The Wrong Gentleman

“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.

Shit, Peter wasn’t going to kill me just once. To go over his head and then have the captain compliment me for doing it? Once wouldn’t be enough. He’d resurrect me and do it all over again, but I couldn’t regret speaking out. This way, I’d be able to follow the guests to the restaurant, find out who the additional diners were, and perhaps overhear some of the conversation. On top of that, I could keep an eye on Skylar.

I just had to do it without being caught—by the captain or any of the crew or Reynolds, Walt, or any of his dinner guests. If I was, best-case scenario I’d lose my job. Worst-case scenario, I’d end up dead.

Eighteen

Skylar

“I don’t understand why you’re not more excited. Walt is wealthy, charming. Handsome. Isn’t he your dream man?” August asked from where she was lying on her bed.

“I am excited,” I replied as I did up the top button on the pussy-bow blouse.

“You could have fooled me. And what’s with that blouse?”