Page 99 of Love Overboard
“Yes. You should have. But you didn’t. And you can’t change that. Like I can’t change how it triggers my insecurities. The answer to your question is—nothing. There’s nothing you can do. Except check out Ricardo’s cabin, and … and … go away.”
Jon didn’t argue. He stood there, silent and grim. But his eyes pleaded with her.
Lacey turned. Her feet carried her up the aisle and out the auditorium door. She walked without looking where she was going—or caring. She wasn’t running from love this time. She was choosing to walk away. But the result was the same.
She left him. Again.
And he didn’t follow her. Again.
CHAPTER 44
JON RAPPED HIS KNUCKLES ONRicardo Montoya’s door and waited. No answer. He glanced at one of the men behind him and nodded. The security guard withdrew a passkey from his vest pocket. He stuck the card in the electronic reader. It beeped, and he opened the door. The tiny cabin sat empty.
Collins poked his head over Jon’s shoulder, smacking away on his gum and pushing Jon’s already frayed nerves to the edge. His father had sent Mr. Eliot the nursemaid to escort him home. The love of his life dumped him in no uncertain terms for justifiable reasons that were his own boneheaded fault. And they were seconds away from finding more drugs on a Monarch ship.
A few nights ago, he’d been on Cloud Nine. Literally. Now it felt like Cave Negative Twelve.
The guard, Collins, and Jon entered the room and shut the door behind them.
“Where do we start?” Jon asked.
“I’ll take the bathroom,” the guard said. “That’s where they found the stash on the MSVersailles.”
Collins plodded around the bedroom, pulling back the drawn curtains on the bunk beds and lifting the mattresses. He pointed a finger at the desk as he rummaged through a stack of laundry. “Check those drawers.”
Jon opened them one by one. He found piles of empty candy bar wrappers, a few beer cans, and crumpled magazines. “Nothing here.”
The sound of scraping echoed from the bathroom. “Nothing in the toilet,” the guard called.
Collins checked the closet and dragged out a gray hard-shell suitcase. He flopped it on the ground and yanked the zipper. “Well, well, well. Lookee here what I found.” He held a paper grocery bag and dumped it out. Six packages of flour with a Spanish brand name tumbled out. Collins opened one, dipped a finger inside, and stuck it in his mouth. He spit to the side and smirked. “You better not bake any cakes with this stuff.”
Jon joined him and lifted one of the bags.
The guard stuck his head out of the bathroom. “You found it?”
Collins nodded. “We got him.”
Laughter sounded from outside. The main door swung open, and Ricardo entered the room while talking to someone in the hallway. “She did. All I said was—”
He froze. His gaze darted around, taking in the three men, the suitcase, and the exposed flour bags.
Ricardo spun and bolted.
Jon dropped the bag and chased after him. The pastry chef pounded down the corridor. He swerved around a group of waiters. A maid with an armload of snacks turned the corner, and Ricardo plowed into her. She yelled. Her food crashed to the floor.
The collision bought Jon a few seconds. He closed the gap and dived for Ricardo’s legs, knocking him to the ground. A thick rubber sole connected with Jon’s chin, but he held on.
The security guard caught up and hauled the fugitive to his feet.
“Why?” Ricardo panted. “Why are you doing this?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Jon stood and brushed off his trousers. “Six bags of cocaine are more than enough reason.”
“Those are not mine.”
“Then why did you run?”
Ricardo’s lips twitched, but he remained sullen.
