Jackie turned to face him and offered a timid smile. “I know you’re not making it up,” she announced gently. “I’m just not sure you really saw what you think you saw.”
Zack groaned and shook his head. “I expected that much from him,” he announced while indicating Monroe, “but you’re my partner. You’re supposed to have my back.”
Without another word, he stormed past them and headed for the stairs. Monroe groaned softly while running his fingers through his hair then eyed Jackie.
“You’re his partner?” Monroe finally asked.
Jackie smiled weakly and shrugged. “It certainly never came up before,” she remarked then threw her hands down with frustration. “I’m worried about him, Monroe. What if he stopped taking his meds?”
“If he’s hallucinating again,” Monroe remarked, “he’s pretty much a ticking time bomb.”
She fidgeted a moment then stared into Monroe’s eyes. “We need to get him off this ship,” she announced. “At our first port of call, one of us needs to take him back home.”
“I hope you don’t think that’s going to be you,” Monroe announced.
“I’m the logical choice,” she replied. “I can handle him and he’d never hurt me.”
Monroe laughed almost nervously. “Jackie, if Zack ever goes off the deep end, none of us are safe. Don’t let his psychosexual fantasies about you cloud your judgement. If anything, you’re more vulnerable.”
She glared at him and folded her arms across her chest. “Oh, really? Because I seem to recall endless hours of martial arts training with Zack, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who could take him down.”
“Hand-to-hand, you’re probably right,” Monroe announced then eyed her sharply. “But you’re also the only one who wouldn’t put a bullet in him if it came down to it.”
Jackie stared at him with a look of horror. “Why would you even say such a thing--?”
“Because, Jackie,” Monroe softly lashed out. “Zack is Zack. The little guy in his brain who flips the switch between right and wrong isn’t exactly reliable. He’s been through a lot. He’s done a lot. Dr. Sherman has suggested numerous times we retire Zack. He’s concerned about his mental state.”
“Why’s that?” Jackie asked. “I know he’s, well, different, but he seems like the same guy I knew when I was a little girl.”
“Zack never uncorks his emotional bottle,” Monroe informed her. “We’ve all let it out in either sorrow, anger, or a drunken stupor, but not Zack. He keeps it buried deep inside him. That’s what the doc fears about his personality. You can’t keep all that bottled inside. Eventually, it’s going to explode.”
“You know, ever since I was a little girl, I’ve heard my father and the rest of you tell me, ‘don’t worry about it’ or ‘I’ll deal with it’,” she informed Monroe. “Well, now it’s my turn. You just leave Zack to me. I’ll deal with it.”
Jackie turned and headed down the corridor for the stairs. Monroe held his head and groaned softly.
Chapter Fifteen
The sun was setting on the ocean, lending a romantic backdrop for lovers taking a stroll along deck. Bogart and Kirk leaned on the railing staring into the ocean with uninspired frowns chiseled on their faces.
“I’d forgotten how much I hate being confined to a boat,” Kirk muttered. “Why the hell would anyone choose a cruise as their vacation?”
“I’m thinking the company makes the difference,” Bogart remarked. “Believe me; I’d rather be watching the sunset with a gorgeous woman than share it with you.”
Kirk cast a sideways glare at Bogart, his lips curling into a strange sneer. “I’m working with a team of lonely hearts,” he scoffed then looked back across the ocean. “There’s no room in this outfit for sappy romantics. You’re better off severing romantic relationships in this line of work.”
Bogart turned sideways while leaning on the railing and stared at Kirk with disbelief. “You, amigos, are a tight ass.”
A couple passed by and gave them a strange look. Bogart attempted a smile and gave them a slight wave. Once they passed, he gave them the middle finger then returned his attention to Kirk. His comment drew Kirk’s undivided attention.
“Tight ass?” Kirk demanded while facing him and straightened to his full 6’4”. “Who are you calling a tight ass?”
“You and your macho ‘boys only club’,” Bogart announced, refusing to back down. “There’s nothing wrong with having someone to share your life. You’re just afraid to open up your heart in fear of having it broken, because then, heaven forbid, you’ll realize you have emotions.”
