Dangerous Allies (The Ruby Danger Series Book 1) (10 page)

Gaggh. Snork. Gaggh.

She shook her head. Back to business. After slipping on the glasses and the hat, she started down the corridor. There was one person aboard who wouldn’t turn her in. Maybe. Ruby crossed her fingers and set off.

T
he bartender raised
his eyebrows and nodded at the clock. “Maybe you should go to bed, mate.”

Antony drained his glass, pulled a Corona from his jacket pocket and reached for his lighter.

“Yeah, yeah. Good idea.”

“And you’ll have to take that outside,” the bartender added.

“I know that. Don’t you think I know that?” Antony looked around. Chairs were upended against the tables and a bus boy by the entrance glanced repeatedly in his direction. Antony got off his stool and started for the door. The bus boy darted over to open it for him.

Antony stumbled and regained his footing, giving the lad a mock salute.

“Very good,” he said, wobbling off across the promenade and onto the open deck. Once there, he leaned against the railing, fumbling with his lighter. It slipped from his hand and flipped over the edge. Deck lights glinted off its silver surface as it bounced against several balcony railings and disappeared into the blackness below. Dammit.

Antony checked his watch. Four a.m. Even after several drinks, the image of Ruby lying on the bedroom floor with blood gushing from her nose was as vivid as ever. Wincing at the memory, he turned to go back to the Emperor suite.

When he emerged from the elevator on the top deck, a half-dozen passengers were talking in low voices in the corridor. A woman turned, saw Antony and pointed.

“There he is. Look.”

Antony scowled. Now what?

Outside the Emperor Suite, two ship’s pursers in white dress uniforms, a man and a woman, stood by the door.

“Please go back to your rooms,” the male purser said to the onlookers. “We’ll take it from here.”

Antony reached the door and inserted his key card.

The purser cleared his throat.

“Mr. Carver, is everything okay?”

Antony stared at him, narrowing his eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Sir, where is your wife?” the female purser said in clipped tones. “May we talk to her?”

“What business is it of yours where my wife is? Go away.” Antony opened the door and stepped through. But before he could close the door behind him, the male purser reached out an arm to hold it open.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Carver. But we’ve been asked to check your room and make sure everything is okay. It will only take a moment.”

The busybodies in the corridor edged closer.

“Well, come right in,” Antony said loudly, with a glance up the hall. “There’s nothing wrong here.” The pursers walked in and Antony closed the door behind them. “My wife’s in bed, I’m sure.”

The female purser walked down the hall to the bedrooms. She knocked at the first and opened the door, looked in, and closed it. She continued along the hall and turned into the master bedroom’s open door. Antony strolled after her and watched while she examined the splintered doorframe in the ensuite bathroom with a frown and then exited through the bedroom’s balcony door. Antony and the purser walked back to the living room along the hall while the female purser reentered the suite through the French doors off the main living area. Both men watched while she circled the living area, walked through the den and the third bedroom, and then through the bathroom door into the foyer, completing her sweep.

“She’s not here, sir,” she said.

The male purser rubbed an ear before turning to face Antony.

“Mr. Carver, where is your wife now?”

The purser was young, mid-thirties at most, but he had three gold stripes on his epaulets. Although Antony’s nautical experience was limited to the Capstone, he assumed this meant the male purser answered directly to the captain. So he was dealing with the top brass. As it should be.

“I don’t know. I’ve been in the promenade bar, having a drink. Ask the bartender if you don’t believe me.” Slumping onto the leather sofa, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

“I didn’t ask where you were, sir. I asked where your wife is.”

Antony opened his eyes.

“Who are you to ask me questions?” He closed his eyes again.

The first purser turned to the woman.

“Wake the captain and send for coffee.”

Ten minutes later, there was a tap on the door and a tall man with bushy black eyebrows walked into the suite. His uniform jacket swung open, unbuttoned, over a T-shirt, his hair was rumpled, and his tasseled loafers had been slipped onto bare feet. He was scowling.

Antony, who had opened one eye at the sound of the door, noticed with satisfaction that the newcomer’s epaulettes bore four gold bars. He closed his eyes again.

The captain and the first purser conferred in low tones and the younger man left the stateroom.

“Mr. Carver,” the captain said.

Antony, still slumped on the sofa, didn’t bother to indicate that he had heard him.

The captain spoke again, much louder.

“Mr. Carver.”

Antony jerked and looked up.

“What now?” he said wearily.

