Cashed In Part 23

A hand slid around my waist and pinned me to the railing. I felt breath on my neck as he spoke: "What's this 'we'? Rick will know. I will know. And you will be staying out of it."

I stared into a familiar face which stifled the scream in my throat.

Twenty-six.

With my surprise firmly caught in my throat, Frank brought his lips to mine and drowned any possible noise with a long, deep kiss. After that I was too weak with wanting to even breathe, much less speak. Frank recognized my state and administered some more mouth-to-mouth, which succeeded in setting every nerve ending in my body on fire. Warm, musky Dove scent washed over me, over and over. Finally, my brain began to be heard over my zinging erogenous zones.

"Honey Bee," he murmured into the hair just above my left ear.

Resisting the delicious s.h.i.+ver, I pushed back from his arms. He looked kind of cute in his cargo shorts, deck shoes and Hawaiian s.h.i.+rt decorated with oversize pink hibiscus. "What are you doing here?"

"How soon we forget. You invited me on this cruise, remember?"

"Don't be a smart a.s.s. How did you get here?"

"He's been here the whole time."

I looked over Frank's shoulder to see Ingrid approaching. Confused, I looked at Frank and saw agreement and then apology in his warm cocoa eyes. I wasn't liking this. What was he apologizing for? I looked back at Ingrid. She was glaring at me.

Maybe it was what I had suspected since I found out they knew each other. Maybe he and Ingrid were having an affair. Maybe they'd been together longer than I'd known him and I was the interloper. Maybe she was the one trying to kill me. Maybe they'd been playing Hold 'Em with each other in our cabin while I was out playing Hold 'Em with cards. Maybe she was his ex-wife.

I thought I was going to be sick.

"This is getting to be an irritating habit, Bee. Why did you ditch me?" Ingrid demanded as she drew up on Frank's right. He didn't look at her. He kept his gaze driving into me.

"I had things to do." I said, jutting my chin up.

"Well," she whispered with a harsh edge. "You have compromised the investigation. You disappeared, and I had to let Frank know in case you'd been kidnapped or killed. Now not only is the investigation probably derailed, but Frank's job probably will be too."

Frank shot Ingrid a warning look. "Enough. She's alive. It's worth it."

"What the h.e.l.l is going on?" I demanded.

Frank sighed. "I've been on the s.h.i.+p since we left the Port of Galveston. Ingrid and I are working on a case."

"What? Ingrid is a psychology major and a fas.h.i.+onista minor with a degree in public relations, what does that have to do with security?"

"Those are her covers, Honey Bee."

"Oh I see. Clear as mud," I intoned, narrowing my eyes at Frank. He was surveying my outfit, top to toe, proudly. Then, suddenly, I understood at least one piece of the puzzle. "You are the one who gave her money for all those clothes she bought. For the ma.s.sage and the kelp wrap."

He shrugged. "I was so sorry to have ruined our vacation. I wanted to make it up to you."

"Then you should have sicced someone with better taste on me."

"Hey!" Ingrid interjected, planting a fist on her c.o.c.ked hip. "I did a good website."

"Okay. I like the website. Stick to dressing up the computer not me."

"I didn't have a choice," Frank explained. "Ingrid had to be your bodyguard. It could have been worse. Joe could have been your roommate, dressing you in Wranglers and b.u.t.ton-downs the whole trip."

"Oh, is Joe, Marlboro Man?" Joe-Frank's faceless a.s.sistant who'd helped us in Vegas-was my hero on the cruise. I felt myself going a bit weak in the knees.

Ingrid and Frank shared a look, then laughed. "Not a bad description," Frank admitted.

I c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "Hmm. Roommates, huh? That might not have been so bad."

Frank's face darkened. His jaw clenched. "That wasn't funny, Bee. You are in enough trouble after cozying up to that Ian Reno creep."

"In trouble?" I said, feeling my back come up at his bossy tone. "What kind of trouble are you in with me for skulking around the s.h.i.+p for days, spying on me?" In retrospect, I could now place Frank as the employee with the familiar walk I kept seeing talking to Joe, the Marlboro Man.

"I was working."

"Were you the presence I kept feeling in the hallway outside our cabin?"

Frank dropped his gaze guiltily.

"You jerk. Why did you do that when you had Superwoman here guarding me?"

"I had to make sure you were safe."

"And why would you not tell me you were here on the s.h.i.+p? You think I can't keep a secret?"

"Bee, when I am on a case, no one can know where I am or who I am."

"I don't know where you are and who you are when you aren't on a case."

Bingo. Frowning, Frank shook his head in frustration.

"Okay, so tell me about this case. Does it have to do with the disappearances?"

