Harbor of Secrets

by Alyssa Drake

  “Do you know everyone aboard this ship?” asked Eliza in astonishment as they exited the galley.

  “Yes.” Nate answered, his voice lacking any pretention. “It’s important to know the people you work with, even if they’re in the background. Plus, it really helps to be on good terms with the cook.” He winked. “In case we need a midnight snack.”

  “After midnight, I’ll no longer belong to you.”

  “That point is open to negotiation.”

  “Is it?”

  “Oh, yes. Quite open.”

  They reached a metal ladder, identical to the stairs they had descended. Eliza grabbed onto the railings with both hands, hauling herself up the rungs. They popped out in a hallway and made a quick pivot, traveling down the nearest corridor to their right. The golden ‘Maldove’ plaque appeared, flashing invitingly.

  “Wow!” Eliza twisted around, staring at the opening behind her. “I’m never going to remember that.”

  “I’ll be there to guide you.” Nate lifted her hand and lightly brushed his lips over her skin. She shivered. “You need to change clothes.” His eyes glowed hungrily as they traveled slowly down her body. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

  “Perhaps you should check the room, to ensure its safe.” Eliza’s eyes flicked nervously toward the room. “A lot of people met me this morning.”

  “I think that’s a wise suggestion.” Nate slipped his hand around Eliza’s and led her down the short hallway.

  They entered together, leaving the door propped open. Eliza waited in the doorway while Nate quickly investigated the room. Satisfied, he gestured for her to enter. “Once I leave, I want you to lock this door until I return to collect you. It won’t be more than a half hour. I need to shower and change as well.” He gestured at the wall to his right. “My room is next door, if you need anything, rap three times.”

  He left before Eliza could speak, shutting the door. “Lock it.” His firm voice commanded through the door.

  As instructed, Eliza twisted the lock. The light breeze snuck in through the open balcony doors. She debated closing and locking them as well, but decided she would feel more like a prisoner than a guest. The nervous energy coursing through her had her pacing small circles in the room. She needed a shower.

  Entering the bathroom, she opened the beveled glass door and twisted the knobs in a deceivingly large shower, which appeared much smaller from the outside. Instantly, hot water sprayed from the nozzle. She stripped, leaving a pile of clothing on the tile floor. Climbing into the shower, she sighed as the scalding water beat against her tense muscles. Her anxious mind churning over the possible outcomes of Mr. Maldove’s plan.

  Was it really going to be over soon? She had spent years looking over her shoulder, jumping at shadows. What would she do after this? Where would she go? Nate had said their arrangement was open to negotiation. What if she stayed longer? Would he want her to? And, damn! That stupid grin was back on her face; she could feel it breaking her cheeks.

  “Stupid emotions.” She muttered aloud, shutting off the water and stepping out of the shower. Drying her skin, she wrapped the lush cotton towel nearly twice around herself. Padding into the other room, she stared at the closet, her teeth worrying her lower lip. She had no idea what to wear for this event. A knock at the door interrupted her contemplation.

  “Eliza, its Nate.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief and raced to the door, flinging it open. “I have a problem.”

  “First, wow. Second, always check before opening the door. Third, wow.” Nate entered wearing a three-piece suit, no tie. His eyes sparkled appreciatively. “Not the outfit I would have chosen, but you’ll definitely raise the most money.”

  “I’m not sure what to wear.” Eliza gestured helplessly at the closet and flushed with embarrassment.

  “Well, first we have to get rid of the towel.” Nate spun around and locked the door.

  Eliza dropped the towel while Nate’s back was to her. “Done.”

  Turning, Nate’s jaw dropped. “Eliza—" he choked “—we’ll be late.”

  “Okay.” Eliza shrugged, miffed by his rejection. She bent to retrieve the towel.

  Lunging across the room, Nate lifted her from the floor, backing her against a wall. His mouth attacked her lips, stealing her breath.

  “What about meeting your father for lunch?” She managed to ask after they broke apart.

  “I don’t care.” He growled against her mouth, his hard length pressed intimately into her.

