Both Grant and Eden slow as they pass us by, their strides a perfect match for one another, but only the former bothers to acknowledge us. “Good morning, Penelope. Hijack,” he says.
“O’Kelly,” Hijack replies, as casual as my husband.
I mostly just wheeze.
Hijack continues, “This is a pleasant surprise. And here we thought we’d have the track to ourselves this morning.”
“Nothing like a little fresh air and competition to get the blood pumping, that’s what I always say,” Grant says for what I’m pretty sure is the first time in his life.
“That’s one way to do it,” Hijack acknowledges. “Although this is more of a cooldown than a warm-up for us, if you know what I’m saying.”
I know what he’s saying, but I don’t have a chance to elbow him severely in the ribs, because Grant just laughs. “I see we’re not the only ones to find sleeping aboard this ship a little difficult, Eden. The constant motion is something else, isn’t it? Ms. St. James and I have discovered we’re both terrible insomniacs.”
False. Grant sleeps like the dead. His favorite position is to throw every single one of his weighty limbs on top of me and pin me to the bed until he’s ready to face the day all refreshed and ready for action.
“We indulged ourselves in a little late-night prowling,” Eden confesses with a prim smile. It matches her prim voice, which carries a clipped British accent that sounds as if it came directly down ten generations of royalty. “The ocean is so peaceful when no one is around. It’s a shame we have to share the boat with the hoi polloi. Quite ruins the effect.”
As she’s looking directly at me as she speaks, I assume the hoi polloi is me. I don’t know what it means except that I’m really starting to dislike this woman.
“Did you find anything interesting?” I ask, my teeth clenched so tightly, I might as well be a ventriloquist. “During your prowls, I mean?”
She looks the whole two inches up into Grant’s face and smiles again, this time with much less primness. “Oh, I found lots of things interesting.”
Okay. I changed my mind. I’m really starting to hate this woman.
“Can’t we run faster than this, Kit?” She makes a bow with her pouted lips. “I was hoping to get in a real workout this morning, not a quiet stroll around the deck.”
Grant smiles in a disarming way I recognize and fear, but Hijack stops him before he can speak. “Actually, Mr. O’Kelly, there’s something I was hoping to get your opinion on,” he says. “Maybe we could let the girls run together while we…” Hijack glances over at a covered walkway next to the side railing, secluded enough for a private talk but well within view of the track.
I know what he’s doing—trying to clear the field for me so I can chat up Eden, see what I can glean about her plans for the Luxor—but I’m not interested. Not in trying to eke information out of this British beauty and especially not in doing so while keeping pace with her freakishly long stride.
But I know I’m done for when Grant struggles to suppress a laugh, his lips in a tight line but his eyes crinkling in a way that betrays everything.
“There’s nothing I’d love more,” he says, his deep voice rumbling. Unlike my ex-boyfriends, he knows how I feel about enforced exercise. “You’ll be okay without me for a few laps, Eden?”
She doesn’t look pleased at being abandoned to my paltry company, but there’s no way for her to say so without looking like a poor sport in front of the menfolk, so she does it. That right there tells me everything I need to know about her—as a thief and as a woman—but I doubt that will be sufficient recon for Hijack.
“I hope you can keep pace with me, love,” is all she says, and she takes off at a gait that would make Olympians seethe with jealousy.
I’m tempted to wait until she makes a whole revolution before I join her, but Grant chooses that moment to also smack me on the ass. He knows just where to land the blow on the familiar landscape of my backside—and it carries a lot more sting as a result, though it’s mostly to my pride. There’s no way I can retaliate without giving our relationship away, and he knows it.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I can hear Grant murmur as I cast an angry look over my shoulder and start loping after Eden. “I thought that was a thing we were doing now.”
Whatever Eden’s skills as a long-distance runner, she turns out to be one hell of a sprinter. I know this because I’m sure that’s what she’s doing as she completes the first two laps, her long legs eating up the padded track and causing her neat brown ponytail to swish behind her like a pendulum keeping time. My own short legs, bless them, have to work twice as hard to catch up, my ponytail coming loose and trailing behind me like a horse’s unkempt mane.
