Farewell Seas

by Lily Harper Hart

  “So your brother and niece were murdered here and driven out to sea by lazy killers,” Quinn mused. “The rest of the family hid in a hotel and then took the rescue raft into the water.”

  “Not exactly,” Mitchum countered. “We hired a boat to drag them out. We kept the rescue raft from the Serendipity before we sank it. The plan was they should be on the water for several hours, long enough to get sunburn, and then be discovered. We thought we knew the route of a cruise ship. Byron swore up and down he was familiar with it because he used to run it.”

  “Ah.” The missing pieces slid into place for Quinn. “You missed the first boat, the one with Byron’s former employer.”

  “They missed days’ worth of boats. I was starting to get worried. I couldn’t communicate with them for obvious reasons. I thought something had gone terribly wrong ... and then a miracle happened. You plucked them out of the water. They were a little worse for wear, but that sold the story even more.”

  “It was a good story,” Quinn noted. “If the hand hadn’t washed up, you probably would’ve gotten away with it.”

  “Yeah, well, live and learn.” Mitchum pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “I need to talk to the police. I should be first.”

  Ben balked. “We can’t talk to the police. We need to lawyer up.”

  “Your uncle understands the truth of the situation,” Quinn countered. “He wants to be the first to talk to the police so he gets the best deal. He wants to make sure he gets out of prison when he can still enjoy life.”

  “But ... no. Nobody is going to prison.”

  Rowan shot him a pitying look. “You’re going to have a rough time of it, Ben. I bet you’re very popular. That naive streak you have is going to make the inmates wild for you.”

  Quinn smirked. “I agree. As for the police, you don’t have to go far. There are at least three of them undercover in the crowd over there.” He pointed to where Patrice stood in front of the crowd lamenting her dead husband. “I would hurry up if you want a good deal.”

  Mitchum was resigned. “Don’t worry. I’ve already figured that out myself.”

  20

  Twenty

  As far as takedowns go, it wasn’t as fraught as previous escapades. Quinn kept Rowan pinned to his side as the cops swooped in. Fred positioned himself close enough to enjoy the scene – which had a lot in common with a Real Housewives of Whatever Town has Hysterical Women episode.

  “I am not going!” Patrice was a screeching mess as she planted her hands on her hips. Detective Morgan had the honor of trying to slap cuffs on her, but she wasn’t going without a fight. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what you people are doing, but this is my husband’s memorial service. You can’t take me!”

  “It’s over, Patrice,” Mitchum called out. He looked grim as he stood talking to another detective. “They know everything.”

  “Not everything,” Morgan argued. “For example, I’m going to guess one of you was present at St. Pete Beach the other night to conduct a shooting.”

  Quinn gave a little jolt when reminded that he’d forgotten to ask about the one thing he needed most to hear about. “Which one of you was it?” he asked, glancing around.

  For his part, Ben sat defeated on the ground with his head in his hands, a uniformed officer watching over him. Vicky refused to move from the shade and kept insisting that this was some sort of terrible mistake. Leona kept trying to meet Mitchum’s gaze, which he steadfastly ignored. As for Ariel and Winchester, they were both trying to ease away from the crowd and having no luck thanks to the individuals watching them, two brash female officers who looked as if they would rather be somewhere else.

  “You guys had lots of backup ready,” Rowan noted as she glanced around. “Where were you hiding them?”

  “Within radio distance,” Morgan replied. “I’m still waiting for an answer to my question.” He gave Mitchum a pointed look. “Tell me. If you want me to tell the prosecutor you cooperated, you have no choice but to tell me.”

  “Don’t tell him anything,” Patrice hissed. “They don’t know anything. This is just a witch hunt, plain and simple.”

  Morgan feigned infinite patience. “And who shot at Ms. Gray and Mr. Davenport?”

  Mitchum looked like a man beaten down by life. He exhaled heavily and then shook his head. “Does it matter? She’s obviously fine.”

