Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Well, today definitely wasn’t going as Nic had planned.
Eat beignets, paint a pretty girl, maybe grab some lunch, kiss her again. And now …
He studied Imogen’s face. “You want to go on a boat ride? Or let your sister deal with the consequences of her own actions?”
“What is even happening right now?” She seemed a bit overwhelmed, but she wasn’t freaking out, so that was a plus.
“Your sister got herself into a bit of a pickle.”
“As per usual,” Imogen sighed.
“I kinda figured. What do you want to do?” His phone vibrated in his hand, and he looked down to see coordinates. “We can go. Or not.”
“We?”
“You want to do this alone?”
She shook her head. “No. I guess not. I do know boat captains down on the island. But that’s hours away.”
Nic knew he had a choice to make. Either send her on her way to deal with her crazy sister’s stunt by herself or have an adventure with a pretty girl. He wasn’t a fucking idiot. He just hoped Leo was planning on being back by next week.
“Let’s see what he sent me.” He tapped the screen, and the map popped up. “Belle Chasse Ferry Landing. It’s a thirty-minute drive. We don’t have a lot of time to decide.”
“Let’s go. I’ll call a rideshare.”
“What about your folks?”
“I’ll deal with them later.”
“All right. Let me grab a few things. Be ready in five.”
Nic jogged out of the studio, down the hall, and into his room.
He knew Leo, which meant anything could happen.
He texted his neighbor to ask her to watch the house and then tossed some stuff into a leather duffel.
For all he knew, they could end up in fucking Cuba.
Leo was unpredictable, and although you had to know him, he’d sounded pissed on the phone.
It was that annoyed, contained French restraint that had hidden it so well.
Well, at least Imogen wasn’t bailing her sister out of jail. And bonus: he got to spend more time with her.
After he packed clothes and toiletries as best as he could for both of them, he zipped his leather duffel and met her in the hallway.
“I closed and locked all the French doors.”
“Perfect. I’ll close up the rest of the house. How long until the ride shows?”
“Five minutes.”
“Plenty of time.”
As their car pulled up along the curb, Nic greeted the driver and then opened the door for her.
As she slid in the back, Imogen couldn’t believe this was happening. One minute, she had been kissing this gorgeous man, thinking how good it sounded to let him paint her naked, and now they were on their way to rescue her sister from a crisis of her own making.
It wasn’t the first time, but Imogen kinda hoped it’d be the last. Although, as Nic threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed, she was having a hard time drumming up much annoyance with Jury. As long as he was with her, she was having fun.
“Don’t worry. She’s in no danger.”
“I know. It’s just another Jury mess.”
“I take it this happens regularly?”
“She’s been a wild child since she was born. I swear, she’ll never grow up.”
Nic laughed. “I guess that makes life interesting.”
“No joke. This one time, she got arrested in Madagascar. Something to do with lemurs. I don’t know. Our dad had to fly there. He was not pleased.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. So … I guess this is mild by comparison. Plus, I’m with you.”
He squeezed her hand again.
“And you already said you were the adventurous type. Ever been on a World War II landing ship before? Because Leo’s is sweet.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“Yeah, retrofitted and posh. It’s his office and home. Trust me, it’s cool.”
“Seriously?”
“Not what you were expecting?”
“I didn’t know what to expect.”
“It’s set up for long-distance cruising. Like the equivalent of an explorer superyacht, but more old tech.”
“So … this could take a minute.”
Nic nodded and glanced down at his bag. “Hence my bringing supplies.”
“Oh, Jury …” she said as she leaned back against the seat.
Thirty minutes later, they arrived at the ferry dock, and Nic thanked the driver. To Imogen, it felt like the scavenger hunt was continuing, except this time she was trying to find her sister.
“How long do you think?” she asked.
He shrugged and grabbed her hand before they headed for the awning-covered passenger waiting area.
“I have no idea. It depends on his speed. But trust me, we won’t be able to miss it.”
