“That would be me.”
“Great. And this is Mrs. Davenport?” Teresa turned her full attention to Rowan, whose cheeks flushed with color.
“We’re not married,” Rowan said quickly.
Teresa knit her eyebrows. “I thought you were in the honeymoon suite.”
“We are.” Quinn was easygoing and calm as he squeezed Rowan’s hand. “I wanted the tub.”
“Ah.” Teresa let loose a girlie giggle. “That sounds nice.”
“Yes, well, it’s a nice room.” Quinn shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with the way Teresa stared at him. “Is our room ready?”
“Absolutely.” Teresa bobbed her head and pointed. “Right through there. Go ahead and undress, get under the sheets. Your team will be with you shortly.”
“Great.” Quinn was all smiles as he led Rowan into the room, waiting until the door was shut and her eyes had adjusted to the darkness to speak. “What do you think?”
The room was offset by small lamp accents at the corners but otherwise dark. Rowan recognized two massage platforms at the center of the room, but otherwise there was very little furniture.
“We’re getting massages?”
Quinn’s eyes sparkled. “We are. It’s a couple’s massage. I’ve technically never done one of these, but I’ve heard people rave about them.”
Rowan was dumbfounded. “I’ve never gotten a massage before.”
Quinn stilled. “Never?”
“No. I ... didn’t make a lot of money even before I started working on the ship. I couldn’t afford something like this.”
Quinn fought dueling emotions. One was annoyance. He didn’t like thinking about Rowan struggling financially. The other was excitement. He was glad to be the one to share this with her.
“Well, it’s not difficult. Come on. Get out of your clothes.”
“All of them?” Rowan’s eyes widened.
“You can leave on your panties,” Quinn suggested. “I’ll leave on my boxers.”
“Okay.” Clearly unconvinced, Rowan tugged at her T-shirt. “You’re going to be here, right?”
“We’re going to be close to one another the entire time,” Quinn promised, stripping out of his shirt and shorts. He waited until Rowan was out of her clothes to lead her to the nearest table. “Get under the sheet.”
Rowan did as instructed, resting her face in the spot Quinn indicated as he tucked the filmy fabric around her.
“This is weird,” Rowan said after a beat.
“You’re going to be happy I arranged this in an hour when your muscles feel bouncy and refreshed.” Quinn settled on his own table and turned so he could look at her. “I want you to relax and enjoy this. You’re tense. This will be good for you.”
Rowan smiled for his benefit, but the sentiment didn’t make it all the way to her eyes. “As long as you’re here, I’ll be fine. It’s just ... I’ve never done this.”
“It’s easier than you think. I promise.”
“Okay.”
“Great.” Quinn reached between the tables and linked his fingers with hers. “Just relax. You need this. You’re keyed up.”
“So are you.”
“That’s why I need this, too.”
“So, we’ll do it.” Rowan’s smile was rueful. “You always introduce me to new things. It’s ... interesting.”
Quinn’s grin was wolfish. “Sweetie, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
“TELL ME I WAS RIGHT.”
An hour later, Quinn was full of himself as he led Rowan back through the lobby. Their couple’s massage started out awkwardly — mostly on Quinn’s part because he didn’t realize Rowan would have a male masseuse until the guy was already in the room — but five minutes into the massage they were both relaxed and having a good time.
An hour later, they went from relaxed to blissed out.
“I kind of feel like I’m floating,” Rowan admitted, giggling when Quinn slipped his arm around her waist and kissed her neck. “That was a really good idea.”
“I’m full of good ideas. The more time you spend with me, the more you’ll realize that.”
“You’re humble, too,” Rowan teased.
“I am extremely humble.” Quinn gave her a soft kiss before pressing the private elevator button. He used his keycard to call it and then took a moment to scan the lobby. He was taken aback when he saw a familiar face sitting at a table. “Well, that’s interesting.”