  “I want to know,” Morgan pressed. “It most definitely matters.”

  “It was Winchester,” Mitchum replied after a beat. “Patrice saw you a few houses down and assumed you were spying. That was after the motion sensors picked up movement in the trees earlier in the day, but we couldn’t find anyone on the cameras.”

  Rowan pressed her lips shut and slid her gaze to Quinn, who simply offered her a wink and a hand squeeze.

  “I’m guessing it was just wildlife,” Morgan said dryly, although something about his expression told Quinn he knew more than he was letting on in that department. “How did it go down?”

  “Patrice complained, said that Davenport was spying on us. Said that he was trying to get dirt so he could shake us down. Since I’d already stopped to see him, offered money as a reward, I didn’t think that was true. I guess he could’ve been shaking us down, but that didn’t seem realistic.

  “I told her that it was probably a coincidence but there was no talking her down,” he continued. “She wasn’t having the best time of things after the rescue took longer than it should have. She’s been a real pill, and I’m pretty sure she was planning my death as soon as possible, too.”

  Rowan thought back to the omen she saw on the photo she snapped of Mitchum and merely shook her head. “I think you’re right on that front.”

  “I’m going to shove my pill up your … .” Patrice didn’t finish what she was saying because Morgan picked that moment to slap the cuffs in place. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re under arrest,” Morgan replied simply. “You have the right to remain silent.” He ran through the rest of the spiel and then handed Patrice off to a nearby uniformed officer. That’s when he turned his full attention on Mitchum. “Did Winchester do the shooting himself, or did they hire someone?”

  “He did it himself. He claimed he was a crack shot. It turns out, he wasn’t a crack shot. She’s barely hurt.” Mitchum almost sounded disappointed about the turn of events, which infuriated Quinn to no end.

  “Calm down,” Morgan instructed, jabbing a finger toward Quinn. “You managed to take everyone down without a shot being fired. That’s a win. You should be celebrating.”

  “My girlfriend was still shot,” Quinn pointed out. “I think I’ll save the celebrating until all of these guys are behind bars.”

  “It won’t be that long.” Morgan wrinkled his nose as he shifted from one foot to the other. “I do have one question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Did you know that night on the beach?”

  “Know what?”

  “That it was these guys.”

  Quinn hesitated. “I don’t know. I was confused for a little bit … like really confused. My head was muddled. I didn’t think I could get that way given the fact that I served overseas and saw live action numerous times.”

  “It’s different when it’s someone you love.”

  “Yes, it is.” Quinn slid his hand to Rowan’s back. “When I was talking to you, I didn’t suspect them. After the fact, I thought about it some and I legitimately wondered if they might be to blame. I had no proof, though.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me and relay your suspicions?”

  Quinn’s smile was sheepish. “You know why.”

  “You thought I was being rude to you the night of the shooting.”

  “I know you were being rude to me. You were being purposely difficult.”

  “And I stand by my statement that night. You weren’t shot at for no reason. You might’ve been innocent, but there was still a reason.”

  “I guess
.” Quinn wasn’t in the mood to concede. “Is there anything else? We want to get out of here.”

  “That should do it … at least for now.”

  “Well, then have fun with the lot of them. They’ve earned whatever is coming their way.”

  “On that we can agree.”

  IT WAS ALMOST DARK WHEN Quinn and Rowan parked in front of the beach house. Nick and Paul hurried outside to greet them, worry creasing their faces.

  “Are you guys okay?” Paul asked, pulling his daughter in for a hug.

  “We saw all the police lights and heard the sirens,” Nick explained. “We were worried. We didn’t stick around, though. We got back here as soon as possible. We figured it was safer.”

  “It was definitely safer,” Quinn agreed. “It’s all over. The Sterlings have been arrested.”

  “Which one?”

  “All of them,” Rowan answered. “I need to run inside and get my clothes. I’m going to make a trip to the restroom, too. You can tell them the story.”

