Murky Seas (A Rowan Gray Mystery Book 2) Page 8

  “Well, she’ll have to get used to disappointment.” Quinn was purposely blasé. “I can’t be manipulated and I don’t like it when people try to force me into doing something I don’t want to do.”

  “That’s not really what she was doing,” Penny countered. “She likes you. That’s simply the way she shows it.”

  “She doesn’t like me.”

  “She does.”

  “She doesn’t even know me.”

  “Oh, well, she likes what she sees when she looks at you,” Penny clarified. “She’s honestly not a bad person. She’s just … misunderstood.”

  Penny said the words, but Quinn didn’t believe them for a second. When he looked at the younger woman he saw a person who was used to cleaning up her boss’s mistakes. She was a sad individual who spent her time living someone else’s life. “She’s a pain in the butt,” Quinn corrected. “It doesn’t matter, though. I told her where things stand and she’s going to have to deal with that.”

  “She won’t be happy about it.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “She’ll make trouble for you,” Penny warned, lowering her voice. “She’ll go to your boss and make trouble for you because she thinks she needs to punish people who don’t do everything she wants them to do. She can be brutal when she wants to be.”

  “I’m not worried about that. I have a contract. If my employers have a problem, they’ll contact me. Just for the record, though, I would be willingly fired – heck, I would quit this job – rather than spend time with that woman.”

  Penny’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “I … um … okay.”

  “Just so long as we’re clear.” Quinn forced a tight smile as he stepped around Penny. “Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere alone. You’re her assistant, right? Your biggest job now is to watch her.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Good, because I really don’t know anyone else who wants the job.”

  9

  Nine

  Quinn was in a fairly decent mood by the time he hit the main dining room. Penny’s warning about her boss’s potential machinations didn’t worry him. He’d seen worse overseas. There was nothing a territorial cosmetics company president could do to frighten him. If Daphne DuBois wanted to cause problems she could call the head of the cruise liner company and file a complaint. Quinn refused to live in fear because of one petulant woman.

  He scanned the dining room for Rowan. They’d chatted by text during the afternoon hours and agreed to meet in the dining room for dinner. In truth, Quinn would’ve been happy grabbing a couple plates of food and moving to the deck so they could have some time alone together. He was officially sick of people – especially people wearing the color pink – and he was more than ready for some solitude.

  Quinn picked his way through the busy dining room, offering the occasional watery smile to Cara G Cosmetics representatives when they called out to him. For some reason his name was on everyone’s lips, as if they’d all managed to hold a meeting when no one was looking and agreed to join together to torture him, and all he could do was offer a half-hearted wave as he cut his way through the crowd.

  Demarcus worked behind the main bar counter, and when Quinn hoisted himself up on a stool the busy bartender spared an amused grin. He sensed Quinn’s weariness and discomfort – and part of him was sympathetic to the man’s plight – but the security guru’s unease was too entertaining to ignore.

  “I heard that the Bounding Storm is going to hire out your stud services for the rest of the cruise,” Demarcus drawled, enjoying the way Quinn cringed and hunkered lower on his stool. “I think it’s a fantastic idea. In ten months the world will be inundated with moody little kids threatening to punch everyone’s lights out when they’re angry. It’s bound to be entertaining.”

  “Ha, ha,” Quinn intoned, wrinkling his nose. “Do you have to be so crass?”

  Demarcus took a moment to really study his friend. Jokes aside – which was often a difficult situation where he was concerned – Quinn looked worn down. “I’ll mix you a drink.”

  “I don’t want to get drunk,” Quinn warned. “A beer is fine.”

  “One drink does not a drunk make,” Demarcus countered, pouring a few ingredients into his martini shaker before replacing the lid and giving it several vigorous bounces. He poured the drink into a glass, added a cherry and pink umbrella for color, and shoved the concoction in front of Quinn with little ceremony. “Drink.”

  Quinn scowled. “I don’t drink things with umbrellas.”

