by Rebecca Deel
Joe gave her a sidelong glance. “I understand why you want to check on the baby. Why Ferguson?”
“He’s sedated and helpless.” A state that would terrify any operative.
“I told Chip to keep everybody out of the cabin except those we trust.”
Sam headed toward the stairs. “You saw how angry he was with Ferguson. Do you think we can trust him to stand up to his shipmates if they want justice by their own hands?”
“You’re right. Kayla first, then we’ll check Ferguson.”
Minutes later, they walked into the infirmary and heard Kayla Bennett crying. Charlaine looked frazzled as her daughter voiced her displeasure at having her diaper changed.
“Need help?” Sam asked.
“Please. Would you hold her while I fix her bottle? She’s hungry.”
“I’d love to hold your sweet angel.”
Relief flooded the other woman’s face. “Thank you, Sam. Lance said he’d be here by now. I don’t know what’s keeping him.”
“Work?” Joe suggested as Charlaine transferred the baby from the bed to Sam’s extended arms.
“Maybe. Marketing is ignored until we need a campaign. I keep telling Mike if we know information sooner, we’ll create better marketing campaigns.” Charlaine shook a bottle filled with warm water and baby formula and returned to Sam and Kayla. “Do you want to feed her?”
“If you want a short break, I’d love to feed her.”
“I’ve been by my daughter’s side since we brought her to the infirmary.” Her cheeks pinked. “I’d love to change clothes and brush my hair. I promise I won’t be more than fifteen minutes.”
“We’ll be fine. Take a few minutes for yourself.” After Charlaine left, Sam settled into a nearby chair, repositioned Kayla, and gave her the bottle. The baby latched on and began to drink.
Tenderness wrapped delicate tendrils around Sam’s heart. Kayla made Sam long for a baby of her own. One day, she promised herself. It wasn’t time yet.
She glanced at Joe and found his gaze locked on her, an odd expression on his face. Her eyebrow rose in silent inquiry.
He knelt beside the chair. “She’s beautiful.” His attention shifted to Sam. “So are you. Watching you with Kayla in your arms makes me want a family all the more.” Joe leaned over and brushed his mouth over hers. “You’re a natural at this, Sparky. Maybe you will hold our baby in your arms one day.”
Sam’s breath caught as shock rocketed through her system. Before she could gather her wits and formulate a response, muffled shouts could be heard in the corridor, growing louder by the second.
Between one heartbeat and the next, Joe placed himself between Sam and Kayla and the potential threat, weapon in his hand.
The door to the infirmary burst open and Trace entered the cabin with a furious Lance Farraday in tow, the executive’s face marred by blood from a split lip and a reddened eye. He’d been on the losing end of a scuffle and from the thunderous expression on Trace’s face, the scuffle had been with him.
Their teammate was ticked off. He shut the door with more force than necessary as Joe relaxed his stance and moved aside for Sam to see better.
Lance’s gaze dropped to the baby in her arms. His eyes widened. “That’s my daughter. Where is Charlaine?”
“Changing clothes. She’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Is Kayla all right?”
“She’s perfect. You’re a lucky man, Lance.”
He smiled in agreement and winced, hand to his mouth. “Ow.”
“Need some ice on your lip and eye.”
Lance glared. “No kidding, sweet cheeks.” He yanked his arm from Trace’s grip.
Joe slid his weapon into his holster. “Watch your mouth, Farraday.”
A snort. “What will you do if I don’t?”
A slow smile formed on Joe’s mouth. “Turn my wife loose on you. She’ll take you down, hard. Sam is dynamite in a small package. How were you injured?”
“Your Neanderthal friend punched me.”
Trace wouldn’t have inflicted injuries unless he had no choice. “What did you do, Lance?”
“Nothing I don’t have a right to do. That creep hurt my daughter.” By the end of his statement, Lance’s voice rose to a shout.
Kayla whimpered.
“Calm down,” Sam said, voice soft. “You’re scaring Kayla.”
Guilt filled Lance’s eyes. “Sorry.”
“How did you know about Ferguson?” Joe asked.
