Churning Seas

by Lily Harper Hart

  “Now I’m properly motivated.”

  “That was exactly what I was going for.”

  3

  Three

  Rowan was a bundle of nerves in the lobby. Word quickly spread through the crew about what was going down and security forced the workers inside to make sure there were no added distractions on deck. That made for a hectic situation as they waited for evacuees to make their way inside.

  Even though it felt like forever, in actuality Rowan only found herself waiting for five minutes before the first group entered. They were bedraggled, water soaking hair and clothes, and they looked beaten down. That snapped her into action as Michael took control of the situation.

  “We’re finding accommodations for everyone,” he announced to the first man who made his way across the ornate carpet decorating the lobby. “Until we have a full count and ascertain everyone’s physical status, though, we want you grouped here.”

  “I’m Rocky Dalton. I’m the senior drilling foreman. Thank you for coming to our aid.”

  “It’s our pleasure.” Michael was the amiable sort and he had a special ability to charm anyone, including passengers. That ability was on full display. “We’re getting clothes and food. Unfortunately for you guys, the only clothing we have available is from the gift shop ... so I hope you like brightly colored Bermuda shorts and T-shirts. It’s the best we can do.”

  Rocky snorted out a laugh. “I think we’ll manage.”

  “Then let’s get started,” Michael suggested. “Danielle is at the front desk. If you guys can just lodge your names with her so we get a proper manifest, we’ll start working on rooms. The kitchen staff is putting together dinner right now. We’ll move you into the dining room as soon as the initial paperwork is out of the way. You can change clothes in the bathroom there and our maid staff will launder what you’re already wearing and get it back to you.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “This is a grand ship,” Michael explained. “We want all our guests to leave happy.”

  “Anything is better than that rig,” one of the other men said. His face was ashen, and he looked as if he was about to lose whatever he ate for lunch all over the floor. “I seriously thought we were going to die out there.”

  “Not on my watch.” Michael puffed out his chest. “Let’s get to work, people. The faster we get everyone settled, the better.”

  QUINN MET THE LAST man leaving the rig, giving him a hand as he landed on the deck. His clothing was completely soaked through from the rain and the storm showed no signs of letting up.

  “Is that everyone?”

  The man nodded, his eyes dark. “I’m Bart Hopkins. I’m the night drilling foreman.”

  “Is there more than one drilling foreman?” Quinn asked, confused.

  “Three. One night. One day. One senior drilling foreman who is in charge of everything and acts as something of a floater.”

  “Okay. I guess that makes sense. We have people in charge of the same job on different schedules, too.” Quinn did the math in his head. “I think I counted fifty-two people, including you. Does that sound right?”

  Bart furrowed his brow. “It should be fifty-one.”

  Quinn shook his head. “I kept count. It was fifty-two.”

  “I brought a manifest.” Bart tapped the thick jacket covering his clothes. “I can’t pull it out until we’re inside.”

  “You’re sure everyone is off the rig, though, right?” Quinn pressed.

  “Yes. I checked myself. It’s clear.”

  “Then let’s get out of here.” Quinn raised his finger in the air to signal one of his men. “We don’t want to stick this close if we don’t have to. The storm isn’t abating. We need to put distance between us and this platform.”

  “Go ahead. I don’t think there’s any saving this rig. They’re going to have to bring in a new one before we can get back to work.”

  “That’s something for you guys to worry about. We have orders to return you to shore with us. After that, you’re on your own.”

  “I’ve got it. I just want out of this rain.”

  “Come on. Everyone is in the lobby. We can check your manifest against the one they’re building there. It’s always possible I accidentally counted someone twice because it was a flurry of bodies there for a little bit.”

  “Is there going to be food in the lobby? I’m starving. We missed dinner when the platform started to tilt.”

  “That is one good thing about being rescued by a cruise ship.” Quinn winked. “We have a much better food selection than the Coast Guard.”

