Farewell Seas

by Lily Harper Hart

“And how are you going to do that?”

  “I don’t know yet. My friend is digging for information. He’s good at getting to the heart of matters. Once we know more about what’s going on with this group, then we can come up with a plan of attack. I think Rowan would like you to be around for that, but if you’re not, we’ll handle it ourselves.”

  Paul’s features twisted into the approximation of a grimace. “What you’re basically saying is that you think I’m a coward.”

  “I don’t believe that’s the word I used.”

  “You think it, though.”

  “I think that you’re afraid,” Quinn clarified. “I think you were afraid before you left and sacrificed yourself because you thought it was the only way. Over the years, I think you’ve let that fear grow. You need to rein it in.

  “It’s okay to be afraid,” he continued. “It is not okay to let that fear rule your life. If you want to go back to wherever you’ve been living, though, that’s certainly up to you. We’ll handle the Phoenix Society from our end.”

  Paul’s scowl grew more pronounced. “You’re really starting to bug me.”

  “You’ll survive.” Quinn wasn’t in the mood for another row. “I’m heading off to see Rowan. Will we be seeing you for dinner?”

  “Do you really think I would simply take off again?”

  “I don’t know.” Quinn opted for honesty. “I hope not, but this is the first tense interaction you’ve shared since you’ve been back. I’m not sure if you’ll pass or fail. I guess we’ll find out at dinner, huh?”

  “I’m going to pass.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  ROWAN WAS INTENT ON her computer screen when Quinn strolled through the door. He took a moment to study her, found he was happy that her eyes didn’t look puffy, and shifted closer to her desk so he could see what she was working on.

  “Hey, sweetie.” He automatically moved his hands to her back and started rubbing. “How are things?”

  “They’ve been worse,” Rowan replied, rolling her neck so she could look up at him. “How are you?”

  “I’m with you. I’m perfect.”

  She grinned despite herself. “That was a little over-the-top.”

  “I heard it the second I said it. I couldn’t take it back, though, so I decided to pretend I meant to be that schmaltzy.”

  Rowan chuckled, taking a moment to study his features. “You don’t look overly upset.”

  “Should I?’

  “I was a little worried after the things my father told me. I was waiting for you to find me, but I was ready to track you down if you didn’t show up before dinner.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about.” He meant it. “I knew your father wouldn’t like the answers he got from you. That’s why I didn’t fly off the handle and instead let him approach you. It seems it worked out to my advantage.”

  “It did,” Rowan agreed, thoughtful. “Still, just in case you aren’t aware, there’s nothing in this world that could make me leave you.”

  “What about a zombie invasion?”

  Laughter bubbled up at his serious expression. “We would either survive together or live out our days as flesh-eating corpses in the same barren field.”

  “Good to know.” He swooped down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.” His voice was barely a whisper. “I knew it was going to be okay. That’s why I didn’t smack your father around, which is what I really wanted to do when he made the suggestion.”

  “I’m glad you left it to me.”

  “Yeah, well .... .” He inclined his chin toward the screen, eager to talk about something that didn’t include her father. “Any change on Rosalind?”

  Rowan shook her head as she sobered. “No. The omen is still there. I took hundreds of photos this afternoon and they’re all loading through the portal now. The omen is only on photographs featuring Rosalind. The other omen isn’t showing up at all, which I’m kind of glad about.”

  “Have you talked to your father about the second omen?”

  Rowan shifted uncomfortably on her chair. “Not so much.”

  “Don’t you think you should?”

  She shook her head. “Not so much. I don’t want to add to the insanity right now.”

  “Okay.” He pressed another kiss to her forehead. “I’m expecting some information from Fred. I’m going to leave you in here to finish up and go next door. I figured we could leave for dinner together in two hours.”

  “Okay. That sounds like a plan.”

  He gave her shoulders another rub. “Your father says he’s going to be there.”

  “He told me that, too.”

  “I believe he’s going to keep his word. Please don’t spend the next two hours worrying that he’s going to disappear again. It’s going to take a toll on your mood if you do.”

  “I promise to be all smiles and inane laughter.”

  “I don’t think you need to go that far.”

  “I’m okay,” she said, briefly grabbing the fingers that rested on her shoulders and giving them a squeeze. “I’m not going to fall apart again. You don’t have to worry.”

  “If you need to fall apart, that’s what I’m here for. Don’t keep it together on my account.”

  His tone was so serious Rowan couldn’t stop herself from giggling. “We’re kind of crazy sometimes, huh?”

  “I think we’re just crazy enough.” He stooped down so he could hug her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. “I love you. We’re going to figure this out. Our biggest priority right now is solving Julia’s murder. After that, the Phoenix Society is the main show.”

  “We can only focus on one thing at a time.”

  “Yes, well, I’m sick of Rosalind. I have two of my men watching her right now. The faster we save her life, the faster we can ignore her. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to that.”

  “If you would just pose for the cover of one of her books she would leave you alone.”

  Quinn scowled. “Did I mention what we’re reading together in bed tonight?”

  Rowan held up her hands in capitulation. “I surrender. There’s no need to get nasty.”