“You. Are. Very. Fast.” I pant as we make our third revolution. I’m going to kill Hijack after all this is done. And Grant. And maybe Eden St. James, if I can convince her to follow them overboard. “You. Have. Nice. Form.”
She looks down at me with that prim smile from before. I suspect it’s the “company” smile she pulls out when the company isn’t particularly welcome.
“Thank you,” is her response. As we pass Grant and Hijack, she lifts her hand in a wave, but the men are deep in conversation and don’t notice. Their lack of attention is the only thing that saves me from cardiac arrest. The moment Eden realizes her audience isn’t paying attention, she slows her maniacal pace to something more manageable.
Not a lot more manageable, mind you, but enough so I don’t have to pretend to twist my ankle in order to stay alive.
“I’m not stupid,” she says. “I know what you two are doing.”
At first, I think the two she’s referring to are me and Grant, and I feel a momentary spasm of alarm. But then she speaks again, her eyes trained on the path in front of her. “You’re delving into my psyche.”
That sounds like an awfully complicated task for a first meeting, and I say as much. “Or, and I’m just throwing this out, I’m trying not to trip over my own feet.”
The way her breath comes out sounds almost like a laugh. “Nonsense. I’ve heard how Penelope Blue operates. They say no one is better at worming her way into other people’s graces. Man, woman, child…no one is immune to your charm. Even our ship’s host is singing your praises, and he once took a man apart with a pair of pliers.”
Peter Sanchez’s praises aren’t something I want to hear, not when there are pliers involved, but I can’t help feeling flattered by the picture Eden is painting. From the way she’s putting it, I’m basically the baddest ass on a boat of badasses.
I could get used to that.
“And now you’ve taken up running in an attempt to woo me into friendship and lowering my guard,” she adds. “You’re trying to find my weaknesses.”
“If I wanted to be your friend, I would have picked a less exhausting activity,” I say with complete honesty. The way I figure it, the lack of oxygen making its way to my brain gives me about five more minutes of this, and then I’m down for the count. “If you could just tell me your weaknesses and save me the trouble of finishing another lap, I’d really appreciate it.”
That breath-laugh sounds again. I’m not fooled by it, because she starts running faster. “You’re a cute little thing, I’ll give you that much.”
“Thank you,” I manage.
“It wasn’t a compliment. This act of yours might work with most people, but I don’t want to be your friend, and I don’t want a quirky sidekick to chum around with. If we have to interact, I’d prefer us to call each other what we are—enemies.”
“Would you believe me if I told you I have no intention of being your enemy?” I pant. “I don’t want to steal the Luxor Tiara. In fact, I’m starting to hate the very sound of it.”
“Nice try,” she says and promptly sticks out her leg, sending me sprawling.
Okay, I can’t say for sure th
at she stuck out her leg to trip me, but it’s the only explanation I have for what happens next. One second, I’m concentrating on my forward momentum, and the next, I’m hurtling through the air, a feeling of weightlessness taking over just before my knees slam into the polyurethane surface.
I don’t feel the impact on my kneecaps at first, nor do I feel the rough scrape of abrasions on my palms. All I feel is the dizzying whir of my body coming way closer to the ship’s railing than I’m comfortable with.
“Uh-oh.” Eden’s voice sounds several feet away, which, at her previous rate of speed, would make sense. “That looks painful.”
As there’s not much in the way of concern in her voice, I doubt my pain is something this woman cares about. The other two, however… I don’t need to look up to know that the black Nikes making a beeline for my side belong to my husband.
“I’m fine. I’m good. I’m fine.” I force myself to sit upright before he can do something stupid like wrap his arms around me in a gesture of comfort. “It looks a lot worse than it is. I promise. I’m a very theatrical faller.”