  “Drink it or I’ll make you wear it.”

  Quinn rolled his eyes as he moved the umbrella and sipped. To his surprise, he found the drink tasty and settling. It did wonders on his nerves, sending a warm sensation throughout his chest. “What is this?”

  “It’s called a Pouty Security Stud.”

  Quinn narrowed his eyes to dangerous slits. “You ask a simple question and … .”

  “It doesn’t have a name,” Demarcus said, his eyes twinkling. “I just created it when I saw your face. For some reason I was inspired.”

  “Well, it’s good.”

  “I’m totally going to turn it into a thing, though,” Demarcus added. “If you like it – which is high praise indeed – I think other people will like it, too.”

  “Probably. What are you going to call it?”

  “I just told you.”

  Quinn sighed as he rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, I should’ve seen that coming.”

  Demarcus’ grin was cheeky. “I’m going to call it a Salty Seaman and put your photograph on the wall to sell it. I figure I’ll be rich inside of a month.”

  “That could be a worse name.”

  Demarcus opened his mouth, something snarky on the tip of his tongue. He changed course almost immediately when he recognized the exhaustion plaguing his friend. “Were things that bad in Michael’s office? I thought for sure he would take your side. He can’t force you to spend the night in that woman’s room.”

  “You know about that?” Quinn rubbed the back of his neck and made a disgusted sound. “Of course you know about that. The only thing faster than the flowing alcohol on this ship is the gossip train.”

  “If you need help … .”

  Quinn cut off the gregarious bartender with a wave of his hand. “Michael barely made an effort to make me do it. He asked. I said no. It was done.”

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  “I volunteered to tell Daphne DuBois that I would be entertaining myself for the evening – yes, I realize that came out dirtier than I expected, but I’m too tired to come up with something more verbally appealing – and I was looking forward to it,” Quinn explained. “She was holding court in front of her executive team members when I found her on deck.”

  “That executive team thing is weird, isn’t it?” Demarcus questioned. “It’s like a clique inside of a clique.”

  “Yes, it’s like high school all over again,” Quinn intoned. “Anyway, she was making a big show about saying I was going to stay in her room. I pulled her to the side so I wouldn’t embarrass her in front of her friends. Somehow I sensed that would be worse.

  “The second we were away from the audience she changed her tune and said she was joking,” he continued. “She wasn’t sincere in the least. She was, however, trying to manipulate me. I was firm and told her that no one would be staying in her room and I would post a guard outside if she was worried. She kind of pouted and whined but accepted it and stormed off.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Demarcus said. “What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that I was barely away from her when her assistant approached me and warned that Daphne would make it her life’s mission to destroy me for embarrassing her.”

  Demarcus stilled, a mixture of surprise and confusion washing over him. “That’s Penny Parker, right? Tiny brunette with big eyes, mesmerizing breasts, and always looks as if she’s about to cry?”

  Quinn no
dded. “That would be her. She wasn’t shy and reserved at all when she approached me.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “That’s a very good question.” Quinn ran his hand over his hair and rolled his neck from side to side. “I cannot figure out why that conversation bothered me so much – other than the obvious, of course – and yet I feel as if something is there.”

  “Let me ask you this: Do you think someone tried to kill Daphne DuBois last night?”

  “That’s also bugging the crap out of me,” Quinn admitted. “Rowan and I were on the deck, only about three hundred feet away or so. Granted, we weren’t on the same part of the deck, but we weren’t overly far away either. I think there’s a good chance Daphne was close enough that she could’ve seen us.”

  “And what were you doing?”

  “Oh, well … .” Quinn’s cheeks colored. “We were … um … talking.”

  “Uh-huh.” Demarcus didn’t bother hiding his smile. “Discussing the weather, were you?”

  “If you must know, we were talking about the fact that it’s harder when someone goes missing – like Rowan’s father did when she was a teenager – than when they die,” Quinn corrected.

