“Rowan should’ve told her you were her naked bunny and then given her a nice hair pull,” Demarcus suggested. “I love a good chick fight.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Quinn scratched at the back of his neck, his skin rippling. “Can you do me a favor and lay off the sex talk when it comes to Rowan? It’s starting to get to be a bit much.”
Demarcus was always in the market for a good laugh and his initial inclination was to do just that. Quinn’s expression told him that was probably a bad idea, though, and he shifted mid-thought. “Okay, what’s going on? You’re in the beginning of a relationship. You’re supposed to be frolicking like horny bunnies.”
“Since when is that the rule?”
“Since we were born.”
“But … no. It doesn’t have to be that way.” Quinn shifted on his chair, uncomfortable. “For your information, we haven’t done … that … yet.”
“Still?” Demarcus practically shrieked. “You cannot be serious. You haven’t done the down and dirty with Rowan yet? What are you waiting for?”
“Say it a little louder,” Quinn deadpanned. “I don’t think that group of people in the corner heard you just now even though they’re staring in our direction.”
“I’m sorry.” Demarcus held his hands up in a calming manner. “I just don’t understand. I knew you guys were lagging a bit at first. You told me.”
“I remember the conversation and I regret having it with you as much as I hate myself for opening my big mouth a second time.”
“I’m your friend. You should be able to confide in me.”
“Then how come I feel like such an idiot each time I do it?”
“I think that says a little something about you.” Demarcus adopted a pragmatic tone. “It’s okay to trust me. I won’t … betray you.”
“Oh, please.” Quinn rolled his eyes. “I can tell you’re barely holding back a laugh.”
“Oh, I didn’t say I wouldn’t laugh at you,” Demarcus countered. “I merely said I wouldn’t betray you. There’s a difference.”
“How?”
“There just is.” Demarcus sucked in a breath to calm himself. “It sounds as if you’re dealing with a lot. We need to take it a step at a time if we’re going to solve it.”
“I don’t know how to solve it. Callisto is missing, but we have no real reason to believe something bad has happened to her. That being said, I feel in my bones that something is about to go terribly wrong. I can’t quantify a feeling, but it’s there all the same.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Demarcus impatiently waved his hand. “That sounds terrible. We’ll talk about that in a minute.”
“I thought you wanted to help me.”
“I do. Callisto isn’t the problem I’m interested in, though. Let’s talk about Rowan. How come you haven’t slept with her yet? Wait … that came out wrong. You guys spend every night together. Apparently all you’re doing is sleeping. Are you honestly telling me you sleep in the same bed and yet there’s no naked Zumba going on?”
“Oh, geez.” Quinn pinched the bridge of his nose as he pressed his eyes shut. “I knew I should’ve picked a different spot to get out of the sun. This is already the longest day ever and we’re barely past lunch.”
Demarcus either ignored or pretended he didn’t grasp Quinn’s warning tone. Quinn wasn’t sure which one bothered him more.
“Is she frigid?”
“Callisto? You’re the one who told me she didn’t have friends but followers.”
“Not her.” Demarcus made a hilarious face. “I’m talking about Rowan. Is she frigid?”
“No!”
“Is she a virgin?” Demarcus lowered his voice. “It’s okay if she is. I’ve heard of women saving themselves until they’re older. Not as old as Rowan, mind you, but I’ve heard about things like that. It’s some new virgin thing. I don’t pretend to understand it, but I’m sure we can figure it out.”
“She’s not a virgin.” Quinn uttered the words and then tilted his head to the side as he considered whether or not they were true. “At least I don’t think she is. Wait. No.” He shook himself out of his reverie. “She would’ve told me if she is.”
“Maybe she’s embarrassed. I know I would be.”
“Why would that possibly embarrass her?”
“The girl is almost thirty.”
“She’s twenty-seven,” Quinn corrected. “Even if she is a … you know … that doesn’t change anything. That’s not the problem.”
“What is the problem? Are you frigid?”
“Oh, man. I really want to punch you right now.”
“I don’t blame you.” Demarcus was all business. “You must be so sexually frustrated you’re about ready to turn into the Hulk. Do you want to smash things? Do you feel like looking at people and warning them not to make you angry because they won’t like you when you’re angry?”
“I’m really starting to dislike you,” Quinn grumbled, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. “I’m not joking. You’re on my very last nerve and it’s about to snap.”
“You’d better get to de-virginizing your girlfriend if you don’t want to break something else,” Demarcus suggested. “Have you tried a romantic bath and candles? How about a video? You don’t need anything hardcore. In fact, I’ve heard women like the lighter stuff. You know, the stuff that actually has a story. Oh! Get Fifty Shades of Grey. That’s supposed to put women in the mood.”
Quinn suddenly wished he had a baseball bat so he had something to crack Demarcus over the head with. “Yeah. I’m done. I need to get back to work.” He pushed himself to a standing position. “Thank you so much for the iced tea and the stimulating conversation. I will have nightmares about this interlude for the next week straight. I just know it.”
“You wouldn’t if you would take the bull by the horns,” Demarcus argued. “Wait. That’s not a good analogy to use. You’re the bull in this scenario. You need to take the cow by the udders.”
