The Wrong Gentleman(29)

It didn’t matter what Landon thought. I wasn’t quite sure if he was being protective or an ass. Either way, it was none of his business. Another one of the benefits of not having a boyfriend or a husband was that I didn’t have to ask anyone’s permission to go to dinner. I could handle myself. It was one night, and Walt seemed like a great guy. How bad could it be?





Seventeen





Landon


My legs were restless—I wanted to get out, run. I wasn’t used to being as confined as I was on the boat. On deck was bad enough, but in the crew quarters with the low ceilings and cramped conditions, it was almost unbearable. If I could just find a way in to the dinner tonight. I’d already called Reynolds to let him know it was happening. No doubt he or his client would have someone cover it, but I was used to being in charge. At the center of things. I hated only getting half the picture.

And there was the added complication of Skylar being present tonight. She was a nice girl—a civilian. She didn’t need to be dining with arms dealers and go-betweens for terrorist organizations. She’d mentioned she was trying to get a reservation for ten, which included the guests on the boat and her. But that left three unallocated seats at the table. God knew who the additional guests might be. More intermediaries or would it be someone more dangerous?

I hated feeling conflicted. I liked solutions to be clear. The right result for Reynolds’ operation was to have the most powerful and dangerous guests at the dinner tonight, but that wouldn’t be the right thing for Skylar. If I could just go to the dinner tonight, I could observe who the other guests were, listen in to their conversation, and protect Skylar.

“All deck crew, meeting in the mess immediately,” Peter called on our radios.

I checked my watch. Just hours until everyone left for dinner. I finished arranging the rope on the deck and headed down to the mess.

“You’ve hardly said two words today. You okay?” Peter asked as we waited for the others to arrive.

“Yeah, fine. Just concentrating, I guess. I was actually hoping to talk to you about taking on a bit more responsibility. I know I’m the junior deckhand, but I’d really like to take the opportunity to challenge myself.” What I wanted was to take the tender ashore this evening. That way I could follow them to the restaurant and carry on my observations.

“It’s early in the season. We have plenty of time.”

That was the problem—I didn’t have plenty of time.

“I guess I’m impatient,” I said. “I’m best when I’m being challenged.”

“I get it. But I need to be fair to everyone.”

I wasn’t talking about suddenly wanting to captain the fucking ship. I just wanted to take the tender out tonight.

The two other deckhands appeared, and I shifted so we could all sit around the mess table.

“As I said when I put up the schedule this week, everything’s subject to change. The owner wants to go to dinner off the yacht tonight. Tom, I’m going to need you to take the tender out. You might have to stay over there until his dinner is over,” Peter said.

Tom had been on shift since seven this morning, and who knew what time Walt and Skylar would head back to the boat. Monte Carlo was a twenty-four-hour town. It could be three in the morning before Tom got back to the boat.

“I’d be happy to take the tender out tonight,” I said, seeing my opportunity.

Peter shook his head. “Too soon. You’ve only been on the yacht for days.”

“He’s good though, Peter. A natural. When we did the trip out to the caves yesterday, I let him take over for most of it, and going ashore is easier.”

“But he’s not been out at night before.”

I could see that that would be a problem. I was sure I could handle it, but Peter wouldn’t be doing his job if he let me.

Fuck.

“What’s the weather doing tonight?” I asked. “It might make more sense to suggest going into the marina.”

“What’s with you?” Peter laughed. “That’s the captain’s call, not ours.”

“But you could suggest it. It’s much better and more impressive for the owner.”

“I don’t disagree with you, but a suggestion like that is way over our paygrade,” Peter said.

“Who’s suggesting things over their paygrade?” The captain’s gravelly voice rang out as he headed in and over to the fridge. He rarely spent time in the mess. He had most of his meals in his room.

“Nobody, sir,” Peter said. “We’re just sorting out logistics for this evening. That’s all.”

Peter was going to kill me, but the trouble I was going to get into was exactly why I’d been successfully recruited into the SAS. I didn’t like following orders and chains of command that didn’t make sense to me. “Peter is covering for me. I suggested the Sapphire go into the marina tonight to allow the owner easier access on and off the boat. I thought it would be more convenient and look as if we’d gone the extra mile.”

I tried to ignore Peter’s eyes boring into the side of my cheek.

The captain pulled out a covered plate of food that Chef had clearly left for him. “Yes, I agree. I was about to tell you that’s what we were going to do. I like that we’re on the same page, Landon.” He pulled open a drawer, took some cutlery, and headed out.