Stormy Seas (A Rowan Gray Mystery Book 3)

by Lily Harper Hart

  ROWAN ATE A quiet breakfast in the crew mess hall with Demarcus and Sally, halfheartedly listening to them spread gossip about the guests as she nibbled on toast and fresh fruit. She was distracted enough to miss fifty percent of what they said, and when questioned about it, she made up a lame excuse about having a full day and said her goodbyes.

  She spent the first part of the morning snapping photographs around the tiki bar and pool before heading to the far side of the ship. She made two rounds through the area, hoping against hope to catch a glimpse of Callisto, but ultimately she found Rebecca instead. For lack of anything better to do, Rowan decided to approach her.

  “Did you sleep okay despite the storm?”

  Rebecca tilted her head when Rowan stepped into the sunlight hitting the side of her face. She looked well rested and relaxed, so Rowan was hopeful the woman didn’t have a rough night of it. She honestly liked her, although now she couldn’t help being a bit suspicious given Brimstone’s warning.

  “I did,” Rebecca confirmed, smiling as Rowan sat in the open lounger next to her. “I thought it might be an issue because the boat was tossing up and down at the start there – I have a weak stomach when it comes to things like that – but I took some medicine and fell asleep pretty quickly. What about you?”

  “Oh, well, I wasn’t up late.” Rowan did her best to relax even though her fingers felt as if an unseen force possessed them. To keep her hands busy, she occasionally lifted the camera to snap action photographs of the guests. “The motion doesn’t bother me so I was out quickly, too.”

  “Your boyfriend seemed upset,” Rebecca noted. “Did you guys fight?”

  “We honestly don’t fight very often. Sure, we have words every now and again – everyone does – but he’s pretty easygoing and pleasant to be around.”

  “Plus he’s extremely easy on the eyes,” Rebecca teased.

  “He is that.” Rowan heaved out a sigh. She figured she might as well ask the obvious question and get it over with. “I hate to ask, but you haven’t seen Callisto Collins this morning, have you?”

  Rebecca seemed surprised by the question. “No. I didn’t realize I was supposed to be looking for her. Is something wrong?”

  The last thing Rowan wanted to do was cause a panic, but Quinn said he was going to make up a small white lie when questioning people. Rowan figured there was no reason she couldn’t do the same. “One of the women with her last night reported that she’s missing.”

  “Missing?” Rebecca leaned forward, interested. “Seriously? How does that happen on a cruise ship?”

  There were multiple ways, but Rowan didn’t feel the need to share that quite yet. “I don’t know. Quinn got a call this morning. One of his men thought they might want to look for her because when they conducted a welfare check after the woman said she was gone, they found Callisto’s room completely empty. It looked as if she hadn’t spent the night there.”

  Rebecca barked out a harsh laugh as she returned to reclining in her chair. “I wouldn’t worry about that,” she offered, amusement flitting through her eyes. “My understanding is that Callisto rarely spends the night alone. She’s probably just holed up in some guy’s room. I heard she was after Clive Danforth last night. You should check his room.”

  “Clive Danforth?” Rowan waited for Callisto to nod her confirmation before texting the tip to Quinn. “Does Callisto hop around from guy to guy a lot?”

  “That’s my understanding,” Rebecca answered. “I’ve never worked with her so I can’t say for sure. Heck, I’ve barely talked to her. I think we’ve been in the same place three times, and all three times she was rude and pretended she didn’t know my name.”

  “That’s too bad. Did that all start after the nominations were announced?”

  “No, I interacted with her twice before the nominations went public,” Rebecca replied. “She doesn’t like other people. She especially doesn’t like anyone she considers competition.”

  “She has that group of women hanging around her all of the time, though. She must like some people.”

  “Those aren’t friends. They’re minions.”

  “I … minions?”

  Rebecca’s ponytail bobbed as she nodded her head. “That’s how she looks at them. She wants people to listen to all her complaints … and do her bidding … and tell her she’s the prettiest woman in the world. She doesn’t want anyone who ever disagrees with her or tells her the truth.”

