Undercurrent of Secrets

by Rachel Scott McDaniel

  Steam climbed from the coffeepot’s spout, and I poured us both a cup. Duffy accepted with a more steady hand than usual. His eyes seemed brighter too. Maybe the extra time he’d spent in his room had improved his health.

  We ate in contented silence, the occasional holler from a deckhand below interrupting the quiet. After we had our fill, Duffy stood and rummaged around his closet, emerging with an armful of boxes. Instead of elegant paper and ribbons, the presents had been wrapped in old newspapers tied with twine. To me, the packages couldn’t be more beautiful.

  “My girl only turns twenty-one once.” There was a somber hitch in his tone, but before I could question him on it, he nodded at the table, still cluttered with the remains of our breakfast.

  I stacked the dishes onto the tray, making a clearing for the gifts. Duffy set them down and reclaimed his seat, waiting for me to begin unwrapping. It could be the shifting of light through the door’s window, but Duffy seemed hunched in his chair. Where were the traces of life and strength so visible earlier?

  Sadness crashed into me with the force of turbulent waters. I blinked, hoping to keep the emotion from flooding into my eyes. Forcing a smile, I opened the first box. My fingers stilled on the lid’s edges. “Duffy.” My tone was breathless as I gawked at the silver-plated vanity set—a brush, a handheld mirror, and a powder box. Never mind I’d never dusted my face with cosmetics in my life, the items had to have cost a small fortune. “I’ve never owned anything this expensive.” The gold necklace and helm pendent hanging from my neck had been my sole extravagance since I’d turned eighteen, when Duffy had gifted it.

  He dismissed my words with a shrug. “If I had my inheritance, I could’ve bought you a townhouse on Fifth Avenue, New York, but this felt good to purchase.” A tremor of satisfaction rippled in his craggy voice, making me love him more.

  Oh the things he’d given up for love of the rivers. It had cost him a world of luxury, but his choices had allowed him to navigate his own course rather than have it set by his family.

  “I admire you, Duffy. I couldn’t have had a better example. Nor a better father than you.”

  His eyes shined with emotion, yet his mouth pressed into a straight line as if my words made him sad. Maybe he was disappointed that it had taken this long for me to acknowledge it.

  “I know I’ve never openly said it, but I’ve always considered you my papa.”

  His vein-bulged hand settled on mine. Callouses from years of being a riverman scraped rough against my skin. “Let’s not get all sniffly. You have two more gifts to open.”

  I gave him a warm smile and opened the second. Jeweled hair combs. Rubies arranged as flower petals glistened in the light pouring in from outside. I trembled at the thought of touching something so beautiful. “Stunning.” But where on earth would I wear them?

  I didn’t need anything this lavish. But maybe Duffy had remembered what his sister received on her twenty-first birthday and wanted me to experience it. My heart softened. I wouldn’t protest these expensive gifts, for Duffy’s sake. “Thank you. I’m overwhelmed.”

  “Last one.” He nudged the final present my way. The box was twice the size of the others. I made quick work of the paper and lifted the lid.

  “A new dress!” I unleashed a grin, but I took in the frock, and it too was fancy. Ivory silk fabric trimmed with delicate lace around the capped sleeves and neckline. I couldn’t wear a near-white gown about the boat. It would turn a darker shade of ash at every hiss of steam from the stacks.

  All these elaborate gifts didn’t make sense. Duffy had always been practical. Perhaps his mind had been affected as well as his body. That would explain the recent moodiness. I looked over and realized he was waiting for my response. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I realize it’s different than other years. I made mistakes by giving you tools and books. It’s about time you got something just because it’s pretty.”

  “Everything is beautiful. Thank you.”

  “Maybe…” He shifted in his seat. “This is a good start to a hope chest.”

  A hope chest? I’d never heard him speak along those lines. And his eyes were shiny, as if I was going to be married and gone tomorrow. Or maybe he thought he was the one who was soon to be gone. Did he think he was dying? It was more than I could bear. “Duffy, is there something you’re not telling me? I feel like—”

  Voices resounded from below. The men were singing “Happy Birthday.”