“I’m upper management for Hollingbrook Cruise Lines. I have access to every part of the ship, including security. I wanted to know if my daughter and Charlaine were still in danger. I have an obligation to protect them. I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s going on. No one will stop me from protecting my family.” He cast a pointed glance at Trace. “Not even you, tough guy. I’ll be talking to Winestock. Expect your walking papers by day’s end. You chose to screw with the wrong man.”
Trace stared at Lance. “You can try to have me fired. You’ll be disappointed with the results.”
“Need ice for your hand?” Sam asked him. The knuckles on his right hand were red.
“I’m fine for now.” He turned back to Farraday. “Stay away from the security corridor. You said you wanted to protect your woman and daughter. The best way is to stay with them. Ferguson will answer for his actions. Don’t make yourself a target of law enforcement officials. Ferguson won’t cause more trouble. Focus on your family, Farraday. Let security handle the rest.” Trace nodded at Joe and Sam and left.
The doctor walked out of the treatment room where he’d been tending a patient. His eyebrows rose. “Wow. What does the other guy look like?”
Joe grinned. “Red knuckles. Mr. Farraday needs ice packs, Dr. Martin.”
“Got those.” He gestured toward the back room. “I’ll check your lip to see if you need stitches first. Ice will help but expect a shiner by the end of the day.”
Lance shuffled toward the doctor, leading Sam to believe Trace had slammed a fist into the man’s gut, too.
Joe sighed. “I need to have another talk with Chip.”
“Winestock, too. If you want to go to the security office, I’ll be fine here.”
“I’m not leaving you and Kayla alone. Too much risk.”
“The doctor and Lance are in the next room.”
“They’re not me.”
No question about that. “All right. After Charlaine returns, we’ll go together.” When Joe’s gaze shifted and softened as he watched Kayla drink, she said, “Do you want to hold her?”
Joe’s eyes lit up. He cradled the baby in one arm and held the bottle to her lips with his free hand. “She’s so tiny.”
“She’ll grow fast. In a few months, Kayla will be crawling. Didn’t you say you have nieces and nephews?”
“Seven nieces and two nephews. Since my family is scattered throughout the US, I don’t have the opportunity to be with the kids much except during holidays. I’m not with them long enough to see the growth stages.”
When Kayla finished her bottle, Joe shifted the baby to his shoulder, and patted her back like an expert. Before long, she let out a loud belch.
Joe chuckled. “Good job, little lady.”
Sam’s heart turned over in her chest. She would never forget the sight of the tough operative cuddling a small baby in his arms.
And that’s when she knew the truth. During the past five years, Sam had fallen in love with Joe. She might have been teetering before the shooting three months ago, but this cinched her fate. And the knowledge scared her. He had the ability to savage her. If Joe changed his mind, he would shatter her heart.
“Sam?” Joe’s eyes were filled with concern. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look like you’re fine. What’s going on?”
Although she longed to share the knowledge, this wasn’t the time or place. They could be interrupted at any moment.
As th
ough to reinforce that point, the door to the corridor opened. Sam spun around, weapon in hand, and placed her body between Joe and the baby and the door.
Charlaine walked inside and pulled up short at the sight of the weapon. “Is something wrong? Is Kayla safe?”
“She’s fine,” Joe assured her. He turned for Charlaine to see her sleeping daughter in his arms. “Kayla finished her bottle and decided we weren’t entertaining enough to keep her awake.”
The mother relaxed. “Good. Have you seen Lance?”
“He’s with the doctor.” Sam motioned toward the treatment room where a steady stream of swearing could be heard.
“Is he sick?”
“He got into a scuffle with one of the security guards.”
Charlaine’s mouth gaped. “Why?”
“Here.” Joe walked to her. “Take Kayla and ask him. Sam and I have an appointment. Thanks for letting us hold her for a few minutes, Charlaine. She’s a beautiful baby.”
She lifted her sleeping daughter from Joe’s arms. “Thank you for giving me a break.” Once Kayla’s breathing settled into an easy rhythm, Charlaine hurried into the treatment room.