  Rowan wanted to argue about the logistics of a happy life, but her brief interaction with Callisto told her that Rebecca was probably telling the truth. Callisto had so many enemies it might be easier to make a list of friends first. “Well, she’s missing as of right now. The security team is out looking for her.”

  “That’s probably exactly what she wants,” Rebecca muttered, her expression dour. “She’ll want to build up some buzz before she wins her award.”

  “Speaking of the award, what would happen if Callisto wasn’t around to accept it?” Rowan hoped the question didn’t come off as pointed, but she really had no choice but to ask it. She was genuinely curious.

  “What do you mean?” Rebecca wrinkled her forehead, puzzled. “The award is hers regardless.”

  “So it wouldn’t be taken back if she disappeared, right? They wouldn’t readjust their calculations and give it to the next highest vote-getter?”

  “That’s not generally how it works.”

  Rowan wasn’t sure why, but the news made her feel a tad bit better. “Okay, well, hopefully you’re right. Hopefully she just spent the night in someone else’s cabin last night. We’ll probably find her by lunch.”

  “Or, if she really wants to stretch it out, she’ll hide until dinner and then make a grand entrance.” Rebecca was back to being dark and pouty.

  “Honestly? I hope it is something silly like that,” Rowan said. “The alternative … I mean, if something happened to her … isn’t something that anyone wants to contemplate.”

  Rebecca had the grace to look abashed. “I didn’t mean I want anything to happen to her.”

  “I know you didn’t.” Rowan offered a wan smile. “Most people never mean the things that they say.”

  “It’s just … she’s such a pain in the butt,” Rebecca explained. “She could make life so much easier on all of us and she absolutely refuses. It’s all about her.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “That doesn’t mean I want anything bad to happen to her.” Rebecca seemed to realize she was losing the sympathy of her audience because she shifted quickly, expressing the appropriate amount of worry. “I’m sure she’s okay, though. This is a cruise ship, for crying out loud. What could possibly happen here?”

  Rowan knew from firsthand experience what could happen. She didn’t think it wise to share that information, though. “I’m sure she’s fine.” She patted Rebecca’s hand in a conciliatory manner. “Don’t worry about it. Enjoy your trip. This isn’t your concern.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Rowan clutched her camera to her chest as she stood. “Well, I have to get back to work. It’s going to be a busy day.”

  “Yeah, they’re having that ‘pretend to be a corpse’ competition near the tiki bar later, right?”

  Rowan nodded, her eyes moving to her left when she saw a hint of movement. A feeling of unease settled over her when she found Brimstone standing close to the railing. He was very obviously staring at her. “I have a lot of photos to take today.”

  “Well, I hope to see you around.” Rebecca’s sunny smile was back. “I might even pretend to be a corpse for fun in a few hours myself.”

  “Yes, well, that will be a joy for all of us.” Rowan risked another glance in Brimstone’s direction. He maintained his intense stare. “I need to get back to it. See you around.”

  12

  Twelve

  Rowan was eager to put as much distance between Brimstone and herself as possible. She didn’t feel uncomfortable in his presence – not truly
uncomfortable, at least – until Quinn started voicing his concerns. That was before Callisto went missing, too. Now the fact that he appeared to be watching her was disconcerting.

  Rowan was thankful she had a camera. It gave her something to focus on. She had two hours to spare before the corpse challenge – something she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around – and she was determined to fill them doing the job she was actually paid to do. If that happened to include inching closer to the tiki bar, where Demarcus spent the better part of his afternoons working, so much the better.

  The air was stifling, the sun high in the sky. Rowan had to adjust the angles of her shots to avoid shadows, making her job more difficult. Because it took a lot of effort, though, she found herself focusing on work and before she realized what she was doing she was halfway back to the tiki bar. When she lifted her eyes searching for Brimstone, she found him gone. He’d either lost interest or had somewhere more important to be.