  “I’ll walk you inside,” Nick offered. “I put your garment bag in the closet and I’ll help you get the gown ready.” He was all smiles when he disappeared inside the house with her.

  That left Paul and Quinn outside to converse. Quinn told him everything he could, leaving nothing out. When he was finished, Paul was flabbergasted.

  “I can’t believe it.”

  “Yeah, it was a little disappointing for me, too,” Quinn admitted. “I was hoping at least one of them would turn out to be loyal. They were all terrible people, though.”

  “What will happen to them now?”

  Quinn shrugged. “Mitchum will most likely testify against the rest of them. He will get a lighter sentence but still do time. Winchester will probably carry the brunt of the sentence. Patrice, Ben, Leona, and Vicky will all see time behind bars. The same with Ariel.”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  “As compared to what?”

  “I thought maybe you would want to exact revenge for what was done to Rowan.”

  Quinn studied Paul’s face for a sign he was being tested and came up empty. “I want to protect her, not avenge her,” he said finally. “I can’t change what happened, but she’s safe, so that’s what matters. She’s going to be next to me when I wake up tomorrow, and she’s going to be smiling when she eats her omelet. Isn’t that the most important thing?”

  “It is,” Paul agreed without hesitation. “I’m glad you can see that. I worried you might overlook the obvious because you were shaken by what occurred. I’m glad you’ve moved past that.”

  “Yeah, well … I’m a work in progress.” Quinn brushed his sweaty palms over his pants and double-checked to make sure Rowan and Nick were still inside the house before speaking again. “When this is over, when you’re both safe, I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

  Paul didn’t react with surprise. “I figured.”

  “I’m going to have a ring before that happens. I’m going to plan something big and I’m going to make her happy forever. I want your blessing.”

  “Did you really think I wouldn’t give it to you? Come on. You’ve done nothing but love her from the start. You’re good for her. In fact, you’re the best match I ever could’ve imagined for her. Of course I give my blessing.”

  The weight Quinn had been carrying on his shoulders lifted. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  They lapsed into silence for a few minutes. It was surprisingly uncomfortable.

  “This just got weird, huh?” Paul said after a beat.

  “A little bit,” Quinn conceded. “We’ll get used to each other, though. For her.”

  “Definitely. She’s worth it.”

  “See, we’re already getting along.”

  “That’s exciting, huh?”

  “It’s only going to get more exciting.”

  And that was the one thing they could both agree on moving forward. There was plenty of excitement to come.

  Raging Seas

  A Rowan Gray Mystery Book Nine

  1

  One

  “This looks great.”

  Rowan Gray, her eyes as big as saucers, studied the huge spread of food on the table in front of her. Seafood was her absolute favorite. It was fortuitous she took up working on a cruise ship, because thanks to special credentials, she was allowed to eat in the main dining room whenever she wanted. There, seafood was always on the menu.

  She wasn’t on The Bounding Storm tonight, though. No, tonight she was in a ritzy restaurant, set away from the hustle and bustle of the beach, and having dinner with her father and uncle.

  It shouldn’t have been such a treat, she realized. Most people had dinner with relatives all the time and thought nothing of it. She wasn’t most people, though.

  Her father Paul — although he was going by PJ these days because he was undercover — snickered when her stomach growled. She’d always had a healthy appetite. He was gratified to see that hadn’t diminished over their years apart. “I’m glad you approve.”

  “We’re never going to be able to eat all this food by ourselves,” Rowan noted, her eyes traveling to the clock on the wall. She’d been trying to hide her agitation since arriving at the restaurant forty-five minutes before, but it was turning into a losing effort.

  “Are you worried about him?” her uncle asked. Nick Green, also an alias, seemed genuinely concerned at the expression that flitted across his niece’s face. She’d checked the clock every five minutes since arriving. Alone. They hadn’t expected her to be alone.

