A Dangerous Arrangement

by Lee Christine

  Rask’s hand closed over the handle of her suitcase. ‘Mr Logan’s instructions are to bring you to the yacht.’

  ‘And what Mr Logan wants, Mr Logan gets.’

  With a sigh, Rask took a cell phone from his jacket pocket, touched the screen and handed it to her.

  The screen read ‘Calling Dean Mobile’.

  Marina held it against her ear.

  The call connected after a few seconds.

  ‘Rask? Do you have her?’

  Marina lowered the phone and killed the call, handed the phone back to Rask. ‘Okay.’

  He cocked his head. ‘This way.’

  Marina followed, uncomfortable, as though a target were pinned on her back. Dean needed to know about Victor’s blackmail threats, and the longer she stood out here in full view of everyone, the more chance she had of Victor seeing her. Was he here, watching these proceedings from behind a newspaper, or from the interior of a parked car? She could only hope he’d read through her itinerary and made the same assumption as Dean—that she was on board until the cruise terminated in Rome. Hopefully, his plans were to approach her at one of the other stops, not here.

  Towards the rear of the car park, a chauffeur sat behind the wheel of a shiny black town car with the engine idling. On their approach he hopped out and opened the rear doors before stowing her suitcase in the trunk.

  Marina watched Hektor Rask out the corner of her eye as she settled herself in the back seat. He didn’t bother with his seatbelt, just leaned forward, his keen gaze checking out every detail of their surroundings like she’d seen bodyguards do, and the secret service back home.

  ‘How far away is the boat?’ she asked when they’d cleared the car park.

  ‘Five minutes. It’s berthed in a private marina on the other side of the bay.’

  ‘Where’s Mr Logan?’

  ‘On board.’

  ‘I phoned him twice and he hasn’t returned my calls.’

  Rask didn’t comment.

  A building anticipation overrode her underlying anger. Yesterday, at the amphitheatre, they’d talked about her next port of call, but she’d never expected to see Dean again so soon.

  ‘Was it always your intention to dock in Sorrento?’

  ‘What’s with all the questions?’

  ‘I’m not allowed to ask questions?’ Rask’s attitude would change if it turned out the USB held Dean’s new designs.

  He gave a weary sigh, like she was testing his patience. ‘Yes, you’re allowed to ask questions.’

  ‘But you won’t answer them?’

  ‘Mr Logan’s having an emergency skype meeting with his America’s Cup crew.’

  She’d watched bits and pieces of the America’s cup race a few times over the years. ‘I thought he built motor yachts.’

  ‘He does.’ Rask still refused to look at her. ‘But he comes from a sailing background. He began racing dinghies when he was eight.’

  ‘Oh.’ She remembered Dean’s relaxed stance in the gondola, his comment about them being stable.

  A lifetime spent on water, as opposed to a lifetime playing music.

  God, this was so unfair! She was at the mercy of Victor Yu, and she’d done nothing wrong other than take him in as a flatmate.

  Marina stared at the passing landscape and thought about the designs for the Logan Mach V, the America’s Cup sailing race, and the vintage Harley Davidson Dean had purchased.

  There was no doubt, the man loved his big boys’ toys. And he contacted her when it suited him, like when he’d shadowed her in Venice, and now, when he’d ordered her onto the yacht. But when she’d called him, stressing it was urgent, he hadn’t bothered calling her back.

  Doubts niggled at her mind.

  She would like to save his company, but she wouldn’t become collateral damage. She needed to protect her career as well.

  These men played in the big end of town.

  It was time she learned to speak a language they understood.

  Time she made a deal with Dean Logan.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Marina caught her breath as the driver accelerated out of a hairpin bend. Moored alongside a private dock was the Orion, a super yacht tour de force, an imposing shape with her cream hull and flared bow. Even to the nautically challenged it was clear this yacht was a masterpiece, a stylish balance between elegance and intimidation.

  ‘Is that a helicopter on the back?’

  Rask nodded. ‘The helipad is top aft.’

