TRAPPED AT SEA

In an instant Kathryn Brooks’s idyllic transatlantic cruise turns to terror. It’s hard to believe someone has it out for her, yet chandeliers don’t explode on their own—and her best friend has gone missing. But Secret Service agent Sam West vows to protect her as every corridor poses a threat and any stranger may be an assailant. With the ship’s security providing little assistance, Kathryn puts her trust in Sam. Yet losing her own life is no longer her only fear. As she and Sam strive to stay a step ahead of the enemy, Kathryn worries that by caring for Sam…she’s put a target on his back, as well.

Hot tears spilled down her face as she thought of Sam, how he would take all of this on himself. But it was her fault. She shouldn’t have gone with the man.

She wouldn’t.

She stopped, turned toward her assailant, the barrel of the gun near her eye.

He didn’t want to kill her here. Knew he’d be caught.

“Move!” he growled, and a door above them slammed open.

“Kathryn!”

Sam. Coming down the stairs!

The man yanked her back, hand fisting painfully in her hair, gun pressed to the side of her head.

Footsteps echoed, fast along the metal steps. Sam turned the corner, weapon drawn.

He met Kat’s eyes, and she wondered if this would be their last moment together.

SARA K. PARKER

was raised in central Maryland and spent many childhood hours with her nose in a book or a pen in hand. The youngest of five children, she longed to grow up, and began pursuing a writing career at the age of fifteen. That year, her first poem was published in a Christian magazine, and Sara has continued to weave her faith into most of her writing. Sara holds an undergraduate degree in journalism and a master’s degree in writing. She and her husband stay busy with four children, three dogs and a cat in a suburb near Houston, Texas. When she’s not writing or wrangling children or animals, Sara spends her time teaching piano, reading, reorganizing or experimenting in the kitchen.

Undercurrent
Sara K. Parker

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them;

I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth.

—Isaiah 42:16

To my mom and dad, Shirley and Edward Porter.

I still remember opening that electric keyboard one glorious Christmas morning—thank you for always encouraging me to pursue my dreams.

To my husband, Nate, who never doubted, tirelessly helping with kids and housework so I could write. I love you, and I couldn’t have done this without you.

To my sister, Shirlee McCoy, a critique partner who tells it like it is until we’re laughing so hard we’re crying. You said I’d get here, and you believed it. Thank you.

And to God, who orchestrated it all.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Someone had been in her stateroom.

Blue sapphire organza spilled out of the opened garment bag in Kathryn Brooks’s closet. She hadn’t touched it since the day they’d set sail, when she’d carefully hung the gown alongside her other performance attire. Kat was meticulous about her work clothes, had to be, considering their hefty price tag. She never would have left one of her bags open. Especially not the one holding her Jovani gown, the one her dad had bought for her.

So, who had opened it?

The question gripped her and wouldn’t let go.

She checked the zipper along the edge of the white casing, found it intact. She glanced around the room.

Everything else looked just the way she’d left it when she’d gone to the gym. The bed had been made, though, and a towel folded into the shape of a monkey hung from the ceiling. Johann’s doing.

She still felt funny about the special treatment, but her agent had insisted on requesting a room with a balcony, a steward and all the perks that vacationing travelers enjoyed.

It was how a world-renowned concert pianist traveled, Becky Landry had told her. “In style.”

Kat unhooked the gown from its hanger and carried it to the bed, laid it out atop the white down comforter. Traced the seams, checked the hem. No harm done.

Perhaps her cabin steward had just been curious. If it happened again, she’d have a word with him. She chided herself for her paranoia.

She needed to get a handle on that. Ever since the fire, she’d been battling anxiety.

Rooming with her best friend had been the perfect antidote. During the day, Morgan was the best kind of company—funny and adventurous, always dragging Kat out of their room to explore new ports and socialize with passengers. And during the quiet hours of the night, Kat was never alone. But Morgan had disembarked for a family emergency four days ago, leaving Kat right back in the very place she’d sought to escape—alone with her thoughts.

The room was stuffy. She left the gown and opened the glass balcony door, stepped out to the railing. Hot wind assaulted her, mid-July sun beating down without mercy. She welcomed the heat, its warmth on her face, the pungent saltiness of the sea—all reminders that she was alive. Just three months ago, she’d wondered if she’d ever feel the sun again, see the crisp blue sky, inhale the scents of summer.

Absently, she traced a hand down her left side, the ridges of the bandage smoothing down under her fingertips. The fire had licked a three-inch-wide path from midthigh to the bottom of her rib cage. In time, the burn would fade, but the scar would remain forever. None of it mattered, though, compared to what she had lost.

Kat blinked hard and shut out the regrets.

She wouldn’t look back. Not with all the beauty stretched out before her. The Jade Princess lulled gently, no land in sight. Four days since leaving port in Salvador de Bahia, Brazil, the ship floated leisurely toward its next destination, the Canary Islands. Kat breathed in the ocean breeze, trying to drum up the thrill of the adventure ahead. But all she felt was the ache of all that had been.

Her dad would have loved cruising. She could picture him walking the promenade and talking up his only child’s accomplishments to anyone who would listen. It hurt to know he’d spent his entire life working, until one day he couldn’t.

A massive stroke in November had pushed him out of the state’s attorney’s office and into disability retirement. Kat had canceled her tour and moved back into the house she’d grown up in. Cared for her dad and willed him to get better while she took a faculty piano instructor position at the University of Miami.