  “Oh, I’m not worried,” Rowan replied hurriedly, forcing a smile onto her pretty face as she brushed her long auburn hair over her shoulder. “Do I look worried?” Her voice climbed an octave, causing Paul and Nick to exchange weighted looks.

  “You could always call him,” Paul suggested.

  Rowan didn’t have to ask which “him” he was referring to. Quinn Davenport, her boyfriend, was the one missing from the table. He’d called her on her cell when she’d been lounging around the beach waiting for him. It wasn’t like him to be late — he had an annoying tendency to be early more than anything else — and she was immediately on edge.

  Of course, the edginess was becoming standard. Ever since her father returned to her life after faking his own death to get away from the Phoenix Society, a group of individuals running experiments on psychic people, her entire world had been thrown into upheaval. She wasn’t complaining, would never complain about having him back, but she wasn’t used to the constant dread.

  “I don’t want to call him.” Rowan looked sheepish and her eyes immediately went to the phone she had perched on the table. She’d been hoping he would call her with an update. His text had been terse, though. Something came up. Go to dinner. I’ll meet you there. That’s it. Nothing else had come through.

  “Honey, you need to calm yourself,” Paul chided, searching for a way to soothe his only child. When he left, she’d been a teenager. Despite the hormones associated with the age, she’d never been one to bring home boys. He could count on two fingers the number of dates she’d introduced him to. It had always been the two of them and no one else after her mother’s death — a woman he still mourned with every fiber of his being — and he was unsure how he was supposed to respond now that she was an adult.

  As if reading his brother’s mind, Nick chuckled. “You have no idea what to do.”

  Paul shrugged. “I missed this part of her life. I feel like I should say ‘he’s a jerk and you can do better,’ but I know that won’t go over well.”

  Rowan rolled her eyes. “He’s not a jerk. He’s ... amazing.”

  “He just left you hanging,” Paul pointed out.

  “Something must’ve come up.” Rowan was adamant. “It’s not like him to just send me off on my own ... especially lately.” She didn’t have to expand on the tacked-on comment. They understood what she was saying. Quinn was head of security on The Bounding Storm. He h
ad a military background. Once the truth came out regarding Paul’s escape — he left because he was afraid the Phoenix Society would start sniffing around Rowan due to her psychic ability — Quinn sprang into action. He’d been nothing less than her shadow of late. For him to leave her alone on the beach, open to being approached or attacked, something indeed had to come up.

  “I’m not speaking ill of him,” Paul started, his eyebrows flying up when Rowan pinned him with a dark look. “I’m not,” he stressed. “I happen to like him a great deal. He’s a good man.”

  “I believe I said that first.”

  Paul had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at Rowan’s fierce expression. “You said it first,” he conceded. “I wanted to change your opinion of the man so I could convince you to run away and hide with me. I saw the error of my ways quickly, though.”

  “I don’t know Quinn all that well,” Nick offered. “From what I do know, though, there’s no way he would’ve just abandoned you tonight unless something important came up. If he’s not explaining himself via phone call or text, there has to be a reason for it.”

  And that was exactly what Rowan was afraid of. “It’s just not like him.” Her voice was low, shaky. “I won’t be able to eat until he’s here. I just don’t have a good feeling about this. I can’t explain it.”

  Nick shifted on his chair, removed his napkin so he could stand, and angled his chin toward the door. “It looks like you won’t have to go hungry.”

  Rowan swiveled quickly, hope flowing through her with enough force she almost slid off the side of her seat. The hope was replaced with relief when she caught sight of Quinn. He’d changed into a nice suit, was exchanging pleasantries with the hostess, and his eyes quickly lifted to find her, as if he’d sensed her watching and couldn’t wait to see her.

  It took everything Rowan had not to throw herself at him as he crossed the room with the hostess. The young blonde in the tight dress was actively chatting away as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Quinn nodded politely, but he never moved his eyes from Rowan. Once he reached the table, he didn’t have a chance to greet Nick or Paul with a firm handshake because Rowan’s arms were already around him.