Farewell Seas

by Lily Harper Hart

  Rowan giggled, the light that Quinn loved so much returning to her features. He realized — belatedly, of course — that the thing she needed most was normalcy. Sally apparently understood that and gave her what she needed. Quinn was too jacked up to deliver the goods, but he knew he would have to find a way to calm down.

  “Don’t get her too riled up,” he admonished Sally as he moved toward the door. “She needs to rest.”

  “I don’t need rest,” Rowan countered. “I really do feel fine.”

  “That’s because you’re running on adrenaline. You’re going to crash in about an hour. When that happens, I’m kicking everyone out so you can sleep.”

  “I’m not going to crash.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see about that.” He left Rowan and Sally to gossip and giggle and stepped into the hallway where Michael Griffin, the ship’s captain, waited for him. “Thanks for coming down.”

  “Of course.” Michael was the gregarious sort, but his expression was serious today. “How is she?”

  Quinn pushed open the door so Michael could see inside. Sally was in the middle of a story, using big hand gestures, and Rowan was making snorting noises to show her amusement. “She’s okay,” he said as he allowed the door to shut. “She’s riding on unnatural emotions right now, though. She’s going to crash before it’s all said and done.”

  “I’m assuming that means you’re going to stick close to her today.”

  “You assume right.” Quinn was no nonsense. “I’m going to have a meeting with my men within the next few hours. Just so you know, I’m putting us in lockdown. No one who doesn’t work on this ship is allowed on or off. Period.”

  Michael arched an eyebrow. “Technically you have to go through me to do that.”

  “What do you think I’m doing?”

  “Ordering.”

  Quinn bit back a vile retort. “Rowan was shot while minding her own business on the beach last night. You’re right. I am ordering this to be done. I won’t risk her. If you think otherwise ... .”

  “Hold up.” Michael raised a hand to silence the security guru, who was apparently developing a full head of steam. “I didn’t say I thought it was a bad idea. You’re getting ahead of yourself, though. I need to be the one to issue the order.”

  “And that’s exactly why I called you here.”

  “Okay, I get that.” Michael chose his words carefully. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Quinn so upset. “I need to know your rationale, though.”

  “She was shot!”

  “Not here she wasn’t.” Michael refused to back down. “You were on a beach, miles away, and she was shot after you spent an entire afternoon away from this ship. What makes you think whoever did this will return to wreak havoc here?”

  Quinn worked his jaw. He thought for sure Michael would simply acquiesce to his demands. He hated explaining himself. “I think it has something to do with the Sterlings,” he said finally, opting for the truth. “Rowan and I were at a house this afternoon — and before you ask what we were doing there, it’s for a completely different reason and I can’t say so don’t ask — and when we were leaving, a vehicle happened to drop by. Patrice Sterling and Byron Winchester were in the vehicle ... and they were together.”

  Michael wrinkled his nose. “Like ... together?” He made a lewd hand gesture that had Quinn rolling his eyes.

  “If you’re asking if they were having sex while driving down the road, the answer is no. However, earlier in the day, we might have spied on them.” Quinn felt like an idiot owning up to his actions. There was no way to explain away what they’d been doing without garnering some well-deserved stink eye from the normally unflappable captain.

  “You might have spied on them?”

  “Well ... we’ve been suspicious about what happened while they were lost at sea. I mean ... once Pat Sterling’s hand was found on the beach by their house, that whole story they spouted the night we rescued them completely fell apart.”

  Michael’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

  “Oh, right.” Realization washed over Quinn. “You don’t know that part of the story. I kind of forgot.”

  “Well, there’s no time like the present to tell me,” Michael suggested, folding his arms over his chest. “Spill.”

  That’s exactly what Quinn’s did, although he made some tweaks to the narrative. He kept Nick’s involvement to a minimum and basically cut out Fred and Paul completely. By the time he was finished, he and Rowan looked like busybodies of the utmost order, but the story made sense, which was the most important thing.

  “You’re kidding.” Michael was flabbergasted. “How could his hand have been found so close to the Sterling compound if he supposedly died in the ocean on the other side of the state? There’s no current that would carry the hand that far.”

  “I believe that’s the major problem,” Quinn said dryly. “The Sterlings’ story makes zero sense.”

  “So ... you decided to spy on them?”

  “We decided to watch them for signs of suspicious activity.”

  “Uh-huh. And how is that different from spying?”

  Quinn’s lips turned down. “Does it matter? We saw some weird things this afternoon. It was like a soap opera gone wrong. They didn’t see us at the compound. I’m almost sure of that ... I think. No, I’m almost sure.” He rolled his neck until it cracked. “Patrice definitely saw me several hours later. Rowan had her helmet on.”

  “So ... you think they followed you? I know that it’s suspicious, especially when you take the hand into consideration, but I can’t imagine Patrice Sterling hiding behind a cabana and taking potshots at you with a rifle.”

  “No, but she’s a wealthy woman. She could’ve hired someone to do it.”

  “Actually, from what I heard on the news earlier, she’s not as wealthy as people assume. Pat Sterling was rumored to be in financial trouble.”

  “Did you hear that from a reputable news source or a tabloid?”

