by Debby Mayne
“Done a lot of it, have you?”
He grinned, slung an arm around her shoulder, and pulled her close. Solid, warm, smelling better than the rarest orchids of Hawaii. All apt descriptions for Lance Spencer.
Oh, man. She was a goner.
*
He ought to be ashamed of himself, but Lance would use even the act of spying to keep Molly close. She hugged his arm and kept up a continuous chatter, even occasionally laying her head against his arm. Three days ago he would’ve punched anyone who told him he’d fall for a curly haired woman who barely reached his shoulder.
The more they walked, the more convinced he was that the colorfully dressed man followed Morrison. And Morrison knew it. They seemed to be searching for a safe place to meet. When the two ducked into an art gallery, Lance leaned with his back against the outside wall and pulled Molly into an embrace.
She gave a sharp intake of breath that threatened to steal his away. Then, her lips spread in an impish grin. “I like this stakeout thing.”
From the corner of his eye, he spotted Morrison and the other man exiting the gallery. Morrison now held a large envelope.
Lance lowered his head and kissed Molly, turning her so that her back was flush against the wall. Hopefully, Morrison wouldn’t recognize them. The world spun in a kaleidoscope of brilliant color and clarity. He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. Time ceased to exist. For a moment, he forgot why they were there. Their surroundings settled back into place when he lifted his head and gazed into eyes deeper than the Pacific Ocean.
He caught a glimpse of the back of the two men’s heads as they strolled away and remembered what he’d been doing. “Sorry. They were coming out.”
Molly blinked. “No problem. Part of the cover.” She looked away. Her cheeks flushed crimson. “It’s obvious they know each other. Oh, no! I’m going to be late for work again.” With the speed of a gazelle she bounded to the car.
Lance dashed after her. He didn’t think the goofy grin on his face would go away anytime soon.
They roared down the road. The Destiny rose majestic and white above the sea. Molly’s feet pounded up the gangplank. They burst inside and Lance caught a glimpse of the clock in the Grand Foyer. One fifty-five. She’d made it. With a quick flash of teeth, Molly tossed him a wave and headed toward the service elevator.
He laughed and shook his head. Not so fast, missy. He sprinted for the stairs. When he reached the bottom, chest heaving, a crick in his side, shoulder throbbing, Molly stood at the bottom giggling.
“I knew I couldn’t get away from you. I’m assigned to take photos of the onboard activities today.”
Lance struggled to breathe. “I’ll tag along, thank you.” And later that evening, he’d ponder the feelings behind their kiss. It might have been given on the spur of the moment, but he wouldn’t forget it for a long time. His insides still danced the jitterbug.
Their first stop was aerobics class. Lance remained in the hall, occasionally glancing through the window, itching to move on to something more interesting. Then they moved to skeet shooting. His nerves stayed on edge with each bang of the rifle.
Laughter and good-natured ribbing rang with each shot. Made him wish he wasn’t injured so he could shoulder a rifle. He’d sit and watch others enjoy the sunny afternoon, while keeping an eye on Molly. He turned to choose a lounge chair and came face-to-face with Hawaiian Shirt.
11
“A re you Lance Spencer with the LA police department?” The man stared impassively at Lance, not removing the dark sunglasses that covered his eyes. One hand hidden in the pocket of his shorts.
Lance put a hand to his back to make sure his shirt hung far enough to hide the weapon tucked in the waistband of his pants. “Yes.”
Mister Hawaiian Shirt jerked his head to the other side of the deck. Lance followed him a few feet away from the shooters; every nerve tingled on alert. Glancing at Molly while she continued snapping pictures, Lance asked, “Who are you?”
The man pulled a badge from his pocket. “Agent Will Cohn with the FBI. I’m working undercover on suspicion of embezzlement with Robert Morrison. Do you have a license to carry on board that weapon of yours?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t have gotten on the ship with it if I didn’t.” Lance studied the identification then handed it back. “Why are you telling me this and how did you know who I was?”
