Welcoming Seas (A Rowan Gray Mystery Book 1)

by Lily Harper Hart

  “You hate it,” Sally finished, shaking her head. “I don’t understand that. I’ve always loved makeup.”

  “It’s just never been my thing,” Rowan explained. “I don’t even wear mascara most of the time because it rubs against my camera and gets on the window or ends up smeared under my eyes if I’m not careful.”

  “Oh.” Sally was thoughtful. “I’d never even considered that.”

  “It’s just the way I am,” Rowan said. “Plus, well, I actually like the way I look better when I’m not wearing a lot of makeup. I generally stick with some tinted moisturizer and lip balm.”

  “That’s probably why your skin is so creamy and soft,” Sally said, shaking her head as she took a step back. “Okay. Do what you want to do. You attracted Quinn in the first place. You obviously know what you’re doing.”

  “Thank you,” Rowan said, smirking. She knew it was hard for Sally to cede control, even if it was for a good cause. “As for attracting Quinn, I’m not sure how I managed to do that.”

  “I know,” Sally said, sitting on the end of the bed and plucking the stuffed dog from the tangle of sheets and blankets. “You were yourself. You don’t pretend to be something that you’re not. You’d be surprised how many people come to a cruise ship and create a false persona.”

  “But … why?”

  “Because this job is glamorous in theory,” Sally replied. “People think it’s all sun, umbrella drinks, and reality show hijinks. They ignore the part about the actual work. They overlook the part about being away from your family for long stretches of time.”

  “I don’t really have any family left,” Rowan volunteered. “I have an aunt and uncle in Michigan. I have grandparents near Orlando. I don’t ever really see them, though. They send birthday cards every year but that’s it. They don’t even know I started a new job.”

  Sally widened her eyes. “That’s terrible. I’m one of five children and we’re always in contact with one another. I miss my brothers and sisters a great deal. As for my parents, well, I always think it will be a relief to be away from them, but then I find I miss them.”

  “Where do they live?”

  “New Orleans.”

  “Oh, I’ve always wanted to visit New Orleans,” Rowan said, taking on a wistful expression. “I’ve heard wonderful things about the food and music. Oh, and I’m dying to see one of the cemeteries. I would love to photograph it.”

  “You can go with me to visit them one weekend,” Sally offered. “We get leave at least once a month. It’s less than a full day’s drive away. My mother will love you.”

  Rowan smiled. “I just might take you up on that.” In truth, seeing someone else’s happy family should’ve made her sad about losing her own. For some reason, though, it always made her feel better. “I would love to meet your family.”

  “Then it’s a date.” Sally sat in silence for a moment and then realized they were in the middle of a conversation before getting distracted. “Where was I?”

  “People don’t realize how hard it is to be on a cruise ship,” Rowan prodded. “They think it’s a glamorous life.”

  “Oh, right,” Sally said, shaking herself out of her reverie. “Anyway, a lot of the people who come here think they’re going to find a husband … or wife … or enjoy nonstop partying … or somehow find the key to a tropical paradise. That almost never happens.

  “Those people put on an act to attract others, though,” she continued. “So many women have thrown themselves at Quinn that I’ve lost count. You turned his head by being genuine. There’s a lesson in that.”

  “Yes, be yourself and you too can have a strange man letting himself into your bedroom at night.”

  Sally snickered as she pushed herself to her feet. “You keep bringing that up, but I think you actually like it.”

  “I think admitting that would make me feel weak.”

  “I don’t think anything makes you feel weak unless you’re prone to feeling weak,” Sally countered, shuffling toward the door. “I’m going to leave you so you can rush into the bathroom and wash that gunk off your face. You should have plenty of time to meet Quinn.”

  “Thank you, Sally,” Rowan said. “For everything.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  Rowan waited for Sally to leave the room before hurrying toward the bathroom. She planned to scour her face before dinner, and she didn’t have a lot of time to fix the mess Sally wrought. Her hand was on the hot water handle when she heard a knock at the door. She couldn’t help but scowl as she scurried out of the bathroom.