  “That’s for you, my dear.” Duffy smirked as if he’d planned the entire thing. Maybe he had.

  My thoughts swirled from all the shifts in emotions during the past half hour, but I managed to move out the stateroom door. All the crew from Clem to Ludwig lined the deck and held their caps over their hearts. My gaze landed on Face, who winked at me. Jack’s expression was something else altogether, as if he were the only one serenading me. My heart flipped at the pleasant sound of his tenor voice. The song ended, and they whooped and hollered.

  “Thank you, gentlemen!” I blew an exaggerated kiss and Face pretended to catch it.

  He cupped his mouth. “I told you that kiss belonged to me.”

  “You have to share it.” I rolled my eyes and turned my back just as Jack was climbing the staircase toward me.

  His sweeping gaze set free a thousand locust wings in my stomach. I hadn’t worn this dress around him before, and his eyes, as clear and blue as the sky above me, were warm with interest.

  He paused at the top of the steps, only a few yards from me. “It’s not fair for you to look so fetching. Not when I have to report to the wing bridge and don’t have adequate time to spend with you.”

  I believe Jack Marshall had just flirted with me. A flush of pleasure raced down my neck, spreading down my arms.

  He stepped closer. “You didn’t tell me you were turning twenty-one today.”

  I inclined my chin and adopted Miss Wendall’s British accent. “’Tis not becoming for a lady to reveal her age.”

  His chuckle was well worth my awful impersonation. “That doesn’t give me much time to get you a present.” His crooked smile flattened, his eyes taking on that determined edge I’d grown to admire. “But I promise I will.”

  My workday began with prepping food in the galley for the cruises, then scaling the flights of steps to play the calliope to welcome the passengers as they purchased tickets. I pressed the final key to “Swanee River” and rushed to the landing bridge to help Jack count every person boarding.

  Each excursion felt like a mini-adventure, and though I’d been on hundreds of cruises, the churn of the paddlewheel and the shriek of the steam whistle never became ordinary.

  It was midday before I realized I’d left my gifts in Duffy’s cabin. He hadn’t remarked about it, but I didn’t want to appear ungrateful.

  The Idlewild had a couple more hours of cruising and enamoring the Carrolton crowd. Duffy had resumed his duties and now seemed in good spirits. When I’d last seen him, he was explaining the workings of the piston arm to a group of children.

  With quick steps, I made my way to the texas roof and to the captain’s stateroom. I studied the gifts again. So refined. So unlike me. The idea of handling these expensive tokens forced me to the washbasin to scrub my fingers.

  Duffy’s coats were haphazardly hanging in his closet, and my heart tore. Simple tasks like tidying his cabin were getting harder for him.

  With quick movements, I straightened his grooming area, then rehung his extra uniform and suit jacket. I bumped a hanger, and his trousers puddled onto the floor. Sighing, I scooped them up, but a piece of paper slipped from the pocket.

  A letter.

  The word Pittsburgh seized my attention. I snatched the paper from the floor and read it.

  I know the risk you’re taking but it won’t be without reward. I trust I don’t need to remind you to keep quiet. I realize it’s hard with the federal agent snooping around. Stick to the plan and he’ll be none the wiser. Too much depend
s on you and your delivery. Off-load before Pittsburgh. I’ll be in touch with the name of the contact who will be meeting you.

  G. Jones

  Who was this Jones person? I read the note again, a fierce shiver chasing a chill down to my fingertips. Contact? Delivery? Risk? Everything pointed to one conclusion, but my brain wouldn’t accept it. My heart wouldn’t allow it.

  Duffy couldn’t be the one Jack was looking for. It defied everything I knew about him. The honorable steamboat captain had always been a stickler for the rules. He would never risk his captain’s license for a few barrels of liquor.

  Would he?

  He had been more distant since Jack had come aboard. This Jones gentleman was aware that Jack was a fed and here on a mission, while also admonishing Duffy to “stick to the plan.”

