Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Frankie
G ripping the edge of the porcelain sink, I try not to vomit up the suspicious-tasting meat I had for dinner.
The dark-haired woman beside me tried to encourage me toward the veal, stating the option I chose—honey-basted man—wasn’t a misprint.
What I received definitely wasn’t ham, so I have to believe her now.
I close my eyes until the wave of nausea passes. This wasn’t mentioned during any briefing I’ve ever been to. I thought this job would be a cakewalk, but it’s becoming increasingly clear that I’m in over my head.
A light tap comes through the bathroom door, followed by Maverick’s voice. “Everything okay? You’ve been in there for a while, and I haven’t heard you retching for several minutes. You didn’t die, did you?”
I push the door open and look up at him.
He clears his throat. “No offense, but you look a little... Maybe we should skip the games tonight.”
“I know how I look. After eating human body parts, I look how I feel, and I feel like shit.”
I struggle to my feet, push past him, and go to the bed, where I flop down and regret ever boarding this ship. This is the closest I’ve come to living in a nightmare.
“Here, drink this.” Maverick holds a cold bottle of water toward me, and I take it. At least one of the monsters in my nightmare is kind. And dangerously good-looking.
“Do all of you eat human meat? Maybe I’m just weird, but I’ve never felt the urge.” I twist off the bottle’s cap and chug the cold liquid.
Maverick sits on the edge of the bed. “No, most of us prefer to eat normal stuff. The chef is just...” He shakes his head. “If we aren’t going to the game, I’m going to head to the lobby to?—”
“We are definitely going to the game. I didn’t come all this way to spend my time in the cabin.
” I place the empty bottle on the bedside table and lean back on the pillows.
In reality, I’d love nothing more than to skip their sick games.
Perhaps it isn’t too late to leap from the side of the ship and swim to shore. “When are we due to set sail?”
Maverick glances at the bedside clock. “The Bruise Cruise officially pulled out of port around an hour ago.”
My heart sinks. “Seriously? I didn’t feel a thing.”
“The stabilizers on these ships are pretty state-of-the-art. Unless we hit some very rough seas, you shouldn’t feel much of anything.
” He turns and looks at me, and only now do I notice just how green his eyes are.
Seafoam and glitters of gold swirl around his black pupils.
“Are you sure you’re okay to go to the games? ”
I get off the bed and step toward my bag, if for no other reason than to put a little more space between us. Looking into his eyes is the only game I need to avoid.
“I told you, I’m fine. Stop mothering me. What with our age difference, it should be the other way around.” I pull a t-shirt and jeans from the bag. “How should I dress for this event? Is there some sort of app to tell me what we’ll be doing?”
Maverick steps around the bed, putting himself in my personal bubble again. “Hang on. Back up to what you said before that. You can’t be more than five or six years my senior.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
I smirk. “I’m thirty-eight. That’s a sixteen-year age difference, and I’d say that’s pretty substantial. But only if we were trying to fuck?—”
“Which we aren’t,” we say in unison.
That moment breaks the surface tension, and we finally laugh. I’m glad we’re on the same page about that. Now if I could just get my fucking vagina to think rationally...
“If Jim doesn’t tell us, we can just wear whatever we want,” Maverick says.
“So he doesn’t micro-manage every aspect?”
Maverick shakes his head, but his short blond hair doesn’t budge from the styled hard part. Does he use product? “Nah, he mostly lets us have free rein. He’s only funny about the first and last nights. Usually.”
An opening presents itself, so I take it.
“Could you spin around while I change?” I ask, and he does.
Personally, I could give two shits about my modesty, but I want to gauge his body language when he answers me, and that’s easier to do when he isn’t looking directly at me when I’m looking directly at him.
“Tell me a little more about Jim. What does he do when he isn’t organizing retreats for serial killers? ”
His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “Nothing much to tell. We don’t know a lot about him.
” He pauses, then clears his throat. “Look, I know this is your first retreat, but we don’t exactly have sharing circles where we talk about ourselves outside of these events.
I’m afraid I won’t have much info on most of these people, if that’s what you’re looking for. ”
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to pry. Just trying to make conversation while I strip directly behind a stranger.”
He turns to face me. “Would you feel more comfortable if I stepped into the hall?”
“I would feel more comfortable if you didn’t turn around when my tits are out.” I scramble to put on my t-shirt, which is a bit too baggy and hangs off my shoulder, but I’m not really bothered that he turned around. The fact that his eyes never strayed below my chin is a little annoying, though.
He smiles and turns to face the door again. “My apologies.”
The uneasy feeling returns, and my heart picks up speed. He didn’t appreciate me sniffing so close to Jim, and by saying they don’t really talk much at these things, he was quick to put an end to all future questions about anyone at all.
As I fasten the button and raise the zipper on my shorts, I make a mental note to grab my gun while Maverick is asleep tonight.
I’ll feel a lot less jumpy once my gear is close at hand.
I’m essentially walking around naked, and that’s making me anxious.
Without my service pistol, badge, and other tools of my trade, I have only my brain, and that bitch is betraying me at every turn.
“Okay, you can turn around now,” I say once I’m dressed.