  “Did you forget something?” Rowan threw open the door and frowned when she saw the face staring back at her. She recognized it, but she definitely wasn’t expecting it. “What are you doing here?”

  She didn’t get a chance to register the answer before fear overwhelmed her and the horror of the past few days slipped into place. How could this be possible?

  21

  Twenty-One

  “Oh, you look nice.” Demarcus smirked when he saw Quinn approaching the bar area in the main dining room shortly before seven. The security guard, who usually felt most comfortable in cargo shorts and a T-shirt, wore simple khaki pants and a button-down shirt. It wasn’t a big shift, but it was enough to make Demarcus realize Quinn was serious about the date. “Did you stare at yourself in the mirror for an hour to make sure you look pretty?”

  Quinn made an exaggerated face. “I’m always pretty.”

  “That’s what all of the women say,” Demarcus confirmed. “By the way, a few of the waitresses have their noses out of joint because you’re having dinner with Rowan. They feel as if you led them astray when you said you weren’t looking to hook up with anyone. They’re taking it as a challenge to their womanhood.”

  “Led them astray? Challenge to their womanhood? What is with the fancy talk from folks these days?”

  “We’re a dramatic bunch. It’s part of taking work on a cruise ship. Most people have romantic dreams – which means they read a lot – so they naturally talk in a flowery manner. The guests get a kick out of it.”

  “You definitely remind me of a flower,” Quinn said. “I’m thinking a dandelion … one of those ones that pops up two minutes after you mow.”

  Demarcus made a mock cat sound and feigned attacking with his claws. “You’re not in the best mood for a first date, boyfriend.”

  “Do you have to call me that? It’s so annoying.”

  “What would you prefer I call you? Stud? Hottie? King of the loins?”

  “What is wrong with you?” Quinn asked, his eyebrows flying up his forehead as he glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “Sometimes I think you simply say stuff like that because you enjoy messing with me.”

  “You should always think that because it’s true,” Demarcus said, his eyes contemplative as they washed over Quinn. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong? You seem more agitated than usual. You’re not often big on being teased, but right now you’re positively evil about it.”

  “I don’t care about being teased,” Quinn said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not agitated or anything. I’m just … .”

  “Nervous?” Demarcus was joking, but the way Quinn’s eyes flashed made him realize he’d hit the nail on the head. “I see. You are nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous,” Quinn shot back. “The only time guys get nervous when going on a date is if they’re teenagers … or virgins … or weird shut-ins who only interact with people on the internet. I am neither.”

  “Men also get nervous if they really like someone,” Demarcus argued. “I think you really like Rowan.”

  “I do like her. That doesn’t mean I’m nervous.” Quinn gripped his hands together for a moment and then smoothed the front of his shirt. “I look okay, right? Casual but not too casual. Respectful without looking as if I’m trying too hard. Effortlessly handsome but still approachable.”

  Demarcus had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from l
aughing. “Right. You’re not nervous. What was I thinking?”

  “I have no idea,” Quinn replied. “I never know what you’re thinking.”

  Demarcus poured a shot of whiskey and handed it to Quinn. “Here. Drink that. It will calm your nerves.”

  Quinn dubiously eyed the shot glass. “I don’t want to get drunk.”

  “One shot won’t make you drunk. It will simply make you calmer. And, boyfriend? You need something to calm yourself. You’re out of control.”

  “Whatever.” Quinn made a growling noise in the back of his throat as he took the shot glass. He tossed it back with little fanfare and handed the empty glass to Demarcus. “Happy?”

  “I’m not unhappy,” Demarcus replied. “How do you feel?”

  “I … surprisingly better,” Quinn conceded, his face twisting as if he’d had some sort of life-changing epiphany. “Crap. I really am nervous. How did that even happen?”

