Stormy Seas (A Rowan Gray Mystery Book 3) Page 2

  Another figure, this one also completely clad in black, detached from the trees to their right and burst out laughing as the man on the ground groaned and rolled to his knees.

  “I think something hit me,” the injured man gritted out. “I’m pretty sure it was a train.”

  “I think it was a guy protecting his girlfriend,” the second man said, a wide grin splitting his handsome face as he stepped closer. It was only then that Quinn registered the camera in his hand. “That was supposed to be a nice promotional blitz for the movie, Phil, but instead it looks like it will be the highlight of the blooper reel.”

  The man identified as Phil by his companion made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat as he ruefully rubbed his cheek. “It was supposed to be a fun flash for the video. Now we’re going to pretend it didn’t happen.”

  “I saw that coming.” The unnamed man flashed a cheeky grin as he looked between Quinn and Rowan, tucking a strand of his shoulder-length black hair behind his ear. “I’m sorry if we frightened you. That wasn’t our intention.”

  “That was exactly our intention,” Phil argued. “That’s what we do for a living, for crying out loud.”

  Quinn relaxed, if only marginally, when he realized who he was dealing with. He slipped his arm around Rowan’s waist, tugging her to his side, as he glared at the two men. “Let me guess … you’re with the Indie Horror Awards, aren’t you?”

  Phil, the color returning to his cheeks, brightened. “I’m Phil Pritchard. Have you heard of me?”

  Quinn shook his head. “No. Are you famous?”

  “He made the movie Hellhounds in Outer Space,” Rowan offered, smirking when Quinn shot her a sidelong look. “It’s one of those movies I was talking about earlier.” She tried to remain tactful, but Quinn was agitated enough to do the exact opposite.

  “One of those horror movies that is terrible, but you’ll watch it anyway?”

  Rowan nodded. “The special effects were great.” She offered Phil an apologetic smile. “I honestly don’t understand why only dogs were sent to outer space, though. How were they supposed to communicate their findings on Mars? They can’t talk. Er, well, they couldn’t before they met the aliens.”

  Phil offered up a haphazard wave. “I direct the movies. I don’t write them.” He was a handsome man, and when he took a moment to stare at Rowan’s lithe body he earned a warning look from Quinn. “How did you know who we were, by the way?”

  “We work on The Bounding Storm,” Quinn replied, his eyes flitting to the man with the camera. “Who are you, by the way?”

  The man answered without hesitation. “Brimstone.”

  Quinn blinked slowly three times before speaking. “I’m sorry. Is that a real name?”

  “I’m a camera operator,” Brimstone replied. “I take my job very seriously.”

  It took everything Quinn had not to roll his eyes, instead focusing on Rowan. “Right. See. This is exactly what I was talking about.”

  Rowan stifled a grin as Phil struggled to a standing position. “I think you’re exaggerating. This was just a little mindless fun.”

  “It didn’t feel fun to me,” Phil admitted. “You have a forearm like a rampaging Yeti looking for bikini-clad co-eds.”

  “That will teach you to chase people after dark,” Quinn said blithely. “By the way, that’s not going to be allowed on the ship.”

  Phil’s expression darkened. “Says who?”

  “The head of ship security.”

  “Oh, well, maybe we don’t have to tell him about this little incident,” Phil suggested. “No one was harmed – other than me – after all.”

  “I think it’s already too late for that. I’m Quinn Davenport. I’m head of security.”

  Phil groaned and briefly pressed his eyes shut. “Of course you are.”

  Rowan risked a glance at Brimstone and found him staring back at her, his expression unreadable. If she didn’t know better, she would think he was amused. “I think as long as you guys use common sense that everything will be fine.”

  “I think if you expect anyone involved with these awards to have common sense, you’re asking way too much,” Brimstone countered.

  For his part, Quinn didn’t like the way either man kept staring at Rowan. It was as if they’d never seen a beautiful woman before and they didn’t quite know what to make of her. “I’m sure things will be fine if you don’t go overboard,” he said, prodding Rowan so she would turn back in the direction of the restaurant. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re about to eat dinner.”