Her father had started to improve, gaining back motion on the right side of his body, carrying on brief conversations. They’d begun to connect in a way Kat had craved since her mother had died. They’d eaten dinner together most nights, classical music in the background, reminiscing and dreaming. He wanted to travel, he told her, once he was back on his feet. She said she’d go with him as soon as his doctor okayed the trip.

But in January, he had another stroke. Kat was at work when it happened. Found him on the floor by his bed when she came home. Too late.

Setting her gaze on the horizon, still and unreachable, Kat clenched the railing, determined. Before her mother passed away fourteen years ago, Kat had made a promise that she would keep putting one foot in front of the other, even when it hurt.

Especially when it hurt.

She’d done just that, and now here she was, on her third job of a six-cruise contract as a concert pianist. She had to hand it to Morgan. The timing had been ripe for this kind of adventure.

The home she’d grown up in had burned to the ground in March, nearly taking her with it. When she was released from the burn center, bandages still covering ugly scars, footsteps slow with pain and heavy from loss, Kat knew it was up to her to make a new beginning.

The rebuild of Kat’s childhood home would be complete by the time her contract ended, and she’d be able to stop living out of suitcases. In the meantime, she’d have a chance to gain some perspective and evaluate what she would do with her career.

Halfway through her contract, Kat didn’t feel refreshed and she hadn’t gained a new perspective or figured out her next course, but at least she was keeping her promise to keep moving forward.

Her watch beeped.

Time to get to work.

She left the balcony door open as she reentered the cabin, hoping to gather the scent of the sea.

Her gaze flitted over Morgan’s bed, concern tugging at the pit of her stomach. Kat picked up her phone and checked it. No updates yet. She hoped everything was okay. Morgan’s brother, Jake, was in the hospital again, and this time it was serious. For Jake, a twenty-nine-year-old cystic fibrosis patient, any hospital visit could mean the end. Kat sent up a silent prayer for Morgan’s brother and then picked her dress up from the bed.

A flutter of familiar anticipation coursed through her. She always felt it right before a performance. Her cruise contract promised an adventure of a lifetime, and Kat was determined to embrace it.

* * *

Samuel West took a sip of black coffee and wondered, not for the first time, how his siblings had managed to pin him down for this one. Whatever their methods, they had succeeded, and now he sat watching rippling dark water against clear blue skies while keeping the corner of his eye trained on the woman who brought trouble wherever she set foot.

Grandma.

Ever since Grandpa Frank had died last year, Grandma had been on what could only be described as a travel binge. After her first trip left her stranded in Italy with no passport and her second trip ended before it had even begun, with a nasty fall on the airport escalator that fractured her wrist, Sam and his five siblings had gathered with Mom to devise a plan.

Grandma relished her independence, and her mind was still as sharp as ever, but she couldn’t be trusted to embark on adventures alone. Together the family made a pact to take turns joining Grandma Alice on her vacations.

Sam could think of a host of other things he’d rather do than hang out on a cruise ship. Too confined and predictable. But it was his turn, Grandma had told him with her no-nonsense voice, and she knew he had the vacation time available. Knew he hadn’t taken a day off in two years.

A flash of blue drew his gaze away from his grandmother and up to the wide spiral staircase at the center of the atrium. A woman stood still and graceful on the steps, near-black hair cascading down past her shoulders. Like a figure in a painting, she posed with serenity, one hand resting on the polished brass railing, the other relaxed at her side, gown shimmering under the chandeliers that lit the lobby.

“It’s six o’clock, and we on the Jade Princess trust that you’re enjoying your voyage across the Atlantic Ocean to the Canary Islands and then on to Malaga, Spain.” The loud voice on the sound system filtered throughout the atrium as patrons wandered through the area and into the coffee shop and art gallery across the way. “In case you missed last night’s classical performance by concert pianist Kathryn Brooks, she will perform again in just a moment in the atrium. Ms. Brooks is a Florida native who made her debut at Carnegie Hall at the age of fifteen and has traveled the world delighting audiences ever since. She’s performed at Steinway Hall and the Sydney Opera House, and now we have the privilege of listening to her performances along our journey. Make sure to pass through the atrium on deck eight to hear her breathtaking music.”

Sam’s attention fastened on the woman in blue as she took the last few steps to the lobby and made her way to the shiny black grand piano set to the left of a wide center stage. Her black heels tapped against the white marble floor, and the din in the room hushed.

Passersby seemed drawn to the woman as she took her seat on a leather-cushioned bench, the flowing fabric of her gown caressing the floor at her feet. She turned slightly toward the audience, speaking into the microphone at her side.

“Good evening,” she said. “I hope you’re all enjoying your sea voyage as much as I am.” Her voice carried clearly through the lobby, mellow and sweet. A few people clapped in agreement and she smiled.

She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. A narrow streak of white appeared and disappeared so quickly Sam wasn’t sure he’d actually seen it.

“I’m often asked if music runs in the family. If my parents were here tonight, they’d laugh at the question. In church, my mother worked hard to master lip-synching to hymns, while the rest of the congregation wished my father would, too.”

Sam found himself smiling along with the rest of her captive audience. Magnetic was how he would describe her. And gorgeous.

