by Desiree Holt
“All right.”
She’d hold on tight to that until they had a chance to talk. She’d never been hit so emotionally by something before and she wanted to know that this was more than a roll in the hay for Logan. That he broke his own personal code because he felt something very special for her.
When she looked across at him, his eyes were like twin lasers boring into hers, heat and hunger and something else flashing in them. Then, as if a broom had swept over his face, that same implacable expression swirled into place. His game face. He took a swallow of coffee and set his mug down.
“Let’s get going.”
She carried her plate and mug to the sink, stuck her dishes and Logan’s in the dishwasher, and dusted her hands together. When she turned, she found herself body to body with him.
“Um, excuse me?”
She looked up at him. Bad move. The look he gave her felt as if it went clear through her. Their gazes locked for a long moment. There it was again, that mixture of pain and desire.
“Never mind. Let’s go.”
“Let me get my purse and the keys.”
Logan was waiting for her in the foyer. “All set?” She nodded. “Let’s go.”
He checked everything on the new alarm system, punched in the code, and guided her toward the garage with his arm lightly at her waist. As soon as she had climbed into his truck and the garage door behind them rolled up, her entire body tensed.
What if someone was out there waiting to shoot at them again? What if the black SUV was out on the road? What if—
Oh, for God’s sake.
But she’d been attacked on the road, she and Logan had been shot at, and someone had blown up Princess Devon. This is stupid, she told herself. They had a state-of-the-art security system in the house, and the bodyguard of her dreams beside her. What could happen?
Logan backed out of the garage, pressed the remote to close the garage door, and headed down the driveway. He paused at the foot of the driveway and she watched him scan the area.
He glanced over at her and covered her hands with one of his, giving her a gentle squeeze with his fingers.
“We’re good, Devon. Nothing remotely visible out here. This is just force of habit for me. The one time I don’t do it will turn into a disaster. Okay?”
“Okay.” She blew out a breath. “I want you to know I am not some Silly Millie given to fainting spells and all that. I don’t know what Avery or Sheri told you about me, but I handle my life pretty well. I even own my own business.” She smacked her head. “But you know that. Avery probably sent you a file on me that even includes my birthmarks.”
He glanced over at her, the corner of his mouth quirked in a tiny smile. “Birthmarks? I’m not sure I noticed any.”
The same heat she’d felt earlier surged in her cheeks.
He shrugged. “And Avery sent me a file on you. She does that with every client. It’s as much to protect us as it is to protect them.”
“Oh. Of course.” She should have figured that.
They turned onto the road and headed toward town. Despite Logan’s reassurances, she couldn’t help checking the side-view mirror every few seconds. No black SUVs appeared, thank the Lord. Or any other vehicle. They reached the bottom of the hilly road without incident and he made the turn that would take them to the marina.
There was little traffic today, but the marina parking lot was nearly full. The docks were filled with people working on their boats after yesterday’s disaster. Devon even saw several boats from other slips in the water, bobbing just out of range of the disaster, watching as if this were a movie. Bloodsuckers, she thought, cursing their avid curiosity.
Logan parked and jogged around to open the door for Devon, his eyes busy scanning the area.
“You think those men might be here?” A knot twisted in her stomach.
“No, but I always check my surroundings. I don’t like surprises.”
“Neither do I.”
As soon as they were out of the truck she was hit with the lingering scent of ash and gasoline and burnt matter. Logan held her hand as they walked along the dock, picking their way along the wet boards and skirting bits of debris. Devon looked at the sight and was heartsick. Who could have been vicious enough to do this kind of damage, with careless disregard for the other people who had their boats there?
“Don’t get too near the edge,” Logan warned her.
“I won’t. I just…need to look.”
She was vaguely aware when he stepped away from her. When she turned to look for him, she saw him talking to a young man with messy black hair dressed in board shorts and a T-shirt. She frowned, wondering why he was talking to someone who appeared to be a boat bum.
But then he moved back to stand beside her.
“Don’t look back at him,” he told her in a low voice. “That’s Angel Cabrera, one of the Vigilance agents. Avery said she was keeping him here to check things out for a couple of days. I know he looks twelve but he’s almost thirty. He’s great for some undercover assignments.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “I’ll bet. What did he say?”
“You aren’t going to like this, but the guys from Cole International were here earlier nosing around.”
Her stomach knotted. “They’re doing all this stuff without keeping me in the loop.”
Logan made a rude noise. “I have a strong feeling those guys are looking for something, just like your would-be kidnappers. The first thing that comes to mind is either of the computer drives.”
“There must be something on there scaring the hell out of a lot of people.”
“The suits are sure after something.”
“Assholes,” she muttered. “Did they talk to him, by any chance?”
He shook his head. “He isn’t someone they’d pay attention to, which is why he’s so good at his job. He did have some information, though.”
“Like what?”
