without hesitation. “He works from home. There’s no office setting, no background checks, no drug tests or fingerprints.”

  “Then why go to the conferences?” Rowan asked, her eyes flicking to her father. “If you need to hide, why be out in the open like this?”

  Paul looked to Quinn. “I want him to answer, to see if he really gets it.”

  “He’s doing it because there’s no press allowed on this cruise,” Quinn supplied, his mind busy. “No photographs of him will accidentally make it into the newspaper. This is an industry event instead of a fan event, so he’s less likely to end up in anyone’s selfies.

  “I’ve watched him for the better part of the evening,” he continued. “He’s careful to take photos but not appear in them. He’s changed his looks enough that he should be fine anyway, but he’s very diligent and careful about who is taking photos.

  “He also sat at the same table with Rosalind and Roxanne,” he said. “They’re the center of attention, so he can fade into the background. If he sat at a table where people didn’t think they were above everyone else, they might want to take photos with him. He’s ensured that won’t happen.”

  Rowan turned thoughtful. “Basically you’re saying that you can’t be a recluse because it will inspire people to try to track you down, expose your secrets. By going on a cruise like this, though, your name will be a footnote in the festivities, but no one will have a photo of you.”

  Paul bobbed his head, his grin spreading. “Exactly. I’m a public figure ... but not really. It worked out better than I ever envisioned.”

  “And what do you want now?” Quinn asked, opting to get right to the heart of matters. “What do you expect to happen after this visit?”

  “I don’t know.” Paul’s eyes were filled with forlorn sadness as they locked with his daughter’s more reserved orbs. “I just had to see you, Rowan. I couldn’t be away from you. Not again, at least. As for what comes next, I simply don’t know.”

  “Well, I’m going to make some discreet inquiries into the Phoenix Society,” Quinn started.

  “Don’t do that.” Paul vehemently shook his head, desperation creeping in. “They might be able to track the search back to you.”

  “I have a friend with special equipment. I’m going to have him do the deed for me.”

  “Fred?” Rowan asked, referring to his former military buddy.

  Quinn nodded. “He knows what he’s doing. He’ll be able to get us information. Besides that, I need him to check into a few of these Grand Dames for me. We know Jazzy isn’t using her real name. I need to know if Roxanne and Rosalind have different monikers in their everyday lives.”

  “They do,” Paul volunteered. “Trust me. I know. Those are both pen names.”

  Quinn tilted his head to the side, considering. “How do y
ou know that?”

  “Because almost every author in the game is working under some form of a pen name,” Paul replied, matter-of-fact. “That’s why this life is so easy for me. People assume P.J. Landis is a pen name. It’s frowned upon to ask real names, though. It’s an invasion of privacy.”

  “So, you have no idea what Rosalind and Roxanne’s real names are.”

  “I don’t. I’m sorry. I don’t even know how I would get my hands on that information.”

  Quinn heaved out a sigh, his fingers light as they danced along the back of Rowan’s neck. “Well, I can’t rule either of them out. I can’t rule out Jazzy either, but she seems less invested in that group than the others.”

  “Or she’s simply a better actress,” Rowan noted. “We’ve been fooled by good actresses before.”

  “You have a point.” Quinn brushed his lips against her temple before focusing on Paul. “What are your plans for the rest of the cruise? I mean ... are you going to land when we hit the islands or stay close to the ship?”

  “I’ll probably stick close to the ship, although I haven’t made any definitive plans.” His eyes migrated to Rowan. “As for the rest of my time here, I would like to spend as much of it as I possibly can with Rowan.”

  He held up his hand to quiet her before she could offer up a word of protest. “I understand you have work. I’ve witnessed you and Quinn together and know your relationship takes precedence. In addition to that, I don’t expect you to simply accept me back into your life as if nothing has happened.

  “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to try to repair our relationship,” he continued. “I want to spend time with you, Rowan. If I leave this ship and you never want to see me again, at least I know I’ll have tried. I have no intention of backing down from that.”

  Instead of arguing, Rowan merely stared at him for a long beat. Finally, she nodded. “We’ll spend time together, talk a bit. I think we’ve hit our limit for tonight, though. I’m officially exhausted and I cannot miss another day of work tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry about that.” Paul was appropriately contrite. “You’ll never know how sorry I am.”

  “It’s done.” She slowly got to her feet. “It’s fine. I definitely have to take photos tomorrow, though. In fact, I have to finish loading up the photos I took the first day. I’m behind.”

  “We can claim equipment failure or something,” Quinn suggested. “We’ll make it work.”

  Rowan smiled. “We will.” She extended her hand for her father to shake, a move that caused both men sitting with her to smirk. “Until we meet again tomorrow.”

  Paul wordlessly took her hand, gripped it tightly, and smiled. Quinn, however, couldn’t swallow his laughter.

  “Is it any wonder I love you?” he choked out.

  Rowan winked at him. “I’m a delight, right?”

  “You have no idea.”

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they were back in Rowan’s room. She took the time to attach her camera to her computer so the photos she took would load and then stripped down to take a quick shower. The dregs of the day were catching up with her and she needed to wash away the heaviness of the emotions threatening to take charge of her fragile psyche.

  Instead of making his usual play to join her, Quinn took his laptop to the bed and emailed Fred. His friend was up and checking his computer at the time so he messaged back, promising he would conduct the searches the next day. If he questioned Quinn’s motivations for wanting the Phoenix Society search done on the down low, he kept his emotions to himself.