“But my parents’ failure to carry a tune didn’t stand in their way of bringing music into our home,” she continued. “I recall many dinners with the CD player as background music. One night we might listen to Elvis, the next the latest Christian artist and another night an orchestral production. We would scour the thrift shops and clearance boxes at a little music store in town, always searching for something we hadn’t heard before.” She played a few sweet, slow notes and soft laughter rippled through the audience as they recognized “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

“I suppose that’s where my love of music began, and I credit my mother for inspiring me. While I can lose myself in a Chopin nocturne or a Brahms lullaby, I’ve always craved the challenge of creating, taking something beautiful and...changing it up a little.”

She turned away from the microphone, made a swift key change and began an arrangement of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” unlike any Sam had ever heard before. Her hands flew over the keys, turning the lullaby into a jazzy rendition that brought cheers from her growing audience. It was a short piece, and it came to an abrupt stop, met with enthusiastic applause. The woman turned back to the microphone.

“Tonight I’ll be performing some pieces you’ll probably all be familiar with. I hope you’ll enjoy my interpretation. If not, I understand that there’s plenty to do on ship. Which is a good thing, considering we have three more days before we hit our next destination.”

Even the young children in the room sat quietly watching, captivated by her

“In honor of our grand adventure, I wonder if you’ll recognize this first tune.”

Sam did right away—“What a Wonderful World”—and he observed the faces of bystanders as they murmured to each other.

The pianist’s graceful movements drew Sam in, her eyes closing briefly at the most tender sounds in the piece. Simple notes strung together into tangible emotion beneath the movement of her hands. Her energy and passion for her music flowed through the room, which had suddenly grown more crowded.

The song was one of Grandma’s favorites, and Sam glanced to his right, expecting to spot her big red hat swaying to the rhythm.

She wasn’t there.

He bit back a sigh and stood up, gaze roaming the room. Even in a hall thick with passengers, locating his grandmother should be a cinch with that enormous hat of hers. He moved from his seat, and a young couple scooped up his small round table as he entered the throng of people.

There. The red hat. He caught a glimpse as his grandmother entered the art gallery.

He took a step toward her, but something in his periphery caught his attention. Not the crowds shuffling through, not the toddler getting restless in his stroller, but a sudden shift in the air. Something wasn’t right.

His eyes caught on a figure moving swiftly out of the atrium and into the coffee shop. Dark jeans, a black ball cap and a black jacket. He stood out in the atmosphere of leisure, where the only others rushing about were uniformed crew.

The man was probably just in a rush to meet up with someone. Still, a chill of foreboding kicked Sam’s pulse up a notch, and his gaze sharpened as it traveled over the sea of crew and passengers. He’d had this feeling many times before. Not a premonition. Just gut instinct. Grandma would say it was a nudge from God, and Sam wouldn’t argue with that. But this was more like being clubbed in the head. A very strong warning.

A few feet away, the pianist’s hands pulsed over the keys with precision and speed, the giant chandelier glimmering above the piano.

Adrenaline coursed through Sam, years of training kicking in as he mentally logged the technical details of his surroundings. The room easily held five hundred people with several dozen onlookers from above. Six points of entry, ten including the elevators.

He looked up, slowly scanned the faces of the people looking over the railings upstairs. The volume was intense, voices chattering, piano clamoring, china clinking from a nearby restaurant.

Pop!

That one sound carried over all the others. Sparks flew from the chandelier above the piano and smoke poured from the ceiling.

The music stopped.

Hundreds of people pushing, running. Screaming.

He saw her, the woman in the sapphire gown, right as her eyes drew upward, horror written on her face. Instinct and training carried him to the stage as the pianist fumbled to escape, tripped up by her gown. A loud crack. A burst of flame. The chandelier broke away from its mount two stories above the center stage just as Sam’s feet hit the marble.

* * *

Kat’s heel caught the hem of her gown. She fell to her knees, scrambling to get away. From the rocking chandelier, the raining sparks, the thick smoke.

Strong arms wrapped around her, everything a blur as she rolled from the stage. A deafening crash, and screams and chaos erupted all around. She was pinned, facedown, by a complete stranger, smoke stinging her nose and filling her lungs.

She needed to get out. Now. She jerked upward, the back of her head making contact with a hard jaw. Pain seared through her, and the man stood, dragging Kat to her feet.

His hand held firmly onto her arm, urgency etched in the taut lines of his face. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she managed, willing her body to steady itself. A firm arm wrapped around her back.

“Come on!” The man tugged her away from the crowd of fleeing people and back toward the piano, the smoke, the shards of chandelier.

Fear paralyzed her, memories of another fire reeling her back, and Kat tried to yank away from his grip, but he wouldn’t let go. Smoke billowed through the cavernous room; flames licked the ceiling. And she was back in her bedroom months ago, trapped by fire scorching the walls, clawing for her, bright, hot, ravenous.

“The other way is too crowded!” the stranger shouted over the chaos in the atrium, and Kat forced herself to focus on him. “This is the safer route.”

He was right. Most people had run from the crash toward the stairwell and elevators. Hundreds clogged the exits behind them, shoving and pushing and panicking. They could more easily exit through the art gallery or one of the restaurants on the opposite side.

The stranger guided her carefully and quickly along the edge of the atrium, just yards away from the chandelier, broken into millions of shards of crystal and metal. It had obliterated the Steinway grand. The bench Kat had been sitting on moments before had simply disappeared into the rubble.