  She let loose with a relieved sigh, wiping her hands on the seat of her pants before turning to see what she could shoot in the area behind her. Instead of random movie people, though, she found Brimstone standing five feet away. He had an amused look on his face as she inadvertently gasped.

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Brimstone offered, holding up his hands in a placating manner. “You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

  Rowan recovered quickly, narrowing her eyes as she looked him up and down. He was dressed head to toe in black, and given the heat it seemed ridiculous. Sure, the bulk of the behind-the-scenes people weren’t big on stripping down, but Rowan could tell from the lanky lines of his body that Brimstone had nothing to be ashamed of. Why he insisted on dressing as if it was a Midwest winter rather than a tropical cruise was beyond her.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” Rowan challenged. “You merely caught me by surprise. I didn’t know you were standing behind me.”

  “You knew I was watching you, though. I saw you looking at me. You’ve been doing your best to pick your way across the deck without looking obvious, but I knew what you were doing.”

  Instead of denying the charges, Rowan opted to go on the offensive. “If you knew what I was doing, why did you continue following me? It seems that’s something weird stalkers would do.”

  “I see your boyfriend has been filling you full of nonsense.”

  Rowan arched an eyebrow, internally amused at the way she could twist the words to fit more than one life scenario at the current time. It was both depressing and entertaining. “Quinn very rarely fills me with nonsense.”

  Brimstone’s expression was full of mirth. He clearly got the double meaning, too. “He seems like a fun guy … and by fun I mean intense.”

  “He has a lot on his mind.”

  “Yes, Callisto Collins. He asked me about her.” Brimstone turned serious. “I’ve been keeping my ear to the ground this morning. I know she’s missing. Your boyfriend has men running all over this ship looking for her. They’re going through storage rooms and everything. Does he really think a woman like Callisto would hide in there?”

  “I’m guessing that’s not why he’s searching those areas.”

  “He’s looking for a body.” It wasn’t a question. Brimstone looked genuinely intrigued by the possibility. “Why does he think she’s dead?”

  There was no way Rowan could answer that without outing herself. Brimstone’s reaction was more of a curiosity than something to fear. Still, she couldn’t wrap her head around his intentions. That made her nervous.

  “I don’t know that he does think she’s dead, but he’s good at his job,” Rowan explained. “He has to entertain every option. She’s probably holed up in a room with some guy. He can’t operate under that assumption, though. That’s not how it works for him.”

  “You’re quick to take his side.”

  “He doesn’t need anyone to take his side because he’s not in the wrong,” Rowan pointed out. “You seem to have some weird competition thing going on with him. He thinks it’s because of me. I don’t.”

  “Oh, don’t sell yourself short. You’re very attractive.”

  “And you’re good at playing games,” Rowan shot back. “Do you want to know what I find most interesting about you?”

  “Is it my handsome face? My hair? My flawless fashion sense?”

  Rowan mustered a smile, but it was weak. “Those are all nice things. They don’t really move me, but they’re nice all the same. The thing I’ve noticed about you, though, is that you tend to ask questions and then immediately deflect when someone tries to get information out of you.

  “You’re very good at it, don’t worry about that, but I’ve been around enough busybodies to recognize when it happens,” Rowan continued. “I worked around reporters for several years. They’re very good at it. So are military personnel, politicians, police officers, and believe it or not, pastors.”

  Brimstone’s lips twisted. “Are you asking if I’m a pastor in my spare time?”

  “You just did it again,” Rowan noted. “You’re good at getting information, but you don’t want to share any about yourself. It’s … interesting.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” Brimstone offered up a flirty wink. “Would you like to have lunch with your interesting new acquaintance? That would give you an opportunity to try and weasel information out of me. I know that’s important to you.”

  The invitation seemed to come out of nowhere, causing Rowan to lose the footing she’d only recently ensured. “I have lunch plans. Thank you for the offer, though.”

  “With your boyfriend?”

  “That’s really none of your concern.”

