Perilous Waters

“I don’t know. We met at the pier and came straight aboard.” Cassandra had wiped the mascara streaks from her face, but she still looked as if she’d gone through an emotional ringer. “There was a fruit and chocolate basket waiting for us in our room. She might have taken something from it.”

“Do you mind if we go check?” He motioned to her plate. “After you’ve eaten. Knowing what your sister ate or drank might help the doctor speed her recovery.”

Cassandra ate faster and asked Jake to stay with Jen in case she woke while they were gone.

Sam leaned over the bed and brushed a wisp of hair from Jen’s cheek. She looked like Sleeping Beauty lying there, waiting for a handsome prince to awaken her with a kiss. His stomach fluttered at the thought and he quickly straightened. His hand knocked a crumpled paper on the bed. The note from the gallery curator?

Sam palmed the paper, stepped away from the bed and shoved his hand into his pocket. Taking a chair behind Cassandra’s line of sight, he glanced at the paper. A phone number. Seattle area code with the name Watson. He pulled up the internet on his cell phone and looked it up. John Watson, private detective.

Why was his suspect calling a PI?

Too soon, Cassandra was ready to head up to her room. He feigned surprise when her room turned out to be next to his—an arrangement that had cost the bureau an extra three hundred bucks. Their carry-on luggage lay open on the bed. Their larger bags hadn’t yet been delivered. Cassandra pointed to a large basket on the desk next to the balcony’s sliding glass door. The plastic wrap and ribbons lay open beneath it. “Looks like Jen got into it, but—” Cassandra sifted through the contents “—I’m not sure what she had. The water bottles are missing, but she probably put them in the fridge.”

Cass checked the small bar fridge in the opposite corner. “Yeah, there’s only the two bottles that our steward left here and one from the basket.”

Sam lifted an empty bottle from the trash can under the desk. “A raspberry-flavored water.”

“She always drinks the raspberry. I hate it. Tastes too much like medicine.”

“Who sent you the basket?”

“Oh.” Cass flushed, apparently cluing in to the implication of his question. “Uh, Uncle Reg.”

“And what flavor did your uncle include for you?”

“Blueberry.”

Sam dropped the empty bottle into a plastic bag sitting on the desk, along with the unopened bottle.

Cass gave him a curious look. “What are you going to do with those?”

“Show the ingredients to the nurse.” He had no means of testing it on the ship, but at the first port he could have it couriered to their Anchorage office or, better yet, he could send it back to Seattle with the pilot directing the ship out of the Sound. He glanced at his watch. He probably had time to catch him. “Could you collect any medicines Jennifer might have taken?”

“You think there might have been some weird interaction?”

“It’s a possibility.” He examined the fruit and chocolate in the basket for signs of tampering.

“I had that happen to me once. Broke out in hives whenever I ate a banana within a couple of hours of my multivitamin.” She dug through the night table drawer next to the bed and pulled out a box containing seasickness patches and a bottle of ibuprofen. “Switched vitamins and never got them again.” She dumped her find into his bag.

“Do you mind if I check the bathroom?”

“Go ahead. She’s particular about her moisturizers and shampoo and stuff. All scent-free. I don’t think any of that would have reacted.”

The bathroom barely had enough space to turn around in, let alone enough counter space to sort through her makeup bag. He carried it out and dumped the contents on the bed. Toothpaste, lip gloss, an assortment of lotions. Sam returned the contents to the bag. Any of the products could have been injected with a substance that soaked through the skin, but it was improbable. And she would not be happy if he unnecessarily confiscated them all.

The water was a likely source, but what motive would her uncle have for making her temporarily incapacitated at an unpredictable time of day or night? Sam picked up the small card lying next to the basket on the desk. It wasn’t signed. “How do you know the basket was from your uncle?”

Cass stood by the balcony door, looking out, and jumped at his question. “Uh, it said so on the card.”

“No, it didn’t.” It merely said “Bon Voyage.” He angled it her way.

She stared at it dumbly. “You’re right.” She sounded surprised. “I guess we just assumed since he gave us the cruise as a birthday gift. Who else would?”

“Either of you have a boyfriend?”

“I have lots of guy friends.” Cass’s cheeks reddened. “But I told your brother. Just so you know, I’m not leading him on or anything.”