Imogen looked around at the dock workers. “Will they even let him dock?”
“Don’t worry about that. Leo’s his own dude. If he gave us these coordinates, then he’s not worried about it. I let him know we’re here.”
Imogen stared out at the muddy Mississippi and wondered how this day would end. Thank God she didn’t really get kidnapped. Imogen let out a long breath. Life with Jury is never boring at least.
“You might want to tell your boss you won’t be back on Monday. Just in case.”
She glanced at Nic. “You think?”
He nodded.
“Okay, I’ll send an email.”
Twenty minutes later, Imogen was stunned. That is what Jury broke into? Goodness. Gracious.
What looked like a navy warship was approaching the ferry dock. The workers were running to the edge of the concrete ferry terminal. Instead of looking angry, they appeared to be ready to help the ship dock.
“That’s us. Let’s go.”
Nic hadn’t let go of her hand. He tugged her to her feet, and they made their way past the line of cars to the concrete dock at the edge of the river.
Two men were visible on the top of the ship as it coasted toward them. They had massive lines in hand, and at an opportune moment, they tossed them to the workers.
As soon as the gap narrowed between the ship and the terminal, Nic squeezed her hand. “Let’s go. We gotta jump down.”
Imogen looked and nodded. Together, they leaped.
Her feet hit the metal deck, and he reached out to stabilize her.
The ferry workers tossed the lines back, and the ship pulled away from the dock at speed. It was like a marine symphony of movement.
“Whoa,” Imogen said. “I wondered how they’d pull that off.”
One of the men came toward them.
“Monsieur Marchand will see you in his office.”
Imogen barely had a moment to look around before Nic was leading them across the deck and through a metal door behind the man.
While the exterior was purely functional and militaristic, the interior was unexpectedly luxurious. Posh was right. The walls were done in tufted brown leather with nailhead detailing that coordinated with dark wood trim and brass fixtures.
The man led them through a well-appointed hallway with plush carpet and paused to knock at a door.
“Enter.”
He opened it and gestured for them to go ahead.
“Jury!” Imogen bolted inside when she saw her sister sitting on what looked like an antique leather chair. “Oh my God. Are you okay?”
She hugged her, breathing a sigh of relief as Jury hugged her back.
Imogen pulled away and scanned her sister. “Are you all right?”
“Fine. Just a bruised ego.”
“She may have some skill at skulking around, but she’s a terrible thief.”
“For the millionth time, I wasn’t trying to steal anything,” her sister shot back toward the voice coming from across the room.
Imogen glanced over her shoulder, taking in the man she’d missed when she ran toward her sister.
It was the guy from the night before her date with Nic.
Except this time, he was seated behind what appeared to be an antique desk, in this stunning library of a cabin, full of antiques and priceless art.
Is that a Degas ballerina? On a boat?
“Mr. Marchand, I apologize on behalf of my sister.”
“She is not a child. She can apologize for herself. Which she has not.”
“Jury,” Imogen said as she whipped her head around to shoot daggers at her sister, “apologize.”
“Why? I just wanted answers.”
“Breaking and entering isn’t the way to get them.”
“Well, it almost was.”
“Not by a long shot,” the Frenchman said.
Imogen stood with a sigh. “What do you want?”
“To be left alone. To live in peace. For a beautiful woman to grace my bed and not cause me problems. And duck à l’orange. That would be lovely.”
Nic burst out laughing. “Ah, Leo. Good to see you, brother.”
Leo looked at him. “And clearly, you got the sane sister. He did warn me.”
“He? As in Mount?” Imogen asked. “He told you about us?”
“They both did. Your sister as well.”
“Are they really dead?” Imogen couldn’t keep the question inside.
Leo held up both hands. “I was simply tasked with handing out keys. That’s it. That’s all. You got your key. That is where my responsibility ends. Understand?”
“But you know something. I know you do,” Jury pleaded from behind Imogen.