  “It was ABC News.”

  “Oh, well ... .” Quinn pursed his lips. “Did they say anything specific?”

  “They just mentioned bad investments.”

  “I’d heard they were selling real estate in various areas to cover some debts,” Quinn admitted. “Maybe their finances are more dire than I imagined. I would love to know what kind of insurance payout Patrice is in line to get for her husband.”

  “Well, I’m not an expert, but my niece works in insurance. If he truly died at sea, I’m sure she would’ve received millions of dollars. His hand was found severed, though, and in a different area. The evidence and the story don’t match, which means the Sterlings are likely to get nothing on that policy. Insurance companies are always looking for reasons not to pay out.”

  “Hmm.” Quinn rubbed his chin. “I wonder if the cops provided the Sterlings with the name of the individual who found the hand.”

  “Oh, that’s an interesting thought.” Michael widened his eyes. “You’re wondering if Rowan was targeted because she blew their insurance scam out of the water. I don’t see what that would get them. Obviously you can’t put that hand back in the ocean, so to speak. Still, if Patrice was bitter enough ... .”

  “I honestly can’t shake the notion that it had something to do with her seeing us so close to her house,” Nick admitted. “You should’ve seen the look on her face. I don’t know why the cops would’ve told the Sterlings who found the hand. Why could it possibly matter? If she thinks we’re spying on her, though, that could be enough to send her through the roof.”

  “You are spying on her,” he pointed out.

  “Let’s not dwell on that, huh? I want to focus on Rowan. If Patrice saw us and she’s responsible for Rowan being shot, that means she managed to get someone on the phone right away and that someone followed us. I picked a lazy route to St. Pete Beach. We were in the restaurant for a long time.”

  “And how did whoever pulled the trigger know you would go to the beach?” Micha
el added, thoughtful. “It’s an interesting conundrum.”

  “It also might have zero to do with Patrice,” Quinn added. “Maybe Byron is the culprit. Maybe he killed Pat because he wanted to be with Patrice. He was in the car, too.”

  “Well, Bryon Winchester has other issues.”

  Quinn stilled. “What do you mean?”

  “He has other issues,” Michael repeated. “He’s known as a rampant drunk and total scammer. The fact that he’s not in prison is dumbfounding.”

  “Why would he be in prison? I mean ... I know he’s a drunk. I’ve already seen that information. Why would he be in prison, though?”

  “Because, apparently, he was smuggling contraband — including drugs from other countries — while serving as the captain of a cruise ship.”

  Quinn’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, I’m serious.”

  “But ... how did he think he’d get away with it? And what cruise line?”

  “The Atlantis Heart line,” Michael replied, rubbing his forehead as he searched his memory. “This was about ten years ago, so long before you joined The Bounding Storm and started paying attention to news from cruise ship circles.

  “Atlantis Heart always had a bad name,” he continued. “Their customer service was terrible and they were notorious for ripping off customers with packages that never turned out to be what the customer actually ordered.”

  “Okay. That’s not on Winchester, though. He’s not the one who made up the scam.”

  “No, but anyone who started working for that outfit and stayed after their initial contract was fulfilled was always suspect,” he replied. “It was regular gossip fodder back in the day. Most people realized they’d gotten themselves in with the wrong group right away and couldn’t wait to get out. Winchester, on the other hand, thought he’d fallen into gold.”

  “Did you know him?”

  “I did, which is one of the reasons I was careful to keep my distance when I realized he was one of the people you plucked from the Atlantic Ocean that night. You had to notice I wasn’t hanging around with them, that I let you do the heavy lifting.”

  Now that he mentioned it, Quinn realized it was the truth. “I didn’t think about it. I just assumed you were making calls to the Coast Guard.”

  “Please. This was a big deal. I would’ve been all over it if Winchester wasn’t involved. The last thing I wanted was to be close to him.”

  “You should’ve said something.”

  “Why? I mean ... you saved them from the water and we were immediately returning to port. Technically that should’ve been the end of our involvement with them.”

  “Yeah, but ... I guess you’re right.” Quinn shifted from one foot to the other, his mind going a mile a minute. “What can you tell me about him?”

  “Nothing good. He was suspected of smuggling heroin from Jamaica. He had a regular route. He must’ve moved ten tons of it over the time he was doing it.”

  “But ... how could he have gotten away with that for as long as he did? The other workers on the ship must’ve noticed the huge pile of drugs being loaded when they stopped at port.”

  “You would think,” Michael agreed. “The thing is, I don’t know the specifics because I obviously never worked for that outfit. I did hear certain rumors, though. I have no proof, so take what I’m about to tell you with a grain of salt.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “The rumor was that Winchester’s ship was specifically built for smuggling. All the workers they could find with flexible moral standards were shifted to that vessel for a very specific reason.”

  “Because they wouldn’t tell.”

  “They were cut in on the profits, so of course they wouldn’t tell.”

  “Wow.” Quinn shook his head. “That is absolutely disgusting. I guess I can see how they managed to keep it going for as long as they did. How were they finally caught?”