  Brimstone heaved out a sigh. “It’s with your boyfriend.” He rolled his neck until it cracked. “Well, that works out. Tell him that I’ve been asking around and as far as I can tell the last time anyone saw Callisto was right before one this morning. She was flirting with Clive Danforth. He’s accounted for, though. No one saw Callisto after that. Also, as far as I can tell, she’s the only one missing.”

  Rowan was dumbfounded by the conversational shift. He did it swiftly, no finesse involved. He seemingly didn’t care that he knocked her off balance. “I … well … okay.”

  “Great.” Brimstone mock saluted, his lips curving. “I’m sure I’ll see you around. Will you be photographing the corpse contest later?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. See you then.”

  And with those words he was gone, leaving Rowan utterly flummoxed.

  “He must have multiple personalities,” she muttered to herself, turning on her heel and heading in the direction of the tiki bar. “I told Quinn that was a thing. Did he believe me? No. I have proof now, though. He’s going to have to believe me.”

  QUINN LET LOOSE with a loud groan as he settled in the shade provided by the tiki bar’s overhang. He was tired, worried, and a wee bit grumpy. It was a far cry from the mood he woke up in.

  “You seem … down and out.” Demarcus, his brown eyes flashing, slid an iced tea in front of his friend before settling in the chair to his left.

  “I don’t think those are the words I would use, but I’m definitely a bit agitated,” Quinn admitted, nodding in thanks for the iced tea. “It’s freaking hot again today.”

  “That probably means we’ll have another storm tonight.”

  “I don’t mind the storms as long as I don’t have to go outside. These idiots – er, I mean guests – this go around seem to think hanging outside during a storm is somehow fun.”

  “Yeah, I heard about you sending in that group of rowdy chicks last night.” Demarcus looked amused. “They all had drink coupons and were talking about the fox who yelled at them. They seemed to like the way your shirt clung to your hot, hot body. That’s what they said, by the way. I don’t happen to think your body is all that hot.”

  Quinn knew Demarcus was trying to lighten the atmosphere hanging over them, but he wasn’t in the mood to laugh. “Thank you for your support.�
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  “Wow.” Demarcus widened his eyes to comical proportions as he crossed his ankles and leaned back in his chair. “You’re in a really foul mood for a guy who has been walking around with little hearts floating over his head for the past few weeks. Is the honeymoon already over?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Rowan.”

  “What about her?”

  “Did the sex go bad so quickly? I’m sorry, man. I feel for you.”

  Quinn worked his jaw, irritation bubbling up. “The sex is not bad.” The sex was so far nonexistent, but Quinn wasn’t one to kiss and tell … at least under normal circumstances.

  “Then what’s your problem?”

  “We have a missing guest. Callisto Collins.”

  “Oh, yeah, I heard about that.” Demarcus shifted his demeanor. “I thought for sure you would find her curled up with one of these hairless monkeys they call leading men.”

  This time Quinn did crack a smile. “I take it you’ve seen her around a bit. What can you tell me?”

  Demarcus shrugged, holding his hands out. “I honestly don’t know. It’s not as if we’re good friends. I waited on her the night before last. She was out here with a group of followers and got quite drunk. She seemed mean and nasty, but that’s kind of what I expected from her.”

  “You said followers, not friends. Why did you phrase it like that?”

  “Because she didn’t sit and chat with anyone as much as she talked and expected everyone else to listen,” Demarcus answered. “You know how Sally and Rowan sit next to each other at the bar on off nights?”

  Quinn nodded, smirking. The two men made a game of watching them sometimes. They were delightful and cute when they had a few drinks and couldn’t seem to stop themselves from talking.

  “Well, that’s not how it was with Callisto and her flock. She was clearly the boss and they were obviously only hanging around her so they could say they rubbed elbows with a big actress type. The second she left they would talk behind her back – and none of what they said could be remotely misconstrued as friendly.”

  “I didn’t talk to her very long,” Quinn admitted. “She had issues with Rowan and tried to flirt with me in front of her. It was a little distracting.”