  Since Rowan was still in the shower when he was finished, he Googled information on Roxanne and Rosalind himself. He expected to find the normal articles about their book sales, or appearances at various conferences and bookstores. What he didn’t expect to find was a message board dedicated to romance authors, and one of the most popular threads was dedicated to how hateful Rosalind and Roxanne were to their fans. They weren’t the only ones mentioned, either. Julia got prime placement in the hatefest.

  He delved into the thread, his eyes widening at some of the vitriol being spewed around. He was so engrossed in the conversation — which spanned nine months — that he barely noticed when Rowan exited the bathroom.

  “You’re not looking at porn, are you?” she teased, sliding into bed next to him.

  “No, sweetheart,” he murmured, his eyes eagerly scanning the forum. “I found this message board where a bunch of readers who hate Roxanne, Rosalind, and Julia visit on a regular basis to tell tales about the times they’ve met their formerly favorite authors.”

  “Really?” Rowan slipped under the covers and rolled so she could rest her head on Quinn’s shoulder. He automatically slipped his arm under her and tugged her close.

  It was a cozy moment that would’ve been normal on any other night. Tonight, though, an outsider looking in would’ve found it odd. They were searching for potential motives for murder after having drinks with Rowan’s previously-dead father. It was anything but a normal night.

  “I like this one.” Rowan pointed to the screen and read the message out loud. “I met Rosalind Painter at a romance conference in Boston last month. I was so eager to meet her, and I took my favorite book with me in the line so she could sign it. When I got to the front of the line, she seemed nice enough and agreed to sign my book. When she handed it back, I made the mistake of telling her that she was my favorite author ... along with Julia West. The second she heard Julia’s name, she grabbed back my book and wrote a nasty message about how I was apparently illiterate, crossing out the nice things she wrote previously. She was horrible.”

  Quinn smirked. “After meeting her, I can honestly say that doesn’t surprise me. The bitterness in that room was palpable. I honestly liked Jazzy. I don’t want her to be guilty.”

  “She’s probably not.”

  “You were right about not overlooking her, though,” Quinn said. “That would be a mistake, especially given everything we’ve witnessed over the past few months. People we liked, people we thought couldn’t possibly be guilty, turned out to be the bad guys more than once. This could be the same situation.”

  “What would her motive be, though?” Rowan asked. “I mean ... why would she want Julia dead? You said yourself that she wasn’t nearly as worked up as the other two regarding the publishing world or their little group. We saw her at dinner tonight, too. She seemed the low-key sort.”

  “She did,” Quinn confirmed. “To me, she felt like a genuine person. Sure, she was a little eccentric and her eyelashes were weird, but she was the nicest woman in the room. She didn’t give me grief about asking questions either.”

  “I think the real problem is that it sounds like a lot of people had motive for killing Julia,” Rowan noted. “I mean ... it wouldn’t be motive enough for normal people like us, but they don’t sound normal.”

  “I don’t know what to think about any of it.” Quinn snapped his laptop shut and shunted it to the nightstand so he could use his other arm to wrap around Rowan’s waist and drag her on top of him. “As of right now, we don’t have enough information to form an opinion.”

  “So ... what do you want to do?” Rowan’s eyes flashed mischievously. There was light there Quinn worried would never reappear when she was having her mini-breakdown in the afternoon. “I have a few ideas if you need suggestions.”

  “I’m always open to suggestions.”

  “I thought you might say that.”

  12

  Twelve

  Rowan woke before Quinn for a change. She had the added benefit of sleeping away half the previous day, so she was essentially recharged with the dawn. Because it was warm in the bed — and she was a big fan of sharing Quinn’s body heat — she escaped long enough to grab her laptop from the table and carry it back to the bed so she could remain close to him and still accomplish something with her morning.

  For the next hour, she proceeded to sort through the photos and shuttle them to the correct portal for purc
hase. If her father was right — and she had no reason to think he wasn’t — she very much doubted that she would be selling a lot of photos this go-around. That didn’t mean she could shirk her duties, and she was determined to take enough photos today to make up for missing her shift when she was feeling down.

  “What are you doing, sweetie,” Quinn murmured, never opening his eyes as he shifted to rest his hand on her flat stomach.

  “Nothing.” Rowan leaned over and pressed a kiss to his brow. “Go back to sleep. I’m just catching up. You still have an hour left.”

  “I want you to sleep with me. You need your rest.”

  “I got twelve extra hours of sleep yesterday,” she reminded him. “I’m perfectly fine.”

  Finally, Quinn wrenched open one eye. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Sleep. You need it more than me. I’m going to be right here filing photos. When it’s time, I’ll wake you up with a kiss.”

  “Sounds good to me.” For a change, Quinn positioned himself so his head was on her shoulder, his body pressed against hers.

  Rowan was so warm and cozy she thought she might actually doze again, but something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye and when she peered closer at the photograph in question, her heart nearly plummeted to her stomach.

  “Oh, crap.”

  Quinn didn’t exactly slip back into slumber. He was, however, close. When she started cursing under her breath, he reacted instantly. “What’s wrong?” He bolted to a sitting position and glanced around the room. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

  “I’m sorry.” Rowan was furious with herself for waking him. He spent the entire previous day doting on her when he wasn’t working. He needed his rest and she’d obviously ruined the attempt. “I didn’t mean to be so loud. I ... am so sorry.”

  Sympathetic, he gently rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “Ro, tell me what’s going on. There’s no going back to sleep, so there’s no ruining anything.”