  “Oh, that’s not what you’re going to be saying when it’s time to go to bed tonight.”

  “I’m kind of sorry I brought it up.”

  “That makes one of us.”

  AS PROMISED, PAUL WAS already seated at Rowan and Quinn’s regular table when they made their way into the dining room later that evening. He smiled and waved before turning back to his meal. By the time the couple joined him, he was halfway finished.

  “Sorry.” Paul’s smile was rueful. “I was so hungry I couldn’t stop myself from getting a head start.”

  “That’s okay.” Quinn sat across from Paul so Rowan could have the spot between them. “How was your nap?”

  “Good. I needed it.”

  “I happen to love a good nap, so I get that,” Quinn said, grinning as he inclined his head toward the huge pile of crab legs sitting in front of the other man. “It looks like you enjoy seafood as much as Rowan. She eats so many crab legs I’m surprised she doesn’t sweat butter.”

  “Ha, ha.” Rowan poked his side. “You’re a funny guy.”

  “I am indeed.”

  “You guys seem to be in good spirits,” Paul noted. “Have you managed to make any headway on Rosalind’s imminent death?”

  Quinn looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, but the area immediately surrounding them was empty. “No, and Fred is running into a few issues tracking down their real names. I have questions on how a pen name works, if you’re willing to answer them.”

  “Sure.” Paul was relieved to have something to talk about that didn’t revolve around his ridiculous actions earlier in the day. “What are your questions?”

  “You don’t need to legally change your name to adopt a pen name, right?”

  “No.” Paul shook his head. “Technically my legal name is P.J. Landis,
but I’m in a unique situation.”

  “Yeah, and I totally want to discuss how you managed to create a new identity that passes muster when we have time to hash things out,” Quinn said. “Right now, though, Fred is having trouble finding real identities for Rosalind and Roxanne ... as well as a few others.

  “He managed to complete a background check on Jazzy, but that’s because she’s been honest about her real name,” he continued. “For the record, other than a few speeding tickets, she’s clean. She’s never been in any trouble.”

  “You said you didn’t suspect her from the start,” Rowan noted, cracking a crab leg in the exact same manner her father did.

  Quinn could barely hold back his smile when he saw how similar they were. “Yeah, well ... um ... .” He cleared his head and returned to the task at hand. “She wasn’t high on my list, but I sent Fred a lot of names to sort through, including Toby Keane.”

  “Did he find anything good on Keane?” Paul asked, legitimately curious. “He’s got an interesting reputation in the literary field.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Quinn cocked an eyebrow. “What reputation does he have?”

  “He’s revered as a literary god who manages to get away with certain quirks that other authors aren’t allowed to embrace. For example, most of his books are a good two hundred pages longer than they should be. Editors would rein that in with other authors. Because he’s Toby Keane, he can do whatever he wants.”

  “As long as he continues to sell, I don’t see why anyone should infringe on his artistic license,” Rowan noted. “I mean ... I wouldn’t like it if people told me what I could and couldn’t take photos of. That would drive me crazy.”

  “I can’t really relate because I don’t have an artistic soul,” Quinn said. “The stuff Fred found on Keane was interesting but not bad enough to make him a suspect.”

  “What stuff?” Paul asked.

  “Well, for starters, he’s got quite the reputation in his home county. He’s been arrested for driving tractors while drunk, but he’s only been charged once despite four arrests.”

  “He’s been arrested for drunk driving four times?” Rowan was horrified. “How does he keep getting away with it?”

  “Because he drives the tractors in fields and doesn’t hurt anyone during his little trips,” Quinn replied. “I think everyone in the county knows he has a drinking problem but protects him because he’s famous and brings tourist dollars to the area.

  “There’s an entire tourism business built up around the places Keane writes about in his books,” he continued. “A lot of people have jobs who might not ordinarily have jobs, so he’s revered. He gets special treatment.”

  “I would say that Toby definitely has a drinking problem,” Paul agreed after a moment’s contemplation. “I’ve met him twice now, but I’ve heard stories about the other conferences. Every Toby story starts with ‘he was so hammered’ and no one seems to think there’s a problem with that.”

  “It’s not my place to curtail his drinking,” Quinn noted. “He hasn’t gotten out of line, even though he’s been gregarious in the bar both nights ... and I expect that to continue tonight. He doesn’t sexually harass the bar staff or the other writers. He basically tells drunken stories and expects the others to clap as if he’s the funniest man in the world.”

  “I’ve never heard bad stories about Toby,” Paul said. “Sure, I’ve heard drunken stories, but he seems to be a likable drunk.”

  “The same can’t be said for Rosalind,” Quinn said. “I’m pretty sure she’s a drunk, too. She’s more hardcore, though, and tends to get shrill. Rosalind Painter is not her real name, though, and Fred is digging deeper trying to find it because there’s no paperwork indicating she ever legally changed her name.”

  “Which means she has a real name that she operates under for legal purposes and keeps it under wraps,” Rowan mused. “Do you think that’s normal among authors?”

  Paul nodded. “I think that most authors write under a pen name, although there are probably variations. I think very few people write under their real names because it can be a hassle when people show up at your house.”