“I’m aware that you and Miss Nicholson spotted me today.” His mouth quirked. “Fantastic way of trying to look unobtrusive, by the way. What a kiss. Anyway, I don’t want you coming after me and blowing my cover. As for knowing who you are, let’s say the bureau has sources.”
Lance ignored the man’s comment about his behavior with Molly. He didn’t want anything to sully the memory of her lips on his. “What did you give Morrison in the store?”
“Good eye. I misled him with some financial matters. The man’s a shark. He’ll bite anything that smells like easy money.” With his index finger, Cohn pushed his glasses farther on his nose. “He thinks I’m playing both sides of the fence, so to speak. Grease my palm, and I’ll do the same for you.”
Lance nodded, “Are you aware of the murder in Honolulu and the one on board?”
“Yes, but the Honolulu PD hasn’t asked for the FBI’s help on this. Yet. I’m now a passenger on board the Destiny. Keep your eyes open and let me know if you see something that warrants my attention. Otherwise, we’re just two passengers onboard the same ship. See you around.” Cohn marched across the deck and out of sight.
Molly had stopped taking pictures and stared at him. Should he tell her who the man really was or let her think they’d struck up a random conversation? Considering her willingness to shadow Morrison, being upfront seemed like the best approach.
“I’ll tell you later.” Lance called before lowering himself onto a deck chair. He felt better knowing the FBI was onboard. Sure, they weren’t focusing on the murders, but he’d have backup if needed. Once he found the killer, he could turn him over to Cohn and enjoy the rest of his vacation. With Molly at his side.
The sun began to set over the horizon, showing off its brilliance in painted strokes of magenta and purple. Lance eased his arm from the sling, leaned back, and let the view restore both his body and soul. If he hadn’t gone to church as a boy, seen God’s redemption as an adult, the beauty of nature alone would have convinced him of God’s presence.
His gaze followed Molly as she snapped a picture of a couple posed against the railing, the sun’s crimson face in the background. What would happen to him and Molly at the end of the cruise? Did he really want to pursue a long distance relationship, or any relationship for that matter? He’d been shot once. Chances are the next time could be fatal. Would Molly be willing to take the risk of being left a police widow?
Good grief. They’d known each other three days and he was thinking marriage? He’d lost it. Definitely. Besides, Molly made it clear she wasn’t looking for a love interest.
*
Lance’s gaze burned a hole in Molly’s back and set her skin on fire, her nerves on high alert knowing he watched every move she made. She stole a peek at him. To the casual observer, he’d be nothing more than a passenger at complete and total relaxation. Enjoying the sunset. She knew different. If anything appeared remotely dangerous, he’d spring from the lounge chair like a leopard pouncing on its prey.
Curiosity about the man in the Hawaiian shirt nagged at her. She’d seen the butt of Lance’s weapon when he’d reached for it. The thought of him carrying a gun sent ice through her veins. Then, he’d relaxed. Who was the man?
“Put your arm around her. Step back. Smile. Perfect.” She snapped the newlyweds with the colorful evening sky behind them. Ah, love. Was it in God’s plan for her to experience the overwhelming, fiery passion of a man not only in love with her but with God? Well, a girl could dream. And pray. For the next eight months, she had a job to do. No time for her head to be in the clouds. Love would have to come later. If i
t ever chose to show its elusive face at all.
She motioned for Lance to follow, then led the way to the Martini Bar. Glass tables sparkled beside white leather chairs. A blue light lit up the bar from underneath, giving the room an underwater feel. Elongated lighting gave the impression of iridescent jellyfish. Muted voices rose above the piano music. A classy place for well-dressed passengers. Definitely different from the dark and smoky crew bar below deck. She’d sat there once to visit with Hilga, and spent the next few hours smelling like an ashtray. No thank you.
Lance chose a seat alone at a far table. Molly circulated and took photos of smiling people with glasses raised as they made toasts she couldn’t hear. Either the captain and SVP had managed to keep Antonio’s death a secret, or the passengers chalked it up to an experience at sea. No one seemed afraid or apprehensive. Maybe their attitude was the right one. Life went on. Could she treat Antonio’s demise as a random occurrence and not fret about it?
