Only she missed. She actually missed. “Oh, God.”
“Gentle,” Christian’s voice said, and she realized he was speaking to her through the radio lying on the seat. “Gentle on the wheel, that’s all.” His voice came soft and easy. Laid-back. As if they had all the time in the world. “Make a wide turn and come back, try it again. That’s it,” he said as she followed his directions, and this time made it into the canal. “Don’t worry about anything but this,” he said. “Denny’s tied up, and I’ve still got Ethan in sight. You’re doing great, Dorie.”
Bullshit, she was doing great. She was hyperventilating. Her heart was in her throat and her legs were sweating. “The steering on this is stupid!”
He couldn’t hear her, but he responded anyway. “Ease up on it, there you go. Ten more feet and I’ve got you.”
In five, he took a flying leap from the dock and landed like a cat right next to her, pushing her aside to maneuver the boat into the slip with an extremely irritating ease. “Tie us,” he called to Andy and Cadence, who were running toward them to help.
Then Christian let go of the wheel and hauled her up to her toes. “Thank Christ,” he said, looking her over. “Jesus, I thought-” He shook his head, his breathing hard and uneven.
At the sound and feel of him, her heart sort of swelled, and then jammed in her throat, which didn’t explain why her eyes began to burn. Strong as she’d had to be the past few days, she felt strongest right here, right now, surrounded by him. What she felt for him was so, so much bigger than she’d even imagined, and, more shocking, couldn’t be contained. “I love you,” she whispered, the words escaping without permission.
He went still, staring at her.
Oh, God. That thinking out loud thing really had to stop! “Michael’s been shot.”
As a diversion, it worked. He blinked, and very carefully put her down before moving to Michael’s side.
She stood there a moment more, swaying in the breeze, wishing for one good wave to just rise up and swallow her. Yeah, that would work.
But somehow she managed to draw air into her lungs, and then turned to see what was happening behind her. Christian had dropped to his knees at Michael’s side, where he’d pulled Brandy’s shirt away from the wound at his shoulder.
“How bad?” Brandy asked him tightly.
“Not bad,” Michael said.
“Shut up,” Brandy told him, eyes on Christian. “Tell me.”
“Not bad,” he said, echoing Michael’s words. “Bullet went through. Let’s get him up to the house.”
“My boat,” Michael said, looking a bit pasty. “We have to get my boat.”
“Oh my God!” Brandy exploded. “Will you stop being a stupid boy for a freaking minute? Jesus Christ, you’re going to bleed to death and you’re worried about a stupid toy, like a… a-”
“Stupid boy?” Michael’s lips twisted, in a combination of good humor and pain.
Brandy glared at him. “This isn’t funny. Nothing about this is funny.” And she burst into tears.
Michael went immediately contrite, reaching for her.
“No, no, don’t do that,” she sobbed. “I’m okay. Delayed stress. That’s all.”
But Brandy couldn’t stop crying. And because Dorie felt like crying, too, she hugged her tight, and together they watched as Christian and Andy helped Michael out of the boat and up to the house.
“He’s going to be okay,” Dorie said to Brandy.
“Yes, he is,” Brandy agreed. “The son of a bitch. Of course he is. It’s us I’m worried about.” She sighed and wiped away her tears. “So. You love the gorgeous doctor?”
“Heard that, did you?”
“Honey, the whole world heard it.”
While Christian stitched up Michael, his brain whirled so hard it hurt.
Dorie loved him.
How had that happened?
“Shouldn’t he stay lying down for a while?” Brandy asked when he was done, hovering like a mother hen.
“No,” Michael said.
“Yes,” Christian said.
“No,” Michael said again, and got up. He wobbled, swore, then stepped to the door.
On the other side of it stood Dorie, Andy, and Cadence.
Dorie had been pacing, but she jerked to a stop. She looked at a spot over Christian’s shoulder instead of meeting his eyes. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He wanted to haul her up against him and hold on tight. He wanted to yell at her for nearly getting shot. He wanted to kiss her. But mostly he just wanted to look at her.
The others had circled around Michael, urging him to sit. Christian went directly to Dorie.
“Um, about before.” She shifted her weight back and forth on her feet. “You know, when my mouth got the case of the runs? If you could just forget everything I said, that would be good.”
She wanted him to forget that she loved him. He’d work on that.
Fat chance.
“Christian?” Brandy called. “Michael’s insisting on talking to Denny. Tell him that’s a bad idea.”
“Colossally bad,” Christian said, his eyes never leaving Dorie.
“Where is he?” Michael asked.
“On the dock where you last saw him. Tied up.”
Michael headed out.
“Goddamn,” Brandy said, and grabbing Cadence and Andy, followed him.
“We’ve got to go with them,” Dorie said, and walked out, too.
“Goddamn,” he said, repeating Brandy’s sentiment and went after her.
Three minutes later, Dorie was on the dock with the others, standing in front of a trussed-up Denny.
Denny eyed them all. “Ethan get away, huh? Told you.” His laugh was unpleasant.
“Premature elation,” Christian said. “Might want to see a doctor about that.”
Denny’s smile faded. “Fuck you.”
“I want answers,” Michael said, looking pale but strong enough. “Now.”
Denny tucked his lips into his mouth.
Christian sighed. “It’s about the insurance claim, isn’t it.”
“What insurance claim?” Dorie asked.
“On the Sun Song,” Christian said. “We had a claim on our last cruise. One of the passengers lost a bag overboard. She claimed all her jewelry was in it, half a mil worth. The insurance wouldn’t pay out and the woman is suing Denny and the owner personally.”
“Bitch,” Denny said. “Her insurance would have covered it, but she wouldn’t make her own claim. She wanted me to pay out, even though I didn’t take her damn jewelry.”
“That’s what happens when you sleep with so many passengers,” Christian said.
Cadence’s mouth fell open. “You… sleep with passengers?”
“At least one each cruise. The oddest thing is,” Christian mused, “that it should have been the owner’s problem, not yours.”
Denny turned his head and looked away.
“Unless…” Christian glanced behind him at everyone standing there. “See, I’ve never met the owner directly. Denny’s always said the man’s too busy to be bothered. I always found that incredibly strange.” He turned back to Denny. “You’re the owner, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Working closely with him then, insurance scam, right? Yeah. I’m close.” Christian stared at him. “No, it’s not you, it’s… Ethan?”
Denny’s expression gave the truth away.
“Unbelievable.”
“He never wanted anyone knowing,” Denny admitted. “He likes the anonymity of it.”
“So you, what, sleep with the passengers and then he steals from them? Is that how this works? And then you split the profits?”
“You think you’re so righteous and moral,” Denny said, “but if you’d been in my position, you’d-”
“What? Never have stolen in the first place? Sure as hell never murder someone to keep my secrets?”