Resonating Souls (Bermuda Nights #1)(24)

I snapped into focus. I had to get her home. I could worry about anything else after I took care of her – but Kayla needed my help.

She had trouble with the one-foot-after-another part of walking, and she faded out on me several times. At long last we were through the customs building, enduring the amused glance of the portly matron who was checking IDs. The ship’s security officer let us go through the checkpoint together, undoubtedly deciding that Kayla might not be able to manage it on her own.

By the time we reached our room, I was simply grateful that Kayla had not retched along the way. Score one point for her bartender-trained constitution. I eased her onto her bed and pulled off her high heels. She burrowed her head into her pillow, and I turned down the lights.

Her voice grumbled out from the thick white pillow. “Gotta find Sven. Tell him I’m ok. He’s in room 222.”

“He’s the one who left you,” I pointed out, brushing her hair back. “We can tell him in the morning.”

“Gotta tell him,” she insisted. “222. Gotta … Scmotta …” her pleas faded into incomprehensibility. In a moment she was snoring with the power of a force five hurricane.

I sat on my bed, the initial stress of getting Kayla safely home fading under the room-shattering snores. Twists of emotion wrenched through me with each shuddering inhale and exhale, as the vision of Evan in the woman’s grasp flared into vivid life. Had that been heated interest in his eyes? He’d refused to make love to me in the massage room. Had it been because he was saving himself for another woman? He’d already been preparing to move on?

Kayla’s next snore tore my eardrums into tattered remnants.

I couldn’t take it any more.

I stood and left the room, striding down the hallway to the stairwell.

I stopped there, staring at the two flights, one going up, the other down. I knew I should head up to the decks, to find a lounge chair to sprawl on for an hour or two, until I was so exhausted that I would fall asleep immediately despite Kayla’s furious wind tunnel effect. I should go up to the theater, or by the pool, or maybe even to the library, so I could …

My feet began their descent.

My heart pounded against my ribs as I moved down to the crew deck. I’d never been to this part of the ship. I didn’t belong here. And Evan had asked me to stay away. But I had to know. Maybe I’d been mistaken about what I’d seen. Surely nobody would see me down here at this hour of the morning. I’d just check in, let Sven know she was all right, get reassurance from Evan, and then head back to my room. Kayla would be happy. I’d be happy. The world would resume spinning in its proper orbit.

Music echoed from the hall before me; one of the doors was open a crack. The lyrics blasted out in hard-edged rhythm, one I knew well. Life in the Fast Lane.

I chuckled as I approached the door. Apparently the band was taking their bachelor living seriously. There was the tail end of a bathrobe’s belt trailing out of the doorway, and that’s what the door had caught on. Looking in the thin gap, I could see dirty socks, crumpled magazines, stained t-shirts, plates of half-eaten food, and piles of items too mixed to name. There were a pair of bunk beds on each side. A black speaker amp stood in the center of the room as a makeshift table, with a square of glass on top serving as its counter.

I could see the two left-hand bunks more clearly from my angle. Tom, his bald head shining in the cabin’s lights, had a pair of drumsticks in his hand and was rapping the wall in time with the music. I gave a silent prayer to whoever it was who had the room next to theirs. Either they worked the night shift, or they had the patience of a saint. Above Tom, Hank was stretched out on the upper bunk, his gaze locked on the TV screen. He spoke to the other side of the room. “We’ve got some rain coming in, but it looks like perfect weather for next weekend.”

Sven stepped into the center of the room from the right, carrying a wrapped package the size of a loaf of bread. He set it down onto the glass counter. “Excellent. We’ve only got that one final run between Boston and Bermuda, and then we do our repositioning cruise down to New Orleans. So we want to make these count.”

I blinked. I should have remembered that, of course, but in all the excitement I hadn’t even given it thought. I’d assumed, foolishly of course, that Evan would be coming back and forth to Boston until he finished his tour. But he wouldn’t. Cold weather was about to set in, and the ship would be heading south for the winter, just like the Canada geese and hummingbirds.

The thought of him being even further away from me sent a chill through my soul.


Tom did a roll with the drumsticks. “Two weeks. Is that enough time to hook Kayla?”

My brow creased in confusion.

Sven pulled a knife from his back pocket and popped it open. He cut a line down the top of the package and slid the knife into it, coming out with a white powder.

My heart stopped.

Sven eyed the powder with a practiced eye. “Yeah, I’ve almost got her on board. Hell, the fool girl was talking about signing on, so she could bartend on ship while we did our southern run!” He laughed. “But I convinced her that it’s better if she stays put in Boston.”

He grinned over at Tom. “God, the connections she has. She has politicians, bankers, you name it, all coming and going out of that bar of hers.” His eyes lit up. “But, best of all, she’s got a number of school administrators and teachers. Once we turn her, she can hook in with a few of them. Think of the potential. If we can get into a school, the sky’s the limit.”