She’d let Lance continue to play the role as her shadow, but she’d enjoy the dream job she’d taken and stop fearing that danger lurked around every corner. Her hand stilled in taking pictures when Hawaiian shirt entered, dressed in white pants and a black linen shirt. She focused the camera lens and snapped a photo.
“Put the camera down, Molly.” Lance whispered in her ear. Placing his hand over hers, he lowered the Nikon.
“But he could be a suspect.”
“He’s not. I said I’ll tell you later. Trust me.”
She turned and studied his face. He smiled. The dimple she loved so much winked from his cheek. Traces of five o’clock shadow outlined his jaw. “Okay, but—”
He laid a finger on her lips. “No buts.” Before she could react, he’d stepped back and resumed his seat.
Fine. She’d tell her thoughts to the One who always listened. God never shushed His children. He’d understand her worries about Morrison and Hawaiian shirt. With her nose in the air, she marched across the room to where several honeymoon couples snuggled and offered to take photos.
Thirty minutes later, she approached the table where Lance sipped a cola. “Do we talk here, or somewhere more private?”
“This is really eating you up, isn’t it?” He grinned, downed the last of his soda, and then stood. “How about a stroll around the Promenade deck?”
Her feet ached, but she’d keep the news to herself if that’s what it took to find out the identity of the mystery man. Lance’s secret had been kept long enough. If he didn’t spill the beans within the next five minutes, she’d shove him overboard.
He laughed as if he could read her mind. “Relax.” With his hand on the small of her back, he guided her from the bar and up a level.
Stars littered the sky like diamonds against a navy background. Waves sloshed against the bow of the ship. The romance of the setting wasn’t lost on Molly. She sighed.
Lance entwined his fingers with hers and slowly swayed their hands as they walked. “The man you’re so keen on is FBI agent Will Cohn.”
“FBI! Finally.”
“He’s following Morrison, not because of the deaths, but because he suspects him of embezzling.”
“Oh.” That meant she and Lance were still on their own. She sagged into the nearest chair. She’d wanted to be brave. Keep her chin up and move forward. She failed miserably. Instead, she wanted to curl into a ball and cry.
Lance sat beside her and pulled her into his arms. Molly rested her head against his broad solid chest. “It’ll be okay. Don’t you trust me?” He tilted her chin so she’d look at him.
“Yes.” She searched his face, highlighted by the moon’s silver glow. “But you’re one man.”
“With a big God. I’m good at my job, Molly. I’m committed to protecting you first, and searching for a killer second.” His good arm tightened around her. She closed her eyes, wishing for a moment he held her as a man holds the woman he loves.
“You were shot once, Lance.” Her heart constricted. “What if it happens again?”
She didn’t think she could stand the thought. When he’d told her the FBI was onboard, her fear had evaporated, only to come crashing back with the force of a tidal wave when he’d said the agent watched Morrison for something other than murder. When would the authorities take Antonio’s death seriously?
After someone else died?
12
M olly unlocked her cabin door. “Good night, Lance.”
“Good night.”
She watched him walk through the cracked door until it clicked shut. Bolting the lock, she moved to the edge of her bed where she waited, contemplating the danger of roaming the ship alone. Some of the passengers would stay out late in the casino and the bar. The sparse night crew would be working. But was it enough?
Morrison killed Antonio. She knew it. Could she bet her life on it? There lingered the real question.
Where was Hilga? Molly glanced at the clock. Almost midnight. Her roommate had duty at six-thirty in the morning. Reckless woman. Molly flopped back on the bed. Who was she to judge? If she didn’t get any sleep, she’d be a zombie by lunchtime and no good to anyone.
She forced herself out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. After changing into her nightgown and robe, she washed off her makeup. The face reflected in the mirror flickered a glimmer of her old self. Back to a time when loneliness had no hold on her and the promise of love brightened her future. The image staring back appeared way too serious. Yes, a glimmer showed in her eyes. Possibly the result of time spent with Lance. Should she dare hope?