“Do you ever shut up?” Kirk demanded.
“I’ll tell you something,” Bogart continued without missing a beat. “I’ve had my heart broken, stolen, stomped on, and put through a meat grinder, but I’ll never let that stop me from searching for my soulmate.”
“Oh, God,” Kirk groaned and leaned on the railing. “Not the ‘soulmate’ bullshit.”
Bogart stared at Kirk and frowned. “You were never close to your mother, were you?”
“Can I interrupt this Freudian moment?” Gil announced from behind them.
Both men turned and saw Gil with Darth only a few feet away.
“Yes, interrupt,” Kirk announced. “Anything?”
“Dead end so far,” Gil replied with a bored sigh. “I think Beck’s off his rocker on this one. I think we should throw a hood over his head, duct tape his wrists, and take him on the next flight back to Colorado.”
“I’ll get the duct tape,” Kirk announced and attempted to walk past Gil.
“Not so fast,” Gil scoffed, stopping him.
Kirk frowned and leaned his back against the railing, obviously knowing it was too good to be true.
“We owe it to him to see this through until they disembark the ship at the next port,” Gil remarked. “We’ll survive another day.”
Zack stormed past them. “Speak for yourself.”
They watched him disappear around the corner then exchanged looks. All three shrugged and didn’t give it a second thought.
“Darth and I are going to make our final round then our shift is over,” Gil informed them. “A few of the party guests made their way to the lounge on the Caribbean Deck. Apart from scoping them out, I doubt there’s anything more either of you can do tonight. Beck will keep tabs on Pinto’s cabin throughout the night.”
Gil and Darth left in the same direction Zack had gone. Bogart and Kirk glanced at each other.
“Buy you a drink?” Bogart offered.
“You’re on.”
†
The Caribbean Deck lounge was slightly crowded that evening, mostly with guests attending the same wedding as Sal and Pinto. Their private lounge on the upper deck was only reserved until eight o’clock, so that left some free time. Young people and loud music filled the nightclub bar. The main bar was crammed full with the rest of the ship’s passengers who weren’t into modern music, which just left the lightly traveled lounge on the Caribbean Deck. Grant struggled to serve the large number of passengers flooding the small lounge, but he seemed more than equipped to handle the attractive women who came with that flood.
Bogart and Kirk played a friendly game of pool while checking out the crowd of both younger and older men and women. It was easy to spot those who were attending the wedding on the private island. Almost all were recognizably wealthy, making Kirk and Bogart look like outcasts in their casual jackets and khakis. Bogart stood out a little more, refusing to change out of his cowboy boots.
“Well, son-of-a-bitch,” a man exclaimed, alerting half the lounge.
Bogart and Kirk instinctively looked up from their pool game along with half the lounge. A large man stood only a few feet inside the lounge and stared directly at them. Kirk tensed, obviously knowing the man. Bogart remained happily clueless. Corbin was an imposing man standing nearly as tall as Kirk but with a slightly less muscular build. He kept his light hair in a buzz cut, increa
sing his intimidating appearance. His moderately expensive suit was the only difference between him and Kirk. Corbin approached them by the pool table and grinned while extending his hand to Kirk. Kirk managed a slight smile and gripped his hand in a half-hearted chest bump.
“Good to see you, Kirk,” Corbin announced cheerfully then eyed Bogart. “Friend, acquaintance, or other?”
Kirk eyed Bogart and frowned at his own answer. “Somewhere between acquaintance and other,” he replied.
Bogart glared at Kirk and appeared slightly offended. “Now that’s just plain mean.”
Corbin laughed at Bogart’s expense. “Don’t worry,” he remarked. “Kirk doesn’t have many friends. I wouldn’t take it personally.”
“What brings you here?” Kirk asked then looked around. “You with a girl?”
“Me?” Corbin chuckled softly. “No, I still haven’t found one crazy enough to tolerate me, although I hear Ross has finally reeled one in.”
“Yeah,” Kirk replied with little emotion. “They’re doing okay.”