Rowan followed his gaze, her eyes going wide when she recognized the man in question. “Isn’t that Jasper Fitzgerald?”
“That is,” Quinn confirmed, his mind working.
“Why would he be at a hotel? Doesn’t he have a house around here? Some mansion or something.”
“Actually, I believe he lives in Key West,” Quinn replied. “It’s possible he headed up because of the Andromeda catastrophe and picked this hotel because it’s not far from the ship.”
“If he’s staying here, I bet he’s on our floor,” Rowan pointed out. “He seems the type who would insist on a penthouse room.”
Quinn absently nodded. “That’s a good guess.”
Rowan cast him a sidelong look when the elevator door dinged, but Quinn didn’t move to hop on. “You want to talk to him, don’t you?”
Quinn was sheepish. “It might be the only chance we get. His entourage is nowhere in sight.”
Rowan nodded without hesitation. “Then ... let’s do it.”
“Are you sure? I promised you we would spend the rest of the day in bed.”
“We still have plenty of time for that. We might only get the one shot to do this. We can’t blow it.”
“Good point.” Quinn rubbed his hand over her back before lightly prodding her forward. “Let’s see what he has to say, huh?”
Rowan felt a bit self-conscious approaching the billionaire given her outfit, but she did her best to push the discomfort out of her mind. Quinn was the one eager to spend time with Fitzgerald, so she allowed him to start the conversation.
“Mr. Fitzgerald?”
The man jerked his head up from the newspaper he was reading and focused on Quinn. At first he looked agitated about being bothered. Then recognition dawned and his features smoothed out.
“Mr. Davenport, right?”
Quinn nodded as he extended his hand in greeting. “I thought that was you. We just came from the spa and were heading up to our room but thought we would stop and see if you have any updates on the man we found.”
Fitzgerald was the haughty sort. He carried himself with an air of exaggerated swagger that set Rowan’s teeth on edge. This wasn’t about liking the man, though, she reminded herself. This was about information.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Fitzgerald admitted. “He hasn’t been identified and the people I’ve talked to from the rig don’t recognize him.”
Quinn didn’t believe that for a second. “That seems baffling, I agree.”
Fitzgerald was interrupted by a hotel worker before he could say more.
“Your table is ready in the restaurant, Mr. Fitzgerald,” the young woman offered.
“Thank you, Denise.” Fitzgerald smiled at her before tilting his head to the side. “I don’t suppose you could add two spots so my acquaintances could join me, could you?”
Denise answered without hesitation. “Whatever you want.”
“Great.” Fitzgerald slowly got to his feet. “How does lunch sound? I didn’t really get a chance to talk to you when I was on The Bounding Storm and I would like to get your take on what happened. It’s a big deal to me. This shouldn’t have been possible and yet it was.”
“We would love to have lunch with you,” Rowan answered smoothly when Quinn paused. She knew exactly what he was thinking. He promised her a private meal in their suite. They had plenty of time for meals in bed, though. This was an opportunity they couldn’t pass up. “I’m starving. Although ... .” She broke off and stared at her clothing. “Can we eat in the dining roo
m dressed like this?”
“We got a couple’s massage,” Quinn explained quickly. “We weren’t planning on hitting the dining room after.”
“You’re with me,” Fitzgerald supplied. “You can do whatever you want. Personally, I don’t care what you’re wearing. It’s fine.”
“Thank you so much for the invitation.” Quinn slipped his arm around Rowan’s waist and anchored her at his side. “I think we all have a few things we’d like to talk about.”
FITZGERALD WAITED UNTIL their orders were placed before opening up the conversation.
“So, how long have you been with The Bounding Storm, Mr. Davenport?”
“Call me Quinn. As for my tenure, not long. I signed a yearlong contract. I expect it to be renewed as long as I remain happy with the arrangement.”