  Demarcus had the grace to look abashed. “Oh, well … .”

  Quinn took pity on the man due to his obvious discomfort. “And then I made a move to kiss her and was right there when Daphne started screaming.”

  Demarcus visibly relaxed. “Do you think she saw you and screamed to interrupt the moment?”

  “I don’t know.” Quinn had a hard time wrapping his head around that scenario. “That woman doesn’t know me at all, so why go to extremes?”

  “That won’t stop a determined person when she sees something she wants,” Demarcus offered. “Daphne DuBois is an entitled person. She feels the world owes her something. That’s obvious every single time you talk to her.

  “I can see her watching you and trying to throw a wrench in your plans when she realized what you and Rowan were doing,” he continued. “You said yourself that you didn’t see anyone on the deck.”

  “No.” The part of the story Quinn kept to himself was the bit revolving around the death omens. He would never betray Rowan’s trust and reveal her big secret, but he couldn’t help but dwell on the symbols. Daphne boasted the omen first and then it switched to Penny. Why? “That doesn’t mean someone didn’t run before we got to Daphne. We didn’t see her until she made a noise either.”

  “You don’t feel that’s the case, though, do you?”

  “I don’t know what to believe,” Quinn admitted. “It’s a difficult situation … very difficult. I feel as if something is off, that there’s something out there I’m not seeing, but I have no idea what.”

  “You could put a security guy on Daphne regardless of what she wants,” Demarcus pointed out. “She’s not in control of where security goes.”

  “Yeah, I already handled that.” Quinn finished off his drink and shook himself out of his reverie when he saw Rowan walk into the dining room. She was dressed in a simple floral skirt and tank top, her hair pulled back in a loose braid. She looked comfortable … and breathtaking. “Here’s my date.”

  “She looks cute.” Demarcus winked. “I wonder who she dressed up for.”

  “She always looks cute, whether she dressed up or not.” Quinn got to his feet, momentarily sobering. “Have you been keeping your ear to the ground where Daphne is concerned?”

  Demarcus nodded. “She’s not well liked. Everyone talks about her behind her back. A lot of people hate her. She is respected despite all of that, though. People want to be her even as they’re hating on her.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Quinn flashed a lazy grin as Rowan approached. “You look nice.”

  “Oh, well, it’s just a simple skirt.” Rowan fidgeted as she smoothed the cotton material. “I’m sorry I’m late. I took longer in the shower than I meant to do. It was a long day with that conference and I lost track of time.”

  “It’s okay. Demarcus kept me company.”

  “And invented a new drink,” Demarcus added, his lips curving. “You guys have a nice dinner. Oh, and if I hear any gossip, Quinn, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Thanks.” Quinn pressed his hand to the small of Rowan’s back as he guided her to a table at the edge of the room. He wanted more privacy than the dining room afforded, but he’d resigned himself to a public meal … and then hopefully a private walk. He brushed a kiss against Rowan’s cheek before taking a seat across from her. “How was your day?”

  Rowan’s smile was enigmatic. “Well, it started off great … .”

  “We can agree there.”

  “Then it turned bad when I had to spend three hours with the Cara G Cosmetics girls during what had to be the most boring demonstration ever.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re an expert on mascara now.”

  “It wasn’t even about pitching the products,” Rowan explained. “It was about pitching themselves as a commodity rather than individuals.”

  Quinn pursed his lips as he leaned back in his chair. “Meaning?”

  “I don’t know how to explain it,” Rowan admitted. “It felt like one of those investment seminars where salesmen try to scam people into buying timeshare condos or real estate secrets.”

  “Hmm.” Quinn rubbed his chin. “I’ll admit that I don’t know much about makeup. Do you think that’s normal?”

  “I don’t know a lot about makeup either, other than you buy it at the pharmacy,” Rowan replied. “This felt off to me. I honestly didn’t get much of a chance to absorb it because Daphne sat me down for a talk after the fact so I was more focused on that than the demonstration.”

