Farewell Seas

by Lily Harper Hart

  “Yeah, but ... what about Demarcus and Sally?”

  Quinn had been expecting the question. Demarcus Johnson, the head bartender, was his best friend on the ship. They were exceedingly close. Demarcus wasn’t aware of Rowan’s gift — really, how do you explain that your girlfriend sees death omens in the lens of a camera? — but he was the sort who picked up on the emotions of others. That’s what made him such a good bartender. There was no way he would be able to ignore the heightened emotions once the ship left port.

  As for Sally Jenkins, she was the head chef on the ship. She was aware of Rowan’s ability and was her fiercest soldier in the war to keep Rowan safe. There was no sense of hiding things from her because it was likely Rowan would need the woman for support.

  “I figured we would play Demarcus by ear,” Quinn replied. “Eventually, I feel we’ll have to tell him. Now might not be the right time, though. As for Sally, you can tell her whatever you want. She’ll make a good ally.” What he didn’t add was that Sally would be another set of eyes watching Rowan, and the friendly chef could go places all the men surrounding Rowan couldn’t ... like the gym locker room and bathrooms.

  “I’ll talk to her once there’s an opening in my schedule.”

  “That sounds like a plan.”

  NICK’S TEAM ARRIVED EXACTLY as scheduled and Quinn ushered them to the conference room adjacent to his office. He waited until everyone was settled to begin.

  “I’m sure you all know why you’re here,” he started.

  Rowan couldn’t take her eyes off her father. His disguise was something out of a movie. He wore a brightly-colored Hawaiian shirt that went against his personal style and someone had put a villain mustache on him. The corners actually curled.

  “I thought the whole point was for Dad to fly under the radar,” Rowan interrupted, gesturing toward her father. “He looks like Captain Hook without the plume-y hat.”

  Fred chuckled as Paul rolled his eyes.

  “The best disguises are the ones that make people stare and then have to look away,” Fred explained. “Your father looks like an eccentric who is trapped in the eighties. People will stare, and then disregard him because he looks so ridiculous. The general thinking is that no one trying to fly under the radar would draw attention to themselves with a shirt this loud.”

  “And the mustache?” Rowan leaned closer and pinched her fingers against the fake hair. “It’s kind of gross.”

  “It’s totally gross,” Paul agreed. “I fought the mustache hard. I was outvoted.”

  “The mustache is part of the mystique,” Fred supplied. “Trust me. I’ve been doing this a long time. These Phoenix Society people will look at him ... and then totally disregard him.”

  Since she wasn’t an expert on the subject, Rowan decided to let it go. “Okay, tell me about the people we’re dealing with.” She focused on Quinn. “What should we expect?”

  “Alright, we’ll start with Leon Spencer.” He’d hooked his computer up to a projector and navigated the open panes until a photograph popped up. The man had dark hair tinged with silver at the temples, spectacles, and an air of authority. “He’s listed as the president of the Phoenix Society. Whether that’s a true title or something he hides behind, I can’t say.”

  “He looks like somebody’s creepy uncle,” one of the men Nick had brought with him interjected. All five of the men were wearing shirts proclaiming them members of Green Deep Sea Diving and they had first names embroidered on their shirts. This man’s name was Dave and he made Rowan nervous because he was as big as a house. He had arms the size of torpedoes, and they made her feel small.

  “It’s important that we don’t underestimate these people,” Quinn stressed. “I very much doubt they’ll overtly go after Rowan — at least on this cruise — but they might have men in place when we dock at various ports who are instructed to grab her. If that happens, I won’t be happy.”

  Dave fixed his unreadable eyes on Quinn. “It hasn’t been explained to us exactly why these people might want your girlfriend. I don’t suppose you would explain that to us, would you?”

  “That’s not important,” Nick interjected, his tone firm. “What’s important is that no one takes her. She’s to be protected at every turn. That’s your primary job.”

  “I understand that. It’s just ... she’s only a girl. Why would they want her?”