“What I know is, you are trouble, and now I take you out to sea, and we come to an understanding. Yes?”
“Or what? Make me walk the plank?” Jury shot back.
“Well, this is going great,” Nic said.
“Eight hours. Give me eight hours of patience—until we reach international waters—and then we will discuss further.”
Jury’s face paled. She looked at Imogen. “You’re not going to let him murder me and get away with it, are you?”
“No one is murdering anyone.” She looked at the Frenchman. “Right?”
“Surely not. I don’t have the stomach for that.”
“Then why—”
“Jury. Eight hours. Zip it,” Imogen said, knowing that it would be akin to the ultimate test of patience for her sister. Restraint was not part of her nature.
“Thank you,” Leo said. “In the meantime, I’ll have Edwin show you and Nic to a cabin. Make yourself comfortable there or on deck. I am keeping tabs on your sister because I still don’t trust her, especially not unattended on my ship.”
“I’m done snooping,” Jury said.
“Right. Like I believe you. Not as far as I can see you.” He glanced at the tattooed man still standing near the door. “Nic, if you are hungry, Havit is aboard for all the delights you can imagine.”
Nic laid a hand over his stomach. “Just had some beignets, but then again … everything Havit makes is amazing, so I’ll find room.”
Imogen looked at Jury. “I’ll stay with you.”
“Ah, sisterly love. You know, Keira was quite a lady. I never would’ve expected Mount to fall ass over horseshoes for a woman, but that one … she was a fiery one. I see it in both of you. Must be a combination of the Irish blood and New Orleans weather.”
He was the second man to be amazed about Mount falling for their sister in twenty-four hours.
“What was he like?” Imogen asked. “We didn’t know him.”
“Ha.” Leo laughed. “He was one of a kind. There is no describing him. Law unto himself. Forged in fires I am grateful not to understand. And yet … love changed him. Maybe not at first. But eventually, it was clear he could not be the man he had been before your sister was at his side. He tried. But that man … he died before the explosion.”
His description left Imogen with even more questions … and hope. If Mount couldn’t be the crime lord he had been when he and Keira got together, especially once they welcomed a baby … wouldn’t he have made some sort of escape plan? The keys seemed to indicate detailed, advanced planning.
Then she went back to what Nic had said. If they wanted us to know the truth, wouldn’t they have told us?
But what if they needed it to look real? The grief. The funeral. The mourning family. Had that all been part of a plan? Or was she crazy?
“What do you really do, Leo the Lion Man?” Jury asked him. “Because this doesn’t look like the boat of a marine salvage guy like your big sign said outside the walls of your river compound.”
Imogen had to agree with her sister, but she wasn’t about to say it out loud.
“I don’t know much about art, but even I know fancy shit when I see it,” Jury added.
“Replicas and reproductions.”
“Riiight.”
“How could both your sisters be so polite and ladylike and you are so …”
“Assertive?” Jury offered.
“Brassy.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Like you could do from being put over someone’s knee.”
“Not likely.”
Imogen couldn’t help it as her head bounced back and forth between Leo and her sister during their exchange. Their sparring was taking a turn she hadn’t expected, and she felt like she should exit stage left all of a sudden.
“I promise you, madam … done correctly …” He trailed off.
Imogen stood, and her gaze locked on Nic’s raised eyebrows.
“Okay … you’re going to be fine, Jury. I’m going with Nic to get some lunch from this amazing Havit who makes delights.”
Nic held out a hand, and Imogen rushed across the room.
Instead of Jury protesting, as she’d expected, her sister ignored Imogen completely as they made their exit.
Once the door closed behind them, Imogen stared into Nic’s hazel eyes. “Did I miss something, or did that take a different turn?”
“No comment,” he replied as another man, who she assumed was Edwin, came toward them.
“Lunch, Mr. Nic? Ms. Kilgore?”
“Thank you, Edwin. Yes. Lead the way.”