There’d been absolutely no reason for Vince Nelson to spend time with another woman. He’d showered Molly with gifts and empty phrases of love. Spouting about her beauty, when all he’d wanted to do was own her and still play the field.
Molly slapped the faucet handle to hot. Was saving yourself for marriage such a bad thing? Couldn’t he have waited a few more months? She splashed water on her face and filled her hand with a moisturizing cleanser. The beating he had given her after she broke it off left her feeling like the doormat he’d always wanted. Later, she’d realized God’s hand in the dissolution of her relationship. She thanked him every day.
What if she did get together with Lance? Would he turn out the same? Most likely. A detective who’d seen the gritty side of life. It had to harden a person. But then there was his faith to soften him.
Molly washed her face with circular movements. Maybe Lance was the one who …
A knock on the door reverberated. Her eyes snapped open. The cleanser seeped under her eyelids and stung her eyes. Quickly she scooped water in her hands to rinse it away.
“Molly! Open the door. Please.” Hilga’s frantic voice cut through the wall. Molly grabbed a towel to scrub away the remnants of soap and water.
Her roommate whimpered. “Please, let me in.”
Molly’s fingers fought with the lock. Her breathing matched Hilga’s harsh gasps. Once she swung the door wide, Hilga tripped inside. Molly slammed it shut, sliding the deadbolt into place.
Hilga thrust an envelope at her. “This was given to me when my shift ended. Some kid ran up and shoved it in my hand. What are you mixed up in?” She shakily sat on her bunk.
“What’s in it?” Molly’s hands trembled.
“Open it and see. If you dare. Almost scared me to death.” Hilga laid on her bunk, her forearm resting on her forehead. “That’s what I get for opening somebody else’s mail.”
“Maybe you’ll learn.” Molly fumbled with the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of white printer paper. The words: Keep your nose where it belongs and no more pictures jumped out at her. Her heart threatened to stop with the next line. Or be prepared to meet the fate of your friend.
“Who gave this to you?” She fell on the bunk beside Hilga. Was the note about Antonio, or someone who hadn’t been murdered yet?
“Some kid with long hair, expensive jeans with holes in the knees, and gauges in his ears.” Hilga peered from beneath her arm. “T
his isn’t about Antonio, is it?”
“Half the teenage boys on this ship fit that description.” Molly sighed. “Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”
Hilga bolted to a sitting position. “You aren’t thinking about looking for this kid, are you? It’s midnight!”
“He might be in the arcade. Kids hang out there until all hours. Let’s go.”
“You’re insane. At least let me get a man to go with us.”
Molly shook her head. “There’s no time. The boy will disappear.” She slipped on a pair of shorts under the oversized tee shirt she’d donned, then grabbed Hilga’s hand. “Please.”
“Fine.” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “I’m as stupid as you. If I wind up dead, I’m coming back to haunt you.”
*
Lance sat in a dark corner of the bar and watched Morrison take a seat at the counter. The man ordered a beer, then swung around on his stool to study the other passengers. Lance lifted his glass of water, with a slice of lemon, and peered over the rim. He’d ordered his drink in a martini glass in order to fit in. Would Morrison fall for the deception?
When the man glanced his way and narrowed his eyes, Lance lifted his glass in welcome. Morrison nodded, then swiveled back around when his beer arrived. He immediately chugged it, slapped the bottle on the bar, and then ordered another one. He stared into the amber liquid of his second drink like a man who pondered the world’s problems.
FBI agent Cohn entered and took a seat at the opposite end of the polished counter, not acknowledging Morrison. His gaze flicked to Lance, then away.
Content to sit back and watch the drama unfold in front of him, Lance leaned against the booth’s back and crossed his legs. He sat up when he spotted Molly and her roommate quick-walk past the door. What was she up to now?
Morrison slid from his stool.
Lance stood and followed the man from the bar, taking care not to be seen. Morrison snuck from the corner to a potted plant, then to the open door, clearly following the two women.