  Quinn glared at Dave. They weren’t exactly getting off on the right foot. “She’s much more than a girl.”

  Dave held up his hands. “I wasn’t casting aspersions. She seems lovely, if a little fixated on mustaches.”

  “It’s a villain mustache,” Rowan countered, annoyed. “You can’t just walk around in a villain mustache. It’s weird.”

  Quinn snorted and then extended a finger. “Watch yourself,” he warned. “You’re only allowed to be cute for me.”

  “Oh, geez.” Fred rolled his eyes. “This is never going to work if you two insist on constantly verbally copulating in front of us.”

  “No, it’s never going to work if you keep saying stuff like that,” Paul shot back. “She’s my daughter. I can’t listen to things like that.”

  “Duly noted,” Fred said with a straight face. “Let’s go back to talking about the people coming on this ship. As annoying as I find Quinn and Rowan’s perpetual lovefest, I’m genuinely fond of her. I would prefer to keep her safe.”

  “Yes, let’s go back to the Phoenix Society,” Quinn agreed. “Not a lot is known about Spencer. He’s unmarried but dates an endless series of model-type women.”

  “They must be attracted to the money,” Rowan noted. “It can’t possibly be his personality.”

  “You haven’t even met him yet,” Quinn pointed out.

  “No, but you can tell he walks around like he’s got a stick up his butt. He just seems like the type.”

  Quinn had to press his lips together to keep from laughing. She was adorable, and now that she’d settled a bit, her dander was up. She was feeling feisty. That was exactly what he wanted to see.

  “Well, we’ll know more when we meet him,” Quinn offered. “I expect him to try to make contact early. That means he’ll probably approach you in the lobby to take his photograph.”

  Despite her bravado, Rowan swallowed hard. “What should I do?”

  “Act normal. Polite disinterest. Do your job but don’t ask him any questions. He’ll be suspicious if you do. Take the photos, give him the spiel about the online portal where he can purchase the photos, and then move on. If you show him too much interest he’ll realize we know about him and the last thing we want to do is tip him off.”

  Rowan understood. “Okay. I can do that.”

  “What about the other two Phoenix Society employees?” Paul asked, his eyes never leaving Spencer’s face on the screen.

  “Do you recognize him?” Quinn asked, legitimately curious. “Have you crossed paths with him?”

  “I don’t think so.” Paul said the words but he looked uncertain. “We’re talking almost thirty-five years ago,” he reminded the security guru. “A lot can change about a person in thirty-five years. I think I would remember this guy, but it was a long time ago. If I met him, it was during the initial experiments. It wasn’t in the years after.”

  “That’s probably good for us,” Fred noted. “If you don’t recognize him, that means you probably never met. He’ll be less likely to identify you in that case.”

  “You said he couldn’t be identified with the disguise,” Rowan argued. “If there’s a chance he can be identified ... .” She left it hanging. She didn’t exactly want to kick her father off the ship, but she would do it for his safety if it became necessary.

  “He won’t recognize him,” Fred promised. “You have my word. I’ve done this before, Rowan. Have a little faith.”

  She remained unconvinced but turned to Quinn. “Give us the rundown on the others.”

  “There’s not much to tell,” Quinn replied. “We have Darcy Walker
and Julia Benson. Darcy is in her twenties. Julia in her thirties. I have no physical descriptions of them, but Fred managed to pull their driver’s license photos.” He clicked on a new file and brought up the unflattering photographs.

  “Darcy is blond. Julia is brunette. Both are single and live in Tampa. They work out of the Florida office. I don’t even know their job descriptions because the Phoenix Society doesn’t have a directory listed on their website.”

  Rowan pursed her lips as she regarded the photos. “They look like clerical workers. Maybe they’re just assistants or something. Maybe Spencer is here to watch me and they’re just along for the ride.”

  “That’s entirely possible,” Quinn conceded. “I don’t want you letting your guard down, though. They’re as much the enemy as Spencer. They might be assistants. They might be something more. I want you to be careful ... and keep your distance.”