  Eliza slid her hands up his chest, shoving his jacket off his shoulders. It fell to the plush carpet, landing on top of the soggy towel. The holster, he shimmied down his arms and placed on a nearby glass coffee table. Lifting her, he pinned her against the wall, his mouth seeking hers. Urgently, his tongue pushed between her lips, stroking, demanding, until she panted against him, gasping for air.

  Whirling around, Nate crossed the room in three steps, dropping them gently onto the bed. His hands wandered up her damp skin, scattering goosebumps across her naked flesh. She moaned against his mouth, sliding her fingers through his hair. Grasping the back of his head, she ground her body against his erection.

  Slipping one hand between them, he unbuttoned his pants, yanking the zipper to free himself. He wiggled his pants over his hips, pushing Eliza’s legs further apart. With a groan, he sheathed himself completely in her center. Pausing, his mouth nibbled a path over her collarbone, descending at a maddeningly slow pace toward her breast. His tongue circled her nipple, sucking it gently into his mouth. Eliza moaned, frustration in her fingers as they dug into his shoulders.

  “Please, Nate.” She begged him shamelessly, trembling with need.

  “One day will not be enough.” He gazed down at her a moment, his cobalt eyes blazing. “I find you too addicting.” He buried his nose in her hair, loose and tangled across the pillow. “Stay with me.”

  Eliza’s head rolled to the side, exposing her neck to Nate’s soft lips which continued kissing a seductive trail along her jawline. She raised her hips against him, grinding impatiently. “I’ll consider postponing reality for a few more days.”

  “I can be quite persuasive.” His teeth closed around the exposed bud of her nipple. He tugged, his tongue darting across the sensitive tip. Eliza cried out, bowing off the bed.

  He withdrew quickly, slamming into her again, beginning an unforgiving rhythm of blissful torture. His tongue and teeth teased her nipple as she writhed uncontrollably on the bed. She grabbed his hips, rocking herself into his thrust. Nate moaned, increasing his tempo, fire burning behind his eyes.

  Passion coursed through Eliza’s veins, bubbling and boiling, until she felt as though she would burst. Her knees trembled as she exploded, her voice an unrecognizable torrent of pleasure as she quivered on the bed. Nate drove himself into her again, sinking deeply on his final thrust, reaching his own apex. His voice drowned out hers as he collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily.

  After a moment, he rolled to his side. “Sorry, I’m crushing you.”

  “It was kind of comforting.”

  “Alright.” Nate laughed and flung his legs back over Eliza’s waist.

  “Hey.” She shoved his legs off her stomach.

  Nate’s phone vibrated. With a sigh, he climbed from the bed and retrieved it from the pocket of his discarded coat. His eyes rapidly scanned the message. He glanced up at Eliza with an odd expression.

  “It’s from my father. They caught Mr. Stewart trying to rig the auction so he could win you. I’m not sure how he learned you were on the ship, since we didn’t bump into him during our promenade.” Nate dressed swiftly, his muffled voice lost in his shirt. “Father is holding him for questioning in the Captain’s quarters. Stay here. Put the light purple dress on and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He kissed Eliza lightly on the forehead and disappeared out the door.

  Eliza stared unblinkingly at the door. Was it really over? Was she finally safe?

  Ch
apter 10

  Eliza hummed as she dressed, an unfamiliar, buoyant feeling coursing through her body. Mr. Maldove had captured the man responsible for the death of her parents. Now she just had to make it through a fancy luncheon—and dinner—and turn over the evidence to Mr. Maldove. A small grimace crept onto her lips. Guilt. She had lied about the photographs, she knew where they were hidden. One final precaution, a result of living on her own for so long.

  She zipped up the side of the dress, admiring the way it fitted her torso, highlighting her curves with its dramatic lines. Pivoting in front of the mirror, she watched the dress twirl, a delicate swirl of iridescent lavender.

  “Could you live in this world?” She asked the question aloud, staring at her reflection. Selecting a brush from the bag of complimentary toiletries left in the suite, she pulled it through her damp hair. The bristles scratched comfortingly against her scalp. A light knock, centered in the middle of the door, startled her.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “Just Joe.” The ancient voice grunted his greeting. “Nathaniel sent me to check on you. He said he’d be a bit longer with the interrogation.”