  “Well, finally something right happened today. I’ll take it.”

  ROWAN MANAGED TO DISTRACT herself with photos and helping the medical personnel with bandages, but she remained on edge as she waited for Quinn to join the lobby group. She’d given up wearing the life vest despite Quinn’s insistence to the contrary. It was cumbersome and made it hard to snap photographs. She’d almost forgotten about it until Quinn strode through the lobby door with the last of Andromeda’s crew and immediately zeroed in on her.

  “You’re okay.” Rowan was breathless as she scurried up to him.

  “I am,” Quinn agreed, tamping down his urge to hug her. He was on the job and wanted to appear professional. “We’re safely away from the rig.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “I was going to tell you it was okay to take off your life vest, but I see that’s not necessary.”

  Rowan’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh, well ... no one else was wearing one.”

  “I was.” Quinn tugged off his life vest and held it up for her perusal.

  “Yes, but you were actually out on the deck. Plus, well, I was taking photographs and it was hard with the vest.”

  “Uh-huh.” Quinn’s expression was hard to read. “Bart Hopkins, this is our ship photographer Rowan Gray.”

  Bart extended his hand, amusement evident. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.” Rowan was eager to avoid Quinn’s pointed stare so she focused on Bart. “We’re getting clothes from everyone, collecting the clothes you’re wearing so they can be laundered, and then moving everyone into the dining room for dinner before we deal with the room accommodations.”

  “That sounds good to me.”

  “You just need to check in with Danielle behind the desk,” Rowan explained, pointing. “You guys are the last ones in, right?”

  “We are,” Quinn confirmed. “I’ll take you to Danielle and help you find clothes, Bart. I want to look at her manifest and the one you brought with you.”

  “Okay. Here.” Bart dug in his coat and came back with a folded sheet of paper. It looked a bit damp despite his efforts to keep it covered. “I can’t wait to get out of these clothes.” He flicked his eyes to Rowan. “You can help me pick out something to wear, if you’re so inclined.”

  Quinn narrowed his eyes. “She’s not.”

  “I was just kidding.” Bart barked out a laugh. “I knew it would get your dander up. It’s pretty clear she’s your ... um, personal photographer.”

  “She is,” Quinn agreed. “That’s why I wanted her in the life vest.”

  “It all worked out,” Bart noted. “Being mad after the fact seems like a waste of time, especially since it’s a miracle we managed to get everyone off that rig in the first place.”

  Quinn’s expression softened, although only marginally. “Fair enough. No harm, no foul, huh?”

  Rowan’s smile was quick. “Exactly.”

  Quinn flicked her ear before directing Bart to the front desk. “Finish taking your photos. I’ll meet you in the dining room for a late dinner. I hear Sally is going all out and there are crab legs.”

  Even though she’d eaten hours before, Rowan couldn’t hold back the excitement bubbling up. “Oh, what a great idea for an evening snack.”

  Quinn was genuinely amused. “I thought you would feel that way. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

 
“I’ll be waiting with butter dip.”

  “That’s just how I like you.”

  THE LOBBY WAS EMPTY WHEN Bart exited the bathroom. He looked out of his element in blue board shorts and a pink T-shirt with a huge dolphin on it, but he didn’t complain when he handed his clothing over to the maid waiting outside of the restrooms.

  “I’ll get that back, right?” Bart queried.

  The maid nodded. “We’re going to wash everything tonight and then deliver it to you in the morning.”

  Bart beamed. “Good deal.” His smile remained in place as he watched the young and pretty maid sashay off in the opposite direction. Quinn was busy comparing manifests, so he didn’t look up until Bart spoke again. “You’ve got a tough life living on this ship, huh? Crab legs for snacks and pretty girls at every turn. However do you deal?”

  Quinn shrugged as his lips curved. “It’s a hardship, but I manage.”

  “Yeah, yeah. How many of these women have you dated?”

  “Just the one.”