  “I’m pretty sure the answer to that question has long dark hair, big green eyes, and legs that go on for miles.”

  “Yes, but I’ve spent a ton of time with her over the course of the last few days,” Quinn supplied. “Why would I suddenly be nervous now? I wasn’t nervous before.”

  “Because it’s official now.”

  “It’s not official until all of this has been handled,” Quinn countered. “Then it will be official.”

  “You already know it’s going to be official – whether you want to admit it or not – so it’s official,” Demarcus countered. “It’s not a big deal, man. Don’t work yourself into a tizzy over it.”

  “I rarely work myself into a tizzy. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve never done that.”

  “You could’ve fooled me,” Demarcus grumbled, shaking his head. “Speaking of your date, though, aren’t you supposed to be picking Rowan up at her room?”

  “I’m going,” Quinn answered, his eyes flashing. “I’m just checking on the girls to see if they’re down here. I want to make sure they’re okay.”

  “What girls?”

  “Kylie, Kara, and Hayley. They’re the ones who are friends with the missing girl. We’ve been watching them. That’s how this whole thing started.”

  “Oh, that’s kind of sweet,” Demarcus intoned. “You should send them flowers for fixing you up with Rowan.”

  “I’m not risking that,” Quinn said, swiveling so he could scan the dance floor. “The one girl has a crush on me and she keeps pressing her boobs against my chest and shoulders. If I send her flowers, she’s likely to strip. Nobody wants that.”

  Demarcus barked out a laugh. “I’ve seen those girls. They’re cute.”

  “They’re girls, though. I prefer women.”

  “Like Rowan?”

  “And I’m done here,” Quinn muttered, shaking his head. “Two of the girls are over at their usual table. I’m sure the third is just in the bathroom or something. Keep an eye on them for me, will you?”

  “I’ll do my best.” Demarcus mock saluted. “I’m sure I can watch three teenagers.”

  “Just make sure they don’t get in any trouble,” Quinn instructed. “I’m going to pick up Rowan. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “Would you like me to set up a special table for you? Perhaps put out some romantic candles and oysters?” Demarcus wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Oysters are an aphrodisiac. You might need the help given your nerves.”

  Quinn scorched the amiable bartender with a dark look. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I said I would be fine.” Quinn turned to stride away and then stilled, glancing over his shoulder with a rueful smile. “Grab some candles. It couldn’t hurt.”

  “I’ve got it,” Demarcus said. “I’ll have everything ready for when you get back. Good luck, boyfriend. Just try not to trip over your own feet when you pick her up. That would be like the worst first date story ever.”

  “I never trip.” Inside, Quinn couldn’t help but silently chastise Demarcus. Why did he have to say that? Now I’ll definitely trip just because he said it. This is all his fault.

  QUINN hummed as he walked down Rowan’s hallway a few minutes later, an extra spring in his step as he made sure to avoid any snags in the carpet. He paused outside her door, sucked in a huge breath, and then knocked. He wasn’t alarmed when she didn’t immediately answer. After knocking a second time and hearing nothing but silence on the other side of the door, though, he couldn’t help but be a little worried.

  Quinn dug into his pocket and retrieved his master passkey. He wasn’t keen on invading Rowan’s personal space for a second time (okay, third time), but he couldn’t ignore the worry niggling the back of his brain.

  “Rowan? I’m coming in. If you’re not decent … well … that will be the best start to a date ever.”

  Quinn plastered a bright smile on his face as he entered the room. It quickly slipped when he noticed the overturned table by the door. It was a small thing – the table was more of a tiny stand than anything else – but it wasn’t like Rowan to leave it overturned. Plus … where was she?

  “Rowan?” Quinn poked his head into the bathroom but found it empty, a pile of makeup sitting on the counter.

  Quinn couldn’t tamp down his worry when he returned to the main room and focused on the stand. In truth, it could’ve easily fallen over due to accidental circumstances. That didn’t explain where Rowan was or why she left it that way, though.