Fitzgerald bobbed his head as he grabbed a carrot stick from the vegetable tray at the center of the table. He insisted on vegetables rather than bread, which Rowan found weird, but she wasn’t in a position to question his food choices. “You have an impressive reputation. I did some digging when I found out what happened. I wanted to know who I was dealing with. I was relieved to find you had actual security experience. A lot of the people hired to head up security on these big ships don’t know anything.”
“I looked at it as a learning experience,” Quinn volunteered, leaning back in his chair. “Cruise ships are quieter, more relaxing than battle obviously. They’re like small cities, though, and some of the faces in those cities change every few days while others stay the same. It was something akin to culture shock at the start, but I’m used to it now.”
“And you like your job?”
Quinn shrugged. “Most of the time. Like anything, it’s not perfect. There’s always some irritating task that drives me nuts, but the good far outweighs the bad on The Bounding Storm.”
“I can see where a cruise ship lifestyle would appeal to you after spending time overseas,” Fitzgerald noted. “Still, it can’t always be fresh seafood and moonlit walks on the deck. You must want a home of your own one day.”
“That is the plan,” Quinn agreed.
“If you came to work for me, you could have that home right away,” Fitzgerald offered. “I could have you running security on a rig, which means you would be offshore for three weeks and then home for three weeks. The time away sometimes feels long, but it’s like having a vacation every single month. What’s not to like about that?”
Rowan’s heart slowly rolled as she realized what Fitzgerald was suggesting. “You’re offering him a job?”
Fitzgerald nodded, keeping his eyes on Quinn. “Whatever you’re getting paid, I’ll double it. I would like a man with your reputation on my team.”
“That’s very flattering.” Quinn squeezed Rowan’s knee under the table. He was trying to offer her reassurance without turning overtly rude and alienating Fitzgerald. “I’m still on contract with The Bounding Storm. I intend to sign at least one more before moving on.”
Fitzgerald wasn’t about to back down. “You could make a lot of money with me.”
“I already make a lot of money. It’s not just about that, though.” Quinn cast a weighted look at Rowan before continuing. “I like the setup I have right now.”
“Ah.” Realization dawned on Fitzgerald as he finally focused on the third person at their table. “I see. I can’t seem to remember your name, my dear.”
Rowan tried not to let his condescending tone agitate her. “Rowan Gray.”
“Right. The ship’s photographer.”
Quinn narrowed his eyes. “She’s a gifted photographer. Her photos are amazing.”
“It sounds like she’s charmed you.” Fitzgerald forced a smile before sipping his water. “I saw you guys on the deck together the day I visited the ship. I guess I didn’t realize you were a couple ... although I clearly should have.”
“We were working,” Quinn said. “Hopefully we weren’t doing anything overt to let people know we were a couple. That would be out of the ordinary and unnecessary.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Fitzgerald waved off the statement. “If you ever change your mind about a job, contact my main headquarters. I think I have a business card on me. Ah, yes, here you go.” He handed the card to Quinn. “As for now, I understand and won’t pressure you. Some things are obviously more important than money.”
“They are,” Quinn agreed, tucking the card in his back pocket. “As for the investigation, I was hoping you had more information. I can’t believe the Feds haven’t been able to identify the body yet.”
“I was a little surprised about that myself,” Fitzgerald admitted. “I thought for sure they would have provided a name at this point. I guess it’s possible they know who died and are keeping it to themselves, but that seems counterproductive.”
Quinn forced his expression to remain neutral. “I think the federal government has different ideas about what is necessary to tell the public. Still, it’s your rig. I would think they’d share information for that reason alone.”
“I know.” Fitzgerald’s eyes flashed. “We had someone on that rig for four days and yet no one can seem to remember him. I find that suspect.”
“How do you know it was four days?” Rowan asked curiously.
“At least four days,” Fitzgerald corrected. “We know because the only transport to arrive at the Andromeda was a boat four days before you guys launched the rescue mission. Now, in theory, he could’ve been there before that, but I have trouble believing no one noticed him for that long. Of course, I wouldn’t think he would be able to hide in plain sight for four days either. I honestly don’t know what to make of it.”