  Rowan balked. “Wait ... are you saying I can’t talk to these people at all while they’re on the ship? That’s not fair.”

  Quinn remained calm. “Life isn’t fair. As for talking to them, I don’t want you to squeal and run the other way when you see them. That’s not a natural reaction. I don’t want you seeking them out either, at least not today.

  “We need to observe them the first day,” he continued. “We have the upper hand here. They’re assuming they flew in under the radar and we’re not expecting them. We have to take advantage of this opportunity. That means we watch them, at least for the first few hours. There are plenty of us to do it without garnering suspicion.”

  “What about after that?” Nick queried.

  “The plan is to have another meeting before dinner. I’ve spread word that I’ve loaned this conference room to Nick’s group and gave them special passes so they can enter freely. No one will suspect anything. Random guests cannot get down here, so this will be our safe haven.”

  “I’ll get to confront them eventually, right?” Rowan pressed. “You’re not just going to let them leave after they spend days studying me like a lab rat, are you?”

  “We’ll play it by ear.” Quinn hated the disappointed look on her face. “Sweetie, I’m sorry, but I can’t give you firm answers here until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. It’s all up in the air right now.”

  Logically, that made sense to Rowan. That didn’t mean she was happy with it.

  “Fine.” She blew out a world-weary sigh. “I’ll take photos like a good little girl and we’ll go from there.”

  He smiled indulgently at her pronounced pout. “That’s all I ask. And, since you’re going to be a good girl, I promise to reward you to your heart’s content later.”

  Rowan didn’t want to smile. It would only encourage him. She couldn’t stop herself, though. “I want cheesecake.”

  “Sold.”

  3

  Three

  Rowan thought taking photographs of the incoming passengers would be pure torture. She was right … for the first twenty minutes. After that, she got in the flow and started engaging with the newcomers as she usually did. After a bit, her mind drifted and she sank into her work.

  It felt good to be normal, even if it was only for a little bit.

  “Hello.” She greeted a woman struggling with an oversized suitcase with a bright smile. The woman seemed to be having trouble navigating through the crowd with the item and Rowan eagerly offered her help. “Here. Let’s put this over here and get a photo, shall we?”

  The woman wore a visor that tied underneath her ponytail and a pair of ridiculous sunglasses. They were so large they almost obliterated her entire face.

  “Oh, you take photographs?” She smiled at Rowan and watched as the photographer easily shifted the suitcase to a spot off the path. “That sounds like a cool job.”

  “It definitely has perks.” Rowan was used to people obsessing about her job. To almost everybody, the idea of being a photographer on a cruise ship sounded like the ideal career. Continuous travel through paradise held a certain appeal. “I recommend hanging around the ocean as much as I possibly can. It’s soothing.”

  “I bet.” The woman reached for her sunglasses. “Do I have to do something specific?”

  “Just give me your name.” Rowan had her iPad open on a nearby table so she could keep track of the guests. “I just need to mark it off.”

  “Oh, right. Darcy Walker.”

  Rowan’s body went rigid and cool dread washed over her as she swallowed hard. “Darcy, huh? That’s a nice name.”

  “I actually hate it. I prefer a name that can be professional and then shortened to something cutesy. Like Jennifer becomes Jenny, you know? With Darcy, it was adorable when I was a kid — at least if you believe my mother — but it’s not as adorable now.”

  Rowan wasn’t sure she could make her mouth work correctly. “I never really thought about it that way. It makes sense, though.”

  “Yeah. What’s your name?”

  Rowan considered lying and then thought better of it. That was ridiculous. The woman was probably on the ship looking for her. That meant she knew all about Rowan, including that she was the lone ship photographer. Lying would make her look suspicious.

  “Rowan Gray,” she answered, hoping she sounded breezy and gracious. The whole point was to make these people believe they were getting away with something. If Rowan were to act suspicious, they would be dead in the water before they even left port.

  “Oh, that’s a cool name. I bet your mother picked it, huh?”