"The disappearances have worked into our case, which means you have worked into our case," Frank said unhappily. He ran a finger along a strand of hair next to my face and tucked it behind my ear. "And you need to get out of the middle of it before you get really hurt."

I looked from Ingrid to Frank and back. "Okay, I'll get out of the middle if you tell me who you work for."

Frank shook his head again, more sadly this time. "It's cla.s.sified, Honey Bee."

"The government then?"

"Not exactly."

"The military?"

"Not exactly."

"I know! You two are mystery shoppers testing the gambling cruise!"

"No!" They both shouted, affronted, although I swear I saw Frank's eyes twinkle.

"Finally a straight answer," I said. "Although not the one I was looking for."

"Bee," Frank drew me close, kissing the top of my head, running his hand lightly down my back. Purr. "This is what you need to do instead of figuring out who signs our pay-checks: stay under wraps for the rest of the cruise. You've gotten into too many sc.r.a.pes, and it's making me crazy."

"Don't you want to know what I've found out?"

Frank held up a hand. "Stop, Bee. I want you to stay safe. Give up on the tournament. It's not worth it. Go to your cabin. Go nowhere. Don't open the door for anyone. Don't even go out to eat. Missing a meal won't hurt you. Ingrid will bring you something for breakfast."

First, the sc.r.a.pes weren't my fault, which is how he made them sound. Second, Frank evidently thought I was fat. I could miss a meal, huh? I'd get him back. "I don't think that is a good idea," I said with studied calmness.

He raised his eyebrows, looking down at me curiously.

"Never be a sitting duck. My mother told me once that it was best to hide in plain sight."

Frank glowered. Mostly because we had employed Elva's advice with great success in Vegas with his approval.

He pulled me to him and whispered roughly in my ear, "Listen-"

"Dammit, Miss Cooley," Kinkaid bustled up, paused, and gave me and Frank an aghast once-over. "You certainly do get around, don't you?"

"What does that mean?" Frank asked, letting me go and drilling me with a heated stare.

"I just don't have time to get into it, sir," Kinkaid blew a piece of pinkish kinky hair out of her face as she turned to me. "I've had about enough of your prima donna act, Bee Cool. If it weren't for your fans, I would've disqualified you as a no-show a long time ago, but they were all threatening to mutiny if I didn't track you down for the tournament. If you'd wanted to make a grand entrance, we could have arranged it without all this ha.s.sle."

I twiddled a two-finger wave at Frank and Ingrid who stood by helplessly as Kinkaid escorted me to the ballroom, although I noticed Frank kept us in sight until we got to the door.

Ringo, my sungla.s.s hero, was waiting with a pair of sleek rectangular black Chanels as I crossed the threshold. I waved him off. "I remembered mine tonight," I reached into my bag and felt around. Lipstick, key card, metal canister. Uh-oh. Something was wrong. I looked down. "d.a.m.nit. I must have picked up my mom's purse." I stared at her secret weapon, pepper spray. I had that and no gla.s.ses. Wasn't that my life in a nutsh.e.l.l?

Still smiling, he slid the Chanels on my face. I gave him a peck on the cheek. "Ringo, you're going to go broke buying me sungla.s.ses. Go to Wal-mart. Make knockoffs chic."

"Don't worry," he smiled. "Chanel will be begging us to wear their shades by next week."

"How do you figure?"

"You're going to win the tournament. It won't be televised for a couple of months which will give us plenty of time to line up all the shades you wore as sponsors.

Kinkaid propelled me toward my table, but was called away by one of her minions waving from the check-in desk. Jack snagged me by the skirt hem. "Hey, dude, don't get fresh," I teased.

"W-where's Ingrid?"

"Working," I said vaguely, wanting to warn him that it was going to be a long hard road being in love with a pseudopsychology educated, fas.h.i.+onista, bodyguard, flack, secret security whatever. But I wasn't quite up to killing his in-love glow at the mention of her name. Humph. I used to be that way, until my lover deceived and spied on me then had the gall to discount any important information I might have, went on to boss me around and call me fat.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked. "Aren't you g-going to fill m-me in?"

I outlined the Rick drug revelation even though I didn't know the whodunit. "You know anything?"

"I found out S-Sam the Man Hyun has been on three other c-cruises over the past couple of years from which people have d-disappeared. All three were p-poker players."

"How did you confirm it?"

"Journalist friend of mine. We've been t-telegraphing each other since the e-mail went down."

"The problem is proving it. We would have to catch him in the act. And, who is helping him? There were at least two people trying to fling me out the window at the spa."

"I have an idea. Why d-don't you go out there and beat him in the t-tournament, then make a point of wandering off alone on this aft d-deck? I'll be waiting out behind that huge j-joker sculpture with a video c-camera."