“I do not enjoy being awakened at this hour, Mr. Carver. I understand that you have not been co-operative. As the captain, I am responsible for our guests. That includes your wife. If you do not become co-operative, we will have to search your room more carefully. Do you understand?”

“You have no right to—”

“Yes, I do.”

The door opened again, and a steward pushed a cart with a carafe of coffee into the living room. The captain inclined his head at Antony and the steward filled a cup and held it out.

Antony sat up and took the coffee with a scowl.

The steward gave a second cup to the captain, who thanked him and sat in an armchair. After a few swallows, the captain placed his cup and saucer on the coffee table and cleared his throat.

“You understand, Mr. Carver,” he said, “that when one of our passengers has not been seen for some time and her spouse has no idea where she might be, and other passengers have voiced concerns about her well-being, that I have to investigate.”

Antony turned his head as the door opened. The first purser walked back in, accompanied by Pete Osler.

Antony scowled and turned to the captain.

“Why is he here?”

Before the captain could answer, Pete held up his hands.

“Thought maybe I could help. My wife and I are concerned about Miss Delaney—Mrs. Carver, I mean.”

Antony downed his coffee and leaned over the coffee table, centering the empty cup on its saucer. He looked up.

“I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Have you remembered where she might be, then?” the captain asked.

“No.”

The first purser called to them from the den.

“Captain, look at this.” The captain and Pete walked over and the purser pointed at something on the desk.

Antony jumped to his feet.

“Get away from those.” His knees wobbled for a second, then he straightened up and hurried after them. “Those papers are private.”

“Wait a minute, please,” the captain said, holding Antony back with one arm. He turned to the purser. “To what are you referring?”

Antony shoved the captain’s arm away.

“What the hell? Take your hands off me.”

“This, sir.” The purser pointed to a hand-printed note on the desk.

The four men peered at it.

I cannot take anymore. Sorry.

A
n hour later
, the Emperor Suite had filled with people and the single carafe had morphed into a large coffee urn with two dozen cups and a plate of pastries. The first purser spoke to the captain in a low voice.

“Her husband says she was with a bartender. We think he means Dimitri. But we woke him up and he says he hasn’t seen her. And his wife says he’s been with her all night.”

“How long has it been since anyone saw Miss Delaney?”

“Several hours. We have people going cabin to cabin, in case she’s in someone else’s stateroom.”

“Any luck?”

“Not so far.”

With a sigh, the captain checked his watch. “It’s nearly six a.m. Stop the ship.”

T
he piano lounge was dark
, despite the midday glare that flooded the promenade outside. Dimitri opened the hinged door in the bar and strolled to the far end, where he reached out to flick on the recessed lights. Before he could hit the switch, a figure rose from the shadows and put a hand on his arm.

Dimitri slammed the figure against the wall in a single fluid motion, pinning it with a forearm against the neck.

There was a second’s silence as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“It’s me,” Ruby squeaked.

Dimitri jerked his head back and dropped his arm. Ruby slumped to the floor behind the bar, coughing and holding her throat. He bent over her.

“Sorry. You surprised me.”

“Well, I won’t do that again,” she said, still coughing.

Placing his hands under her elbows, Dimitri helped her up.

“I’m glad you are not dead.”

“Dead?” She wrenched her arms free and stared at him. “Why would I be dead?”

“Everyone thinks you jumped.”

“Great.” With a huge sigh, Ruby dropped back onto the floor and slumped against the wall.

Dimitri crouched beside her and fingered a strand of her short blond hair, looking puzzled.

“It’s a wig.” She pointed at the tote bag on the floor beside her. “I put it on while I waited for you.”

“Looks good,” he said, nodding. He stood up, snapped on the lights and handed her a bottle of water.

Ruby screwed off the cap, took a few gulps, and stared at him with her head tilted.

“What happened to your eye?”

“The crew has a card game after hours and sometimes it gets heated.” Dimitri rose and wrapped ice in a bar towel, pressed it to his face, and crouched beside her again. “I was big winner, though,” he said with a sheepish grin.

“Yeah, it looks like it.” Ruby put down the bottle, took the ice from his hand and pressed it against his eye. “I need your help, Dimitri. I did something stupid and now …” her voice trailed off. “I don’t know where else to turn. If you can help me get off the ship without anyone seeing me, I’ll pay you. A thousand dollars, cash.”

Dimitri didn’t seem to be listening, perhaps because he was staring at her face.

“What happened to your nose?”

“A door ran into me.”

