“They do. There’s no audio. The wind on the deck makes it impossible to make anything out so I didn’t see the need of including sound equipment when I set up the system.”
“I bet you’re kicking yourself for that now.”
“I’m ... feeling a decent amount of regret.”
“Which is why you really want to find Rowan. You want to make both of you feel better.”
“I just love her.” Quinn was earnest. “If something happens to her, I’m never going to get over it. I mean ... she’s it for me.”
Fred studied his friend for an extended beat. “You’re going to propose, aren’t you?”
Quinn nodded without hesitation. There was no point in playing coy. “As soon as this is over with.”
“Are you going to ask her father’s permission?”
“I don’t need that man’s permission after he left her the way he did, but I’ve already asked. Things aren’t perfect between Paul and me. We’re having a bit of a power struggle. Still, we both realize that Rowan is the important one. She needs strong relationships with both of us. We’re willing to work together to make sure she’s not torn in two by us.”
“That’s probably smart.” Fred honestly didn’t know what else to say. “Well, I think that’s great. I’m a little sad I won’t be able to drag you to the bar to act as my wingman any longer, but it’s still great. If you need help picking out a ring, I’m there for you. I know some guys.”
Quinn’s smile disappeared. “You know some guys? I’m not buying a hot ring. Besides, I already picked out her ring. In fact, it’s already been sized and everything.”
Fred worked his jaw. “How did you know her size?”
“I measured while she was asleep. Thankfully, she sleeps like the dead. She didn’t even notice.”
“Well ... great. Did you get a big one?”
Quinn smirked. “What do you think?”
“I think you got her an iceberg-sized rock.”
“I got her a beautiful ring. The goal is for her to be wearing it the rest of her life. I’m not going to skimp on it.”
“No, you’re not the type to skimp on anything like that.” Fred couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “I think that’s great. I guess that means we need to end the Phoenix Society threat so you can make a big show of it and get down on one knee.”
“The second we’re past this — I mean the absolute second — I’m asking her to marry me.”
“Well, then let’s figure this out.” Fred gestured toward the computer. “Fast forward to the time of the attack so we can check that out.”
Quinn’s smile faded. “That’s the thing. Watch this.” He moved his finger to the fast-forward button and pressed it. Fred watched the screen with obvious interest, a few stray people speeding past the screen until everything became eerily silent. Then, out of nowhere, the feed ended.
“What was that?” Fred sat up straighter. “What happened to the footage?”
“Well, believe it or not, the camera failed right before Deborah’s time of death. We’re talking within minutes of when the doctor claims she died.”
“Well, that can’t be a coincidence.” Fred’s mind was working a mile a minute. “What about the other cameras? Can we track movement between portions of the ship to try to isolate who was out there?”
“In theory. It’s not always easy in practice.”
“We still have to try.”
ROWAN STARED AT THE IMAGE ON HER camera for a long time and then let loose a shaky breath. There was no doubt. She’d snapped eight different selfies of herself, and each one featured the omen.
There was some question about who was in danger when Darcy first showed her the image. After all, both she and Quinn were in the photo. He could’ve been the one marked for death. It was her, though. Oddly enough, she felt better about that. She didn’t want to die, of course. It wasn’t something she was keen to do. Still, knowing Quinn would still be alive was a great comfort to her.
Sure, she had dreams and plans for their future. She thought, eventually, they would get engaged and then married. It probably wouldn’t happen until they were finishing up their contracts on The Bounding Storm. Then he had plans to go into private practice with Fred and she would ... well, she didn’t know what her future held. She would do something. Now, that picture of happiness — one that involved children and the beach house Nick had earmarked for them — was all but lost.
She felt sick to her stomach but resolute.
She flipped through the selfies again, unsure what she should do. The first task on her list was taking a photo of Quinn so she could check it to make sure. Rowan was reasonably assured she was the one who would die. That didn’t mean he wasn’t in danger, too. She had to be absolutely sure so she could warn Fred to watch him.
After that, though, she had no idea how to proceed. She was genuinely torn if she should tell Quinn about the omen. There was a chance he could save her if he knew. Although, there was also a chance he would put himself in danger to do it and might end up hurt in the process.
On the flip side, there was a possibility he could do nothing. Rowan had always felt there was an inevitability about death. She’d managed to reverse several omens, save people in the process. More often than not, however, she failed in her rescue attempts. There was no science to the omens that she was aware of.
If Quinn knew about the omen, he would do everything in his power to protect her. He would put his life on the line, station guards outside her room, and do everything else he could short of wrapping her in bubble wrap. If she really did have limited time left, she didn’t want to spend it with him being manic. She wanted to enjoy him.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes as she made up her mind. She grabbed a notebook and pen from the table in the corner of her room and carried it to her bed. She still wasn’t sure what she was going to do. She wanted to be prepared, though. That meant writing down everything she had to say in letter form. She would make sure Quinn and her father never doubted how she felt about them. After that, she would think about the omen and make a decision.
Quinn would feel absolute rage if he found out she knew about her imminent death and never told him. She had to explain herself just in case ... and she needed to clear her mind. She was hopeful that unburdening her heart would aid with the clarity.