  “Apparently the federal government was watching them for a long time,” Michael replied. “The rumor is that they approached several people with deals if they would help them set up a sting. The only person who agreed was Byron Winchester.”

  “Which explains why he’s not in prison,” Quinn muttered. “He turned over evidence against his co-conspirators and got away with every rotten thing he did.”

  “Not exactly. He was stripped of his commercial license, which meant he couldn’t be a cruise ship captain. That’s when he started working as a private captain, and the pay wasn’t nearly as good.”

  “Which explains why he started drinking,” Quinn said. “He was feeling sorry for himself.”

  “Probably.”

  “It also explains how he ended up with Patrice. He needed a new meal ticket.”

  “That’s entirely possible. I’m not sure he has the stones to hire someone to shoot Rowan, though. He definitely doesn’t have the money.”

  “Patrice does. I keep circling back to her for a reason. She has to be involved.”

  “Well, I’ll issue the security lockdown. No one will be allowed on or off this ship if they don’t work here. I don’t know that it will solve your problems, but it’s a start.”

  “It’s what I need. Thank you.”

  ROWAN CRASHED HARD, AS QUINN predicted, and he kicked everyone out of the room so she could sleep. He settled on the bed next to her and proceeded to go through the files they’d amassed on every person who was rescued from the sea disaster. He was trying to decide if all of them – or only a handful – were involved when Rowan stirred and rolled, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “Why aren’t you napping?” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

  “I’m not tired.”

  “That’s not true. You’re much more tired than me.” She wrenched open an eye. “You didn’t sleep at all last night.”

  “I had to watch over my queen,” he said, smirking. “It’s okay. I’ll crash like the dead tonight. Right now, I’m looking through files on the Sterlings.”

  She perked up and shifted so she could stare at his computer screen. “We haven’t really talked about it, but I’m assuming you think they’re the ones who targeted us.”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Quinn admitted. “Patrice and Byron saw us leaving the beach house. I’ve since learned a few more disturbing things about Bryon.” He related the smuggling tale. When he was done, Rowan could do nothing but shake her head.

  “I can’t believe he’s not in prison,” she said. “I guess he knows how to play the game.”

  “He does. The question is: What game are they going to play now? Pat’s hand was found close to the compound, which means their story doesn’t hold up and they’re unlikely to get an insurance payout.”

  “How does shooting me fix that problem?”

  “It doesn’t, which makes me think you were targeted for a different reason.”

  “Which would be?”

  “Patrice Sterling saw us close to her house. She recognized me. That probably means she thinks I’m spying on her. You might’ve been shot by accident because they were aiming at me. If so, I’m really sorry.” His voice cracked as he delivered the words.

  “Stop that right now,” Rowan chided, her expression serious. “This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do this. I can’t sit back and watch you blame yourself for something you didn’t cause.”

  “Who else am I supposed to blame?”

  “The person who pulled the trigger. The people who paid him to pull the trigger. They’re the bad guys. You’re the hero in my story, and nothing is going to change that.”

  His expression softened as he leaned in to kiss her. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

  She grinned. “Probably about half as much as I love you.”

  “Oh, that sounds like an insult.” He tickled her ribs and caused her to laugh. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, though. The sooner you’re up to speed, the better.”

  “Hey, I’m feeli
ng pretty good.”

  “I’m glad.” His laptop dinged to signify an incoming email. “You’re still taking it easy the next few days. In fact ... .” He trailed off, his attention on the email.

  Rowan followed his gaze, frowning when she realized he looked to be staring at an invitation. “What is that?”

  “We’ve been invited to a party.”

  “Really? What kind of party? Do you think they’ll have crab legs? And, yes, before you ask, I’m still eating crab legs even though I puked them up last night. I’m not going to let a little vomit ruin my fun.”

  He smirked and pressed a kiss to her forehead before returning his attention to the invitation. “It’s not a party we’ll be attending.”

  “How come? If this is about my shoulder, I can find a dress to cover up the wound. We probably shouldn’t ignore a corporate party, especially if you want to get that fancy new suite.”

  “It’s not a corporate party. It’s a special remembrance party being thrown by the Sterlings.”

  Rowan’s mouth dropped open. “Get out. That’s so ... tacky.”

  “You mean since they arranged for you to be shot? I agree.” Quinn’s temper flared. “I just ... the gall of these people.”

  “When is it?”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “That’s not much notice.”

  “They’ll get away with it because it’s essentially a fancy funeral. The invitation says we’re invited — well, me and a guest — because I saved them. They made a big deal of saying how important it was for them to see me.”

  “Huh.” Rowan was thoughtful as she read the invitation over his shoulder. “Maybe we should go.”

  “What?”

  “Seriously. Maybe we should go. I mean ... when are we going to get another opportunity to see all our suspects in the same room? This could be our only chance.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because one of those animals arranged for you to be shot. I’m leaning toward Patrice, but I’m not ruling out the rest of them. There’s no way you’re going anywhere near them.”

  “And what if I feel differently?”

  “Then I’ll tie you to the bed.” He was firm as she shifted the laptop and climbed out of bed. “We’re not going to that party and that’s final. Don’t even think about trying to manipulate me to change things. It’s already decided.”