  “The ship’s photographer?”

  “She’s it.” What Quinn didn’t add was that he hoped she was it for the long haul. He hadn’t been big on relationships before meeting her. Now he didn’t want to envision a life where they didn’t share virtually everything because it was too horrible to bear. “That being said, the other men on the ship never have a problem finding dates.”

  “That’s not how it works on a rig,” Bart explained, falling into step with Quinn as the security chief led him toward the dining room. The rest of his crew was already there, waiting for him, and he was eager to make sure the transition was smooth for everybody. “It’s all men on a rig. There’s nothing pretty to distract you.”

  “All men?” Quinn furrowed his brow. “Don’t you worry about charges of discrimination?”

  Bart shrugged. “I wish I could say it’s a perfect world and rigs are safe places for men and women, but that’s not the case. Rigs are isolated. There’s no escape. It’s honestly best for everyone if it’s all men.”

  “So ... even your cleaning staff and cooks are men?”

  “Yup.”

  “Well, if it works for you, it’s not my place to say otherwise,” Quinn said. “That sounds like a rather boring existence, though.”

  “It’s not like this place. You guys are together all the time, even when you’re back at port. For us, we’re on the rig for three weeks and then off for three weeks. It’s not so bad.”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “Although, to be fair, given that cute photographer, I’m thinking you have the better arrangement.”

  Quinn shot Bart a warning look that was more fake menace than real anxiety. “Keep away from my girl. If you want someone to flirt with, may I suggest the blonde holding court by the food.” Quinn pointed toward Sally Jenkins, The Bounding Storm’s head cook. She seemed to be having a good time as she amiably chatted with Andromeda’s rescued workers as they worked their way through the line. “She’s fun and smart. She’s also a miracle worker in the kitchen.”

  “We know how important that is,” Bart chuckled. “Is your woman a miracle in the kitchen?”

  Quinn tilted his head to the side, considering. “I don’t know. It kind of bothers me that I don’t know, but we live a different life here. We eat in the crew mess hall or main dining room when we’re at sea and mainland restaurants when we’re at port. I have no idea if she can cook.”

  “I’m guessing she can do other things so you don’t really care about the cooking.”

  “She can,” Quinn agreed, grinning when he saw Rowan heading toward their normal table with an overflowing plate of crab legs. “She can make me happy with just a smile.”

  “Oh, geez.” Bart made a face. “That’s all kinds of schmaltzy.”

  “I know. People have been complaining about it. I can’t seem to stop myself, though.”

  “Well, I’m going to give you a break and let you be schmaltzy with her,” Bart supplied. “I’m starving and I want to check on the guys. My understanding is you’re taking us back to port, but the company has no idea when we’re going to be back to work.”

  “I honestly don’t have an answer for you on that one. It’s out of my realm of expertise.”

  “Hey, you saved us. That’s the most important thing.”

  “I’m just glad everything worked out. It could’ve gone a different way.”

  “I think someone was smiling down on us.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  ROWAN SAT CROSS-LEGGED on her bed an hour later, her eyes intense as they stared at her computer screen. Quinn let himself into her quarters and immediately stripped out of his shirt and kicked off his shoes before issuing so much as a greeting.

  “How are things?” Rowan asked, dragging her eyes away from the computer. “Did you get everyone settled?”

  “We did.” Quinn bobbed his head and unbuttoned his jeans. They were still damp from the rescue and he was too stubborn to change into anything they offered in the gift shop. It would’ve ruined his reputation as a fair boss and total badass in the security division. “We managed to find rooms for about half of them. The rest are in the art gallery with mattresses, pillows, and blankets. We didn’t have anything scheduled in there for the remainder of the trip so it seemed like the best option.”

  “Well, that’s not so bad,” Rowan hedged. “I mean ... it’s not great. It’s not terrible either, though. It’s better than being on a rig that’s threatening to sink into the ocean.”

