Chapter Four
Damien
I've been so worried I wouldn't see her again, yet I seem to be bumping into her everywhere.
And I am not complaining.
I’d used our dinner together last night to gather more information about her. I know who she is, what her job is, where she and Ben work, and now I know enough to set my plan in motion.
Because last night, while we were trying to have dinner together, her ex-boyfriend wouldn't leave her alone. She tried to ignore her phone, but I could see that the constant messaging and calling sounds were bothering her. She'd been so annoyed that her blonde friend Amy had finally reached out, grabbed her phone and set it to silent, which only made the phone buzz instead.
And with every buzz, I'd seen her tense up. I hated that he was bothering her, ruining her good time, and keeping her attention elsewhere. I have no doubt that was his plan all along, to make sure that she couldn't enjoy her vacation away from him. Maybe he really does think he can win her back, but I think it's more likely that he thinks he can wear her down over time and force her to give him a second chance - even though she doesn't want to - if he just keeps bothering her.
It's a sick game played by a sick man, and I've seen it play out far too many times. I don't want him to escalate his behavior and for her to be in danger. So I’m going to do everything in my power to keep her safe and hope she doesn't hate me for overstepping boundaries.
I just want to help her. I want to make him stop. I want her to be happy and enjoy her vacation. And she can't do that as long as he continues to harass her.
With just a phone call, I use the information that I've gained to track him down. His name is Jake. He's 32. He works as a crew member at a popular fast-food joint, he lives in the same town as Zoe, and he’s a jerk and stalker who won’t leave her alone.
He's also a criminal.
“What do you want with a guy like this?” Warren, my private investigator, sounds slightly interested.
“I'm trying to stop him before he commits his next crime.”
On the other end of the line, I hear Warren let out a slow breath. “Well, you'd be doing somebody a favor because he doesn't pick on people his own size.”
He pauses for a moment, and I hear a slight intake of breath that tells me he's found something. “Interesting. He actually has a warrant out for his arrest for a previous domestic violence charge.”
“Details?” I ask, clasping my hands behind my back as I stare out over the ocean from my balcony.
“Apparently he assaulted an ex-girlfriend, left her with bruises and broken bones. Guy’s a class act. He dumped her at the front door of an emergency room before taking off. They’re certain he fled the state.” Warren sounds annoyed and I know that he's going to back me on this call.
Jake's been hiding, but he messed with the wrong person, because his time is up. “Let Roger know.”
“Done.” Warren sounds satisfied and I'm not surprised he's already dealt with this little problem. I pay him very, very handsomely for his services and his discretion. He's quick, he's efficient, and he's as ruthless as I am.
Roger is a bounty hunter that Warren knows through a friend of a friend who offers kickbacks for anyone found that can be turned over for a cash reward, though Roger likes taking people in and will for no reward other than the thrill of it. Roger has no idea Warren and I talk, and I don’t doubt Warren gets a kickback for every name he helps Roger turn in.
It's a good system that allows me to stay anonymous and deal with problems that I sometimes run into.
“It's a good thing he didn't run far. Roger probably has him close already.” Warren sounds amused, and I also can't help but wonder, what kind of criminal goes on the run and stops less than fifty miles away from where he started? He must be confident he’d never be caught just because he hopped one border and police jurisdiction. What an idiot.
I hear a chiming sound and Warren speaks. “Well, well, well, what serendipitous timing.”
A moment later, my phone buzzes and I lower it from my ear to take a look at the image. And for the first time, I get a glance at her ex. His eyes are red rimmed and he looks scared... and angry.
Good. The guy looks like he kicks kittens. Anyway, he's where he belongs. I can't help but feel a sense of justice. “Thank you, Warren. I appreciate it.”
“Likewise. Do try to enjoy the rest of your trip.” With that, the line goes dead in my ear, and I can't help but smile. Of course, Warren wants me to enjoy myself. The man knows I never stop working. He's told me more than once that I'm probably going to die behind my desk, and I'm not certain he's wrong.
Of course, he's also tried to tell me that there's more to life than work, but before this trip, I didn't believe him. I think about him and how good he is, and how we've still never been able to solve the crime that happened within the company. With that dark turn, I feel my mood come down several notches, and I try to focus back on the beautiful ocean.