  “Oh, well that was kind of him. I’m fine, thank you for asking,” replied Eliza.

  “Perhaps, you might open the door. I need to ensure your wellbeing instead of just taking your word for it. Safety measure, I’m sure you understand. Nathaniel gave me specific instructions to physically put my hand on your arm.”

  “I guess that makes sense.” Eliza unlatched the lock and opened the door a crack. She peered around the edge. “Is Nate concerned Mr. Stewart had an accomplice?”

  “Yes and no. Mrs. Stewart has gone missing.” Joe paused, glancing at the empty corridor behind him. “I really shouldn’t be speaking about this delicate matter in public.”

  “Of course.” Eliza pulled the door open wider. “Please come in.”

  “Would you help me over the threshold?” He asked, sheepishly gesturing at the floor. “I have trouble with the raised frame.”

  “Certainly.” Eliza darted into the hallway, grabbing ahold of the wheelchair handles. She shoved forward. The wheels caught momentarily before bouncing over the doorjamb. Joe careened sideways, using his gloved hands to right the chair before it tipped.

  “I’m so sorry.” Eliza rushed to his side.

  “No trouble.” Joe waved a hand. “You just don’t know your own strength.”

  “No, you’re wrong there.” Eliza laughed. “I’ve spent the last three years of my life hiding from Mr. Stewart. That’s not strength.”

  “Survival is strength.” Joe’s eyes flared a moment. “I’d love a cup of coffee, if you don’t mind. There’s a machine on the counter. All you have to do is push that little red button. And I wouldn’t mind the company either.” He winked.

  Finding the petite coffee maker exactly as Joe described, Eliza depressed the red button. The machine sprang to life, percolating and bubbling. The delightful aroma of roasted coffee filled the room.

  “Mmm, I love that smell.” She sighed and filled two mugs with the steaming hot liquid.

  “More than the ocean?”

  “Well, it’s a toss-up.” His statement pricked her subconscious, and she glanced at him with a puzzled expression. “How did you know I loved the smell of the ocean?”

  “Slip of the tongue.” He acknowledged his error with a sneer and extracted a small pistol from his coat pocket. “I had hoped to build your trust a bit more before springing this unpleasantness on you, but we only have a short window of time before Nathaniel discovers I framed Mason this morning.” He aimed the barrel at Eliza’s chest. “Where are the photographs?”

  “What photographs?”

  Joe casually flicked his arm to the right, shooting a bullet through the coffee maker. It shattered, scattering fragments of glass across the marble countertop. “I will only ask you one more time.”

  Eliza’s eyes flicked toward the open door. Did someone hear the shot? Joe followed her movement with interest.

  “Close the door.” His cold instructions sent a block of ice sliding down Eliza’s back. He watched her with narrowed eyes as she moved toward the door. “And in case you are thinking of running or calling out for help—” He paused and reached down to lock both wheels of the chair with his free hand. Placing each foot carefully on the floor, he rose and stepped away from the wheelchair. “Surprise.”

  Eliza gasped. “You can walk?”

  “No one would suspect poor disabled Uncle Joe of committing such horrendous crimes.” He took one step closer. “Lock it.” He growled menacingly, gesturing at the door with the pistol.

  Complying, Eliza twisted the lock and turned to face Joe.

  Lunging forward, he slammed the butt of the gun down on Eliza’s forehead. She groaned and crumpled to the floor. Her vision fuzzy, she rolled back and forth, pressing her hands to the aching knot on her head.

  Joe laughed. He drew back his leg and kicked her in the ribs. She screamed in agony, curling into a ball and clutching her side. Joe’s foot swung again, connecting with her chin. Her head snapped back, and stars popped behind her eyes.

  Kneeling next to her, Joe wove his fingers through her hair, yanked her head off the floor, and slapped her hard. Ripping her head further back, Joe shoved the muzzle into her mouth.

  “Now.” His cruel voice whispered in her ear. “Where are the photographs?”

  “Mmph a aff.” A tear streamed down Eliza’s cheek.

  Joe extracted the gun, a dark smirk on his lips. “Repeat that please.”

  “In a safe.” A second tear dripped from her eye.

  “I’m curious to learn how you discovered the location of the photographs.” He stroked a thumb down her face. “Did your sweet mommy tell you?”

