Page 26 of Between Love and Honor

His asshole buddy was wrong. Ben needed Quinn safe so he could question her about her “friend” Alexi Ronoff. That was all. He hadn’t been able to get a good look at any of the men, but his gut was telling him that Ronoff was among them.

Adam heaved a sigh. “Fine. POTUS and FLOTUS are headed to California. I can get Joss to agree to have a guest sleep over. No one can get to your runaway prom date there. But she’s under escort the entire time she’s in the Crown. Understood?”

Ben nodded.

“Hey, this woman is lucky we were right here when you pulled her out, but she’s still a victim of a near drowning,” one of the EMT’s objected. “She needs further medical attention, just in case.”

“Good thing the Crown has its own medical staff, then.” Adam pinned the paramedic with his no-nonsense sniper’s gaze.

“That’s not within our standard protocol.” The EMT refused to back down.

Ben shot his brother-in-law a beleaguered look.

Rich sighed heavily. “The feds outrank us, boys. I’m overriding protocol tonight. She goes with them.”

Adam pulled out his cell phone and began making the necessary arrangements.

“Before you take off, Ben, you might want to come up here and see if anything is missing,” Rich said.

“I got her,” Adam reassured him.

Ben climbed aboard the Seas the Day. He hadn’t been paying too much attention earlier; he was so laser-focused on finding Quinn. But Rich was correct. His boat had been thoroughly tossed. He bent down to retrieve the contents of Quinn’s purse scattered on the back deck. Growing up in a house full of females, he knew enough not to separate a woman from her purse.

“Whoa there, Bennett,” Rich said. “I’m not skipping every protocol. This is still the scene of an attempted murder. I’ll make sure that gets bagged up and returned to her.”

There was the queasiness again. Every time he thought of Quinn dying. Ben was in the process of getting to his feet when something just inside her bag caught his eye.

“Do you have evidence gloves?” he asked his brother-in-law.

Rich handed him a pair of latex gloves. Ben pulled them on and reached for a silver tube that looked a lot like a lipstick container, only longer. Inside was a sophisticated set of lock picks.

What does a photographer need with those?

His pulse pounded harder when he dug a little deeper and pulled out a small, but lethal, Ruger twenty-two caliber handgun. He checked the barrel. It was fully loaded. Any lingering guilt about invading her privacy disappeared. He picked up her camera and discovered the SIM card had been removed. Her cell phone was switched to the off position. Unusual for most people unless she didn’t want to be easily located.

He inspected her wallet next. It contained one credit card, a smattering of cash and a British driver’s license, but nothing else. No coupons, or discount cards. Not even a damn postage stamp. None of the things most women stuffed into their wallets.

“Who are you, Quinn Darby,” he asked quietly.

“Hey, Bennett,” Adam called from the dock. “We’re ready to move out.”

“Be right down. I just need to grab something from my cabin.”

He headed belowdecks pulling up to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the steps. The Russians were thorough. Every drawer and cabinet had been opened; the contents strewn on the floor. Wading through the mess, he headed for the front cabin. No surprise; it had been ransacked as well. He made a beeline for the fake Rubik’s Cube he kept at his bedside, frantically digging his fingers inside.

It was empty.

Fuck.

Those assholes took the copy of VOYEUR he’d stowed there earlier that day.

* * *

QUINN WAS FLOATING. A sea of dense fog enveloped her.

Beyond the curtain of gray, she heard voices. Familiar ones.

Her dad was singing, his deep baritone familiar and comforting. But try as she might, Quinn couldn’t make out the words of the song. Frustrated, she struggled to get closer, but was stopped by the warm weight that descended every time she tried to move.

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