She honestly didn’t know, though.
Rowan let out a long breath and clicked the ink pen so she could write. She would start with her father. It would be easier to express her feelings where he was concerned. With Quinn, there was so much to say that she wasn’t sure she could get it all out.
She did, though. It took her two hours. By the time she was finished with Quinn’s letter, she was bawling. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, and she was certain she’d never be able to shed another tear. Once the letters were finished and sealed into envelopes, which she promptly hid in her dresser, she crawled back into bed and pulled the covers over her head.
She felt lost and despondent. It wasn’t a feeling she enjoyed. She always thought she would be strong in the face of death.
Apparently she was wrong.
8
Eight
Unsettled and with an hour to burn after her nap, Rowan escaped from the room long enough to track Quinn down. She didn’t approach him, though. Instead, she snapped a photo of him from afar, one only he was in, and then returned to her room.
She’d checked every photo she had of him, some taken in moments of fancy when they had days on the beach, and they were all clear. She wanted to be absolutely sure, though. She couldn’t shake the feeling of dread threatening to take her over.
The photo was clean. She deleted it so he wouldn’t accidentally see it and wonder why she was snapping photos of him from afar and then decided to shower for dinner. It was rare she cleaned up twice in one day, but the minimal makeup she’d thrown on after her first shower was streaked and runny and her eyes were red and puffy. She needed to calm down and g
et it together.
She didn’t know if keeping the information from Quinn was the right move. The sick feeling in her stomach told her it was wrong and yet she had no idea how to broach the subject. How could she tell the man she loved, whom she was planning to spend the rest of her life with, that she didn’t have long to live? Sure, they might be able to stop it somehow. What if they didn’t, though? It would ruin the little time they had left together and that’s the last thing she wanted.
She dressed in one of Quinn’s favorite dresses, a simple summer frock that set off her eyes, and when she heard him enter the bedroom she took a long, measured look in the mirror before exhaling a pent-up breath. This was it. She at least wanted to get through dinner before telling him, if that was her ultimate decision. She was still waffling back and forth, her stomach a mass of jittery nerves.
Quinn was changing his shirt when she exited the bathroom, his lean muscles on display. He was built, but not so jacked up he looked like he belonged on a gym poster. She loved to watch him move, especially when they took a full day and hit one of their favorite — and private — beach spots. He had a smooth way of walking, of shifting his hands. Oh, and he had the best smile. It was on her now when he turned.
“Hello, sweetie.” He grinned at her ... and then immediately sobered. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
Apparently she hadn’t done as good a job as she anticipated when it came to covering up her crying jag.
“I’m fine,” she said hurriedly, crossing to him. “It’s just been a long day.”
Quinn forgot about his shirt and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “You’re still upset that Darcy was sneaking around taking photos of us. I don’t blame you, but she obviously didn’t get close enough to hear anything. It’s okay.” He kissed the top of her head to soothe her.
“How did you ... ?” Rowan trailed off, rolling her eyes. “Fred told you.”
“He did. I’m a little upset that you didn’t tell me yourself.”
“I was going to. It’s just ... .” What? She had no excuse. From where Quinn was sitting, he’d been left out of the loop. She’d promised the opposite of that when this entire thing started. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He crushed her against him. “I know you’re upset. I don’t blame you. This is messed up. To top it all off, we’re having dinner with them. It’s just too much.”
Rowan sighed. Oddly enough, it didn’t feel like too much when he was beside her. She felt stronger just holding him. “We’re going to be okay.” She meant it. She would find a way to save herself simply because it would destroy him to lose her. She’d never been with someone who loved so freely. He would be just as distraught as her. She made up her mind on the spot to tell him about the omen. It would have to wait until after dinner, though. If she told him now he would kill Spencer over crab legs, and then they would be in a real pickle.
“Of course we’re going to be okay.” He pulled back far enough so he could study her face. “Do you want me to get us out of this dinner? I can do it easily enough. I’ll lie and say you’re sick or something.”
Rowan shook her head. “No. That will draw attention to us and I already acted like a fool when Darcy showed me the photo. We’ll go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He brushed his lips against her forehead, love momentarily threatening to overwhelm him. She was a resolute little thing when she wanted to be. “If you start feeling uncomfortable, mention your stomach is upset and I’ll get you out of there right away.”
“Code words?” She grinned. “Should I say the word ‘vomit’ if I want to escape?”
He chuckled at her obvious amusement. “Sure. Vomit is definitely a good code word.”
“It sounds like a plan.”
MICHAEL, DARCY, JULIA, AND SPENCER were already seated when Quinn and Rowan strolled into the dining room hand-in-hand. Rowan’s gaze immediately drifted to them, as if she sensed them watching, while Quinn continued to scan the room.
“They’re over there,” Rowan noted, tilting her chin toward the center of the room. “They’re waving.”