  “They were taped to the underside of the cupboard I hid in, the day you murdered my parents.” Eliza spat the last phrase.

  “Ah, so that’s where you concealed yourself.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I spent hours searching that house after your mother’s body was removed. When I realized you were the only one who could have those pictures, I knew I needed to locate you before my ignorant brother-in-law.” His hand snapped out, cracking Eliza across her cheek again. “Where’s the safe?”

  “In Nate’s bedroom at Mr. Maldove’s house.” Eliza whimpered.

  “Hmm. Inconvenient, but no matter.” He studied her a moment. “I’m surprised you trusted them. As well as you covered your tracks, that’s an unusual slip-up. Unless you didn’t reveal what you concealed in the safe.”

  Eliza’s gaze fell to the carpet. Drops of blood stained the intricate eggshell pattern. “Nate thinks I just put money in his safe.”

  “Such a shame.” He shook his head, pointing the gun at her heart. “Since I no longer need you, I fear we must say goodbye, sweet Eliza. Give my regards to your parents.”

  Pounding vibrated through the room, and Joe’s head whipped up.

  “Eliza!” yelled Nate, beating on the door.

  “Look out!” Eliza screamed as Joe squeezed the trigger. A bullet flew through the door.

  “Shut up.” Joe kicked Eliza again, his toe digging into her rib cage with an audible crack, and she howled in anguish.

  “Now!” A deep voice bellowed from the corridor. The door exploded inward, splitting in half, as Everett and Nate burst into the room. Pieces of wood rained down on Eliza.

  With a snakelike movement, Joe snatched Eliza from the floor by her hair, positioning her body in front of him as a shield. He dragged her backward into the center of the room, his arm wrapped tightly across her neck, cutting into her windpipe. The gun barrel painfully gouged her temple.

  “Hello, boys.” Joe sneered. “Why don’t you toss over those guns?”

  Nate reached into his coat, removing the weapon, and placing it on the floor. He kicked it toward Joe. Everett repeated the same movement, a simultaneous dance of disarmament.

  “Hands in the air, or I shoot her throug
h the head.”

  “Easy, Uncle.” Nate raised his arms slowly. “Just let her go, we can talk about this.”

  Joe chuckled, the same maniacal laughter which haunted Eliza’s dreams. “There’s nothing to talk about, Nathaniel. Eliza and I are going to take a little trip to retrieve some old photographs. Pictures which are currently hidden in your safe.” He snickered at Nate’s obvious surprise.

  Nate’s eyes slid to Eliza. His head tilted to the side, a hurt expression flashed across his face, like a dark cloud passing in front of the sun. “You didn’t trust me?”

  “It was for your protection.” Eliza stared at Nate, willing him to understand why she chose to conceal the truth. “Anyone who sees those photographs ends up dead.”

  A cold veil fell over his eyes. “You lied to me.”

  “Can you both discuss this later?” Everett gestured to Joe with his raised hands. “We’re kind of in the middle of something.”

  “Thank you, Everett.” Joe’s cruel glare landed on Nate, whose fingers twitched with irritation. “Now, if you would excuse us, Eliza and I have an important matter to attend.”

  “We can’t allow you to leave the ship,” stated Everett, his voice eerily calm.

  “Which one of you will stop me?” Joe tightened his grip on Eliza. She choked, clawing at his fingers as they squeezed, preventing the oxygen from reaching her brain. Her knees buckled. Blackness crept into her vision.

  With a screech, Joe’s hand disappeared from Eliza’s neck, his nails brutally gouging her skin. Her lungs filled with oxygen again. Dizzy, she collapsed, falling forward into Nate’s outstretched arms. He clutched her to his chest, gently stroking his hand over her hair.

  A gurgling sound escaped from Joe’s lips. Eliza twisted fearfully in Nate’s embrace. Behind her, Frankie straddled Joe, now supine on the carpet. She perched on his chest, her knees pinning his forearms to the ground. A ghastly sneer danced on her lips as she wielded a rust-colored knife; blood spurted from a large gash in Joe’s throat. His eyes bulged and glazed over, the final dregs of life ebbing from his body.