“What happened?” Hijack drops to a crouch next to me, taking a quick and efficient survey of my limbs. “Is anything broken?”
“I’m fine,” I repeat, forcing myself to concentrate on his hands as they take each of my arms and legs in turn, bending and twisting them to check for ailing parts. It’s good for him that nothing is broken, because he’s none too gentle with his medical care. “It’s just my knees and hands that are dinged up.”
I’m also feeling slightly woozy from the fall, but I don’t mention it. From the way Grant is watching us, silent and white-lipped—and from the way Eden is watching him, with a sharp, narrow-eyed interest—it’s best for all of us to sweep this away and move on.
“Help me up.” I lean on Hijack’s arm, using him to leverage myself to a standing position. The quick movement causes my head to spin, and I falter. Hijack’s strong arm around my waist prevents me from sinking to the ground again.
“See?” I ask shakily, doing my best to underplay how close I am to falling into a swoon. “As good as new.”
It doesn’t work.
“Take her to the infirmary,” Grant says, his voice thin and hard.
“No, no, I’m good. Really. There’s no saying how long that could take.” My own voice isn’t leaving any room for doubt. “The rules clearly state that anyone who misses the opening ceremonies forfeits their entrance fee. No way am I missing out on my chance at that tiara for a pair of scraped knees.”
“He’s right,” Eden says. “You look pretty close to passing out. But then, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been squeamish about blood.”
That I can easily believe. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she outright reveled in it. This woman has tortured her share of small animals, or I miss my mark.
“I’m not squeamish either,” I state and shake off Hijack’s arm. “And I’m not losing my spot for being a no-show.”
“There’s plenty of time to do both.” Grant scans the sky. I can practically see his Boy Scout antenna go up as he makes a quick assessment. “It’s a quarter to eight. Go to the medic and get checked out. I’ll ensure Peter doesn’t start until you’re there.”
“You have the power do that?” Hijack asks, surprised.
“You’d be willing to do that?” Eden asks, also surprised.
I can’t decide which question would be worse for Grant to answer, so I forestall both by tossing my head and glaring at Eden. “There’s no need. A few bandages back at my stateroom, and I’ll be good as new. It’s going to take a lot more than one tiny fall to stop me.”
She doesn’t take the threat as it’s intended. “Good to know.”
I look helplessly to Grant, but if he sees anything wrong in his new flirt’s sociopathic behavior, it doesn’t show. He’s divided between concern for my bleeding limbs and his need to keep his cover preserved.
The preserved cover is more important—about twenty million times more important, if you ask me—so I plant my wobbly legs on the ground despite the pain. I’m going to have some serious bruising tomorrow. “It was nice meeting you, Eden. Good to see you again, too, Kit. I hope you two enjoy the rest of your run.”
Grant compresses his lips tightly, but he knows better than to argue further. To do so would be ruinous to us both.
“And watch your step,” I add with a sweet smile Eden’s way. “You wouldn’t want to fall overboard. I hear there are sharks nearby.”
“Oh, I’m not afraid of sharks,” she replies just as sweetly. “A little blood in the water is just the way I like it.”
9
The Diamond
Attempts at my life notwithstanding, I manage to make it to the opening ceremonies with plenty of time to spare. A long, flowing tropical skirt hides my ugly bandages, but there’s not much I can do about the scrapes on my hands, so I leave the raw skin exposed in hopes it will heal over quickly. Hijack wanted to put on some kind of homemade salve crafted from essential oils, but I drew the line at that. I prefer my medication to be of the unpronounceable chemical variety, thank you very much.
We take the stairs up from Jordan’s stateroom, which I consider to be as good as any shipboard infirmary. Although she was happy to clean my wounds, she declined the honor of joining us at the cabaret lounge, citing a need to “freshen up first.” As there was a fluffy polar bear towel folded up on her comforter, I assume that means she has some other assignments to attend to.
“You know that woman tripped me on purpose, right?” I ask Hijack as we make our way upstairs. “She wanted me to be disqualified from the game before it starts.”