“Okay.” Explained a lot. No wonder Jake had been enjoying her company so much—no strings. “Could any of your guy friends have sent this?”

She shrugged. “Maybe Uncle Reggie’s son. Reg isn’t really my uncle, of course.”

Uncle or not, the idea that their long-time guardian would slip a roofie into Jen’s drink was downright disturbing. “Let’s get back to your sister. You might want to grab a sweater and a book. Could be a long night.”

Sam escorted Cass back to sick bay, and Jake slipped out of the room as she took his seat next to Jen. “Find anything?”

“Maybe.” Sam drew Jake deeper into the empty waiting room and lowered his voice. “I’m going to see if I can send these back to Seattle with the pilot. Have them tested. Do you mind hanging around a while longer and keeping an eye on Cass and Jen?”

“Do you know why someone would do this to Jennifer?”

“No.” Sam felt in his pocket for the PI’s phone number, hoping it might offer some answers.

Jake narrowed his eyes. No doubt rethinking Sam’s lame excuse for identifying himself as Sam Tate to the women the other night.

“I don’t.” Sam insisted. “Believe me. I wish I did.”

* * *

Jennifer squeezed her eyes against the light seeping past her lashes. Her head felt ready to explode. And the bed...

Why was it rocking from side to side like a...boat!

She lurched up. “We’re moving!” She clutched her head and dropped back to the mattress, rolled onto her side and curled her legs into her chest.

“Jen, what’s wrong? Do you feel sick?” Cass’s worried voice sounded above her ear.

“My head hurts,” Jen moaned, trying to remember what she’d wanted to do before they left port. She massaged her fingers over her forehead, straining to coax out the memory, but she couldn’t make sense of anything. Faces swam through her mind—Sam’s, his sweet nephew’s, a waiter’s?

“Can you remember anything?”

Jen slit open an eye. “Where am I?” Why did her mouth taste so acidic?

“Sick bay. You passed out in the elevator when we were heading up for dinner. Sam carried you here.”

Sam? This was the second time something bad had happened when he was nearby.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” another female voice said.

Jen tilted her head to see who belonged to the voice—a woman in green scrubs. “Are you a doctor?”

“Nurse.” She plugged a stethoscope into her ears and pressed the other end to Jen’s chest. “We believe you were drugged.”

Her heart lurched. “Drugged? How?”

The nurse placed two fingers at the pulse point on Jen’s wrist and turned her attention to her watch. “That’s what your friend’s been trying to figure out.”

“Sam,” Cass filled in.

After another ten seconds or so, the nurse dropped Jen’s wrist and recorded something on her chart. “You had a drink not long before you blacked out. Do you remember?”

Jen clutched her head tighter. “I knew I shouldn’t have accepted it. I had this feeling. But the waiter said it was complimentary, and everyone seemed to have one.”

The nurse rubbed Jen’s shoulder consolingly. “Well, we’ve given you charcoal to absorb whatever might have been in the drink, and notified the ship’s security. One of the officers will be here soon to talk to you.”

“Does she need to stay here?” Cass asked.

“I’d like to continue to monitor her vitals through the night. If nothing changes, she can go back to her room in the morning.” The nurse patted Jen’s arm. “But I’m afraid you’ll likely have a lingering headache for a few days.” She paused at the door. “Your fellow’s out here pacing the hall, anxious to see you. Shall I let him back in?”

Unable to comprehend what the nurse meant, Jen flashed Cass a questioning look.

“She means Sam.” Cass grinned. “He’s really worried about you.”

Something warm and soft filled Jen’s chest at her sister’s words. “Let me freshen up first.” She sat up and the pain in her head exploded. As Cass helped her to her feet, Jen swayed, taking Cass sideways across the room in a zigzag toward the washroom.

“I’m so sorry,” her sister whispered.

Jen stiffened, trying to make sense of the apology through her pain-filled fog.

“Here I talked you into coming on this cruise,” Cass went on, “saying you’d be safer, and look what happened.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Jen assured, except...who was to blame? Her limbs began to tremble. “Why would someone do this to me?”

“Some men are just sick.” Cass waited for her to do her business then helped her back into bed and cracked open the room door. “You need to be on your guard.”

Shivering, Jen closed her hand over the cut she’d gotten after that creep stabbed the note to her car. The police hadn’t been able to prove it was Lester. Some stalker might’ve followed her onto the ship. “Do you think this is connected to the note in my car?”