“And your neck?” he asked, brushing a finger across the purple bruises under her chin.

“It’s nothing,” she said, pushing his hand away.

He studied her for a moment.

“You don’t have to pay me.”

“I want to. Can you help me?”

“Maybe.” He looked at the entrance, rubbing his chin with his hand. “We dock at Pintado Island today. You could get off there. I know a way.”

Ruby handed him the ice, leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

“Thank you.” For the first time in hours, she felt safe. Fatigue swept over her and she shifted her weight and sighed.

Dimitri shook her shoulder.

“No, no, you cannot sleep here.”

“Mm … hmm.”

“Miss Delaney.” He shook her again.

She sat up with a start. What was she doing?

“It’s a stupid idea, isn’t it?”

“No, not stupid. I can get you off the ship.”

“There’s more, Dimitri. I had a leather box, about this big,” she held out her hands. “It belongs to my husband and it’s very valuable and it’s … gone. But I think one of the maids knows where it is. Her name is Mila. Can you help me find her?” She held her breath.

Dimitri adjusted the ice against his eye and looked away, pressing his lips together, then nodded.

“I think so.”

“Thank you.” Wincing, Ruby placed a hand on his arm. “There’s something else you should know before you agree to help me. There are criminals on this ship. From Russia. I think the box was meant for them.”

He gave her a sharp look with his eyebrows knitted together.

“How do you know about these men?”

“That detective, Pete Osler, told me. He had photos of them, too. Mug shots.”

“Did you see these photos?”

“No, but he showed them to my husband. Antony said he didn’t recognize them, but I think he was lying.”

Dimitri stood up, dropping the ice and damp towel into the sink. He turned to face her, scowling.

“I have heard of these men. They are not good Russians.” He shook his head, muttering under his breath.

“What should I do?”

He gave her another sharp look.

“Stay away from them.”

“But what if they think I have the leather box? Won’t they come after me?”

“What is in this box?”

Ruby tugged at her ear and looked away. How much should she tell him? She shook her head. Who else would help her?

“Bearer bonds,” she said.

“What are bearer bonds?”

“They’re untraceable. Anybody who has them can cash them. But they’re gone.” She blinked as her eyes welled with tears. “And it’s all my fault.”

“Look at me,” Dimitri said, crouching beside her with his hands on her shoulders. “We can find this box, but first you must get off the ship. You can talk to Mila later, yes?”

Ruby nodded, still blinking, and rubbed a finger across her eye.

“Okay,” he said. “I know what to do. Wait here.”

“
M
r. Carver
?” The voice was insistent. “Mr. Carver?”

Antony opened his eyes a slit and winced at the sunshine that poured in through the windows. He was lying on the sofa in the Emperor suite’s living room, still dressed in the T-shirt and track pants he’d been wearing the night before.

“Mr. Carver?” The purser turned to a larger figure looming beside him. “He’s awake.”

The second figure spoke.

“Mr. Carver, did you leave your safe open? The one in your stateroom?”

Antony opened his eyes wider and stared. That damned cop was back.

“The safe is open?”

“Yes, it’s slightly ajar,” Pete said. “We didn’t notice it before. Is that the way you left it?”

Antony groaned. The purser handed him a bag of ice and he sat up, pressing it to his swollen eye. How could the safe …? He jumped up, dropping the bag.

“Did you touch anything?” He pushed past Pete and into the den. The safe door was indeed ajar.

“Was anybody in here?” Antony demanded. “Did anybody go in here?”

“No. We noticed it was open and wondered if you or your wife—”

“She doesn’t have the combination,” Antony snapped, rummaging through the papers in the safe. His stomach turned to ice.

“Is anything missing?”

“I don’t think so.” He swallowed, staring at the safe’s back wall, where the leather box should have been.

Pete pointed to something in the safe.

“Isn’t that your wife’s engagement ring? She wore it at dinner.”

Antony turned his head and his brow furrowed. What was Ruby’s ring doing in the safe?

“So?”

Pete reached around him with a pen, ready to slip it through the ring.

“If I could—”

“Oh, here, take it.” Antony grabbed the ring and held it out to Pete, who grimaced when he saw Antony’s fingers on it.

“Thanks,” Pete said with a dry tone, allowing Antony to drop the ring into the small plastic bag he held in his other hand. Pete exchanged glances with the purser beside him.

“Wait a minute. I saw that,” Antony said. “What the hell is going on? Are you accusing me of something?”