An alarm sounded. Loud, repetitive, painful. An announcement, urgent, echoed throughout the ship. She couldn’t hear the words over the alarm and the panicked voices ringing around her.

Harsh smoke enveloped them, mingling with a sharp chemical scent and the foggy mist from the sprinkler system. Kat coughed against the acrid smoke, eyes burning.

“Use this, and stay low.” The man at her side thrust a cloth napkin into her hands and pulled her into a crouch as they maneuvered toward an exit.

Kat held the napkin to her face and followed, pushing back images of that fiery night in March, flames clinging to her pajama pants, the walls of her parents’ house buckling around her.

She’d lost her heels, and her bare feet slid along the now-slick floor. Their path brought them past toppled chairs and purses left behind, coffee spilled and cameras abandoned on tables.

“Almost there,” the man said, his tone calm and even.

If he was scared, he wasn’t showing it. As a matter of fact, she had the sense that he knew what he was doing. That he’d done it before or had trained for it. He made no missteps, didn’t hesitate, just led her efficiently out of the area and into the art gallery. The smoke wasn’t as thick there, the air clearer.

Kat chanced a look back. Security officers descended on the scene as fire crew swarmed in from all directions, aiming a hose and extinguishers at what remained of the flames. The fire was contained.

They were safe.

Kat had escaped death. A second time. She should feel relieved, but a shudder coursed through her, dread in its wake.

TWO

“Grandma!”

Kat jumped at the barked shout and felt the grip on her side loosen. But the man didn’t release her.

“Over here!” he called.

She followed his gaze. A trim older woman wearing a very large red hat hurried toward them. She looked to be in her early seventies, and her eyes were lit with interest rather than fear.

“Sam, I’m so glad you’re all right.” Her gaze cut to Kat, and she smiled. “You’re Kathryn Brooks. I heard you playing earlier—just beautiful music!” She glanced past Kat’s shoulder. “Looks like the piano didn’t survive. What happened?”

Good question. Kat had no idea.

“We need to keep moving,” Sam said, taking his grandmother’s arm. He started walking, his hand still gripping Kat’s wrist. She pulled away.

“I’m okay now.” She could make it back to her room without help.

Gray eyes turned to her, assessing.

“Your color may be coming back, but I’d like to stay close until you’re settled in your room.”

His gaze lingered a moment, and Kat’s cheeks heated in response as she made a mental note of the details she would relay to Morgan once this nightmare was over. Eyes the color of steel. A couple days’ worth of growth on a strong jaw. And biceps that stretched the edging on the sleeves of his black polo.

“Really, I’ll be okay getting to my room,” she murmured, tempted to accept his offer but not wanting to impose on Sam and his grandmother. In truth, she’d rather not be alone after what had just happened.

“Humor me,” Sam said, and Kat wondered if he could read the fear in her eyes. “I’d like to make sure you get back to your cabin in one piece.” He didn’t leave room for argument, turning abruptly and leading his grandmother through the narrow gallery.

Kat followed. They were heading for the stairwell she needed anyway.

“How in the world did that chandelier fall?” Sam’s grandmother asked.

“It didn’t fall,” Sam said. “It exploded.”

Kat shivered. “And landed right where I was sitting. Your grandson saved my life,” she added.

She didn’t think Sam had heard her. His focus was fixed on the winding staircase ahead, where passengers had begun to clog the stairwells. Energy nearly vibrated from the man as he patiently matched pace with his grandmother, cupping her elbow as they ascended the steps. It was a rare man who cared so deeply for his grandmother.

Movement on the stairs was slow going, but at least most people seemed calm. More calm than Kat felt, anyway.

Sam was right. It had been an explosion, but surely it was accidental. An electrical problem, perhaps? She glanced at Sam, noticed the way he continually scanned the crowd. As if he sensed more danger was coming. The thought urged her to go faster, and she pressed in closely behind Sam and his grandmother.

“I’m not surprised he saved you,” his grandmother said. “That’s what my Sammy does.”

“Saves lives?” Kat stole a glance at him.

“Yes,” his grandmother said cheerfully. “He’s a bona fide hero.”

“Grandma.” The word was a warning, but Sam’s grandmother didn’t seem at all concerned about heeding it.

“It’s what God put him here to do. And I think He’s proving that today.”

“Grandma, really. Enough,” Sam ground out, shooting his grandmother a look of half exasperation and half amused tolerance.

“Fine. If I must, I’ll stop telling her about you. For now,” she said with an innocent smile. “I’m Alice West, by the way.”

“It’s good to meet you, Alice,” Kat responded. “Though circumstances could be better.”

“They could also be worse,” Alice said.

True. Kat could be dead. The passengers in the atrium this evening could have been injured. The fire could have spread quickly through the ship. They could all be fighting over lifeboats at this very moment.

So many things could have been worse, and Kat tried to hold on to that. Morgan would call her a pessimist, but Kat was simply realistic. And there was no escaping the fact that she’d narrowly escaped death twice now, and she could happily do without another near-death experience.

She shuddered, wishing they could move a little faster. She couldn’t wait to reach the safety of her room. Kat glanced at Sam. He seemed on high alert, and she was curious about what his grandmother had divulged. She’d stopped believing in heroes a long time ago, but he seemed like the kind of guy who just might renew her faith.