“Yup. I knew this would go bad and I did it anyway,” Quinn muttered, scraping his shoes against the wooden deck as he walked away. “I have no one to blame but myself.”
Demarcus smiled at his escaping friend’s back. He still had a chance to win the sex pool. He was beginning to wonder about it because Rowan and Quinn were so wrapped up in each other of late. Now that he knew they were close but still unconsummated, he had to move them to his timetable so he could claim the hefty prize. He was fairly certain he’d just done that.
“I don’t know why anyone ever doubts my powers of manipulation,” he muttered to himself. “I’m a freaking god when it comes to this stuff.”
13
Thirteen
The sun was beginning its inevitable descent into the horizon when Quinn made his way to the deck again. He poked his head outside long enough to see the corpse contest – which was even creepier than he imagined when he first heard about it – but Rowan was busy taking photographs so he didn’t get a chance to update her at the time. Now that his shift was over, although his duty still loomed large, he would get another chance.
Demarcus remained behind the bar in the tiki hut, but Quinn refused to make eye contact as he settled at a table and waited for Rowan. Thankfully he didn’t have to wait long, because when she arrived she was so breathtaking in her simple flowered skirt and glittery tank top that she practically stole the oxygen from his lungs.
“You look nice.”
Rowan smiled, the expression lighting up her entire face. “Thank you. You look nice, too.”
Quinn glanced down at his cargo shorts and simple black shirt. “This is what I put on before I left your room this morning. I’ve essentially been wearing it for two days straight.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t look nice.”
“Thank you.” Quinn tilted up his head and accepted her welcoming kiss. “Do you want to sit and rest a few minutes? If your day was anything like mine you could probably use a bit of quiet before tackling another shift in the
dining room.”
“Ugh. You have no idea.” Rowan adopted a bit of dramatic flair as she grunted and threw herself in the chair next to him. “You were right about this cruise being absolute hell. I thought it was going to be fun and games, but it’s the exact opposite.”
“I’m sorry, Ro.” Quinn honestly meant it. “I wish you were having a good time. I know you were really looking forward to this.”
“It’s not just that. It’s … I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve watched horror movies for as long as I can remember. In my head, I knew the characters weren’t real. I’m not mental or anything. Seeing the actors, though – meeting them – it’s given me a whole new perspective.”
“Do you want to expand on that a bit? I’m not sure I’m following you.”
“Take Rebecca for example, she got into horror movies because she thought she would be able to use it as a stepping stone to bigger and better things,” Rowan supplied. “In my world, there is nothing bigger and better than horror movies – but it seems I’m in the minority on that one. I would totally prefer watching a bad horror movie than a good prestige film.”
“You are a beautiful conundrum, sweetheart.” Quinn’s smile was so wide it almost swallowed his entire face. “Continue, though.”
“This isn’t her dream, which kind of clouds my dream,” Rowan explained. “She wants something more. This is a job to her. I always thought if you got to do something like this – act in horror movies or even get to work on the set all of the time – that it would be a dream job. I’ve come to the conclusion that there is no such thing as a dream job because it’s still just a job.”
Quinn shifted in his chair, unsure what she wanted to hear to make her feel better. “I don’t think there’s such a thing as a perfect job. I never believed that even when I was a kid. I joined the military because I liked the idea of an adventure and nonstop action. I saw both of those things during my tour, but I never expected the other things I would see at the same time. The death … and misery … and pain. They were there, too.”
“So you got the dream in some ways and lost it in others.”
“Pretty much,” Quinn confirmed. “I don’t expect it was much different for you. You told me you always wanted to be a photojournalist, be on the go with the newspaper. You got it for a bit. Was the job perfect?”
“Oh, far from it. Reporters and photographers are weird birds.”
Quinn snorted. He loved her sense of humor. She was so easy to get along with he had to remind himself at times that he’d only known her a few months rather than the bulk of his life. He was so comfortable with her when they were like this, chatting and holding hands, that he couldn’t ever remember a time without her. It was ridiculous to wax poetic like that – even internally – but he couldn’t stop himself.
“Yes, but you didn’t get everything out of the opportunity that you thought you would get,” Quinn prodded. “That’s what I was getting at.”
“You’re right. I know you are.” Rowan was rueful. “I romanticized this entire thing and I feel a little silly for doing it. You recognized the symptoms and let me do it all the same. How come?”
“Because I wanted you to have fun,” Quinn answered honestly. “I wanted you to get what you wanted out of this thing. I thought it was doubtful you would, but I still wanted it for you.”
“And that’s what makes you a good person.” Rowan cradled his hand between hers. “You put others ahead of yourself.”
“Not always, but I enjoy the idea of putting you ahead of me.”
“That could be taken as dirty if you think of it in a different way,” Rowan teased.
Quinn’s cheeks burned under her pointed stare. “I’ve been thinking and hearing that a lot lately.”
“You and me both.”
It was the closest they’d come to talking about the pink elephant in the room in weeks. Both of them walked on eggshells to make sure they didn’t upset the balance. In doing so, they made things more difficult. They both knew it and yet neither one of them wanted to address it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Quinn asked, dreading her answer.