  My breath stabbed my chest. The evidence was too blaring for it to be anything else.

  Duffy was a rumrunner.

  Chapter 19

  Devyn

  Devyn hadn’t heard from her ex in almost a year, and now he stood in her doorway, all casual-like, as if he hadn’t fed her heart into the social media shredder. His gaze roamed her body, and that familiar note of approval—that masculine regard she’d once craved—reflected in his brown eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” Her voice was absurdly calm. Yet there must have been some trace of emotion in her eyes, for Travis blinked and his lazy smirk crumbled into a frown.

  “We need to talk.” He noticed Chase standing behind her. “Alone.”

  She barred her arms in a tight fold across her chest, barricading her pounding heart. “You have nothing to say to me that hasn’t already gone viral. Now leave your key and go, or I’ll have security drag you out.”

  “C’mon, Dev. A couple minutes.” He held out his hands in a plea. “That’s all I want.”

  All I want. How many times had he said those three words to her? Everything had always been about what Travis Leeman wanted. And with zero consideration for others. Her jaw clenched until her back teeth ached.

  “Please?”

  Tension snaked through her. She knew him well enough that if he didn’t say his piece now, he’d badger her until he could. “Five minutes. That’s it.”

  Travis gave a satisfied nod and strolled back into her penthouse as if he lived there.

  Ugh. What a way to ruin a first date.

  Chase cupped her shoulder and leaned close. “I don’t want to leave you. After what you told me about him tonight, I really want to crush his jugular. But I’ll go if you want.” Struggle burned the silver flecks in his eyes deeper, no doubt his protective nature at odds with his considerate side. He removed his touch and stepped away, as if giving her space to make a decision.

  She reached toward him, and he caught her hand in his. “Give me five minutes, then come in. That’ll ensure Travis leaves.”

  With one last steady look into Chase’s face, she took in a lungful of air and entered her penthouse, leaving him standing on the other side of the door. Travis lounged on her sofa, directly in the center, making it so if she sat on either side, she’d be touching him. Might as well stand. Looming over her ex-fiancé provided her a weird sense of advantage

  Their lifestyle had been demanding, and while she was no longer tied to it, she could see its effect on him. Like the faint lines rippling his forehead. The man still dressed like he’d just emerged from a GQ photo shoot, but he didn’t fill out his clothes as he had before. He was thinner.

  “Okay, Travis, out with it.”

  He leaned his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together in the space between. “I tried to get ahold of you, but all your accounts are disabled.”

  “Can you blame me?”

  “And you changed your number.”

  “And now I need to change my locks and alarm code,” she said in a dry tone. “Though I never considered you would add breaking and entering to your skillset.”

  Travis’s gaze floated around the room. “I’m actually surprised you kept this place.”

  “Yeah, well, considering Space Station was pretty much my idea and my work, I figured I should get something out of it.”

  “You’re right.” The sheepish expression looked foreign on his face. “It was jerkish of me.”

  “Which part?” She popped a hand on her hip. “Cutting me out of everything I worked for or jilting me in front of millions? Or is it billions now?”

  “I deleted the video.”

  Her brows spiked, then flattened just as quickly. “I’m shocked you’d remove your most viewed post.”

  “It wasn’t. The proposal is the most popular.”

  “Oh that’s right. I even had to share that moment with all your followers.” The words she’d swept into the dark corners of her heart axed through the barred gates, demanding to come to the light. “How could you? All that time, you knew how uncomfortable I was sharing our life with the camera. You cheapened what we had together, cheapened me. But still, you broadcasted our entire relationship.”

  “Not all of it.” His suggestive tone punctured her flimsy composure.

  She’d lost more than her heart to Travis. Thank God for His forgiveness, but oh, what she wouldn’t give for a do-over, for a chance to correct her mistakes.

  “What I’m trying to say, Dev, is I shouldn’t have ended it that way. I’m sorry.”