“Do you?” Sam asked from the doorway.

The concerned timbre of his voice rumbled through her chest. Gripping the edge of the sheets, she pressed her arms against her rampaging heart. “I don’t know. I don’t know why anyone would do this to me.” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Sam hovered over her bed, deep grooves slashing his forehead. At the tender look in his eyes, her stomach cartwheeled. “Why...why do you care so much?”

He straightened abruptly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Strangely, his sudden retreat endeared him to her more. Most guys would be quick to take advantage of her vulnerability.

“Sam talked to security about your previous attack so they’d check the passenger manifest,” Cass said. “That Lester guy isn’t on the ship. I think you just got targeted by some creep for no other reason than he’s a creep.”

Jen couldn’t pull her gaze from Sam’s. “Is that what you think?”

His brow creased with sympathy. “It happens. Can you remember anything that might help us figure out who did this?

“The waiter had an Eastern European accent.”

Cass sprang to her feet. “Like the waiter in the elevator?”

Jen squeezed her eyes shut, trying to dig up the memory. She shook her head. “I don’t remember being in an elevator.”

“It’s okay,” Sam soothed. “But in case this wasn’t a random act, or the guy fears you’ll identify him, it’d be better if you don’t go anywhere alone.”

“Are you volunteering to be her bodyguard?”

“Cass!” Jen gasped at her sister’s brazenness.

Sam chuckled. “I’d be happy to escort you any time.” The light dancing in his eyes reeled Jen in and spun her in dizzying pirouettes, leaving her breathless. She pressed her palm to her head. That drug had to be seriously affecting her brain. She did not let herself get swept up by guys she scarcely knew. Not anymore.

That was Cassie’s department.

FOUR

The next morning, Sam phoned the FBI’s Seattle office from the balcony of the room he shared with his brother and nephew. He couldn’t make out what was going on in the twins’ room next door any better from out here than he had with his ear to the wall inside as Jake and Tommy watched morning cartoons. And he doubted Jake had bought his neck-stretches excuse for hovering near the wall, no matter how lumpy the sofa bed looked.

“I put a rush on those bottles you sent in with the ship’s pilot. Came back clean,” the agent assured. “Couldn’t find out who ordered the basket. Buyer paid cash. Not that it matters now, I guess.”

Great, so they were back to square one. The PI had claimed he’d never heard of Jennifer Robbins. Not that Sam expected him to admit if he had. Not to some guy over the phone anyway.

“I spoke with the ship’s captain,” the agent went on. “Since their test confirmed Rohypnol in Miss Robbins’s system, he’ll get you the names of everyone who ordered soft drinks. But man, you might as well look for a needle in a haystack. We’re talking hundreds of names.”

Sam clenched the balcony rail, tamping down his frustration that Jen hadn’t been able to pick out the waiter in the employee-photo lineup security showed her last night. “She told me that someone kept calling her the night before she boarded but didn’t say anything. See if you can get a trace.”

“You still think her spiked drink is connected to that note speared to her car last week?” the agent asked.

You’ll pay. The note’s threat had careened through his mind all night. Sam rammed the heel of his hand into the rail. “Yeah. Until we prove otherwise, I assume everything’s connected.”

The agent let out a low whistle. “If whoever drugged her planned to kidnap her and demand a ransom, he wouldn’t have been able to stash her for long on a ship.”

“Making a threat of ‘pay now or you’ll never see her again’ all the more believable,” Sam muttered, sideswiped by images of a bloated body washing ashore. How had this assignment veered so far off course? “Let me know if you find out anything else. Thanks.”

He pocketed his phone and lifted his gaze to the horizon, where water met sky without a landmark in sight—kind of how this case felt at the moment.

Hearing a neighboring balcony door opening, he leaned over the rail to glance at the twins’ balcony. One of the women stood with her back to the open door.

His own balcony door slid open and Sam jerked away from the rail as Jake poked out his head. “We’re meeting Mom and Dad in the game room. Okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam’s gaze strayed to the partition between the adjoining balconies. “I—”

Jake flicked his hand in the same direction. “Just knock on their door, why don’t you? And invite them to join us.”