“Try not to react because we still have no idea who might be here watching. He said they tried to get on Lady Hannah. But—”
Her entire body went rigid, as both fear and anger washed through her. “What? They did what?”
“Wanted to get on the boat. But Avery had someone keeping people away from both of them, just in case of something like this.”
“So what happened?”
He barked a laugh. “They were pissed as hell. Angel saw the whole thing. They tried throwing their muscle around. Said they were executives with Graham Cole’s business and the boat was corporate property. They had every right to board it.”
She clenched her fists at her sides, trying to control the rage bubbling inside her. “They are unbelievable.”
“That’s not true, is it?” he asked. “A lot of people put such purchases in the name of their business for tax purposes.”
“Well, my father didn’t. It’s his name on the title, to both of them. Goddamn it.” She swallowed, doing her best to get her anger under control. “Did they leave after that?”
“Not right away. Angel said they hung around a while watching the cleanup operation and I guess hoping the guard would be gone. But he stayed until it was dark. Angel left about an hour later. But you won’t like what else he overheard.”
“What now? I don’t know how much more bad news I can take.”
“They’ve checked into the B and B. They’re staying until they find your father or whatever it is they’re looking for.”
“Great. Just great.” She swallowed back the nausea. “I want to take some pictures of Princess Devon. I’ll need them if I ever find out who the insurance company is. But first let’s see what’s on board Lady Hannah those douchebags might have been interested in.”
Logan grinned at her. “Douchebags, huh? Sounds right to me.”
Getting on the boat was accomplished only afte
r Logan borrowed a portable ladder from someone. He climbed on first, then opened the gate in the railing to help Devon. She stood on the deck, covered now with soot and ashes that had worked into an ungodly paste as it mixed with the water from the hoses. She looked around, feeling sick and depressed.
“This is a disaster.” She felt tears gather in her eyes and tried to blink them back. “This was such a gorgeous boat, and my father kept her in immaculate condition. Princess Devon was a big catamaran but this one was Dad’s snazzy sport fisherman. He loved taking out his friends.” She tried to smile and failed. “Although I’m not sure how much fish they actually caught.”
“Who’s the Lady Hannah named for?”
“That was my mother’s name.” Her throat tightened. “I don’t think he ever got over her death. Sometimes I wonder if whatever he got himself into that made him disappear had to do with his depression. He just really fell apart for a while.”
“Which boat did you and he sail the most whenever you went out together?”
“Mostly Lady Hannah. She’s what’s called a day sailor and we never went very far. Princess Devon is what he used when he was sailing from Tampa to Arrowhead Bay and back again.” Another wave of sadness swamped her. “Once when we went out on Lady Hannah, he talked with me about my mother. First time in what seemed like ages.” She swallowed back the tears that just wouldn’t go away. “And the last time. I’m pretty sure whatever he was into, he was already hip deep by then.”
She saw Logan study the boat carefully, glancing now and then over what was left of Princess Devon.
“What?”
“If we go with the idea that that your father did a Houdini, why did he take the larger boat? I’d think the smaller, faster one would have been preferable.”
“So maybe he wasn’t trying to get away? Maybe he just went for a day sail and fell overboard like everyone thought at first?” She didn’t know which solution she preferred at this point. A voluntary disappearance hurt her and left too many questions unanswered.
“I want to go over everything in this boat,” Logan said, “starting with the cabin.”
She gave him the keys and he climbed down the short flight of stairs to the cabin door. But when he went to unlock the door, she saw him scowl and crouch down. He wrapped his hand around the knob and before he could pull, it slammed open, knocking him back on his ass. Someone burst out of it, barreled up the steps, knocked Devon to the deck, and leaped off the boat. Before either of them could recover he was racing down the dock, weaving in and out among the people.
Logan jumped down and took off after him. Devon gripped the rail to still her trembling hands. How had someone gotten onto the boat and into the cabin? Who? Why? She watched, doing her best to keep her eyes on Logan. He was back in minutes, anger stamped on his face.
“He got away.” He spit the words out in disgust.
“What? How? Where did he go?”
“It was a kid, a teenager. He was out of the parking lot before I could catch him. I’d guess there was a car waiting for him, hidden just down the road from the marina.”
“Do you have any idea what he wanted? Or who sent him?” Then she shook her head. “Forget I said that. Of course you don’t. I saw you stop and talk to Angel. Did he see anything?”
“No. He left about one in the morning, so the kid must have come aboard after that. He would have taken off with me chasing the kid, but I don’t want to blow his cover. When we’re done, I’ll call Avery.”
The cabin had another unpleasant surprise. Cushions were ripped, cupboard doors open and in some cases yanked off their hinges. Every single thing that could have been a hiding place had been destroyed in the search.
Devon dropped onto one of the torn cushions and put her head in her hands. The nausea that had been with her since Sheri’s phone call came surging back and she had to swallow hard. She wished this was a nightmare and any minute she would wake up.
She was vaguely aware of Logan speaking to someone and looked up to see him with his phone clamped to his ear.