Quinn gripped her hand tighter and then offered a friendly wave to Michael to let him know they would be joining shortly. Then he directed her toward the buffet line. “Let’s load up.” He went straight for the potatoes and prime rib. Comfort food seemed to be in order. He assumed Rowan was loading up on her usual crab legs. When he caught up with her at the end of the line and noticed she had soup and a salad, he was obviously confused. “Did they run out of crab or something?” He turned to scan the line and frowned when he saw the pile of it in the center of the table. “What gives?”
“My stomach is a little upset,” she admitted, pinning him with a quelling look. “I’m just nervous. It will pass. Don’t make a thing out of it.”
He frowned. “I don’t like this.”
“Neither of us like this. That doesn’t mean we can simply pretend it’s not happening. I’m fine with the soup and salad for one evening. The crab legs will still be here tomorrow. Hopefully my stomach won’t be threatening a revolt then.”
“I don’t care what happens, we’re not eating with them again,” Quinn muttered, pressing his hand to the small of her back to guide her across the dining room. “I hate these people.”
He sounded surly, which only served to make Rowan more antsy. All she wanted to do was get through the meal without throwing a drink on any of them. That was her lone goal.
Michael was on his feet when they arrived at the table. “I was starting to think you forgot.” He pumped Quinn’s hands in greeting, even though they never shook when saying hello. “Hey, Rowan.” He gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek, also something he never did, and pulled out her chair for her. “You look pretty tonight.”
“Does that mean I don’t look pretty every other night?” She was going for levity but realized there was bite to her tone when it was too late to take it back.
Michael balked. “Of course not. You’re a living dream.”
“She’s just tired,” Quinn interjected. “Don’t mind her. I found her in the bedroom, where she spent half the afternoon. Her stomach has been acting up.”
Spencer’s face filled with sympathy as he made a tsking sound and shook his head. “That’s awful. I hope it’s not something serious.”
“I’m sure it’s just a bug,” Rowan replied hurriedly, briefly making eye contact before focusing on her salad. “I don’t really get sick very often.”
“Maybe you’re pregnant,” Julia suggested. She was sitting next to Quinn — Rowan didn’t miss the appreciative look the woman gave his backside as he helped her sit — and her demeanor came off as mischievous.
“I’m not pregnant,” Rowan countered tersely.
Quinn pressed the tip of his tongue against the back of his teeth as he slid her a sidelong look. He could practically feel the tension wafting off her. It was a side of her he’d never seen before, and he wasn’t exactly happy it was making a cameo this evening.
“You could be and not even know it,” Darcy offered. “My sister was pregnant for four months without realizing it.”
“Didn’t she notice she wasn’t getting her period?” Rowan challenged.
Michael shifted uncomfortably on his chair. “I don’t think that’s proper dinner conversation.” He looked mortified and sent an apologetic look in Spencer’s direction. “I’m sorry. She’s not usually like this. She must really be sick.”
Rowan hated that the usually amiable captain felt the need to make excuses for her. She realized — in a rather remote way — that she was acting out of sorts. In her head, she knew she needed to rein herself in. She was helping no one with her attitude. Her stomach had other ideas, though.
“I can speak for myself,” she barked.
Quinn cleared his throat and tapped his foot on top of hers under the table. It was a warning. “I apologize. I really do think she’s com
ing down with something ... and not a baby.” He pinned Julia with a pointed look. “I should’ve left her in the room and come to dinner myself, but she didn’t want to disappoint Michael so she forced herself to come.”
Rowan managed to keep her face neutral, but just barely. She knew she was acting like a world-class idiot. She wanted to blame her nerves, but there was so much going on in her head she couldn’t settle on any one thing. “I’m sorry.” She held up her hands in capitulation. “I really don’t feel all that well. I shouldn’t take it out on you, though. It’s certainly not your fault.”
Quinn leaned back in his chair, secretly relieved, and smiled. “Eat your soup, Ro. It might settle your stomach.”
“That’s a good idea.” Michael beamed at her. “I’m a little sad I don’t get to see you pack away the mountain of crab legs you usually eat, but hopefully this bug will pass quickly.”
“Hopefully,” Rowan agreed, gripping her spoon. She really wasn’t hungry. She did, however, want answers. “So, Mr. Spencer, were you and Michael friends in college? That’s what you said, right?”
“We were.” Spencer smiled indulgently, no hint of malice in his eyes. “We had a lot of wild times together.”
“Oh, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Michael protested. “I was an angel in college.”
“We met at a frat party,” Spencer supplied. “We were rushing the same fraternity — Theta Chi — and we were both ridiculously nervous. You should tell the story, Michael. You’re better at it.”
The captain needed little prodding to launch into the story. Rowan only kept half an ear on it as she pushed salad around her plate. Quinn moved his hand to her back, rubbing soothing circles as he nodded in polite interest, laughing at the appropriate parts of the story as Michael and Spencer chortled like maniacs.
At one point, Rowan lifted her eyes and met Darcy’s steady stare. The blonde was watching her with keen interest. For Rowan’s part, she couldn’t figure out why she showed her the photo in the first place. It was either meant as a warning or intimidation. She honestly couldn’t decide which.
Farewell Seas Page 46
