Chapter Nine
Nine
Chloe did wake easily, at the least sound.
Wes had his hand on the doorknob, hesitating, wincing at the sound he had created that had awakened her.
“What is going on?” she demanded.
“I’m not sure. I heard someone out in the hallway and I’m pretty sure that they paused at our door before moving on. Tonight . . .
well, something about the exchange I heard bothered me. Something is going to happen on this ship and I just want to take
a little walk out on deck and see . . .”
“See if you can find whoever was in the hallway? Wes, there’s no way in hell you can walk this entire ship!”
“I’m just going to take a quick walk, see . . .”
“Wes—”
“I’m all right—there’s security at night. Just a quick stroll, I promise!”
He was gone, giving her no more chance to argue. But he didn’t lie; he was back quickly.
She was waiting for him, standing in the center of the parlor area, arms crossed over her chest and a serious frown on her
face.
“Well?” she demanded.
He shook his head. “Well, I said hello to one of the security guards.”
“So, nothing?”
He had a curious look on his face and Chloe pressed the point. “Wes, what? You look as if something is bothering you!”
“I’m not sure—”
“I don’t care if you’re sure or not, what is bothering you?”
“Wow. You’re beautiful when you’re mad,” he told her, glancing away for a moment.
“Wes! You’re trying to get out of just talking to me!”
“No, it’s true, but you know that you’re an attractive woman. I mean, you must, and . . . All right, all right. I headed out
on our deck, and I was talking with one of the security officers who works for the cruise lines. I just told him I was restless,
couldn’t sleep. And he laughed and said that I’d be surprised, that’s one of the reasons their night crew was as big as their
day crews—lots of people loved to come out in the middle of the night and just look at the stars. Anyway, I thought . . .
I thought I heard a splash in the water, but he didn’t seem to hear anything. I thought the sound came from the adult pool,
but I hurried to it and . . . nothing. So, I guess, I’m letting frustration take control a bit. And . . .”
“Hey!” Chloe told him. “I know!”
She wasn’t sure what compelled her, but she walked over to him, placing a hand gently on his arm.
“Trust me, I know. I feel like . . . I don’t know.
Frustrated, too. We’re on a wild- goose chase on the one hand—and possibly in the middle of a mass murder or the like. I understand. Seriously, I understand!”
She shouldn’t have touched him. She shouldn’t have felt his warmth. She’d thought too many times that if they were really
married, they’d have forgotten the frustrations of the day, come back to the room, shed whatever they were wearing and . . .
She stepped back quickly. He thought that she was beautiful? That was nice, so nice, especially when she thought that . . .
She’d like to screw the mission, professionalism, and everything else and feel the warmth of his naked skin, when they were
curled together, when she could touch that flesh with her lips, feel his touch in return . . .
“Back to bed! I’m going back to the room. But! You do not even think about taking off without talking to me first!”
He laughed and nodded. “You’ve been hanging around Celia too long! Turning into a bossy shrew!”
“Wes!”
“I’m teasing, I’m teasing! We do need to get some sleep. I promise. I will be professional in every way.”
And she would be, too.
She gave him a nod and quickly escaped. It was time to get some sleep.
But at first, she couldn’t sleep at all. She stared at the ceiling. When she finally began to drift, her half sleep was tormented
by dreams. Wrong, wrong, wrong. They were working a case. They were both so professional! But nothing could change the fact
that they weren’t any kind of AI—they were people.
And people . . .
She smiled slightly to herself, trying to turn off her thoughts. Her imagination.
Somewhere in it all, she finally fell into a deep sleep. And for the first time since they boarded the ship, she woke up because
she kept a morning alarm on her phone—just in case she should oversleep.
And it was morning. Time to get serious, clear out her mind, concentrate on what they were doing and what they needed to do.
And this morning . . .
A cooking class. Well, Chloe determined, a cooking class certainly couldn’t hurt her. She could boil water just fine, create
a few things she was fine eating, but she’d never been known as an “Iron Chef.”
As always, Wes was dressed and ready when she emerged from the bedroom. She showered quickly, dressed for their day at sea
in a bathing suit—the old one she wasn’t so fond of!—beneath a halter dress.
“Prepared for anything, my love?” he asked her teasingly.
“Breakfast, and the cooking class. And so far, neither of us has taken one of Amelia Swenson’s classes, so . . .”
“Should I cook, too?” he asked her.