As Sam and Joe walked into the corridor, they heard the woman gasp. “Lance! What happened?”
“Why don’t they get married?” Sam grasped the railing in the stairwell. “They’re crazy about each other.”
“No fraternization rule, remember?”
“Short-sighted on Hollingbrook’s part. Charlaine and Lance have work experience. Neither one should have a difficult time finding a job.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “We have skills useful in other fields. If Maddox instituted the same ban in our company, we have other options.”
“Would you be willing to find another job?”
Sam turned to face him. “If the choice was finding another job or losing you, I’d find another job.”
Her foot landed on the next stair when Joe stopped her, wrapped an arm around her waist, and drew her against his chest. “I would never ask you to make the sacrifice. I would use my contacts and experience to hire on with a local police force. If it came down to you or me having to make a change, I would hunt for a new job.”
Tears stung Sam’s eyes. She loved this amazing man so much. Not the time or place, she reminded herself. Soon, though. Unable to say what was in her heart, she pressed her mouth to his for a series of gentle kisses, hoping to tell him the truth of her heart with her touch.
Joe groaned, pulled her close, and deepened the kiss. Minutes or hours later, he lifted his head to grab a breath. “We have to stop. My control is razor thin.”
She cupped his jaw. “Same here. You go straight to my head, Joe.”
A slight smile curved his kiss-swollen mouth. “Close, but not where I want to be.”
“Where do you want to be?”
Joe’s lips touched hers. “Your heart.” He drew back and turned toward the stairs again.
Sam touched his hand, making him pause. “Your name is engraved on my heart and always will be.”
Hope flared in his eyes. “Tell me you’re saying what I think you are.”
“We should talk about this later.”
“Sam, please.” Joe wrapped his arms around her waist and held her in place. “Say it.”
She wound her arms around his neck and whispered against his lips, “I love you, Joe Gray.”
He shuddered, his eyes closing for a second before opening again to stare deep into hers. “I love you, too. I was afraid you would decide I wasn’t worth the trouble to keep.”
“I’m never letting you go.”
“Ditto, my love.” He planted a hard kiss on her mouth before setting her to his side and getting them moving again. “Let’s check in with the security team before I lose focus more than I already have.”
When they neared the security office, Joe laid a hand on Sam’s arm and nodded toward the open door of the detention cabin.
The operatives drew their weapons. Joe signaled he’d go in first. Sam wanted to argue that she was just as capable but this wasn’t a matter of capability. Joe was a better shot. If a gunman waited inside, Joe had a better chance of taking down the threat than she did. Playing to their strengths was the beauty of their partnership. She nodded and signaled for Joe to proceed.
Sig raised, Joe peeked around the cabin’s door frame. “Sam.” He holstered his weapon and rushed inside the room, Sam on his heels.
She glanced at Thomas Ferguson. A bullet in the forehead had ended his life the second the projectile burrowed into his brain.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
After darting to the security office, Joe returned with Winestock and Caleb on his heels. “How is Chip?” he asked Sam as he entered the cabin. The security employee sat on the floor, his back against a wall.
“The killer hit him on the head. Chip needs to go to the infirmary.”
“Creep clobbered me good,” Chip complained.
“Did you see his face?” Winestock asked.
“No, sir. He wore a mask, the kind people who have allergies or a cold wear. I’m sorry, Chief. I messed up. Joe told me not to let anybody in. The killer knocked on the door and said he brought food for me.”
Joe frowned. “Did you call for a meal delivery?”
A nod. “I was starving. I thought this was legitimate.”
“You’re sure the attacker was a man?”
Another nod. “About six two, brown hair, and brown eyes.”
“Did he say anything?” Winestock asked.
“Aside from claiming to be a steward, no.”
“You’re lucky to be alive, Chip.” The chief turned weary eyes to Joe. “The killer used a suppressor. I was across the hall and didn’t hear a thing.” He glanced at Caleb. “Take him to the infirmary and have Dr. Martin check him.”
Caleb hurried forward and knelt beside his friend. “Come on, buddy. Maybe Lucy will check on you.”
