Dark Moon (6 page)

“Super.”

He looked at Emma. “You’re his current girlfriend. Like Del Conte, he hasn’t formed any attachments that last more than a few years.”

“He’ll check my background,” Cole muttered.

“Granada and Henderson have taken care of that. You’ve got a history he can look up on the Web. Starting with your getting kicked out of half a dozen private colleges.”

Cole winced.

“Use the rest of the time to read about yourself.” He turned to Emma. “You too. Briefly, you’re Emma Ray. Until a couple of months ago, you were a waitress in a cocktail bar in Denver. Cole came in and swept you off your feet. Or, at least, he offered you a lifestyle you couldn’t afford on your own. Like many women down through the ages, you saw the advantages of being the mistress of a wealthy man.”

“And what’s supposed to happen to me when he gets tired of the mistress?” Emma snapped.

“Maybe you can make it turn out like that movie—Pretty Woman.”

She snorted.

Cole kept his gaze focused on the briefing book, but he saw Emma clutch the edge of the folder. She hadn’t been assigned a very appealing role, but then neither had he.

They both concentrated on their own background material for the rest of the trip to Florida, except when Frank took Cole into the back of the plane for a short private conference.

“You know I’m hoping your special talents will bring Karen home,” he said.

“I figured. If I can pick up her scent, I can find her. But getting her out of there isn’t going to be so easy.”

“I hate that old cliché—I’m counting on you. But it’s true.”

“You’re not expecting me to turn into a wolf in the middle of one of Del Conte’s playrooms, are you?”

“Probably not. But maybe the wolf will come in handy.”

Cole nodded. He had a relationship with Frank that went deep. The Decorah chief had saved his life, then practically adopted him. Before Cole met Frank, he’d been content with his high school education. Frank had paid for college and graduate school, and Cole had discovered he liked using his brains as well as his brawn.

 He’d learned a hell of a lot from Frank, and not just about the security business, although the man’s insights were the cornerstone of his own expertise. And he was always going to be grateful—for all of it.

As they came back, Emma gave them a long look. When neither one of them enlightened her about the private conversation, she went back to her briefing book, but he knew she was bristling at being excluded.

As far as he was concerned, the flight was over much too quickly.

They landed at a small airfield outside Fort Lauderdale, where a rental car was waiting. A supercharged Infinity sports model, as per Cole’s supposed rich guy—car freak—status.

Before they left for the marina where Del Conte’s hovercraft would pick them up, Decorah had a few more things to say.

“There’s a transmitter in Emma’s purse. In her lipstick. You won’t be able to send a message because that would give you away. But when you’re ready to leave, twist the bottom of the tube and it will send a signal to the boat we’ll have waiting to pick you and Karen Hopewell up.”

“What if they don’t get there in time?”

“You might have to swim away from the ship.”

“Oh great,” Emma muttered.

“You can swim, can’t you?” Frank Decorah snapped, and it was obvious that he was feeling the strain of the assignment.

“You know I’m a strong swimmer, but what if one of us is injured?”

“The other two will have to help get him or her to the boat.”

“You’re sure Karen Hopewell is comfortable in the water?” Cole asked.

“Her father says she can swim.”

They left the airport alone in the rental car, heading for the
Windward
private dock.

As he drove, Cole glanced over at Emma. “Did you like Karen?”

“Not a lot. I thought she was spoiled, but I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.” She paused, then went on, “Maybe she’s grown up since I knew her.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. ‘We should discuss our relationship,” he said in a tight voice.

When she jumped, he realized she thought he was talking about the fallout from the kiss in the utility closet. Which both of them wished had never happened.

“I mean—the relationship of the characters we’re playing. Cole Mason and Emma Ray.”

“Oh, right.”

He clenched his hands on the wheel, wishing they could skip this discussion but knowing he had to make things clear. “If the ship is set up for people who want to indulge their fantasies, that could be dangerous for you. I mean, you’re very attractive, and some other guy might want to . . .” He stopped and started again. “We’d better make it that I’m very possessive of you. That way, if Del Conte or anybody else wants to . . .” He stopped again and cleared his throat, “use you for anything . . . weird, I have a reason to object.”

oOo

Emma had been staring straight ahead. When she flicked her gaze to Cole, she was shocked by the expression on his face—something between determined and grossed out. Until then, she hadn’t realized how much he hated this assignment. But it was more than that. She also saw worry etched on his features, and it wasn’t for himself. He cared about her welfare, and that astonished her. She’d always thought of him as hard-bitten and self-contained. Apparently that was what he’d
wanted
her to see.

She had the sudden conviction that he’d been attracted to her all along—but he’d been fighting it. Why? Because he didn’t think an office romance was appropriate?

She longed to lay her hand over his and tell him everything was going to work out all right, but she couldn’t get the words past her suddenly tight throat.

Decorah was putting them into a very dangerous situation.

Cole could have bailed out. Or she could. But here they were together. Because they were both committed to rescuing a girl who’d gotten caught in the middle of something bad—through no fault of her own. It didn’t matter that she had known Karen, and Cole hadn’t. They’d both do their best to rescue her.

But what had Decorah said to Cole that he wanted to keep between the two of them? She’d like to ask, but she was afraid she wasn’t going to get an answer. And if she did ask, it was only going to increase the tension between them.

