Page 29 of My Boyfriend Bites

“He takes our work very seriously.”

“Then I guess you’d better go.”

Was it him, or did she seem reluctant to part? Rennie better have a good reason for disturbing their tete-a-tete.

“I look forward to our date.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips firmly to the inside of her wrist, feeling her shaky inhalation and the spike of her pulse.

“What time?”

“Shall we say six?” The earliest he dared after sundown.

“Okay. Bye.” She entered her cabin, and he huffed a long breath.

Tomorrow’s dinner seemed so far away.

He entered his suite to find Rennie sitting at the dining table, a pair of laptops open. One showing cameras, the other full of writing, more specifically ship communiques.

“What is it?” Dante snapped, a little harsher than he meant.

“There’s a problem on board.”

“What kind of problem?” he asked, bracing a hand on the back of Rennie’s chair to peer over his shoulder at the screen.

“Missing passengers. The first one seems to have disappeared a day after we left port.”

“And you came to this conclusion how?” Dante queried.

“Not easily, and I could be wrong. But here, look.” Rennie pointed to a message. “This is from a cleaner on level eight. Says cabin 8002, registered to one Mack Loomis, hasn’t been disturbed since they left port. There’s a suitcase in the room, partially unpacked. Toiletries in the bathroom, but the bed hasn’t been touched.”

“So that person got lucky on day one and is bunking elsewhere.”

“Perhaps,” Rennie stated. “Only their wristband isn’t showing any activity since the last drink ordered at ten seventeen p.m. the evening of our departure. No more drinks. No opening of doors. Nothing.”

“Perhaps he fell overboard, and no one noticed.”

“Could be, only there is another suspiciously missing passenger. Cabin 7227. Meredith Bennett. Her wristband last shows her entering her suite the following day around nine p.m. Then nothing.”

“People do hook up on cruises,” Dante noted.

“They do, but they also leave a trail. I’ve had our software scanning for their images, but as of yet, nothing past those times. Then there’s this.” Renard pulled up surveillance footage of the cabanas lining the walking track. The time stamp of four oh three p.m. matched the slanting sunlight. Dante noticed people going in and out of the lounging huts, the sped-up playback making them almost comical in their movements.

“What exactly am I looking at?”

Renard pointed his finger to a specific tent pavilion. “Keep an eye on this one.”

At five thirty-seven p.m., a young man in swim trunks entered the cabana and pulled the drapes. The image glitchedat six oh seven then again at six twenty-one. Renard muttered, “Keep watching,” as he sped up the footage. The sun set, and while darkness fell, soft lights kept the track lit. The man in the cabana didn’t emerge, nor did anyone enter. Rennie didn’t pause the footage until someone walked past the enclosed space, stopped, and then drew back a curtain for a peek.

“That’s Selene,” Dante muttered. She entered the space for a moment, and his fists clenched as jealousy reared its green head. She’d met another man.

She exited quickly, her expression taut as she hurriedly walked away.

So not an assignation.

“Why is this important?” Dante asked.

About fifteen minutes after her departure, the screen glitched again, for only a few minutes. When the feed returned, the cabana drapes were wide open, the day bed within lacking its mattress.

Renard swiveled to eye Dante. “That man we saw enter, Barry Smith, hasn’t been seen, and his wristband hasn’t registered since he procured that cabana. Not to mention those glitches in the camera? Not actual glitches. The video feed was wiped in both instances.”

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