  “Oh, that sounds nice.” Phil dusted off the seat of his pants. “Do you want some company?”

  Quinn didn’t hesitate before answering. “No.”

  Brimstone chuckled as Phil huffed out something intelligible under his breath. Rowan merely flicked her eyes to Quinn as they resumed their walk.

  “You really aren’t excited about the horror people being on the boat, are you?”

  “What was your first clue?”

  Rowan pursed her lips, debating how to answer. “Will you feel better if I kiss you?”

  Quinn’s expression softened as he lowered his mouth to within an inch of hers. “No. I’ll feel better if I kiss you, though.”

  “I can live with that.”

  2

  Two

  “Who names their kid Brimstone?”

  Rowan and Quinn sipped coffee on deck with their two closest friends the next morning. Demarcus Johnson and Sally Jenkins were so amused by the story they wanted to hear it twice. Sally was obsessed with the part of the tale where Brimstone introduced himself, and no one questioned him regarding his unorthodox name.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s not his real name,” Quinn said, idly running a finger over the top of Rowan’s hand as she rested it on the deck table. They sat at one of the employee areas eating breakfast and chatting. The guests were due to arrive in a few hours and this would be their last chance for relaxation until later that night. “He named himself that.”

  “Oh, you don’t think his mother spent twenty hours pushing him out into the world and decided to call him Brimstone?” Rowan teased, legitimately amused. “I’m shocked you don’t believe that’s his real name.”

  “Make fun of me all you want, but half the people at this event are going by assumed names.” Quinn munched on a slice of bacon as he talked. “Part of it is a Hollywood thing. People like to change their names for theatrical reasons. Part of it is also to hide background information, and that’s the part that makes my job harder.”

  “Poor Quinn,” Rowan cooed, enjoying the way the scowl played at the corners of his lips. “It’s going to be a rough couple of days for you, isn’t it? Is there anything I can do to help? You seem really worked up about this.”

  Quinn didn’t immediately answer, instead muttering something about “placating him” and “it won’t be so funny when this blows up in our faces.” Demarcus and Sally were amused by his reaction but they weren’t about to allow him to derail the conversation.

  “You heard her,” Demarcus noted. “She’s offering to do whatever you want. I don’t know any man who would be depressed by an offer like that. You should have her wear a costume and treat it like a special occasion.”

  It took Quinn a moment to realize what Demarcus was referring to. He was close with the gregarious head bartender – enjoyed his energy and willingness to help – but he didn’t confide much about his personal life. Even though it had been a running joke a few weeks before, there was no way the man could know that wasn’t exactly an option given Quinn’s current status as The Bounding Storm’s biggest wuss.

  Quinn cleared his throat and shifted on his chair. “I hardly think that’s proper breakfast conversation.” He risked a glance in Rowan’s direction and found her cheeks flushed with color. “In fact, it was kind of rude.”

  Instead of having the grace to be abashed, Demarcus snorted and exchanged a weighted look with Sally. They were good friends and enjoyed a
multitude of private jokes at Quinn and Rowan’s expense. “These two are wound so tight sometimes I’m surprised they don’t snap.”

  “I think they’re kind of cute.” Sally’s eyes sparkled as she held her coffee mug and let the steam rise to her nose. “They’re still in that stage of the relationship where it’s new and shiny so they’re being careful to be respectful around one another. I think it’s nice.”

  “I think it’s annoying because I like to hear juicy details,” Demarcus countered. “Still, there isn’t much I can do to make Quinn talk when he doesn’t want to, so I don’t know why I even bother.”

  “That makes two of us,” Quinn muttered.

  Demarcus ignored him. “He’s kind of taciturn when he wants to be.”

  Sally grinned, cackling at Quinn’s expression. “He’s taciturn and she has prudish tendencies,” she noted. “They’re an adorable couple.”

  Rowan was understandably offended. “I do not have prudish tendencies!”

  “Do you kiss and tell?” Sally challenged.

  “Of course not.”