  Her jaw slacked, lips parting. Travis never apologized. Not once in all her years of knowing him. It had always been excuses. Always something or someone else to blame. “You said what you wanted, now please leave. And take your entourage with you.”

  “Entourage?” His innocent tone and the slight widening of his eyes almost seemed convincing.

  But she wasn’t fooled. “All the cameramen and reporters outside this building. We got bombarded on the way in, thanks to you.” She should have realized something more was at play. The media continually followed Travis. He thrived on their attention. Just like all his other ploys. Which made her wonder… “This isn’t another one of your schemes, is it? Where’s Stu?” That devoted cameraman trailed Travis like a shadow. “Because if he’s secretly filming this right now, so help me—”

  “Stu’s not here.” Travis stood and stepped toward her. “No one’s filming anything. C’mon, Dev, give me some credit.”

  “I don’t have to give you anything. Again.” She held up a ringless hand. “We are nothing to each other. And I’m pretty sure your five minutes was up five minutes ago.”

  She turned on her heel toward the door to usher him out, but his fingers wrapped her wrist.

  The door opened and Chase entered. His gaze dropped to her ex’s grip on her arm, and his expression went from placid to thunderous. He strode toward Devyn, his hand flexing at his side reminding her of his throat-punching remark in the hallway. Surely Chase would keep his cool, even if his eyes were hot like molten steel.

  Travis dropped her wrist and stepped back.

  She gave Chase a quick nod, letting him know she was okay, then leveled her glare on her ex. “You need to—”

  “Come back,” Travis blurted.

  “What?” She hugged her arms to her middle, her fingers rubbing the spot of his touch. He’d left no mark, but the residue of his manipulating manner pricked like fire ants on her skin.

  “Come back to Space Station. People are spamming the feedback logs, begging you to return.”

  She shifted her weight from foot to foot. The longer she stood, the more her shoes pinched, but her cramping toes were nothing compared to the tightness wringing her chest. “Travis, you can afford the very best. Hire some genius to do the coding. You don’t need me.”

  Chase’s scowl remained aimed at Travis. Devyn couldn’t see Travis turning violent, but then she’d never imagined him ditching her the way he had either.

  “Come back.” His low murmur had once stirred her longing. Now it gave her low-key nausea. “I miss you.”

  “And I miss the kid who had a maxipad stuck to his back. B
ut he’s gone. Fame destroyed him.”

  Chase shot her a confused look. But Travis knew exactly what she meant.

  Her ex shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his designer jeans. “I made the biggest mistake when I broke up with you.”

  She scoffed. “Because Space Station suffered?”

  “No, not because of Space Station.”

  He could claim that all he wanted, but she knew better. Everything was about that dumb site. That was why he was here. The public wanted her back, and Travis was nothing if not swayed by the public. He’d finally gotten the attention he desired from the world, and now he was losing it.

  “Okay, so the site has slid in ratings compared to other media platforms, but we’re gearing for a comeback. I’ve contracted heavy hitters to promote it. Some A-list celebrities. And I’m close to securing Slate to reveal his identity on my station.”

  Fingernails biting into her palms, she inclined her chin. “Looks like you have everything in order then, so you certainly don’t need me.”

  “Dev, don’t be like this.” He reached to touch her face, but she shrank away.

  Chase’s jaw hardened and he widened his stance. Devyn placed a hand on his bicep, his muscle tense beneath her fingertips. She gave an I-can-take-care-of-it look, then faced Travis. “I’ve moved on. I have another job. One I love.”

  His brows furrowed. “A wedding coordinator for that decrepit boat? Planning paltry dinners?” He gestured toward the dining room where she had all her charts and spreadsheets for the ball on the table. How long had he been in her apartment?

  “The boat is called the Belle, and it’s not decrepit.” Her tone was low and sharp. “The answer is no, Travis.”

  “You can’t be satisfied with something like that, babe.” And now he used an endearment? The man must really be desperate. “You have too much talent to settle for something like that. Come back to me.” His voice cracked with emotion, but so much more had been broken between them.