  “Has that happened to you?” Quinn asked, curious.

  “No. I’m extremely careful about protecting my privacy, though. Most of my fans don’t even know where I live and my email addresses are generic. I go through ten proxy servers when logging in to confuse anyone who might be trying to chase the accounts back to the source.”

  “To your knowledge, has anyone come close to discovering your real identity?” Quinn asked.

  “No. Like I said, I’ve been very careful. I live a quiet life. I don’t even have a maid or assistant.”

  “That sounds like a lonely existence,” Rowan offered, her eyes sad. “I don’t like thinking about you spending all that time alone.”

  “It’s not an easy life,” Paul said. “It’s not a terrible life either. The hardest part is being without you.”

  “We talked about this.” Rowan was firm. “I’m not going into hiding.”

  “No. I don’t expect you to.” Paul forced a smile that didn’t make it all the way to his eyes. “You can’t be what you’re not. I don’t want that for you.”

  “Have you considered joining us to fight what’s to come?” Quinn asked. “I can find a way to get you a place in Florida that’s under the radar. It’s not perfect, but you would be able to see Rowan at least once a week while we figure things out.”

  “I’m considering it,” Paul admitted. “I’m afraid ... but some things are worse than death.” He briefly patted the top of Rowan’s hand. “I need time to think. I’ll have an answer for you by the end of the trip.”

  “That sounds fair.” Rowan slid a cluster of crab from her plate to her father’s. “Until then, you should eat up. You need your strength.”

  “Yes, well, I’ve never been able to say no to crab legs.”

  Rowan beamed. “That makes two of us.”

  Amused at the interaction, Quinn allowed the conversation to flow around him as he scanned the dining room. Odds were, they had a killer hiding in plain sight. He had no idea how to uncover who it was, though, and he was starting to feel frustrated.

  He needed answers, and he needed them soon. Rowan and Paul needed his focus and he couldn’t give them everything he had until Julia’s murder was solved and Rosalind was safe. He had to take it one step at a time.

  16

  Sixteen

  The writers weren’t on the ship merely for sun and fun. They also had a one-day conference, which essentially allowed them to claim the trip for business reasons and write it off on their taxes. Quinn was in charge of the security for the conference, and his suspicious nature was on full display when Rowan woke the following morning to find him scanning the photographs on her laptop.

  “You’re not looking for porn, are you?” she murmured, still sleepy. “If so ... that’s probably pretty rude seeing as I’m in bed right next to you.”

  Despite his worry, Quinn chuckled. “You’ve got such a gutter mind. I love that about you.”

  “What are you looking at?” Rowan rolled so she could look at the computer and rest her head on his shoulder at the same time. “Why are you going through my photos?”

  “Because I wanted to see if the omen was still on Rosalind’s images. It is, in case you’re wondering.”

  Curious, she tipped her head up so she could stare at his stubbled profile. “What’s bothering you? Don’t bother denying you’re upset. I can tell.”

  “I’m not upset. I’m ... thinking that there’s a lot going on today.”

  “You mean that conference thing?” Rowan wasn’t nearly as bothered by the day’s schedule as Quinn appeared to be. “I would think that would make things easy for us. Everyone is going to be in the same room together, and no one would be stupid enough to try and off Rosalind with that many eyewitnesses present.”

  “True. I just ... I’m uneasy.”

  “Uneasy, huh?�
� Rowan rolled her hand over his washboard abs. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re suddenly the psychic one.”

  “I prefer letting you keep that title.”

  “So ... what’s the problem?”

  “I don’t know.” He dragged a hand through his tousled hair and met her gaze. “I don’t know how to explain it. I have a feeling. Something is going to happen.”

  Instead of questioning his instincts, Rowan pulled herself into a sitting position and turned serious. “Well, where is Rosalind now?”

  “Sleeping off the dregs of last night. She was in the bar until well after midnight. My men had to escort her back to her room. A few authors offered — including Toby Keane — but I left my guys with firm instructions. They got her back ... and then watched her door all night.”

  “So, we know she’s alive. That’s good.”

  “We know she was alive when we dropped her off. Hopefully she didn’t sleep on her back and choke on her own vomit.”

  Rowan’s eyes went wide. “Wow. You’re in quite the mood, huh?”

  “She’s a pain. Don’t bother denying it.”

  “Even though she’s a pain, we don’t want her choking on her own puke. That would be ... unpleasant.” Rowan made a face. “I mean ... that’s very gross. I don’t think she’s going to ask you to be her cover model if you’re wishing for things like that.”

  Quinn poked her side. “Stop reminding me of the cover model thing.”

  “As soon as you stop reminding me of that book.”

  “I can’t ignore the book.” Quinn’s hand moved to the nightstand, to where the paperback copy he bought in the gift shop rested. “This is my new how-to survival bible.”

  “Ha, ha.”

  “I’m serious.” He shifted the laptop to the nightstand and rolled toward her. “I’ve been learning a lot from that book. Do you want me to give you a demonstration?”

  Even though she didn’t want to encourage him, Rowan couldn’t stop herself from grinning. “I guess. It had better not be anything weird, though.”

  “I guarantee you’re going to like it.”