“What floor are you on, Kat?” he asked without looking her way.

“Twelve.”

“Oh my,” Alice said with a glint in her eyes. “What a lovely coincidence. We are, too.”

“Grandma,” Sam cut in, his gaze still tracking the movement of the people in front of him. “How about you—”

“Attention all crew and passengers!”

The announcement sounded clearly through the speakers overhead, and voices in the stairwell hushed as passengers strained to listen. “This is Captain Philip Orland. As many of you know, there has been a fire in the atrium. We have the situation under control but ask that you proceed to your staterooms immediately until further notice, to clear the hallways and public areas for our crew to work. I want to assure you that we have highly trained fire and security crews here on the Jade Princess. The fire is out, and the damage was limited to the atrium. You can feel safe tonight.”

“How reassuring,” Alice said softly, and Kat smiled at the hint of sarcasm. Alice’s tone reminded her of Morgan’s dry sense of humor. Her best friend and Sam’s grandmother would have probably really hit it off.

“Room number?” Sam asked as they exited the stairwell.

“Twelve fifty-three,” Kat answered.

Alice looked thoughtfully at Kat. “I always thought the performers on cruise ships roomed with the crew.”

“Usually they do,” Kat said. “The room was negotiated into my contract.”

“You must be something special in the music world.” Alice grinned.

“I don’t know about that, but I have a great agent who likes to see just how much she can squeeze out of each of my contracts.”

“A balcony is worth that kind of effort, I’d say,” Sam’s grandmother said. “My Sammy played the piano for a few years.” Her eyes twinkled, and Kat had the distinct impression that Alice was on a mission. A mission to play matchmaker. And Kat didn’t want any part of it, especially not in the midst of what was happening on the ship.

She’d venture to guess Sam didn’t, either. He seemed determined to ignore his grandmother’s comment.

“Did he?”

“Oh, yes, but it was a battle to get him to practice. Whenever I was in charge of the kids, I’d have to stand over Sam or he would slip out of the house before I could catch him. And now look at us—he’s the one standing over me! The family sent him to babysit me, you know.”

Kat bit her lip to keep from laughing at the woman’s indignant expression.

“Grandma,” Sam said and sighed. “I think you should—”

“Kat!” someone shouted, and she knew without looking who it was.

Max.

Just about the last person in the world she wanted to see. She reigned in her irritation. A journalist for a regional magazine, Max had knocked on her cabin door their second day of cruising. He’d claimed his editor had assigned him a travel piece, but Kat didn’t buy it. He wrote for the entertainment department, not travel, and had never written anything else in the fourteen months they’d dated. The fact that his new assignment put him on ship with Kat seemed a little too coincidental.

“Kat!” he called again.

Much as she wanted to ignore him, she felt compelled to wait as he jogged toward her. He sidled up next to her, obvious concern in his blue eyes. Eyes that had once drawn her to him. They did have a way of appearing genuine. Even now, she found herself believing he was concerned for her, that he truly did care about her.

He’d proven the opposite, though, back in April when Kat had been in the hospital.

“What happened? Are you okay?” His gaze slid to Sam, who was watching the exchange intently, his gray eyes devoid of emotion. Alice watched, too, her red hat askew, her eyes flashing with interest.

“I’m fine.” Her answer was clipped, and she saw a look of hurt pass through Max’s eyes. She had never been good at rudeness, and she caved to the puppy-dog expression. “The chandelier above the piano fell in the atrium during my performance. It was a close call.”

“I should have been there,” he said, and Kat held back a sigh.

She, for one, was glad he hadn’t been. He’d sat in the front row of her other three performances on board. She found his presence odd and irritating, being that he’d never shown a huge interest in her career when they were dating. He was tone-deaf, his singing at church rivaling the mournful cry of a hungry calf, and he’d always preferred a loud ball game to a quiet concert. That should have been a red flag, but she’d somehow allowed herself to ignore it.

“Why?” she asked as Sam stopped in front of the door to her room.

“I could have made sure you were okay.” He glanced at Sam and frowned.

Kat wished she’d known Max had planned to purchase a ticket on the cruise. She would have made sure her room wasn’t on the same deck as his. Ever since the breakup, he’d been campaigning to win her back. But following her aboard the cruise had taken his efforts to a whole new level of obnoxious.

“She was okay, and she still is,” Sam cut in. “You should probably do what the captain said and return to your stateroom.”

“I’ll just make sure she gets settled in her room. Thanks for walking her here.” Max tried to dismiss Sam, but Sam wasn’t taking the hint. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes steady on Kat.

“You want to go ahead and open the door?” he asked, and her cheeks heated.

“Right.” She reached for her purse, then realized she didn’t have it. “I don’t have my keycard. I left it with the concierge before the performance.”

“Come on down to my room, Kat,” Max suggested, and she almost laughed at his earnestness. As if he was her knight in shining armor instead of a cheating sleaze.

“No.” She didn’t add thank you, though the polite woman her parents had raised her to be demanded it. Morgan would have been proud.

Sam glanced at Max and back to Kat. “Are you traveling with someone who has another keycard?”

Kat shook her head. “No, but please don’t worry about me. I don’t mind waiting out the time upstairs.”

“Nonsense,” Alice said. “Come to my room. It’s no time to be alone.”

“Really, I can—”

“You’d be doing me a favor,” Alice insisted. “All this drama has really shaken me.” She pressed her hand to her chest and heaved a deep sigh.