  “I never really heard where my name came from,” Rowan replied, hating how alien her voice sounded. It was a good bit higher than normal, which frustrated her to no end. She was supposed to be playing it cool. In the spy game, she would be woefully outplayed. “I’ve always liked my name, though.” She decided being friendly and open was the way to go. It was the best way to put these people at ease. “A lot of kids I grew up with hated their names, but I never had that problem.”

  “No, I would guess not.” Darcy shifted her eyes toward a brunette who looked to be joining them. “This is my co-worker Julia Benson. This is a work trip for us.”

  “A work trip, huh?” Rowan was used to making small talk with the guests. She’d done it so many times she’d lost count. She fell back on the routine here as she tried to keep her eyes from darting to the other side of the room, to where she knew Quinn was watching. He’d taken up position close to the front desk, a tablet in his hand as he pretended to work. To all outside appearances he looked like a man entrenched in a task. Rowan knew better. “Where do you work?”

  “We’re accountants,” Julia answered smoothly. “We work in the accounting department of a big law firm.”

  That was a lie. Rowan couldn’t exactly call her on it, though. “I’ve never been good with numbers. I’m impressed whenever anyone can make sense of all those tables and graphs. I just see gibberish.”

  “Not mathematically inclined, huh?” Julia looked amused. “I think it takes a specific brain type to be interested in accounting. I mean ... creatives obviously drift toward the arts, like you. I’m betting you were always taking photos when you were a kid, huh? Was this always your dream?”

  “Taking photographs was my dream,” Rowan confirmed. “I’ve always wanted there to be a more artistic bend to my work, but I have to pay the bills. This job is really the best of both worlds. I can cover room and board and take beautiful photographs of the ocean and places we visit. It’s great.”

  “I bet. Much better than sitting in a stuffy office.” Julia gestured toward the backdrop in front of Rowan. It was a standard “Welcome to The Bounding Storm” backdrop since there was no theme for this cruise. “Should we just stand in front of it?”

  Rowan nodded. “Yes. Is this your entire group?”

  “Our boss is here, too.” Julia gestured toward a dark-haired man standing to the side. Rowan hadn’t initially seen him, which she kicked herself for. Now that she looked, it was obvious the man had been standing slightly apar
t from the others so he could watch and observe her behavior. She didn’t think she’d acted out of sorts, but it was nerve-wracking all the same.

  “Can we get a group photo?” Darcy asked.

  “Absolutely.” Rowan perfunctorily bobbed her head and gestured for Spencer to join the group. “Sir, I need your name to mark off my list.” She was surprisingly calm now that they were in front of her. It seemed the anticipation was worse than the actual meeting.

  “Leon Spencer,” he drawled in a rich and gravelly voice. “I’m the head of Spencer, Blake and Young Law Firm.”

  Oh, well, they’d really gone all out, Rowan internally mused. They put enough effort in to create a fake law firm. “I’ve never heard of your firm, but I’m guessing you’re popular if you can afford to take your employees on a cruise.”

  “We do okay.” His smile was indulgent, but Rowan didn’t miss the way his keen eyes roamed her face. He was taking it all in, absorbing the first meeting to the best of his ability. He wanted to feel her out. Well, she wasn’t going to give him anything to be suspicious of.

  “Well, let’s get to this photo.” Rowan beamed and pointed to the backdrop. “Sir, you should stand right here. Yes, just like that. Darcy, you should be to his right. Yup. Just a little bit forward. And Julia, you should be on his left. Yes, just like that.”

  Rowan raised her camera and pointed it at them, reveling in the moment because she could close her eyes and involuntarily shudder without them realizing what she was doing. “We’ll take three photos and I will look at them to make sure they’re okay before you’re done,” she explained. “I will also be taking photographs during your time on the ship and they will be loaded into a digital portal. You can peruse that portal at any time and order prints to be shipped to your home. If you prefer digital files, the photos are cheaper that way and can be emailed.”

  “Well, I definitely think we’ll be ordering photos,” Spencer enthused. “This is the sort of trip we’ll want to remember.”