  “Then you have prudish tendencies.” She turned her attention back to Demarcus, amused at the way Quinn and Rowan tilted their heads together and whispered. They really were cute. They were also a little sickening because that “start of a new relationship” bloom tended to make them drift toward schmaltzy. They would get over that, of course, so Sally was mostly enjoying watching the relationship unfurl.

  When he first came to The Bounding Storm to head up security (months before Rowan joined the crew), everyone on the ship was interested in Quinn. He was dark, dangerous, and ridiculously handsome. He also kept to himself. That didn’t stop all of the women on the ship from throwing themselves at him. He barely spared them a glance.

  When Rowan started, Sally wasn’t sure if she would last. The woman was a former photojournalist – so she knew something about working in high-pressure situations – but she was also ambivalent and standoffish. That’s not a good combination when you’re stuck with the same people day in and day out.

  The second Rowan and Quinn met, Sally sensed an attraction. She found it mildly interesting and gossip worthy, but she didn’t believe anything would come of it. Quinn was indifferent with most of the crew, although he especially made it clear that he wasn’t open for offers whenever one of the women would make a play for him. All of that changed when he met Rowan and somehow she charmed him right from that initial meeting. They’d been practically inseparable since, even when tripping over their own feet when trying to get settled into the relationship.

  “Tell us about the guys you met again last night,” Demarcus prodded, intrigued by the story. “Have they done any movies I would’ve heard about? Like … how about that movie where people pass a murderous ghost stalker between them by having sex? Did he do that one? I love that one.”

  Quinn made a humorous face. “What kind of horror movie is that?”

  “It Follows,” Rowan replied automatically. “I scoffed at the plot when I first heard about it, too. It actually turned out to be really good and the ambiance was great.”

  “I didn’t want to have sex for a whole week,” Demarcus noted. “That’s saying something for me.”

  “I can’t believe you know about a movie like that, Ro,” Quinn muttered, shaking his head as he ignored Demarcus. “This new side of you that loves horror movies is such a surprise. I thought you were more of a Grey’s Anatomy girl.”

  Rowan was offended. “Why would you possibly think something like that?”

  Quinn shrugged, realizing his mistake too late to take it back. If he wasn’t careful, this would turn into a thing. He didn’t want that. “I … .”

  “He probably thought it because everyone knows your father disappeared right before your high school graduation and eighteenth birthday,” Sally supplied, oblivious to the way Rowan’s spine stiffened. “The story about how it happened raced around the ship right before you arrived. Someone said it was during a big storm and it was like something out of a horror movie – although they never found his body so it wasn’t exactly like a horror movie.”

  “Oh.” Rowan’s cheeks burned as she focused on her half-clean plate. “I didn’t know everyone knew about that.”

  Quinn knew about it because he ran a background check for the company before they hired Rowan. He also knew more about it – including the way Rowan struggled – because she told him. She didn’t go into a lot of detail, but he could tell the incident marked her. She didn’t know if her father abandoned her or died. She would probably never know. That hurt her, and Quinn didn’t like it being brought up in front of an audience.

  “Now I know this isn’t proper breakfast conversation,” Quinn snapped, his hand gentle as it rubbed over the back of Rowan’s neck.

  Sally balked. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Leave it alone,” Quinn ordered, leaning forward so he could whisper in Rowan’s ear. “It’s okay. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You didn’t do anything.”

  Rowan cleared her throat and forced herself to remain calm. Sally couldn’t possibly know how much the speculation regarding her father burned. “It’s fine.” She forced a smile. “Are you guys excited about the horror movie awards? I bet this type of cruise is especially fun for you.”

  Demarcus and Sally exchanged dubious looks, guilt over pressing Rowan on something so tragic weighing both of them down. Ultimately they decided to follow her lead in an effort not to further traumatize her.

  “I wouldn’t say it’s fun,” Sally clarified. “I mean … it’s not terrible or anything, but it’s not fun. I just find themed food so trite.”

  “What kind of themed food?”