“Grandma,” Sam warned. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” she responded, straightening her hat and brushing her hand down her bright red shorts.

“Act like you’re on death’s door to get Kathryn to go with you.”

“Who says I’m acting?” Alice said. “We’re all on death’s door. Now, come on. To my room. I need to journal everything before I forget it.” She grabbed Kat’s hand, and Kat didn’t have the heart to pull away.

Besides, it didn’t seem like the time to argue. Not when the captain had asked everyone to return to their staterooms and not when Kat’s legs still felt shaky with the remnants of her fear. And certainly not when Max was watching with the hangdog expression he’d been wearing every time she’d seen him since the cruise had begun.

He caught up with her again, his dark hair ruffled, fists clenched at his sides. It wasn’t a good look for him. He’d always been a laid-back kind of guy with a whatever-makes-you-happy attitude. It was one of the things she’d liked about him. But it had been their downfall in the end. He’d done what made him happy, and she couldn’t forget it.

“You can go back to your own room, Max.” She said the words quietly, trying not to make a scene.

He didn’t take the hint. “I’m worried about you, Kat. Let me just walk you to this kind lady’s room and—”

“I’m fine, Max.”

“I think what she means to say is that you’re not invited.” Sam speared Max with a warning look that stopped her ex in his tracks.

Max glared. She thought he might argue, but true to form, he turned from conflict. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He turned on his heel and stalked away.

* * *

Sam didn’t know who Max was, but he didn’t like the guy. As a matter of fact, right at the moment, there were a lot of things he didn’t like. He didn’t like that Kathryn had almost been killed by a falling chandelier in the atrium. He didn’t like that his grandmother was on a cruise ship in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean where there had just been a significant fire. And he didn’t like the feeling of unease that had latched on to him right before the explosion and hadn’t let up since.

An image flashed through his memory. The man he’d seen hurrying out of the atrium and into the coffee shop. He’d let Security know about that. Maybe they could pull up footage and get an ID on the guy. Just to be safe.

He led the women to room 1237 and waited impatiently for his grandmother to open the door. He wanted to go back down to the atrium, talk to Security, see if they had any ideas about what had caused the explosion.

Finally, his grandmother managed to dig out her keycard from the oversize bag she was carrying and opened the door.

Kat hesitated at the doorway, and he nudged her forward. He didn’t want her wandering around the cruise ship any more than he wanted Grandma doing it. The safest place for both of them was exactly where they were.

THREE

“Well.” Alice crossed the room and dropped onto the bed. “I was looking for excitement when I signed up for this cruise, but a falling chandelier and a fire were not what I’d anticipated.” She took off her hat and tossed it on the nightstand beside her.

“I’d offer to call for some tea, but my hands are still shaking something fierce,” Grandma said.

“It would probably be a while before someone could bring it to us, anyway,” Kat said. “Would you like me to make you some?”

“No, no. Tea brewed in a coffee pot always tastes like coffee. But how sweet to offer. You just sit down for a bit. You’ve been through a trauma, Kathryn.”

“Thanks, and you can just call me Kat.” She perched on the edge of a brown leather chair, bare feet peeking out from under her gown. Sam caught a glimpse of sparkly silver toenails before she rearranged the hem of her gown to cover her feet. She clasped her hands together in her lap, absently twisting a plain gold band on her right ring finger.

“I wonder how something like this could happen,” his grandmother said. She ran a hand along her straight white hair, smoothing it down. She’d given up coloring it long ago and now just bleached it white every now and again. It was better than gray, she said, and more believable than blond.

“Trouble does seem to follow you, Grandma,” Sam said wryly. It’d been a running joke long before he’d joined the family as a troubled foster kid looking for roots. He closed the door with a quiet snap, his gaze settling on Kat.

“Which is why you came to babysit me, right? Imagine that.” Alice huffed, her hair nearly vibrating with the force of her indignation. “A seventy-two-year-old being treated like a toddler. It’s ridiculous, don’t you think, Kat?”

“Well, I...” She met Sam’s eyes.

He could tell she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to his grandmother.

“Should I remind you that you’re the one who insisted I come with you?” he pointed out.

His grandmother huffed again. “That was only because I knew you had more time available than the rest of them.” She looked at Kat. “Until this cruise, he hadn’t taken a day off in two years!”

He caught the speculation in Kat’s gaze. Grandma had a way of turning the conversation back to him, but he had another agenda, and before Kat could comment, he got to it.

“You and Max don’t seem friendly. How do you know each other?”

“We dated for a while.” She rubbed at a smudge of soot that stained the blue fabric of her dress. He could have told her it would never come out. The fancy dress was tomorrow’s trash, which was too bad. But at least Kat was okay.

“And you both just happen to be on the same cruise together, or did you come together and then separate?”

“He’s a journalist. He’s writing a travel piece for his magazine.”

Convenient. The smarmy ex-boyfriend had followed her on board. Why? To get even with her for something? Rig the chandelier to fall when Kat was performing? Even Sam knew his imagination was stretching there. Any number of things could have caused the explosion, and Max didn’t strike him as someone who could successfully plan and implement such an elaborate scheme. The guy probably came on board to try to win Kathryn back. Even so, Sam never operated on assumptions.

“What’s his last name? And what magazine does he work for?” At least he could look into the guy, corroborate the reasons for his trip.