Bogart listened to the conversation with great interest. Despite the clueless country boy act, he had a knack for reading people. It’s what made him a good conman for so many years.
Corbin leaned in closer to Kirk and rolled his eyes at the other guests. “I’m going to that snobfest of a wedding.”
“You?” Kirk asked with genuine surprise. “Doesn’t seem like your scene. If there’s no woman involved, how’d someone like you get invited?”
“It’s a good thing we’re cut from the same cloth, or I’d take offense to that,” Corbin remarked then laughed softly. “I’m working security for the wedding guests onboard. I volunteered for the shitty night shift detail. Most will be in bed before ten, but some of the younger ones are tying one on in the nightclub.”
“Security for wedding guests?” Kirk asked with surprise. “Is that common for the insanely rich?”
“Hell if I know, but we’re not talking any ordinary wedding either,” Corbin remarked. “There are six of us working this ship and about two dozen on the rich guy’s island. We’re looking at some highly connected people with deep pockets and a list of enemies as long as your arm.” A grin suddenly crossed his face. “Hey, if you’re between jobs and want to get off this floating morgue, you and your colleague would probably be welcomed as additional security. Fast, easy money.”
“Until you realize you’re stuck between two rival mobs,” Kirk remarked.
“Well, no one lives forever,” Corbin remarked then excused himself.
Bogart watched the man head into the crowd of wedding guest passengers then eyed the way Kirk stared after the man. “I assume he’s not your bosom buddy.”
“Definitely not,” Kirk muttered. “That’s what’s known as a ‘bottom feeder’. A merc.”
“Mercenary?” Bogart gasped softly and cast another look at the man. “He didn’t look unstable.”
“Mercenaries aren’t unstable,” Kirk informed him. “They’re high-priced hitmen. That particular one has zero ethics.”
“Seemed friendly enough.”
“That’s what he’s selling,” Kirk remarked. “He’ll slit your throat while telling you to have a lovely day.”
“Makes me wonder about this wedding,” Bogart announced while sinking into thought.
“It’s going to be one for the books, that’s for sure.” Kirk returned to their game and sank the two-ball. He no longer paid attention to Corbin. “I wonder who else we’ll know at this little gathering.”
Chapter Sixteen
Despite continuing activity on the ship well after midnight, the decks were mostly peaceful. A stray couple or two would stroll the deck while returning to their staterooms, but most of the activity remained centered around the bars and the casino. Zack sat high upon his perch overlooking a large portion of the stern. He’d made himself at home on a small overhang encased in shadows. Exactly how he got there was one of those little Zack-style mysteries. He grew tired and found it difficult to keep his eyes open. Before he fell from his perch, it was time to come off it and head back to his cramped quarters in the crew cabins.
As he was about to straighten, he witnessed a woman dressed almost entirely in black slip along the shadows of the deck below. Something familiar about the way the woman moved caught his attention. Her tactical attire and stealthy movements were enough to pique his curiosity. Zack easily shimmied down the support beam, slipped into the shadows, and hurried after the woman. He couldn’t let her get away without getting a look at her face at the very least. He kept his distance, so she wouldn’t realize he was following her.
The suspicious woman hurried down the stairs to the Caribbean Deck, her black boots making little sound on the steel steps. Zack waited for her to reach the bottom then scaled the railing near the top and shimmied his way down the more direct route. He saw her disappear around a corner and had to pick up his pace if he didn’t want to lose her. He checked the corner before proceeding and realized she’d given him the slip. She couldn’t possibly have known he was following her. Even Jackie couldn’t detect him when she knew he was following her.
He proceeded in the logical direction a woman sneaking about might head. He passed an employee’s only door and heard the faint sound of the door opening. Zack spun around but was already too late. The woman kicked him in the side and spun into a high roundhouse kick for his face. Despite initially catching him off guard, Zack blocked her flying foot and came back at her with his own karate punch. The woman blocked his punch and attempted to kick him a little lower. Zack blocked the groin shot and attempted to take her down.