Despite his pallor, Chip’s lips curved. “Hope so. I’d love to take her to dinner when the headache eases.”
“Women love to nurture a wounded soldier.” The two security men left the cabin, Chip leaning heavily on his friend.
“I’ll call in my crime scene team.” Winestock stared at Ferguson’s body. “They haven’t seen this much action in the five years they’ve worked for me. We need to contact the feds and make sure the meet us in Puerto Vallarta. Two bodies in two days. I’ll let them hash things out with the locals.”
Nico walked in with Trace. Shadow’s leader stared down at Ferguson’s lifeless body. “What happened to the guard in this room?”
“Knocked out,” Sam said. “Caleb took Chip to the infirmary.”
“Leads?” Trace asked.
Joe blew out a breath. “Not much. Killer was six two, brown hair and eyes with a dust mask over his face. Haven’t had a chance to check the security feed yet.”
“I’ll set it up.” Winestock dragged a hand down his face. “I have to contact my crime team anyway. Nico, you and Trace secure the scene until I return.” He led Joe and Sam to the security office. Winestock cued the footage and showed Joe had to work the system. “I need to contact my crime team.”
“Go ahead.” Joe dropped into the chair the chief had vacated. “This system is similar to one we sell at Fortress.” One of the low-end models.
“I’ll be in the outer office for a minute, then across the hall. Lock up when you’re finished. If you find anything useful, I want to know about it.”
Joe saluted.
After Winestock left, Sam sat in a chair beside Joe. “We won’t get much from the security footage, will we?”
“Doubt it. We still have to check. The killer could have made a mistake.” He started the footage from the time Ferguson entered the detention cabin. Several passengers passed the cabin, a few workers. He and Sam watched as Farraday used a key card to unlock the cabin door and walked inside. Two minutes later, Trace arrived. In less than two minutes, their teammate escorted a protesting Farra
day from the room with facial injuries.
After watching several minutes of empty corridor, a figure appeared in camera range. He wore a dark shirt and pants and the mask Chip mentioned. He pulled a weapon from his pocket, screwed on a suppressor, and knocked on the door. As soon as it opened, the man slammed the butt of his weapon on Chip’s head. The security man dropped to the ground. The killer shoved him inside and shut the door. One minute later, strolled away, the weapon a bulge at his lower back under the shirt.
“How could security miss this?” Sam looked at Joe. “It’s all here on the footage.”
Joe motioned to the bank of cameras. “Easy. The guard could have been keeping an eye on another screen or he might have had to leave the office to help out. Winestock’s workforce is short-handed and Chip was keeping an eye on a sleeping Ferguson. Of all places on this ship, Caleb probably thought the detention cabin was the safest area.”
“Can you follow the killer’s progress?”
“Maybe.” He keyed in the time immediately after the murder as he surfed through the other screen footage. The process took longer than it would have taken Chip or Caleb but he managed to track the killer until he disappeared in the bowels of the ship in areas not covered by cameras.
Joe blew out a breath, frustrated with their lack of progress. “That’s it. Like Ferguson, he knew the layout of the ship and took advantage of it to disappear. He probably had a shirt stashed somewhere. He’d blend in with other passengers or the crew if he managed to steal a crew member’s shirt.”
“Send a copy of the footage to Zane and Nico. We’ll leave the original cued for Winestock. Maybe he’ll recognize the killer.”
“At least we know he’s Caucasian.” A few taps of the keyboard later, Joe shoved his chair away from the table. He and Sam returned to the detention cabin where Nico observed the crime team at work. “Where’s Winestock?”
“On another deck. He should return soon. Find anything?”
“Ran the security footage. Farraday accessed this cabin with a key card. Chip had his hands full keeping Farraday from going after Ferguson and calling for reinforcements. Trace showed up two minutes later. When Trace escorted him from the cabin, Farraday had the injuries we saw when he arrived at the infirmary. Within forty minutes, the killer pistol-whipped Chip with a suppressed weapon. He killed Ferguson and left a minute later.”