“Pratt. Maxwell Pratt. He works for Miami Motions.” Kat pushed a strand of damp hair away from her shoulder. Whatever makeup she’d been wearing had faded, leaving only traces of mascara smeared under her eyes. The sprinklers had drenched her hair and soaked her gown. She shivered, and Sam snagged a blanket from the end of the bed, tucking it around her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she murmured, pulling it closed around her wet dress.

“Looks like your ex-boyfriend is still pining for you,” Grandma said, eyes glinting with interest. It would be better if Sam could interview Kat alone, but there was nowhere else to go, and he didn’t plan to wait.

“He’s been hoping we’ll get back together. But it’s over,” Kat said. He saw the finality in her expression and didn’t doubt her words.

“How long did you two date?” Sam asked.

“A little more than a year.” She didn’t want to talk about Max. He knew it, from her rigid posture, her brief answers. But Sam needed information, and he would get it.

“When did you break up?”

She looked at him then, brow furrowed. “I don’t want to be rude, but I’d rather not discuss Max.”

“I get that, and I don’t mean to pry. I’m just trying to piece together the facts.”

Kat’s gaze narrowed and she pulled the blanket tighter around her slender frame. “And my relationship with Max matters because...?”

She clearly wasn’t following his line of thought, and why would she? Any number of things could have caused the explosion. But Sam’s instinct told him whatever the cause, it wasn’t accidental.

“It may not matter at all,” he said. “But sometimes the smallest details help.”

“In this case, I don’t see how,” Kat insisted. She looked young and vulnerable, and Sam wondered why she was even here. Why would a world-class pianist take a gig on a cruise ship? It certainly couldn’t be for the money. Exposure? She didn’t seem as if she was desperate for it.

“Don’t mind him, Kathryn,” Grandma chimed in sweetly from her reclined position on the bed. “This is just who Sam is. That’s the problem with his being a Secret Service agent. He always thinks he’s on duty.” His grandmother looked as if she were watching a movie play out. He was tempted to offer to get her a bag of popcorn and a soda for all her interest in their conversation.

* * *

“Secret Service?” Kat met Sam’s eyes.

He shrugged as if it weren’t a big deal. Maybe to him it wasn’t, but it would be more valuable information to supply to Morgan later. Kat smiled as she imagined telling her friend all the details of the day. Knowing Morgan, she’d be disappointed she missed out on all the action. Kat, on the other hand, just wanted to rewind to those moments on the balcony before her performance. When she’d felt tranquil and safe. She didn’t enjoy chaos or drama.

“So you live in DC, then?” she asked, latching on to the chance to change the subject.

“No. I’m at the Miami field office,” he said, but moved right on with his objective. “You don’t have any enemies, do you?” Sam asked.

The question caught her off guard, and she looked at him seriously, trying to read his expression.

“That’s an odd question.”

“Not when you were nearly crushed by a chandelier,” Sam said.

Connecting the chandelier’s fall to foul play was a leap, in Kat’s opinion. She opened her mouth to say as much, but Sam suddenly pulled the other chair over and sat across from her. She almost laughed. His grandmother was right. It was as if he was in his own interrogation room with her. Samuel West did have the appearance of a Secret Service agent. Not that she’d ever met one. But he fit the image she’d stored in her imagination. Tall, muscled, dark hair, sharp eyes.

Only, he wore blue jeans and a black polo instead of a suit and tie. And they were in the middle of the ocean on a cruise, not back on land in a federal building.

“Enemies?” he prodded.

“None that I know of,” Kat said.

“So, you weren’t running from something when you took this job?”

“No!” The word came out a little too forcefully, and Kat knew it. She had been running from something, she supposed. From loss. Her father, the house, her relationship with Max. All of it, gone.

“Then why did you take it?”

She wanted to tell him it was none of his business, that she’d had enough of the interrogation, and she wanted to call down for her key. But Sam had saved her life, and she owed him more than an ungrateful response.

“It was time for a change. I wanted to try something new. My best friend has been working on cruises for years. She suggested it.” There. Simple, but true.

He searched her face, as if he could read her thoughts. She hoped he couldn’t, because her attention had been drawn just then to the way his polo stretched across a muscled chest.

“You needed a change from touring the world doing concerts...so you decided to work on a cruise ship. Touring the world, doing concerts.”

He saw right through her, she knew. But she didn’t want to discuss Dad. The fire. All the other reasons she’d taken the job. She looked into his piercing eyes and knew her efforts were futile.

“I canceled my tour back in November when my dad had a stroke. I moved in with him for a few months and started teaching piano at the University of Miami. My dad passed away in January. I needed a little time away.”

She didn’t mention the fire. She didn’t want sympathy points from anyone. The fact that her house was being rebuilt while she was away was only a small reason she’d left Miami. Max was another. Only he’d still found a way to stay close. She simply wouldn’t share everything about her life with a stranger.

Even if that stranger had saved her life.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Alice said. “It’s hard to lose someone you love.”

“Thank you.” She stood, unwrapped the blanket from her shoulders and laid it over the back of the chair. “I’d better call for my key. I’d like to get back to my room and out of this dress.”

She moved toward the phone, but Sam snagged her hand. She looked back at him, and her breath caught. The tenderness in his gaze tugged at her heart, a deep longing rising from where she’d shoved it away. Longing for constancy, companionship, family.