There's always been one crime that taunted me and is actually the reason Warren and my path crossed. It's a crime that only he and I are aware of, and he’s not totally sure a crime was even committed.
But I am.
I know the truth.
But knowing the truth isn't enough to solve a crime. I don't have proof, I don't have evidence, I don't have anything I need to put that chapter of my life to rest. And I don’t know that I ever will. But I promised myself I wouldn't dwell on this now or ever.
As I try to get back on track, I realize I want to see her again.
Zoe.
Everything about her makes me smile. Her love of mimosas. The way she trusted me to lead and keep her on her feet while we danced. The woman who very nearly kissed me last night after dinner was over. I have no doubt she would have kissed me... until she remembered that her friends were still at the table and pulled away.
I'd like to think that she wants to see me again. There's something so electrifying about her presence. I know that I should be taking things slow and not jumping right in, especially since we'll probably never see each other again after this cruise, but something about her makes me want to try to be more than a cruise fling. I want to see if she’d be willing to see me once we disembark.
I just don't think she'll agree that it's a good idea for us to continue seeing one another, no matter how great things seem to be going for us right now.
But there's only one way to find out.
I'm going to have to ask her.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Before asking her, I have to find her. And given that it's bright and early first thing in the morning, I happen to have an idea where she might be. With a smile on my face, I slip my phone into my pocket and head for the door.
With sure steps and a confident stride, I make my way to the bar where we met the first day. The second I step foot over the threshold, I see her sitting at the bar, sipping a mimosa. She's scanning the room as if waiting to see someone, and the second our eyes meet, she lights up. I'm not sure if she even realizes that she does a little happy dance in her seat, and I can't hold back a smile at how adorable she is.
I don't care about my reputation. I don't care who sees me at this bar first thing in the morning. I don't even care if my picture winds up on the front of a tabloid tearing me to shreds... I'm here for her .
She's sitting alone, and I can't help but wonder if she ditched her friends or if they're just not early risers. I love that she looks beautiful and relaxed, wearing a casual dress and sandals as I make my way to her side. She follows my progress, sipping her drink as the corners of her lips curve into a smile.
When I reach her, I can't hold back a devilish grin. “Isn't it a little early to be drinking?” I ask.
She laughs, and I realize I love the sound. She also looks so happy to see me that my heart flip flops in my chest.
I order a drink while lowering into the seat next to her. The bartender nods and gets my drink together as I focus on Zoe.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her smile growing. “Besides getting a drink?”
“I’m here to see you,” I say.
Her cheeks go pink and she glances down at her drink, beaming into the glass. I love how easy it is to make her feel good and I want to do so all the time. “Oh,” she says softly.
I notice that she's fooling with her phone with one hand. I can't help but wonder if the silence is unnerving to her. I'm not about to say a word about her ex, however.
“How are you doing?” I ask, hoping to coax her back into that smile.
She lifts both shoulders and takes a deep drink of her mimosa. “I’m okay,” she nods as she says the words, and I sense she's trying to convince not just me, but also herself.
“Is everything okay? I ask, concerned about her suddenly down mood. Had I made a mistake having him arrested? Is she missing his contact now that he's not reaching out? Was all of this some kind of game? I don't think it is. I imagine she'd be nervous and worried about him before she would be upset about not having his attention anymore.
“Yes, everything is okay,” she says, putting her phone in her purse and smiling at me.
“But?” I ask, knowing she’s holding back.
Her shoulders slump slightly, as if she knows she's caught. “I don't want to sound silly, but Jake hasn't contacted me since last night. At first I thought that he finally got the hint, but now I’m worried that he did something stupid.” Even as she says the word, she shakes her head. “But I don't want to talk about him or think about him. I want to be present in this moment.” She plants both hands on the bar and I smile at her.
“I'm happy to see you again.” Even I can hear the absolute honesty ringing in my words, and I see her eyes widen slightly as joy fills her features.
“I'm happy to see you again too.” She says the words so softly that I almost miss them. In the moment, it feels natural and right to reach out and take her hand in mine. I expect her to pull away, but she doesn't. Instead, she laces her fingers with mine and smiles down at her hands.
“I don't know what we're doing or what this is, but I want to just enjoy it if that's okay with you.” She lifts her gaze to mine, and I agree with a nod.