  Quinn only hesitated a moment before pulling his phone out of his pocket and lifting it to his ear. He started talking to the man in the security office right away. “I need a location on the three engineers … and I need someone to run to the medical wing and make sure no one has rushed in with an emergency.”

  Quinn listened for a moment, his heart rate increasing. “Are you sure they’re in their rooms? No, I’m not calling you a liar. No, I’m not trying to make you feel bad. No … you know what? Never mind. I’ll check for myself.”

  Quinn wanted to hang up, but the voice on the other end of the call was ridiculously whiny.

  “Listen to me very carefully,” Quinn snapped. “I need eyes on Rowan Gray right away. I don’t care who finds her or where she is, but I need her found right now. Do you understand? Great. I’m on my way to the engineering section. I want an update by the time I get there.”

  ROWAN struggled to hold on to a semblance of rationality as she fought against the darkness invading her mind. She couldn’t remember exactly how she ended up here – wherever here was – and the moments since Sally’s departure were somewhat foggy in her muddled head.

  She was mildly aware that she was rolling. Not in a chair … or on skates even. She was rolling on one of those carts that the kitchen staff used to deliver room service. Rowan wasn’t quite sure how she knew that since she was only marginally conscious. Her other senses picked up where her eyes failed and she could hear the sound of the wheels against wood. She could smell fresh air and salt water. She could feel … holy crap! She was on the deck.

  Why am I on the deck?

  Rowan used all of her strength to force herself into a sitting position and when she did, she banged her head against metal and involuntarily flopped back to the shelf. She realized relatively quickly that she wasn’t on top of the cart. Someone had shoved her on the bottom level and they were moving her quickly.

  “Shh.” Rowan heard a voice as the cart continued to roll over the uneven deck surface. “Stop making noise.”

  Part of Rowan’s mind recognized the voice. She couldn’t put a face to it, though. Her brain wasn’t working fast enough to let her problem solve. She knew that was going to be an issue if she didn’t gain at least a semblance of control over the situation.

  Think! She’d been in her room. She knew that. She’d been heading toward the bathroom because she wanted to wash off the makeup Sally applied to her face. Someone knocked at the door and distracted her. She thought Sally had forgotten somet
hing because Quinn wasn’t supposed to arrive for a good thirty minutes. When she opened the door, though, it wasn’t Quinn on the other side. She knew that instinctively and yet … something had happened.

  What happened? She got hit on the head. She kind of remembered it. The pain was fairly fresh in her mind even though the circumstances revolving around the injury only occurred in flashes. She remembered thinking the face on the other side of the door didn’t belong there. She remembered thinking something bad was about to happen. She remembered stumbling over something … perhaps her shoes … in her haste to get away from the door. She remembered running into the small stand next to the table and watching helplessly as it hit the ground. Then she remembered something hitting the back of her head, a momentary flash of pain before darkness descended.

  Rowan extended a hand, frowning when she felt fabric. She expected to be able to drag her fingertips along the ground. She hoped the motion, the tactile feeling, would allow her to regain some of her reasoning abilities. Instead she felt fabric. Why?

  Instead of taking the appropriate time to dwell on it, Rowan pitched forward as whoever pushed the cart tipped it to the side. She spilled off the shelf, hitting the deck wood hard. She sucked in a breath as she tried to gather her courage and strength. She shoved the fabric – which happened to be a strategically placed tablecloth – out of the way and took a moment to blink rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the change in light. She had no idea what the individual who took her had planned, but she knew without hesitation that it couldn’t be good.

  A dark figure leaned over Rowan, the dwindling light from the setting sun blocking out the features for what felt like forever. Finally the face swam into view and Rowan gasped when things slid into focus.

  “You.”

  “WHAT DO you have for me?”

  Quinn was frustrated when he hit the hallway that led to the engineers’ room. He found two of his security team members waiting for him by the doorway.