  “That’s definitely true.” Quinn crawled into bed next to Rowan wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, taking time to lean closer to her back and kiss the tender spot behind her ear. “So, I believe we were talking about you showering me with affection before we got distracted by a rescue operation. I’m ready to be doted on.”

  Rowan giggled as she snuggled close. “I will happily dote on you as soon as I finish this up.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Michael asked me to create a secret portal to upload all the photos I took of the rig workers,” Rowan explained. “I don’t know why he wants it, but I promised to drop all my raw files in there before heading to bed. I have a few more that need to upload.”

  “Okay.” Despite himself, Quinn was curious. “You didn’t see one of your symbols on any of the photos, did you?”

  Rowan stiffened slightly and shook her head. Her ability had been something of a sore spot of late. For years she labored under the fact that she could see death omens in her snapshots and it haunted her. Recently, that ability jumped to include a second omen and they were still trying to figure out what it all meant. On top of that, Rowan remained frustrated because the ability made her nervous. “I didn’t see the omen.”

  Quinn sensed her unease, but he didn’t back down. “Did you see the other symbol? The one that seems to indicate danger but not necessarily death?”

  “I did not.”

  Quinn blinked several times in rapid succession as he regarded her. “I would really prefer it if you didn’t get weird about this. The second symbol isn’t the end of the world. It’s simply an expansion of your powers.”

  “And I would really prefer it if you didn’t call my ... whatever it is ... my powers,” Rowan admitted. “It makes me sound like a witch or something and that freaks me out. I have enough to freak out about besides that.”

  “Fair enough.” Quinn snaked his hand around Rowan’s waist and tugged her so she was practically sitting on his lap. “How many of the guys did you get photos of?”

  “All fifty-two of them.”

  Quinn stilled. “Fifty-two?”

  “Yes.”

  “I counted fifty-two on the deck, too.”

  Rowan was confused. “Is that a problem?”

  “The manifest Bart gave me had fifty-one names. Fifty-one people checked in with Danielle. I figured I miscounted because things were so busy on deck. It was raining, and the situation was fraught. It made sense that I wo
uld be the one to miscount.”

  Understanding that the discrepancy bothered Quinn more than he was willing to let on, Rowan started tapping on her keyboard. “Okay, let’s look. I can run facial recognition and isolate how many different faces are in the photos. Then we can wipe out our fellow crew members and see what we’re left with. It’s possible I miscounted, too.”

  “Maybe.” Quinn watched as Rowan deftly maneuvered through the program. “What do you have?”

  “Seventy-eight faces,” Rowan replied. “We need to take out Michael, Sally, Danielle, the maids and the kitchen staff, though.” Rowan was focused on the screen as she started removing faces. “Do you see anyone else from our staff who I haven’t knocked out?”

  Quinn scanned the sheet Rowan was working from. “There. Hannah Brogan. It looks like she was flirting with some of the guys, huh?”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Only if you were the one doing the flirting.”

  “Good answer.” Rowan removed the final maid and counted again. “That’s fifty-two faces.”

  “Did you get names for the faces?”

  Rowan shook her head. “I didn’t know I needed to. It didn’t seem important.”

  “I know. I’m not accusing you of anything.” Quinn absently rubbed her back. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.”

  “No,” Rowan agreed. “There’s an extra guy in there. What do you think that means?”

  “I have no idea. I intend to find out, though.”

  “Right now?”

  Quinn opened his mouth to say “yes” and then changed his mind. “No, I guess it can wait until morning. It’s not as if anyone is leaving the ship and we’ll have plenty of time to figure it out before we dock.”

  “Great.” Rowan closed her laptop and shifted it to the nightstand. “It’s time to start doting.”

  Even though he was troubled about the extra body, Quinn couldn’t stop himself from grinning when Rowan shifted so she was facing him. He gave in and let her wrestle him to the bed, his hands busy as they roamed her back. “Should I dote on you or do you want to dote on me?”