“Mr. Carver—”

“Don’t you ‘Mr. Carver’ me. Get out of my suite. I don’t have to talk to any of you. You should be looking for my wife, not harassing me.”

They looked up as the captain, with his jacket fully buttoned and his gold-braided cap under one arm, walked into the den.

“Let’s give Mr. Carver some privacy,” he said. “There’s no need for everyone to be in here. Set up a command station off the bridge,” he said, turning to the purser. “We’ll continue from there.”

The purser nodded and left the suite.

“Mr. Carver, we’ll keep you informed,” the captain said with a slight nod, turning to follow the purser. The rest of the group shuffled out after them and someone closed the door.

Antony placed a shaking hand on either side of the safe. Leaning against the wall at arm’s length, he lowered his head and closed his eyes.

“There is something missing, isn’t there?”

Whirling around, he met Pete Osler’s piercing gaze. With a scowl, Antony slammed the safe door and pushed the
lock
button.

“Why are you still here?”

“Mr. Carver,” Pete said, “tell us what’s going on and we may be able to help your wife.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Nobody believes Ruby committed suicide. If she turns up dead, who do you think the authorities will look at first?”

Antony shivered, remembering Bogdan’s words.

If something happens to her, you will be main suspect, no?

“My wife is missing,” he said coldly. “You should be trying to find her. Get the hell out of here.”

A
ntony had downed
several cups of coffee, showered, and changed his clothes by the time he opened the Emperor Suite’s door to Pete and the captain several hours later. The captain carried a laptop under his arm.

“Well? Any news?” Antony asked.

“If you’re wondering whether we’ve found your wife, the answer is no,” Pete said, “but you knew that.”

Antony turned to the captain.

“Why is the ship moving again? Shouldn’t we be going back to look for her?”

“An extensive search is underway. The coast guard has two planes up and they’re combing the area grid by grid. They travel much faster than we do.” The captain cleared his throat. “But it’s doubtful they’ll find her in the open sea after this length of time. I’m sorry.”

Antony stared at him.

“How do they know they’re looking in the right place?”

“As you’re probably aware, we have on-board security cameras. We’ve been reviewing them, and we’ve found footage that shows your wife on a mid-ship balcony on the port side a little after five a.m.” The captain placed the laptop on the coffee table and sat on the sofa.

Antony sat beside him and peered at the blurry video paused on the screen. The time stamp at the bottom read 05:03. From the angle of view, the camera must have been near the prow, facing the rear of the ship. The captain clicked to restart the video. It panned a row of empty balconies, from the top of the ship to the bottom. Most of the balconies were in shadow, but the moonlight picked out a few details.

“There’s nothing there,” Antony said.

“Keep watching.” The camera continued to pan. “There.” The captain clicked on the touchpad to move the video ahead one frame at a time. A woman came to the edge of one of the balconies and looked over.

Antony gaped at the screen. “That’s Ruby.”

She put one foot over the side, straddled the railing for a moment, and then brought her other leg over and balanced on the outer edge. Ruby turned her head to look at the water. As the camera continued to pan down, her balcony disappeared from the frame.

“What happened? Bring that back,” Antony demanded, reaching for the laptop.

“We can’t. That particular camera is set up to scan a much larger area. It doesn’t return to this spot for seven minutes, and by then she was gone.” The captain closed the laptop and stood up. “We told the coast guard where the ship was at five a.m. and that’s where they sent the search planes.”

Antony stared at the closed laptop. Ruby couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t possible. He looked up and caught the captain’s eye.

The captain bent to pick up the laptop, his expression unreadable.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Carver. If there’s any news, I will inform you immediately.”

With the laptop under his arm, the captain walked out.

Antony turned to Pete.

“Shouldn’t you be doing something?” He stood up and paced back and forth. “Is that pathetic little video the best you can do?”

Pete pointed at the chair.

“Sit down and listen.”

Antony ignored him and continued to pace.

“Some of the passengers heard a loud quarrel between you and your wife last night. Others witnessed your bizarre behavior in the dining room. Also, your wife’s engagement ring was in your possession. I’ve been told it’s worth over a hundred grand. Is that accurate?”

Antony glanced at him with disgust. Typical.

Pete pulled the plastic evidence bag with Ruby’s ring from his pocket and placed it on the table.

“It was in your safety deposit box even though you told us your wife didn’t have the combination.”

Antony snatched up the ring. “About time you returned it.”