  At the entrance to a private car park, the driver punched in a code and the boom gate lifted. Parking as close to the Orion as possible, he left the engine running while he moved swiftly to open the rear doors.

  Despite being small, the dock buzzed with activity. Of the six vessels moored, two were being stocked with supplies, while maintenance work was being carried out on a number of others. A cool fusion of funk and R & B drifted over the water, and an aroma of coconut oil hung in the air where two blondes sunbathed on the back of a wooden Halvorsen.

  ‘You can leave that, thank you,’ Marina said to the driver as he took her suitcase from the trunk. ‘I need to catch a train into Rome later.’

  ‘Bring it,’ said Rask, as if she hadn’t spoken.

  Marina followed him, gripping her violin and ignoring the curious stares that came their way. Maybe they’d never seen a brunette violinist, or perhaps blatant staring just came with super yacht territory.

  She followed Rask up the gangway and at the top they stepped into the cool interior. Marina stopped, blinking away the spots while her eyes adjusted to the dim light. As her vision cleared, she became aware of a tall figure standing in the centre of an exquisitely decorated lounge area.

  Against her will, Marina’s pulse began to pound and her stomach fluttered with butterflies. ‘Dean?’

  He looked different, clean-shaven, the dusty jeans, tee-shirt and boots replaced with a collared sports shirt, cream trousers and slip-on boat shoes. He walked towards her, ice clinking in a glass he carried, looking every bit the affluent naval architect and nothing like the man on the bike with the dishevelled hair and two-day growth.

  But it was the coldness in his eyes when he looked her up and down that sent a chill skating across Marina’s skin.

  He raised his glass. ‘Welcome aboard, Ms Lane.’

  Oh no!

  Talk about terrible timing.

  Conscious of Rask standing behind her, Marina put down the violin case, placing it on the parquetry flooring with care. ‘I can explain.’

  ‘No need. Your neighbour was very forthcoming, said you were out a lot with the symphony.’

  So, this was the reason he hadn’t called back.

  He was angry.

  No, more than angry.

  Seriously pissed.

  Marina took an unsteady breath and ignored his clipped tone. ‘I was going to tell you last night. There’s been a new development.’

  He laughed, the sound bitter, so different to the way he’d laughed when he sat on her hand. ‘How convenient.’

  He put his glass on the ebony-veneered baby grand, eyes glittering with anger. ‘You lied to us from the beginning.’

  Indignant heat rose in Marina’s cheeks. She was so goddamn sick and tired of being falsely accused. ‘You’re wrong. I kept it from you, but …’

  He came towards her. ‘You lied by omission.’

  ‘I did it to protect myself.’

  ‘You did it to protect Victor Yu!’

  ‘No!’ She raised both hands. ‘Don’t come any closer, Dean. Stop trying to intimidate me!’

  He stepped back, jaw set in a brutal line. ‘My company’s sinking to the bottom of the ocean and you’ve been dicking me around.’

  Marina’s stomach muscles contracted and she wrapped her arms around her middle. ‘He’s blackmailing me.’

  He stared at her, eyes narrowed, lips pressed together in a thin line. ‘How?’

  Marina hesitated, glanced behind her. She needed to be straig
ht with Dean Logan, but not with Hektor Rask in the room.

  ‘Hektor.’ Dean tipped his head towards the door and seconds later it closed with a quiet click.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I want to make a deal.’

  ‘Oh Jesus!’ Dean threw his hands in the air and turned away. ‘Can you just be straight for once?’

  She took a deep breath and tried settling her nerves. ‘I’ll tell you everything, but before I do, you have to promise to protect me.’

  He swung around. ‘From what? Prosecution?’

  Shock robbed Marina of breath. ‘You … you really believe I’m involved in this?’

  His eyes flicked from her face to her legs and back again. ‘To tell you the truth, Marina, I don’t know what to believe.’

  ‘I can see you’re thinking the worst, but please have some faith in …’

  She paused as a slight vibration ran through her body.

  She stepped back, confused. ‘Is that … why have the engines started?’

  He didn’t answer, just stood statue still, studying her face.