“And the crew doesn’t have any ideas?” Quinn pressed. “I can’t believe no one saw that man. He was rescued along with everybody else.”
“I haven’t talked to everyone on the crew myself, but I have talked to the drilling foremen,” Fitzgerald replied. “Well, two of them. The third has gone missing and that’s another thing to worry about. The FBI is looking, but they don’t seem very hopeful about finding him.”
Quinn’s heart skipped a beat. “One of your drilling foremen went missing?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know which one?”
“Um ... just that it was the night one. I can’t remember the man’s name. I have a lot of rigs I watch and don’t know all the players. I only hire people with good credentials, though. Apparently that wasn’t enough this time.”
“How do you know he’s missing?” Rowan asked. “Didn’t everyone leave The Bounding Storm at the same time? Maybe he’s just visiting a relative or something.”
“I guess that’s possible,” Fitzgerald mused. “The FBI contacted me this morning. They think he’s missing. I had no information to offer so I didn’t spend a lot of time questioning them in return.”
“Well, that’s strange.” Quinn exchanged a weighted look with Rowan. “What will happen going forward if you can’t find him?”
“The whole thing is a mess right now. Repairs need to be done on the rig. I’m not sure when we’ll get back out there. Every day it’s down, however, it’s costing me money. I hate losing money.”
“At least you have the other rigs to sustain you,” Rowan offered helpfully. “Things could be worse.”
Fitzgerald rolled his eyes. “You’re an optimist. Generally, I like that in a person. I’m not a big fan of it now, though.”
“Oh, well, sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Fitzgerald made a dismissive gesture. “I honestly don’t know what to make of any of it. It feels as if trouble is starting to mount, though. I don’t like it.”
“I can see that.” Quinn’s mind was going at a fantastic rate. “Hopefully things will turn around.”
“That would be a nice, but I’m not betting on it.”
14
Fourteen
Quinn and Rowan returned to their room to shower and change after lunch. Rowan recognized that Quinn was t
hinking — and hard — so she didn’t question him too much until he suggested she get dressed and leave the property.
“Where are we going?”
“I called Fred when you were in the shower,” Quinn replied. “I know I promised you some downtime, but I want to check on Bart.”
“He’s the guy you were talking to the night of the rescue, right?”
Quinn nodded. “He’s the night drilling foreman.”
“The one supposedly missing.”
“Exactly. Fred ran him and found an address. We’re going to his house.”
Rowan didn’t argue, instead grabbing a pair of shorts from her bag and slipping into them. She didn’t speak again until she was pulling on her shoes. “What do you think is going on here? I understand you know exactly what I know, but you must have an idea. I can’t come up with anything.”
“This is just a theory,” Quinn warned. “It’s also vague. I think something was going down on that rig. It could be a multitude of things, but whatever it was spurred the interest of the FBI. I don’t care what Fitzgerald says, he recognized Peter Cortland in that photograph. He didn’t do a very good job of hiding that fact.”
“So, Peter was undercover – apparently for days – and something happened to damage the rig,” Rowan mused. “One of the crew members killed Peter before he could report back to his higher-ups and left his body on The Bounding Storm. Now Bart is missing. Do you think he’s the one who killed Peter?”
“I don’t know.” Quinn held his hands palms up and shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe something else is going on. Maybe Bart figured out something was happening and someone else wanted to shut him up.
“I told him I counted fifty-two bodies,” he continued. “He swore up and down it was only fifty-one. Maybe he decided to investigate further.”
“Do you think he’s dead?”
“Or running.”
“Okay.” Rowan exhaled heavily as she stood. “Let’s check his house. It’s kind of weird, but I’m looking forward to being a private investigator for the day. Sure, I was looking forward to our previous plans, too, but this will be fun.”
Churning Seas Page 13