“And, in your bathroom, we found your wife’s nightgown. Soaked in blood.” Pete paused, his eyes cold. “So that ‘pathetic little video’ is the only reason you’re not in handcuffs, waiting for the FBI to arrive later today. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly. Now let me make myself clear.” Scowling, Antony pointed to the door. “Get the hell out of here.” He stomped over to the windows and stared out at the ocean, his back to Pete.

“The FBI helicopter can take you back to the mainland if you wish.”

“Good idea,” Antony said, without turning around. It had been such a simple plan. Move the money offshore. Take a leisurely cruise to Pintado Island. Get on a plane. Start a new life. How the hell had it all gone wrong? He frowned and turned to the door as Pete closed it behind him. Why was the FBI coming aboard? Because of Ruby, or for some other reason?

Antony slipped Ruby’s ring from the plastic bag and rolled it between his fingers. Then he put it in his pocket and walked to his laptop to tap out an e-mail. He had just hit
send
when there was a knock at the door.

“What now?” he shouted.

“Room service. To take the cart.”

Antony glanced at the coffee urn and scattered cups.

“Okay,” he called, “but be quick.” A minute later, he felt someone standing beside him. He turned his head.

The blow sent him crashing to the floor.

Bogdan bent over, grabbed Antony’s shirt with both hands and narrowed his eyes.

“Mr. Carver, why do you not listen?” Bogdan smacked him across the face with one hand, released his hold, and stood over him.

Antony swallowed the blood in his mouth.
Goddammit.

“What do you mean? I did exactly what Viktor told me to. I’m making plans right now.” He nodded at the laptop, rubbing his chin. His face burned.

“You reserved a plane. To leave the island.”

“No, no, listen, that wasn’t me. That was my associate in New York. He ordered the plane because he didn’t know my plans had changed. But see,” Antony pointed to the laptop, “I’m e-mailing him right now. Everything is fine. No plane.” He scrambled to his feet.

“Everything is fine? Good. Then we will go to Pintado Island and you will give me the bonds.”

“About that. There’s been a little snag.” Antony took a deep breath. “The bonds are missing.”

Bogdan glared at him. “Missing? How can this happen?”

“Someone took them from the safe,” Antony pointed to the den, “in there.”

“You said the bonds were not here. You said they were on Pintado Island.” Bogdan took a step nearer.

“No, no. I’m telling you the truth. I’ll fix it. I’m going back to the mainland this afternoon. I’ll be off this ship within hours. And I’ll find the bonds.”

Bogdan clenched his jaw and the cobra rippled on his cheek.

“Yes, you will. Because what you did to your wife, you know,” he shook his head, “terrible. Terrible.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything to my wife.”

Bogdan bent his head to Antony’s ear.

“How can you be sure?” he whispered, clenching his fist.

Antony cringed. He didn’t look up until the suite’s door banged shut.

After Bogdan had left, Antony put Ruby’s ring in the safe and closed it with a shaking hand. The coffee he had gulped down churned through his gut. He wrapped ice in a washcloth, pressed it to his cheek and renewed his fantasy of kicking that Russian asshole’s face into an unrecognizable bloody pulp. He felt a bit better.

Actually, Antony had no idea if Bogdan was Russian since he had met Viktor and Bogdan in Kyrgyzstan. He went there to raise money from a state-owned oil company that was spinning out cash. He’d gotten it, too, but his new partners then had another proposal. It sounded like easy money, but his vision might have been skewed by the multiple rounds of cheap vodka slung back in a murky bar awash in smoke and cheap perfume. When he awoke the following day beside the sleepy compliant flesh of a very young woman, the criminal education of Antony Carver had taken another unexpected turn.

When he returned to New York several days later, he discovered his sister-in-law had died and he had missed her funeral. The police investigation stretched on for months, but there were no witnesses and no leads. Lily Wade was the victim of an unknown hit-and-run driver who had left her for dead on the side on the road, her jogging clothes torn and bloodied.

Ruby stayed in Vancouver for weeks before returning to Manhattan. And nothing had been the same between them since.

In the Emperor suite, Antony threw the ice pack into the bar sink with a sudden wave of disgust. Maybe he deserved to feel some pain. Anyway, he shouldn’t get too comfortable. He needed to concentrate. The mob knew about the money laundering and the missing twenty million in bonds, but did they know about the rest?

And where was Ruby? She couldn’t be dead. He reached up to massage a twinge in his jaw and then walked to the desk, opened his laptop, and tapped in a new e-mail.

Leaving ship this afternoon. Meet me in Boca.

Then he pulled his suitcase out from under the bed.