  She hurried across to the windows on the starboard side, gasping in horror to find the Orion moving away from the dock.

  She spun around, fury welling up inside her as the corners of Dean’s mouth lifted in a satisfied smile.

  ‘Welcome aboard, Ms Lane.’

  ‘You son of a bitch!’

  She ran to the door, grabbing the handle and turning it, pushing hard.

  A cry of frustration escaped her throat. Rask must have locked it when he left. The damn thing wouldn’t budge no matter how hard she shoved and how many times she rattled the handle.

  ‘You planned this!’

  ‘Calm. Down.’

  She turned, breathing hard, fear making her voice tremble. ‘So—you’re kidnapping me now?’

  ‘Don’t be melodramatic. Most people would mortgage their house for a chance to get on this yacht.’

  ‘I’m not one of them.’

  He picked up his glass and waved it towards the window. ‘You want to make a deal? I think our negotiations will go a lot more smoothly out here, away from any … distractions.’

  ‘Take me back.’ Nausea churned her stomach and her head began to spin. ‘I’ve just got off one ship. I have no desire to be on this floating champagne palace.’

  ‘Now you’re deliberately trying to insult me.’

  Marina shook her head, hot tears pricking the backs of her eyes. She should have seen this coming when Rask insisted the chauffeur bring her suitcase. ‘You’re holding me against my will.’

  She pushed off the door and walked to the window, averting her face from Dean Logan. Above the intense blue of the Mediterranean, the Sorrento shoreline was disappearing fast.

  Marina rested her forehead against the cool glass and struggled to fight off her panic.

  Never in her life had she felt more alone.

  ‘So, Ms Lane, it seems you’re quite the celebrity yourself. Little wonder you looked sick when I mentioned the paparazzi. It seems you have your own reasons for keeping the press at bay. I’d like to know what you’re hiding.’

  Marina clenched her fists and turned to glare at him. ‘I’m not telling you anything, unless you agree to my terms.’

  ‘And what would those be?’

  She ignored his sarcastic tone. ‘Imagine, if you can, that you had the designs back? Would you still throw all your time and resources into finding Victor Yu?’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not sure where you’re going with this.’

  ‘Just answer me.’

  He sighed. ‘I’m a great believer in getting to the truth, no matter how long it takes. You said Victor Yu was blackmailing you. You’re going to have to give me more information than this.’

  Marina took a deep breath. ‘He phoned me last night.’

  She watched his eyes widen.

  ‘I was so shocked. I never thought I’d hear from him again.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘That he’d planted a USB stick in my camera bag, and he was coming to get it. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I looked and there are password-protected files on it. It could be your designs.’

  Without saying a word, Dean reached for the phone.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  He kept his eyes on her as he spoke. ‘Rask. Get down to her stateroom. There’s a USB in her camera bag.’

  ‘No … wait.’

  He banged down the phone. ‘Keep. Going.’

  Marina’s throat and mouth was so parched she could barely swallow. ‘When he hacked into my computer, he learned things about me—personal things.’

  ‘Like your affair with that married conductor?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘That made for interesting reading.’

  Marina sucked in a harsh breath. ‘No! That was years ago. He told me he was separated. The moment I learned otherwise, I left him. He lied to me.’

  ‘Not nice, is it?’

  ‘I haven’t lied to you.’

  ‘Then get to the truth, because I’m running out of patience.’

  ‘I told you, he found things on my laptop.’ She wrapped her arms around her waist as her stomach began to cramp. ‘Accounts from specialists, appointment times … medical reports.’

  She watched the blood drain from his face, watched his expression turn shocked.

  ‘You’re sick?’ he asked, his voice low.

  The door flew open, and Rask walked in. He looked around, then picked up the violin case. ‘There’s nothing in the camera bag. I’m guessing if it’s anywhere, boss, it’s in here.’

  ‘Put that down!’ Marina shouted.

  ‘Rask.’ Dean’s voice held a warning.

  Rask held up the violin, taunting her with it. ‘Tell me where the USB stick is and I’ll give it to you.’