“No. Do you?”
“No.”
“I don’t think it’s something we need to worry ourselves about,” Rowan offered. “When it’s the right time, we’ll both know. We have other things to worry about right now, so it’s definitely not the right time.”
Quinn was beyond relieved to hear her say it. “I think so, too.” He squeezed her hand. “Speaking of that, I’ve got a few things to tell you. We should probably talk about it here rather than risking someone overhearing us. Are you okay with that?”
“Sure. I’ll just have extra crab legs to bolster my strength when we finally get to eat.”
“Yeah, that should be a real hardship for you.” Quinn heaved out a sigh and scratched the back of his head. “I called the Coast Guard and put in a request for a search party to follow in our path. It wasn’t easy, but I figured it was worth a shot in case she went into the water alive.”
“You’re sure she’s not on the ship?”
“No, but if she is on the ship I have to think it’s because someone stuffed her body somewhere and we simply haven’t discovered it yet.” Quinn chose his words carefully. “I know you don’t want to hear it, and I don’t want to say it because I think it has the potential to hurt you, but I’m leaning toward the supposition that she’s dead.”
“I’m the one who told you that this morning.”
“Yes, but you said it from a place of defeat,” Quinn supplied. “I’m saying it from a place of resignation. We searched the ship from top to bottom. I’m not going to pretend someone couldn’t hide a body without us immediately discovering it – there are a lot of nooks and crannies on this ship that we can’t possibly search – but if Callisto were being held here against her will we should be able to find her. You can’t shove a live person into a nook without him or her making noise.”
“So our options are that she was killed and her body stuffed somewhere for some unknown reason or she was tossed overboard,” Rowan mused. “I would have to guess the latter would be the smartest move. Why risk leaving a body with forensic evidence on it around?”
“That’s definitely a good point,” Quinn said. “The question is: Was she tossed in alive or dead?”
“What do you think?”
Quinn shrugged. “I don’t know. On one hand, throwing her in while she’s still alive is risky if another ship should happen by or someone should hear her cry out from the back of the ship and alert the captain or something.”
“And on the other hand?”
“Most methods of murder leave behind blood unless you’re strangling someone,” Quinn replied. “Strangling someone takes time. On a ship like this, one with so many people on it, you would be taking a big risk to strangle someone. I honestly don’t know which one makes more sense.”
“If she went into the water alive, it’s been less than twenty-four hours,” Rowan argued. “She might still be alive, right?”
“She might, if she’s a good swimmer.”
“You don’t think that, do you?”
“Rowan, the ocean is vast and the currents are unpredictable.” Quinn didn’t want to hurt her, but he refused to lie. “She could’ve swum or drifted in any direction. It would honestly be a miracle if someone discovered her.”
“It’s happened before, though, right? What about a deserted tropical island? Those exist. She could wash up on one of those.”
“Yes, and then she could hang out with the folks from Lost.” Quinn shrank back in the face of her dark look. “I’m sorry. That was snarky. It’s just … this isn’t the fifties, Ro. Almost everything in existence is charted now. We have satellites. They’ve mapped everything.”
“Well, maybe it’s a small island.”
“Like Gilligan’s Island?”
“You make me tired,” Rowan grumbled.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the palm. “I don’t want to give you false hope.”
“So she’s dead.”
“That’s what the odds say.”
Rowan nodded, remaining quiet until she successfully fought off the urge to cry. “So we need to figure out what happened to her and why. That’s our new focus, right?”
“I don’t know what else to focus on. I don’t think she’s on this ship. I mean … I guess she could be, but the odds of someone being able to hold her captive with walls this thin are ridiculously small and I can’t come up with one reason why she would want to hide herself. That goes against everything we know about her because she likes attention.”
“I get it.” Rowan exhaled heavily. “So we need to find a murderer.”
“Or uncover an improbable accident.”
“What are the odds of that?”
“I have no idea, but I promise I’ll do my best to find out.”
“I can’t ask for more than that.”
ROWAN HAD TWO heaping plates of food (as usual) when she sat at a corner table in the dining room. Quinn was still winding his way through the buffet line, stopping long enough to bend his head close and talk to a few of his men. Rowan knew better than to interrupt. He would tell her what was going on once he sat down.
She was in the middle of cracking crab legs when Rebecca appeared at the edge of the table. The younger woman was dressed in a dark purple dress – it almost looked black – and she seemed to be in good spirits.
“Hey.” Rowan cringed when a bit of crab shell snapped off and struck her in the chin. “Um, sorry about that.”
Rebecca chuckled, amusement lighting her pretty face. “That’s okay. Wow, you have a healthy appetite.”
“I like food.” Rowan lowered the crab leg to the plate. “Do you need something?”
“Oh, no. I don’t mean to bother you.” Rebecca offered up a pretty smile. “I just saw you sitting here by yourself. If you don’t want to eat alone, we have a spot at the main table.” She pointed toward the large round table at the very center of the room. It was where Callisto held court over the previous two nights.
Stormy Seas (A Rowan Gray Mystery Book 3) Page 12