He faces me and gives me a once over before uttering a low whistle. “You dress down good, sweetheart,” he says with a laugh, and that little pet name makes my heart flutter.
“It’s still better than the space costume.”
“I dunno. Before, your face was covered up. Now we all have to look at it. Gross.” He makes a gagging face, and I swat his arm. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You look...”
As he hesitates and searches for the appropriate word, I hang on that pause. Will he go the safe route and say I’m cute? Or will he try flattery and tell me I’m beautiful?
“You look really familiar, now that I think about it.” His eyebrows pull together, and he leans closer. This went in a direction I didn’t anticipate, but okay. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel like we’ve met somewhere before. Do you spend any time in Florida?”
I shake my head.
“New York City?”
I shake my head again, though I actually spend a good bit of time in the Big Apple.
He squints and studies my face, then steps back. “No big deal. I’ll figure it out eventually, but we need to get going. You ready?”
“I need to freshen up a bit, but you can go on ahead. I’m sure I can find my way around.”
He nods and heads into the hall, leaving me alone in the room.
I step into the bathroom and run a brush through my hair, then dab a bit of matte lipstick on my lips.
The corner of my mouth rises in a smirk as I recall him thinking we were closer in age.
I may be pushing forty, but I’ve still got it.
The bags under my eyes can’t be helped, however. I need an entire night of restful sleep, and that isn’t likely to happen until I retire. Which I will never willingly do.
I shove my things away in a small bag and join Maverick in the hall. He stands beside a shorter man with dark hair and eyes as blue as mine. When the man notices me, his lips push together, and the whispers stop.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I say. “Is it time for the next game now?”
“I’ll let you two get on with it,” the man says. He nods toward me with a pinched smile, then turns and strides down the hallway.
“Who was that?” I ask, hoping the question sounds innocuous enough to his ears.
“Just Bennett.”
“What’s his killer name?”
Maverick’s green eyes pin my feet to the floor. “Why do you want to know?”
“Curiosity,” I say.
When he takes a step closer, my feet still refuse to cooperate. “You’re curious, huh?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“You know the saying, don’t you? Curiosity killed the cat.” He stops and looks down at me, and I have never felt this small and inconsequential. “Satisfaction brought him back. What would it take to satisfy you?”
He means my curiosity, but my pussy doesn’t get the memo. I nearly blurt out that about five minutes with his dick should do the trick, but my lips clamp shut before I can embarrass myself.
“There you are!” a woman shouts from down the hall, and we turn toward a tall beauty in a beige pantsuit.
Gold jewelry shimmers on her fingers, and her makeup is so flawless that her face looks like a living photo filter.
“Jim was able to arrange a flight a day early, so I didn’t have to miss the first game. Just dinner.”
Maverick pulls her in for a hug, then turns her toward me. “Frankie, this is?—”
“Eve,” I say. I hold my hand toward her and try to hide my shock when I spot her purple wristband. “I know who she is. My mother and I attended the show in Paris last spring.”
Eve’s dark eyes widen, and she smiles. “The show for Florenz Francesi? Wasn’t Vlad’s cape to die for?”
“The one made entirely from beach plastics?” I nod. “How does Francesi come up with that stuff?”
“Honey, I don’t know, but the man is a genius. He’s hosting another showing this winter, but it’s by invitation only.” Eve raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Lucky for you, I know a guy.”
This woman is an icon. Even in the least fashion-forward circles, she’s a household name.
She’s the face of numerous charities, including one for breast cancer research and another for victims of childhood abuse.
Two years ago, she received international recognition for her humanitarian efforts in war-torn areas.
And she’s a fucking serial killer ?
“I hear it’s a team game,” Eve says as she slips her arm through mine and starts down the hall. “You and I must be on the same team. I won’t have it any other way. The ladies have to stick together.”
Footsteps join ours, and Maverick says, “Excuse me, but she’s my roommate. If she’ll be on anyone’s team, it’s mine.”
“Chill, Casanova. I’m not trying to move in on your woman. I actually met someone recently.” Eve turns her head so that she can look at Maverick. “Her name is Silo, and she can do some nasty things with her tongue.”
“Silo?” Maverick asks. “What sort of name is that?”
Eve chuckles. “That’s the kind of name you get when you go viral after stuffing an entire granary worth of corn inside your?—”
“She didn’t!” I say, and my eyes must be saucers. In reality, I’ve seen far stranger things in my line of work.
Eve flashes a knowing smile. “Oh, she did, and I got to witness it live. I doubt it will go anywhere, as neither of us is searching for something serious, but it’s nice to have an orgasm provider on speed dial.”
I wouldn’t know what that’s like. The only orgasms I’ve experienced have been from my own hand. Or the detachable showerhead. And once with a very girthy cucumber.
Don’t judge me.
The three of us file into an elevator, and Maverick works the buttons to get us to the correct level, which is B this time. B for blood? Fuck, I hope not. When the elevator comes to a stop, we file out again.
We step into a hallway that must be for Sinners only, as the darker colors are present. The elderly couple from earlier walks several yards ahead of us. They stop in front of a pair of wooden doors, check the placard on the wall, then head inside.
That’s our destination, but what will we have to do once we enter? There’s only one way to find out, so I steel myself as Eve grips the doorknob and flings the door wide.