“It’s not what you think. I was just wondering how—”

Jake chuckled and retreated into the room. “Yeah, yeah, save your breath. We’ll see you there.”

Sam took his time securing their balcony door. This case was getting too messed up. He shouldn’t be letting his family think his concern for Jennifer Robbins was personal. Not when the attacks were likely connected to the gallery’s illegal activities.

Or she could be innocent.

Sam yanked open the door to the hall. They weren’t innocent. He’d heard Cass on the wiretap confirm the appointment her uncle had arranged with the gallery owner in Skagway. He shut out the voice that reasoned that that didn’t mean the women were guilty. He was not going to let a beautiful woman derail another case. He’d stick to Jennifer Robbins like a barnacle to a ship’s hull, be a friend but strictly to do the job. Period.

As he lifted his hand to tap on their door, it opened.

“Oh,” Cass exclaimed. “Good morning.”

“Hey, I thought I’d check in on our patient.”

“Thank you.” Cass grabbed his arm and tugged him inside. “I’m going stir-crazy in this tiny room.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Jennifer stood at the balcony door watching the water and lowered her voice. “I couldn’t even get her to go out for breakfast. But when I ordered room service, she was too afraid to eat it. Said someone could’ve poisoned it. I have to get out.” She wore black tights and a tank top and had her hair pulled into a high ponytail.

“You going for a jog around the deck?”

“Zumba class.” She held up the ship’s activity schedule. “It starts in five minutes. Could you please talk Jen into getting out of the room and enjoying the cruise?”

“Sure, you go on. I’ll keep her company.”

As Cass disappeared out the door, Jen turned from the balcony, startling at the sight of him. “How did you get in here?”

His heart kicked at the wobble in her voice. “Your sister let me in. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Even in a bright floral top she looked alarmingly pale. “My family’s in the game room, and I wondered if you’d like to join us.”

“Oh.” Her breath left her in a whoosh. But whatever relief she’d felt at learning his intentions were honorable—at least honorable as far as she knew—was short-lived. “I...I better not.” She stood by the open balcony door, cradling her middle.

He moved toward her but then thought better of it. “Does your stomach hurt? Would you like me to take you to see the doctor?”

She dropped her hands to her sides and shook her head, and then as if she didn’t know what to do, she scraped her thumbnail on the edge of the chair next to her. “I feel fine. Just...a little headache.”

“Are you sure? Cass said you didn’t eat.”

Jen’s gaze dropped to her thumb scraping back and forth. “Cass talks too much.”

“You missed supper, too. You must be hungry,” he said gently. “Eating might help with the headache.”

She scooped an apple from the fruit bowl the steward had left on the desk. She rolled it between her fingers, scrutinizing the surface, then seemingly satisfied, she took a bite. “This is fine. I’m not a big breakfast eater.” She was clearly trying to put on a brave front, but the deep shadows under her eyes and the defeated slump of her shoulders betrayed her. His heart went out to her—went out more than he wanted it to. More than was smart.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for hers. “C’mon and hang out with my family today. It’ll take your mind off...last night.”

“I can’t even remember last night.” She blinked rapidly as if staving off tears. “That’s what scares me more than anything. Imagine what could have happened and I wouldn’t have even known.”

Yeah, that’s all he’d been doing all night. “Hey.” Despite his good intentions, he grazed his knuckles along her jawline. “We’ve got your back. Don’t let this creep spoil your holiday, okay?”

Her eyes met his, appreciation brimming in their sparkling ocean depths. “You’re right. Thank you. I’d love to meet the rest of your family.”

Perfect. Maybe this assignment would be a cakewalk after all. If she was willing to hang out with them for the whole cruise and Jake sweet-talked her sister into joining them, he might not have to tail her on their Skagway excursion. She might invite them along.

He led the way to the game room, which was on the same deck as their rooms. Mom, Dad, Jake and Tommy sat near the windows at a large round oak table covered with dominoes.

Mom and Dad rose together and Mom clasped Jen’s hands. “How are you feeling? We’ve been praying for you ever since we learned what happened.”

“Thank you.” Jen blinked again, her bottom lip quivering.

Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “She’s fine, Mom.” The instant the words left his mouth, he wished he’d stayed the instinct to rescue Jen from his mother’s inquisition.

Mom’s gaze skittered from his arm on Jen’s shoulder to his face, and a not-good pleasure lit her eyes.