I shook my head. "All his attacks have been preplanned. Remember, the surveillance cameras are covered."

"Okay, then pa.s.s Hyun a n-note that you want to meet with him after the t-tournament at that location."

"He might get suspicious with his target going on the offensive."

"He's escalating anyway if he's wh-whacked three people on one cruise. I imagine he's already at the d-desperate stage. It's worth a t-try as long as we keep you safe. Basically, we only need him to make an aggressive m-move to get the authorities to look into it."

Kinkaid had hustled over and grabbed my arm, dragging me to my table. Speaking of aggressive. "Chatty Kathy is out of here," she snapped at Jack over her shoulder.

As I nodded to everyone at the table, Kinkaid signaled Rhonda to order the deal.

I hoped luck would swing my way. Tonight was the night I needed to catch some cards.

Pocket sevens weren't exactly what I would call the luckiest deal in Texas Hold 'Em, but I decided that I had to come into the game aggressive and raised the big blind by fifteen thousand. It wasn't exactly a bluff, but it was a gamble. And wasn't that the name of the game? I scared off Ian, Sam and two of the other amateurs; the other three at the table called, so I figured they had enough to stay in the game, which was probably more than I had. Still I hung in, reraising a thousand before The Flop of five of diamonds, two of diamonds, seven of clubs. Boy, was I lucky. I needed to use this as long as the cards fell my way. I raised again and knocked another player out, leaving me Rhonda and a nervous man who I gauged to be a total Mouse. I bet he had a hand and a half. Maybe a straight draw or flush? d.a.m.n. Fourth Street was a six of diamonds. Double d.a.m.n. I raised ten thousand, hoping to run the Mouse off since I couldn't read Rhonda clearly quite yet and would just have to hope she wasn't the one with the flush. Rhonda raised and reraised. The Mouse finally caved. Rhonda went all in with just a thousand less chips than I had. Holding my breath, I went all in with her.

Seven of spades fell on The River.

It was my night, not Rhonda's. I wouldn't have to worry about getting a solid read on her. Shaking her head in self disgust, she threw in her pocket flush, pushed herself away from the table and stalked off, sparing a hateful glare at me. I really didn't blame her, but it still made me fight off a bit of a chill.

I was in the enviable position now of being chip leader at our table by a long shot, which gave me the automatic psychological advantage. I played the next five hands aggressively, caught the cards I needed and won usually head-to-head with the other player who'd hung in-never the same person. I think I probably had the second-best hand every time-winning with two middle pair, a flush, pocket rockets and once with just a King kicker-but managed to scare off the better hand along the way. I did fold the hand after the kicker win, because Sam decided I'd been bluffing and raised me outrageously when all I had in my pocket was a Queen, a ten and a bad feeling. The next hand, though, I was dealt pocket rockets with an Ace on The Flop and I rode that out, winning twenty-five thousand in chips and knocking out both the Mouse and Ian.

Ian leaned down to whisper in my ear as he exited, "You are amazing. Sometime soon I'll see into that mind of yours."

Sam was a rigid textbook player, which isn't a bad thing. It allowed him to stay in the game but didn't necessarily allow him to adjust for others' runs of luck or unpredictable behavior. He apparently was in the Annie Duke camp, and didn't wear sungla.s.ses. Still, his face was so unreadable I'd have to say it was an advantage for him to have such a blank slate open for viewing. It was very disconcerting.

It was down to the three of us at our table an hour later-Sam, a Maniac amateur with a wretched temper, and me. Looking around, there were only about a dozen players left around the room, including Ben who surprisingly looked like the tournament chip leader. Kinkaid announced table consolidation after the current hand.

I peeked under Frank's marker at the Jack of spades, ten of clubs. I've folded this hand before, but usually at a full table. There were better draws out there that Sam could have, but it sure cut down the odds that only six of the cards were out instead of twenty. I was the small blind, so went with a modest raise of five thousand. Sam raised. I guessed he had a high pair. The Maniac, angrily smacking his chips into a stack, pushed in a call. I met the bet. I prayed for a great flop.

It came a two of spades (the Maniac moaned), King of spades (I mentally moaned) and a 10 of spades (I looked to heaven behind my Chanels).

We all walked a high wire with our bets. With a semidecent pair and a flush draw, I wanted to scare everyone away but couldn't without depleting my chip stack too seriously. I wanted to be able to play even with Ben in the next hand.

The Turn brought a Jack of diamonds. The Maniac went all in which made me wonder what he had under his marker. Sam and I both met the bet, leaving me with a couple thousand chips and Sam with only a handful. The Maniac swore a blue streak, ripped his earphones out and then I knew he'd been bluffing.

An eight of spades fell on Fifth Street.