  Sally shrugged. “Like one night we’re having a Texas Chainsaw Massacre themed dinner and it’s like ninety percent beef and almost no sides. I’m not joking. I mean … what’s the deal with that?”

  “They were cannibals,” Rowan supplied. “They were also sadistic torturers, but the dinner scene was a big deal.”

  Sally tucked her blond hair behind her ear as she pursed her lips. “Seriously? I had no idea that was why they wanted so much meat. They also want little cookies shaped like fingers for that meal. What’s up with that?”

  Rowan shrugged. “I think it sounds neat.”

  “I think I’m going to hate these people,” Sally whined, rolling her neck so she could stare at the blue morning sky. “Why couldn’t they go to someone else’s boat and ruin all the meals there?”

  Rowan snickered, proving she was over the tense turn the conversation took minutes before. “What other kinds of meals are they asking for?”

  Sally opened the binder she carried with her at all times. She was a loud and brash woman who loved to have fun, but she was also diligent about her job. Whenever people complained about the food she took it personally. She reckoned that she’d either made a mistake – which embarrassed her – or the complainer was crazy. Those were the only two options.

  “Well, let’s see,” Sally mused, flipping pages. “We have a Friday the 13th deck party that’s supposed to feature camping food. You know, hot dogs, s’mores, hamburgers and the like. Who wants to eat camping food on purpose?”

  Rowan and Quinn raised their hands in tandem, chuckling when they glanced at one another.

  “Oh, you guys really found each other, didn’t you?” Sally asked dryly. “Just for the record, you’re walking on the schmaltzy side of the street.”

  “I can live with that.” Quinn leaned back in his chair, snagging Rowan’s hand and pressing it to his chest. It was the calm before the storm. The guests would be arriving relatively soon and then he would be busy for the entire day. Rowan, too. He wanted to enjoy a bit of time with her before being separated for hours on end.

  “There’s also a Night of the Living Dead dinner where everything is supposed to look like gross human body parts – like guts made out of sausage and chicken meatloaves that look like brains,” Sally supplie
d.

  “Chicken meatloaves?” Rowan didn’t bother to hide her disdain. “Who would want to eat that?”

  “They’re actually delicious and I have a special recipe,” Sally replied crisply. “You should be so lucky as to eat my loaves.”

  Demarcus opened his mouth, something filthy on the tip of his tongue, but Sally scorched him with a dark look so he remained silent.

  “I’m sure everyone would love to eat your loaves,” Rowan offered, earning a smirk from Quinn. “I think the theme meals sound fun. I would think you’d like doing something different from time to time.”

  “You would, huh?” Sally made an exaggerated face. “The thing is, half of our cruises have themes so I’m making something different fifty percent of the time. Do you know how exhausting it is to constantly have to think of something different?”

  “Huh. I never thought of that.” Given Sally’s mood, Rowan thought it was smart to move on to Demarcus. “What about you? Do you have theme drinks to make, too?”

  “Yes, every drink on the menu has pretty much been given a new name,” Demarcus replied, his expression darkening. “We have ‘Stabbed on the Beach’ … and ‘Bled-out Hawaii’ … and my personal favorite, ‘To Kill a Vampire Sunrise.’”

  It took Rowan a moment to realize he was referring to a Tequila Sunrise, and when she did she couldn’t stop laughing. “That’s actually really clever.”

  “It’s really annoying,” Demarcus corrected, his attention drifting to Quinn. “What about you? I’m guessing this cruise will be harder than usual on you.”

  “That’s what I expect,” Quinn said, lazily tracing his fingers over Rowan’s palm. “The big thing is that whoever wins the ultimate movie award at the end of the cruise is going to snag some fifty-thousand-dollar camera. It’s supposed to be great for filming in the dark.”

  “That’s an expensive camera,” Demarcus offered. “I guess we’re not talking about a Polaroid, huh?”

  “I haven’t seen it yet,” Quinn said. “It’s supposed to be delivered this afternoon and promptly put in the glass display case in the ballroom. Then I’m responsible for making sure that no one steals it.”