  Something snapped inside Marina. Rage dotted her vision and she advanced on Rask, pushing him so hard in the chest he stepped backwards. ‘I said put that down, you buffoon!’

  ‘That’s enough,’ said Dean.

  Without thinking, Marina lunged for the violin case, felt Rask’s skin under her nails as she grabbed the handle. He jerked it away, wrenching her wrists.

  ‘Marina!’

  Arms of steel came around her, lifting her backwards and forcing her to break the tug-of-war.

  ‘Put the violin down, Rask,’ Dean roared.

  Rask put the instrument on the floor, and Dean’s hold on her loosened.

  Breathing hard, she elbowed his hands away and advanced on Rask again. ‘How dare you!’

  This time bands of steel encircled her wrists and Dean pulled her to him. ‘Now listen. You settle down.’

  Marina gasped, pain shooting through her wrists from the pressure of his fingers. Her stomach shifted. She froze. ‘Please, let me go. Don’t hurt me.’

  ‘Hurt you?’ Dean’s brows snapped together. ‘I’ve never raised a hand to a woman in my life.’

  ‘You don’t understand. I have RSI—in my wrist.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dean watched Marina rotate the icepack on her wrist. ‘That’s why I took the job on the ship. To test it out. I need that position with the SSO. My family depends on me.’

  He nodded, sick in the guts that he could have caused permanent injury to her wrist. She’d brushed off his concern, saying it was no more than a bruise, and it was the repetitive strain from practise that caused the inflammation.

  It didn’t help.

  He felt like shit.

  Now, as he sat opposite her on the circular leather lounge, he couldn’t believe how wrong they’d been.

  ‘Suppose we can’t stop him in time,’ Rask was saying. He held up his hands when Marina looked up in alarm. ‘Just suppose. How likely is it you’d lose your position? You’re not the first musician to suffer RSI and you said yourself the wrist is coming good.’

  ‘The music industry is cutthroat. A lot of people would love to see me fail. Men and women.’

&n
bsp; ‘Who?’ he asked.

  Marina slanted him a cool look. ‘Andreas, for one. He’d love a new female violinist to take my place, one he could work his charms on. I found out he was still living in the same house as his wife when he went back to Vienna. He’s never forgiven me for publicly dumping him.’

  Judging by Marina’s body language, she wasn’t about to forgive him anytime soon either.

  He smiled grimly. ‘Sounds like a serial arsehole. Is he the conductor of the SSO?’

  ‘For three months of the year. It’s an invitation thing.’

  ‘Who else wants you gone?’ asked Rask.

  ‘Mr Rask.’ She fiddled with the icepack. ‘There are a number of men your age, chauvinists, who think I’ve “sold out” because I was offered a recording contract and subsequently signed it.’

  Dean’s thoughts shifted to one of the articles he’d read. A ‘marketer’s dream’ they’d called her. ‘I can see how that would ruffle a few feathers within the establishment.’

  She glanced at him—another brief acknowledgement that he’d spoken.

  ‘Ms Wentworth.’ Rask leaned forward. ‘The USB wasn’t in your camera bag. So where is it?’

  She put the icepack to one side. ‘I have several I always bring with me. Right now, they’re in my cosmetics case.’

  Dean’s blood thundered in his temples, and his mouth turned dry as she lifted the neckline of her dress and he glimpsed the scalloped edge of a purple lace bra.

  ‘The one you want …’

  He held his breath as she slid her fingers across a creamy cleavage and inside the lacy cup. ‘Is here.’

  With a knowing look in her eye, she withdrew the stick and held it out to him.

  Dean blew out a huge breath. ‘Jesus!’

  He took the device with an unsteady hand, the plastic casing warm from her body. ‘Thank you.’

  She nodded. ‘I hope it’s what you’re after.’

  He did too, so much he was afraid to get his hopes up.

  ***

  Half an hour later, Dean had uploaded the files onto a laptop he’d purchased that morning. After running malware and anti-virus software, he forwarded them onto a secure email address at Emerald IT. The software company were working closely with the cybercrime squad, and the files were to be opened in a newly purchased version of the CAD program he used.