He resisted the instinct to jerk his arm back to his side.

Dad extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Jen. I’m Sam’s dad, Will Steele.” He smiled at Mom as she loosened her hold on Jen. “My wife, Anne.”

Jen’s forehead furrowed. “Steele? I thought...” She turned to Sam. “Didn’t you say your last name was Tate?”

Dad’s mouth flattened into a grim line. His parents knew better than to blow his cover, but the disappointment in Mom’s eyes made him feel lower than dirt. This was supposed to be a special vacation. Not a job. The thought was written all over Mom’s face.

Jake laughed. “He’s always doing that. Doesn’t think a woman will believe him if he tells her he’s Sam Steele.” Jake’s foot pushed a chair into Sam’s gut, letting him know he wasn’t happy about what he’d just done for him.

Oh, yeah, he’d owe his brother big-time for his quick thinking.

Mom and Dad regained their seats, looking relieved by Jake’s save.

Jen laughed. “Are you serious? People tease you about being a hard-boiled detective?”

“That was Sam Spade.” Sam held out a chair for her. “But yeah, it’s happened.” To his parents he said, “Jen and her sister own the Robbins Art Gallery,” hoping they’d assume he’d called himself Tate out of habit. He might do most of his undercover work on the East Coast, but the art world was too small to take chances.

“O-o-h.” Mom patted Jen’s hand. “I’m so sorry about your parents. I remember reading about their accident in the papers. You were much too young to lose them.”

“Yes,” Jen’s voice cracked.

Sam steeled himself against a rush of sympathy he couldn’t afford.

Tommy pressed a picture into her hands of a family waving from a boat with a bright yellow sun shining in the sky. “I drew this for you. To feel better.”

Jennifer looked at the crayon drawing as if it were the most valuable piece of art she’d ever seen. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She pulled Tommy into a warm hug.

His nephew beamed under her attention.

Sam bumped his shoulder. “Good job, Bud.”

Tommy slapped the table, sending the dominoes jumping. “Play it again, Sam?”

Jen smothered a giggle with her hand, her eyes twinkling, which got Mom started over Tommy’s unintended Humphrey Bogart impersonation.

“See what I have to put up with?” Sam said.

Mom ribbed his arm. “Oh, you’re so hard done by.”

They flipped over all the dominoes and started a new game. Jen wasn’t competitive at all. In fact, she seemed to go out of her way to set out pieces Tommy could use.

“Hey, if I draw you a pretty picture, will you help me, too?” Sam begged after Tommy laid a double combo, winning the game.

“Maybe.” She flashed him an eye-twinkling grin, clearly enjoying the simple pleasure of playing a game with his family. Not something he would have expected.

Mom turned the played pieces over, mixing them for a new game. “You’re just out of practice. You need to get home more often.”

“You don’t live in the Seattle area?” Jen asked.

Did he imagine the hint of disappointment? He shook his head. She was a suspect. Their “relationship” wasn’t going anywhere. “No, Boston.”

“What do you do?”

Cringing at his family’s collective breath, he said, “I’m in security.” Experience had taught him to stick as close to the truth as possible, and given Jen’s current trouble, he suspected she’d be more apt to trust someone in security than the art broker he usually posed as. “I’ve actually done a lot of work with art galleries.”

“Look at the time,” his mother jumped in. “That Iditarod racer is giving a slide presentation in ten minutes. I really wanted to hear that.”

Jake started gathering dominoes. “Oh, yeah, about her sled dogs. You wanted to see that, didn’t you, Tommy?”

“Yeah!” Tommy eagerly joined the cleanup, as Sam’s dad sat back looking amused by his family’s theatrics. A veteran police officer and sheriff, Dad likely hadn’t doubted Sam could handle Jen’s question. Not that Sam didn’t appreciate his family’s efforts to cover his back, except...more than once he’d infiltrated networks that wouldn’t have just sliced his throat if they’d figured out he was an undercover cop; they’d have killed his family, too.

Another reason he preferred working on the opposite side of the country.

“Are you interested in seeing the presentation?” he asked Jennifer.

“Oh, yes, I think my sister mentioned that, too. I should leave a note in our room to let her know where I’ll be.”

“We’ll save you seats,” Mom chirped as they headed out.