“Yeah. Everything. No, I have no idea how he got in but I’m damn sure going to find out. But Sheri? Whatever Cole took with him on those hard drives has got to be hotter than a pistol. Too many people are after it. I’d like to know what those thugs that keep going after Devon and the guys from Cole International have in common. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. You’re right. Okay. I’ll take some pictures, tell Angel to stay alert and head for the office.”
He ended the call and crouched down beside Devon, taking her hands in his.
“What is it?” She cleared her throat. “Just tell me whatever it is.”
“Devon, I wish I had answers for you but we just keep getting more questions.”
“Tell me what you and Sheri think. I have to know.”
“Okay.” He sat down cross-legged in front of her. “It’s obvious that kid in here was searching for something, and it’s small enough to be hidden almost anywhere.”
“Like a hard drive.”
He nodded. “Whatever is on it—them—has to be pretty damaging to the people looking for it. What I can’t figure out is what those guys with the guns and the men from CI have in common.”
She rubbed her forehead. In addition to the nausea a headache was trying to break free.
“I swear to God, Logan, I have no idea what it could be.”
“I believe you. That didn’t even enter into our thoughts. But I’m less and less convinced your father fell overboard. I’m getting the feeling either your father disappeared on purpose or someone has him and everyone else wants him. And if he did do this on his own, he was very efficient. By the time his boat was discovered and a search started, he was already long gone from the Princess Devon.”
She rubbed her forehead. “I’m really scared for him, Logan.”
He nodded. “I’ll bet. If he’s running from someone, they may have caught wind of what he was planning and tried to stop him. Now their next point of attack is you.”
“But who could have him and why are they keeping him?”
“All things we have to find out. Come on.” He pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand to her. “Let’s get some pictures of this boat and what’s left of the other. Whenever you get insurance information, they’ll want these. I’ll have Sheri tell the Moorlands they have to stay like this while the investigation’s going on. She can get the slips roped off, too.”
Devon blew out a breath. “I can hardly believe I just got the phone call yesterday. So much has happened.” She gave his hand an impulsive squeeze. “I’m glad you’re here. With me. As my bodyguard.”
Logan cupped her chin and tilted her face up to his. “I’m a lot more than your bodyguard, Devon.” He looked as if he wanted to say something else but changed his mind. “Go on. Take your pictures.”
Logan also snapped some pictures with his cell; then they stopped to take a hard look at Princess Devon.
“It’s a total loss.” Devon stared at the boat, sadness washing over her. “That beautiful, beautiful boat.”
“Once the insurance pays off, if you want you can get another one,” Logan pointed out.
She looked up at him. “Are you kidding? After this I may never want to get on another boat ever.”
Logan took more pictures, then stuck the phone in his pocket.
“Let’s go talk to the guy that runs this place.”
“Gary Hopwood runs it for the Moorlands, although I think running it might be too loose a word for what he actually does.”
“I want to check him out anyway, on the off chance he’s not the doofus everyone says he is.”
Devon wasn’t sure exactly how old Gary was. With skin weathered by the elements and curly hair shot with gray, he could have been anywhere from forty to seventy. She knew that in the summer he worked alone, but in the winter months, when the snowbirds
were roosting, he hired someone to help him. He’d be doing that shortly. She was aware he’d lived in Arrowhead Bay all his life and but that was as much as she knew about him.
Except when he helped people service their boats or move them into the big building that housed the repair shop and the dry slips, Gary spent his time in the small shack at the entrance to the floating docks. He looked up as Logan opened the door, setting aside his newspaper and taking his feet off the desk.
“Help you?” He gave them an inquiring look.
“Remember me?” Devon asked. “Graham Cole’s daughter. We’re just checking into his disappearance.”
“Oh, yeah. Heard about that. Fell overboard, right?”
“We’re not sure yet. The Coast Guard is still looking for him.”
Gary looked from one to the other. “So what do you need from me?”
Logan took over so smoothly she hardly noticed it.
“We just have a few questions for you. I—”
Gary interrupted him. “Exactly who are you?”
“Logan Malik. I’m handling Miss Cole’s security for the moment.”
“Security?” Gary’s eyebrows lifted. “Why the hell does she need security?” He shifted his gaze to her. “If he fell overboard why do you need protection?”
“We’re just being cautious,” Logan answered. “How late were you here yesterday?”
Gary’s posture immediately became defensive. “Why? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“We don’t think you did,” Devon assured him in what she hoped was a calm voice. “We’re just curious about some things.”
“What things?”
Crap, she thought. Why can’t he just answer the questions?
“Oh, if you saw anyone hanging around yesterday that looked strange to you. Out of place.”
“Listen, you two.” He stood up, anger lining his face. “I run a good place here, but they don’t pay me to be a guard. What with your pop’s boat blowing up yesterday”—he turned his anger on Devon—“we had a lot of strange people here. I got nothing to tell you.”