Cole broke into her thoughts.

“Another thing—we have assume that there are surveillance cameras all over the ship. Maybe even in our bedroom. Or at the very least that the room will be bugged.”

She dragged in a sharp breath. “Cameras in our bedroom? Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”

He answered with a mirthless laugh. “Of course it is, but you’ve got to wrap your mind around Del Conte’s thinking. If some of his guests will pay to see what other guests are doing in private, why not take advantage of that? I mean, suppose you met someone in the bar and you wondered what he liked to do that he didn’t want to talk about. You could watch him.”

“If that’s the way your mind works.”

“Remember, this is a place where all the rules of civilized society are out the window. Which is a good reason to have the security staff keeping tabs on everyone.”

“Lord, I didn’t think about all of that.” She turned toward him. “If we’re being watched, how do we communicate with each other?”

“Do you know Morse code?”

“No.”

“Too bad.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It can come in handy. Like to tap dots and dashes on a partner’s hand.”

She grimaced. Too bad nobody had ever suggested she might need that communications method one day.”

Cole’s voice turned reassuring. “It’s okay. We’ll have to decide how to talk in private after we get there.”

She wished they could settle the problem now, but she knew that he was right. It was going to depend on the situation.

Her throat was suddenly dry, but she managed to ask. “And how much are we going to have to participate in the fun and games?”

“Do I know?”

“I guess not.”

He waited a beat before saying, “Obviously, I’m the dominant member in our relationship.”

“Huh?”

“I’m talking about the way we treat each other in our roles. I’m the one with the money and power. That means you do what you think will please me.”

“Now wait a minute.”

“I’m still talking about our cover story. How we treat each other on the ship in public—and in private.”

She gave him a hard look. “And suppose
you’ve
come here with me because you like to play the submissive sometimes. And this is a place you feel comfortable letting your hair down, where you buddies won’t cotton to your secret desires.”

His response was adamant. “Out of the question. I am not going to put myself in that position.”

“You’re young and fit. Being submissive might make you seem less threatening to Del Conte.”

He considered that. “You could be right, but I’m sure I wouldn’t be a very convincing bottom.”

“What the hell is a bottom?”

“A submissive.”

“You’ve studied this stuff.”

“I’ve studied a lot of stuff.”

“And you think I’ll be a convincing—bottom?”

“Let’s hope so.”

She gave him a long look. “Do you have some reason to think I can play that role?”

“Because of your father?”

“What?” She heard the shock ring in her voice. “What about my father?” she managed to add. “You don’t think he and I ever . . .”

“No. It wouldn’t have fit into his moral code. But he’s a very dominating man.”

“How the hell do you know anything about him?”

He signed. “I wouldn’t work with someone if I didn’t have a handle on their background.”

“Pull over,” she ordered.

“What?”

“I said pull over.”

He eased to the shoulder of the road, set the emergency brake, and turned to her. “What—are you backing out.”

“No,” she said between gritted teeth. “But I want you to know that I don’t appreciate your digging into my private life.”

“Noted.”

“Too bad I didn’t check you out, too. What is it that you’re hiding about yourself?”

“Nothing!”

“That’s a lie.” She dragged in a breath and let it out before asking. “And what did Frank Decorah say to you that he didn’t want me to hear.”

He waited a beat before answering. “That he was counting on my expertise to get Karen out.”

“What expertise do you have that I don’t?”

He kept his gaze steady. “An over-developed sense of smell.”

“Jesus. If I even believe that—how is it going to help.”

“I picked up her scent in her apartment. And in Temptation. I’ll know if she’s on the boat. And where to find her.”

She glared at him, wondering if he was spinning her a line.

When he covered her hand with his, she jumped.

“This is a bad time to get into an argument,” he said in a low voice.

She nodded.

His hand tightened on hers. “We’re both tense. Under a lot of pressure. Feeling like we don’t have enough preparation. At least, that’s true for me.”

“Agreed.”

“We need to settle down. Be comfortable with each other. Our lives could depend on it.”

“I know.”

He swallowed hard. “You’re right. There’s stuff in my background that I don’t talk about. I’m from a very dysfunctional family. And when we get back to Maryland, I’ll tell you about it.”

“You will?” she asked, genuinely shocked.

“Yeah.”

“Why not now?”

“Because it would be a distraction, and we have to focus on rescuing Karen Hopewell.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“So are we as ready as we’re going to be.”

“Yes.”

He released the brake, and started off again.

When she stole a glance at his face, it was set in a grim line. What the hell was his background, anyway? Too bad she hadn’t done the kind of prying that he’d indulged in. Or was it something so well hidden that she wouldn’t have found it anyway.

Leaning back she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, struggling for calm—and for the character she was playing.

Still, when she felt the car slow, her stomach tightened.

Opening her eyes, she saw a sign that said “
Windward
Dock. Authorized persons only.”

As Cole pulled into a parking space, his cell phone rang. He glanced at Emma, then clicked it on.

“Glad I caught you,” Frank Decorah said, speaking loud enough for both of them to hear. “There’s been a development. A lock of Karen’s hair was just delivered to her father, along with some of her pubic hair.”

Emma dragged in a breath. “With a note?” I assume.

“No. Only the hair.”