“I'd like that.” There's so much warmth and gratitude in her expression that I feel welcome in her life and wanted. It’s a strange combination, and more intoxicating than the alcohol I’d just ordered. With my other hand, I pick up the Scotch I'd ordered and down the smooth liquor.
“I feel like I need to clear some things up,” she says, a smile on her face as she speaks. “I know that Cassie said I write romance stories, but that's only part of the truth.”
I love the way that she talks to me as if we'd never stopped talking. And as I listen, I settle in, ready to give her my full attention as she tells me this secret about herself. “I’m listening,” I say, and her smile widens.
“I have been writing stories since I was a kid, but I've always been too afraid to let anyone read them. Cassie came across an old notebook and flipped through and found one of the older stories that I wrote in high school.” There's something so vulnerable in her expression. I want to reach out and pull her into a hug, not only for trusting me with this, but because of the violation she must have felt with someone snooping around in her things.
She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper as she leans in close. “But here's the thing. I never stopped writing. I have about eight full length novels on my computer right now that no one has ever read except for me.”
I love that she doesn't seem to want the other passengers on this cruise to know her secrets either, even though there's no way that we will see any of them ever again after the cruise ends.
“Why don't you publish them?” I want to know why she isn't willing to share her work with the world, because I have no doubt that she is an incredible storyteller. But even as I say the words, I see the fear in her eyes.
“Oh, I couldn't do that,” she says, biting down on her lower lip.
“Why not?” I ask gently, not wanting to push.
“I don’t know,” she says, shrugging. “I guess I’m afraid of being judged or rejected or ridiculed. I guess I’m afraid of failing.” Her voice lowers even more to a barely audible whisper. “And, what if I do and people hate them? What if they think I’m stupid? What if I just get laughed at or I get bad reviews?”
I lower my voice too. “Use a pen name. Who cares what anyone says? Life is too short to regret what you didn't do. Besides, what happens if people absolutely love your work, and you get five-star reviews and a huge following of people desperate for more of your stories?”
I can tell by the way her eyes light up that she'd never even considered that possibility. “You really think that could happen?”
I nod my head. “I'm not going to pretend like I know you better than I do, but I can tell you have a way with words because of how you speak to me and the stories you tell about your life. There’s something so full of life and exciting about how you frame the world, and I’m sure readers would see that too.”
I can see the sheen of tears in her eyes and instantly feel bad. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.”
She laughs and let’s go of my hand to fan at her eyes while looking up at the ornate wooden ceiling. “No, these are happy tears. But if I start crying my nose will run and my face will get red and trust me, it’s not a flattering look.”
She has no idea that I find her beautiful inside now.
“So tell me something about yourself, something no one else knows.” I know she's trying to shift gears in this conversation. But my mind immediately snaps back to the one thing that I know that no one else does.
“I believe that someone at my work was murdered, but the cops are convinced that no crime was committed.” Her expression of shock following my words leaves me wondering if I should have imparted some other secret.
“Okay, well, I love to solve a mystery, so we need to get to the bottom of this. Tell me everything you know.” Her expression is so earnest I can't help but chuckle as I pat her knee.
“I don't think we have enough time for that, even if we spent an entire week discussing the details.” I'm not kidding when I say that I've put everything into trying to expose the truth.
Her gaze darts back and forth between mine. “Okay, Mr. Damien, you have me hooked. We’re going to solve this thing together. First, who died?”
My heart twists and contracts in my chest.
Her eyes narrow slightly as concern floods her features. “You knew the victim, didn’t you?”
That's one way to look at things.
But before she can ask me any further questions, her phone rings and she pull it out of her purse with an apologetic smile in my direction. “Sorry, I'm just going to see who it is.” But as she looks down at her phone, her eyebrows furrow and she seems confused. She answers the phone call, her eyes on me.
“Hello?”
I nod at her, wanting to be polite and let her have privacy if she needs it, and she offers a wobbly smile, slides off her stool and begins to wander toward the door. I can't make out what she's saying, but it's none of my business. I’ll be here if she needs support when she’s done with the call.
A few moments later she wanders back, staring down at her phone as she slides into her seat. When she finally lifts her gaze to me, I see shock in her eyes as she speaks.
“Jake hasn’t called because he’s in jail. He just asked me to come home and bail him out.”