Instead of being outraged at my suspicions, Hijack just laughs. “Can you blame her?”
“Um. Yes?”
He pushes through the stairwell door. “It’s the laws of nature, Pen. The first thing someone like Eden St. James does when faced with the competition is try to take her out. You’re lucky there were witnesses around to stop her.”
“That woman is not my competition,” I say hotly, even as I picture the way she smirked at Grant as they discussed their nocturnal activities—and the way he smirked right back. My husband has always had a thing for the spandex-clad, law-breaking type. “No. I refuse to believe it. He wouldn’t do that.”
“He?”
It takes me a moment to process Hijack’s confusion, another to realize my error in causing it. Of course he’s not talking about me and Eden competing for the same man. He’s talking about us competing for the same piece of jewelry. You know—the thing ninety-nine percent of the people on the Shady Lady are after.
“Peter Sanchez,” I say quickly, hoping he won’t notice my slip. “I don’t think he’ll put both Eden and me at the same table. Not for the first round, anyway. But can I just say how much I’m starting to hate that tiara? I haven’t even seen it yet, and I wish it was still at the bottom of the ocean.”
“You’re the only one,” he says as we arrive outside the cabaret lounge doors. They’re finally unlocked and thrown open to reveal the secret inner workings, but it’s difficult to see anything through the teeming swell of bodies clamoring to get in. Everyone on board the Shady Lady seems to have arrived at exactly the same time and with exactly the same goal in mind.
“Maybe we should find another way in,” I suggest, eyeing the crowd doubtfully. I don’t want another repeat of last night’s panic attack.
“Why?” Hijack asks. “Afraid someone will pick your pockets?”
“Well, I wasn’t before. Now that you mention it, however…” I take a wide step back. This place is a pickpocket’s paradise. Hijack’s master key is secured in a hidden pocket inside my bra, but I don’t relish the thought of it making its way into anyone else’s hands. It’s dangerous enough in my own.
“You know what they say…” Hijack looks at me askance. “The
best defense is a strong offense. Maybe we should do the pickpocketing instead. How do we like the looks of that tall man with the mustache?”
As a mark, I like him very much. He’s a good foot taller than everyone else, so there’s a shelf of heads between his line of vision and his wallet. He’d never see us coming. However, I don’t like the possibility of accidentally robbing Johnny Francis. I have enough enemies on board this ship as it is.
Fortunately, I’m saved from having to deny Hijack yet again by the sight of a dark head bobbing my way.
“Penelope! I thought that was you. I stopped by your room this morning to tell you to come find me before you arrived, but you were gone. You must be a really early riser. I knocked three times.”
“Hey, Lola,” I reply, pleased to see her familiar beaming face. She looks even younger than she did yesterday, clad in a yellow sundress with her hair falling in big, loopy curls down her back. “Sorry I missed you. I, uh, went for a jog.”
Her eyes grow wide. “Did you? You must be super dedicated if you’re willing to exercise on vacation like that. I’d love to be more active, but I get winded so fast. Asthma, you know? Too much excitement, and my lungs close right up. I’m supposed to keep my inhaler with me wherever I go, but I forget sometimes. Who’s this?”
Accustomed by now to Lola’s artless chatter, I have no difficulty following along. “This is my friend Hijack. Hijack, this is Lola Sanchez.”
Lola’s eyes flare in excitement. “Oh, you’re the one she’s friends with—the thief, I mean. I know all about you. Current odds are set at ten-to-one but going steadily down. I’m afraid you’re getting hurt by the parlay.”
Hijack blinks at her.
“She means you’re one of the thieves in the running for the you-know-what,” I explain, though I couldn’t tell him what parlay means. Gambling terminology has never been my forte, though Lola seems to know her fair share on the subject. I’m beginning to wonder if she isn’t some kind of savant. “Apparently, people are side-betting on which one of us is going to steal it first.”
Seeking Mr. Wrong Page 10