Both fell to the floor, each trying in vain to subdue the other. She seemed to know all his moves, causing him to hesitate, because he knew his attacker! She pinned him to the floor while straddling his waist and prepared to strike him when they finally saw each other’s faces. Zack stared at the attractive woman with her long dark hair worn in a sleek, neat ponytail. She had incredibly dark eyes that pierced through him.
“Katya?” Zack gasped while staring at her.
She stared back, equally surprised to see him and straightened without moving off him. “Zack?” Anger quickly replaced her surprise. “What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded in a thick Russian accent.
He stared at her, stunned by her reaction. “Me?” he countered. “What are you doing sneaking around like some filthy Russian spy?”
Katya stared at him with a strange expression. It was unclear whether she intended to hit him after the comment. She leaned down, kissing him passionately and aggressively on the mouth. Zack barely had time to return the kiss before she broke it off and straightened, springing to her feet. She stared at him where he remained laying on deck peering up at her.
“Stay out of my business and stay the hell out of my way,” she launched. “I have no problem going through you.” She then ran along deck, disappearing into the shadows.
Zack sat up and stared after her with a look of surprise. “The guys are never going to believe this,” he muttered then considered the comment. “Looks like I’m flying solo on this one.”
†
Sal’s spacious two-bedroom suite was located on the Riviera Deck along with the rest of the VIP suites mostly occupied by the wedding guest passengers. The suite contained a wet bar, sunken hot tub, and three private balconies. It was nearly one o’clock in the morning. Sal and Pinto were still dressed from their earlier private party. Sal looked classically handsome in his excessively expensive suit and bold, red tie. Pinto dressed less formal in a flattering pale blue, thin-strapped dress barely reaching her knees. They entertained two wealthy looking men. One was close to Sal’s age and the younger was a little older than Pinto.
Their guests were the bride’s father, Matt Whitehouse and his son, Luke. Matt was slightly taller than Sal, although somewhat thinner. He had a full head of thick dark hair, which may or may not have been his own. If the hair was natural, the color certainly wasn’t
. Luke was lanky and almost awkward looking. Despite his age, he still looked like a gangly teenage boy who hadn’t quite matured. Although he came from a wealthy family, his posture was less than impressive. He mostly sat hunched. His unusually thinning hair gave insight to what Matt probably looked like at his age.
Luke took in sweeping gazes of Pinto in her stunning dress. She shifted after the last look rested on her cleavage longer than it should have. She glanced at the grandfather clock, as it was about to strike one, and then cast a look at Sal.
“It’s late, Dad,” she announced while standing. “I think I’ll be turning in now.”
All three men stood respectfully. Luke continued to stare at her, paying particular attention to her cleavage.
“We’ll see you again tomorrow afternoon, won’t we?” Luke eagerly asked.
“I’m not sure--”
“Absolutely,” Sal announced cheerfully. “We’re entered in the skeet shooting contest. Then there’s the formal dinner at seven and the lounge party at nine.” He eyed Pinto and winked. “I’m hoping to coax my daughter into singing for the masses.”
“Dad,” she protested. “We discussed that. The ship already has entertainment. I don’t want you using your influence to get me on stage. I’m strictly small town entertainment; not cruise ship ready.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sal protested. “You’re amazing!”
“I know I’d love to hear you sing,” Luke announced.
Pinto managed a smile, but she was obviously growing tired of the man’s display of interest.
“We should probably be going too,” Matt announced as he remained standing. “It’s late.”
“Yes, of course,” Sal replied and escorted both men to the door.
Sal opened his suite door to reveal a large man standing guard just outside in the corridor. The bodyguard gave a slight nod, indicating everything was quiet. Sal shook both their hands and bid them goodnight. Matt and Luke walked along the corridor with the large guard following behind them. As they passed one of the nearby rooms, the peek hole appeared to dilate. The small webcam followed them as they passed the room. On the other side of the door, Beck sat in one of the comfortable chairs now positioned in front of the door. He watched the two men and the guard head down the hall on his screen.
O-Dark-Hundred Page 8