“Hm.” She shrugged. “I don’t see why not. But while we’re at breakfast, we can also see what everyone else is doing!”
He laughed. “I can go to the casino!” he told her. “Play with your winnings. Oh, wait, I was sitting with you when the bonus
came in. And we’re such a delightful and perfect married couple—half of it must be mine!”
She grimaced. “Um, seriously, we’re undercover, and we made money, and . . . Okay, I have never had anything like that happen
to me before, working as myself as an agent or undercover!”
He laughed. “I’m sure we could hang around with our new friends and pay some of it back. Still, I was joking. The casino stuff seems to happen at night. I’m hoping desperately that we get something solid soon and, after last night, I’m thinking that we might have been looking at the wrong duos.”
“Meaning?”
“Okay, Celia and Jeff are a couple—she holds the reins. Daniel and Broderick are brothers but Broderick is the older one and
it seems that he calls the shots. Amelia . . . hm. Have no idea yet on Amelia, other than that she wanted something from Edward
that he claims he can’t answer for her. Edward—seems like the nicest guy in the world and while George is watching him, I
believe that whether he’s innocent of not, he won’t be able to kill anyone.”
“George is still a human being. One human being,” Chloe reminded him.
“And that is true. And here’s something that is true, too. Despite all the best work possible in our tech and forensic teams,
we could be on a cruise that’s just a cruise,” he said. “But—”
“You don’t believe that and neither do I,” Chloe said.
“No, I don’t. But our situation makes it difficult to have all the information we should have at hand, though our burner phones
lead to burner phones and we can ask questions if we need to. But if anyone had more answers for us, they’d be calling us,”
Wes said. “Anyway! Hey, my love, it’s breakfast time. I’m hungry.”
“Right, okay, so . . .”
He grinned as he headed to the cabin door. “Maybe we should have a little spat. I think we’re too perfect as a married couple.”
“That’s because we’re not really a married couple,” Chloe reminded him.
“That’s my point!” he said. He grinned and shrugged at her. “Although, honestly, you don’t make a bad wife!”
Chloe groaned, but he’d made her laugh. He could do that, even under the tension of their current situation. And, of course,
she was human.
Wes was not an unattractive guy and there had been moments when he’d been holding her, touching her that . . .
There have been moments when I almost believe that it’s real, when I’ve wished that it’s real . . .
“Breakfast!” she announced, nor wanting to linger in the room with her thoughts. She tried to remind herself that they’d just
met.
But, of course, that was a wee bit different when you were thrown together as closely as they were and when . . .
When it surprisingly seemed to go so well, at least between the two of them. The case, their mission, was frustrating.
But they could share their thoughts and frustrations.
“Where shall we wander this morning?” he asked her.
“The open deck—that’s where our usual crowd seems to gather!” she told him.
“Open deck buffet it is!”
They headed out of their room and toward the inside/outside open deck buffet breakfast where, as Wes had noted, it seemed
their growing group of friends appeared to be congregating.
Their six murder suspects.
With a few additions. Sally, always eager to find Edward, and, of course, George Garcia, ever vigilant for another attack
on Edward.
“Think Edward might be in danger from a sweet silver-haired lady?” Chloe asked Wes.
He looked at her, grinning.
“We’ve both learned that any number of threats might come from the least dangerous-looking people in the world,” he reminded her.
“A member of the Sherlockians, or whatever!” Chloe murmured.
It seemed that Edward, who appeared to be the head of their strange new group, had held seats for them. He waved, indicating
chairs at the table, as they stood in the buffet line.
“Well, at least getting close is easy!” Wes murmured.
“Too true!” Chloe whispered back. “And, wow, nice-looking veggie omelets with cheese! Eating on this mission is not a problem.”
“Waffles! Too much sugar, but I’m going for them anyway!” Wes told her. “Another day at sea. And, of course, I’ll need the
energy to sit in a session or hang around on a lounge chair.” He hesitated, always talking close as if they were sharing intimate
thoughts. “But, of course, you never know. Still, tomorrow, diving on a private island . . . that just seems a likelier possibility
of something going wrong.”
“But you never know,” Chloe said.
“You never know,” he agreed.
In a few minutes, they had their food and joined the others at the table. They were the last to arrive that day; Sally was
again seated at Edward’s side while George Garcia was to his left. Jeff and Celia were across the table flanked by Amelia
Swenson on the one side and Daniel and Broderick on the other.