  Quinn’s spine stiffened. “What did she say to you?”

  “Oh, well … .” Rowan averted her gaze, embarrassed. “It’s really not important.”

  “It’s important to me,” Quinn prodded. “I had an interesting afternoon where she’s concerned, too.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I want to hear what she did to you first.”

  “She didn’t really do anything to me.” Rowan had a hard time keeping the frustration from creeping into her voice. “She just wanted to ask if the ship was always so dangerous. I swear she made it sound as if she was going to sue the cruise line company.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past her,” Quinn said. “Penny Parker warned me that Daphne might try to cause me harm – professional not physical, mind you – because I embarrassed her this afternoon.”

  “How did you embarrass her?”

  “We’re not done talking about you yet,” Quinn chided, wagging a finger. “What did she say to you?”

  Rowan swallowed hard, resigned. “She asked me if we were together. She … um … made me feel uncomfortable because she was talking about you as if you were something to own instead of someone to spend time with.

  “What’s really weird is that she didn’t come right out and say that she was going after you,” she continued. “She kind of made noise about you spending the night in her room. She said she was going to have a talk with the captain and make sure that you were with her tonight.”

  Rowan averted her gaze, mortified. “I didn’t say anything. I kind of sat there like an idiot because I didn’t know what to say.”

  “It’s okay.” Quinn reached across the table and gripped her hand, softly rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “You haven’t been on this ship very long and you’re generally not rude. You probably didn’t know what you were allowed to say.”

  “That’s part of it,” Rowan conceded. “The other part is that I’m not in high school. I have no inclination to pull another girl’s hair … or call her names … or start rumors about her because we like the same boy.”

  “Even if that boy is me?” Quinn’s eyes flickered with amusement.

  “Even if.” Rowan rubbed the side of her head, as if warding off a headache that was barreling down on her. “We’r
e adults so this dating thing should be easier than it was when we were teenagers. Daphne DuBois is still living in a world where teenagers reign supreme. It’s … baffling.”

  “That’s an interesting way of looking at it,” Quinn said, tightening his grip on her hand. “In fact … .” He didn’t get a chance to finish because Daphne picked that moment to appear at the edge of the table, Penny Parker acting as her shadow as the younger woman worriedly let her gaze bounce between faces.

  “Oh, well, I should’ve known,” Daphne said, her voice low. “Is this the reason you can’t do your job and protect me, Mr. Davenport?”

  Quinn refused to stoop to Daphne’s level and make a scene. “Ms. DuBois, I’m off duty right now and on a date. If you have security questions or concerns, you can call the on-duty shift commander and talk things over with him. His name is Fredrick Hamblin.”

  Daphne ignored the admonishment and focused on Rowan. “So you lied to me this afternoon.”

  Rowan balked. “Lied? How did I lie?”

  “Ignore her,” Quinn ordered. “She’s been drinking and she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

  “I know exactly what I’m talking about,” Daphne spat, her annoyance evident. “Ms. Gray and I had a very long discussion this afternoon. I gave her the opportunity to stake her claim on you. She didn’t. She said you weren’t her boyfriend. Now look at you. Someone clearly changed their mind … or lied to me from the start. I’m guessing this is the reason I was treated so rudely an hour ago.”

  Rowan opened her mouth to protest, but she snapped it shut when she saw the odd look on Quinn’s face. “What?”

  “You said I wasn’t your boyfriend?”

  Rowan’s stomach rolled. “I … we’re too old to be having this conversation in public,” she growled, mortified when she realized a few heads were turning in her direction. “This is a place of business.”

  “Oh, whatever.” Daphne made a dismissive clucking sound in the back of her throat. “I’m still open for offers, Quinn. This one is clearly playing games and you should realize that before she really hurts you.”

  Quinn’s expression was unreadable as he pulled back his hand and heaved out a sigh. “This night isn’t going at all how I expected it to go.”