“I was hoping you’d stay with my grandmother while I talk to ship security down below.”

She tugged her hand out of his grasp and set to tying her wet hair back into a low bun. The cool dampness did its job and she pushed her feelings away.

“I do not need a babysitter.” Alice muttered the words under her breath. Crossed her arms defiantly.

“Noted, Grandma.”

Kat looked from Alice to Sam. It was none of her business, but she found herself increasingly curious about this man who had taken leave from work to care for his grandmother on vacation and then taken on Kat’s protection as his responsibility. Her cynical side reminded her that people who seemed too good to be true usually were. But the woman in her—the part of her heart that longed for companionship—sensed that Sam was everything he seemed to be. And more.

Alice stood and walked over to the balcony door. “What I need is a little fresh air and some company.”

Kat grinned. Yes, just like Morgan, Alice had a flair for drama. “I don’t imagine I’ll have access to my room anytime soon. I’m happy to stay until then.”

And she was. Even though she really wanted a shower and some clean clothes, she also didn’t relish the idea of going back to her room alone just yet. Surely the incident in the atrium had been an accident, but she was still shaken by how close she’d come to losing her life. And she had to admit she’d like to get to know Alice a little better.

“Thanks,” Sam said. “You should get some fresh air, too. You still look pale.”

“I did nearly get crushed by a chandelier,” she said, mimicking the words he’d used and trying to lighten the mood.

But Sam’s expression darkened. “Glad you haven’t forgotten.”

A cold chill swept up Kat’s nape, and her hand came up to press it away.

“Sammy, enough with your gloom and doom,” Alice chided. “I hardly think she could forget what happened just thirty minutes ago.”

Sam glanced at his grandmother and a sheepish expression softened his face. “Good,” he said. “Hopefully, that will keep you both out of trouble while I’m gone.”

His eyes held a teasing glint, and Kat’s stomach flipped. She moved toward the phone and away from all the feelings he stirred up.

“We’ll be fine,” she said and picked up the phone to call the concierge station as Sam left the room. After the phone rang several times with no answer, Kat gave up for the time being. “I’ll try again in a few minutes.”

“You coming, then?” Alice asked as she stepped onto the balcony, then looked back at Kat. “Or maybe you’d like to freshen up first? It might feel good to splash some water on your face.”

“I think I’ll do that,” Kat said. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.” She walked to the bathroom, her side aching where the scars stretched taut, shoulder bruised from rolling off the stage. Her gown was ruined, but that was the least of her concerns.

A deep shadow of unease swept in and stole the relief she’d felt earlier after escaping the chandelier. Could Sam’s intuition be on the mark? What if someone had deliberately caused the explosion? She tried to push the thought away. Sam may be suspicious of her ex, but the idea of Max setting a bomb off was ludicrous to anyone who knew him. That wasn’t the kind of fire he played with.

Regardless, Kat wanted to know what exactly had happened in the atrium. And she wanted off this ship before something else happened.

Days from land in every direction, she knew she was stuck.

She closed herself in the bathroom. The mirror glared back at her in the bright fluorescent light and she winced as a headache flared. What a mess. Debris dotted her hair. Dust smudged her nose and her right cheek. Her eyes were bloodshot, burning from the too-familiar sting of smoke. Mascara smudged under her eyes. Hard to believe only an hour had passed since she’d left her cabin for her performance.

She sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she had survived, but she didn’t feel relieved in the least. An eerie sense of danger crawled along her spine, dread pitting in her stomach. The opportunity to travel the world for the summer on a cruise ship had seemed like a gift—a chance to recharge and renew her spirits.

Sunshine. That was what Morgan had said. You need lots of sunshine. And to put some distance between you and Max.

It had worked, for a little while. Performing and sightseeing and experiencing the peace and relaxation of the open waters, Kat had begun to feel more like herself again. Over the past couple of days, though, alone in her room, the quiet had gotten to her. The sunshine she’d been hanging on to replaced with shadows of sadness from the past, and the enormity of what she’d be returning to at the end of the summer...a brand-new house, empty of everything that made it home.

The photos and videos. The scent of her father’s cologne. The piano she’d woken up to Christmas morning when she was six years old.

Gone. All of it.

At least she had escaped.

Not your time to go. That was what her dad would have said. He’d believed that everything happened for a reason, and Kat had always believed that, too.

Lately, though, she’d begun to question. Her losses kept stacking up, and she wasn’t sure what else she had left to lose.

What purpose had her parents’ deaths served? And why would God spare Kat’s life but allow a fire to destroy her home—the home she’d grown up in—and with it all her tangible memories?

The questions swirled through her mind, but she had no answers. For now, she’d just have to clean up and be happy she could do it.

She turned on the faucet and washed her face, grateful for the warm water running over her chilled hands and rinsing the grime away. She pulled her hair out of its makeshift bun and finger combed it, then wet a hand towel, rubbing it along her arms and neck. She looked a little better, but still she stood, staring back at her herself. Willing herself not to think about what would have happened if Sam hadn’t been in the atrium tonight. Forcing herself not to think about his questions, but, of course, she couldn’t stop thinking about them.

Enemies? No one came to mind. She wasn’t prone to conflict, never had been. Growing up as an only child had instilled in Kat a sense of peace and order that she’d carried with her into adulthood. She didn’t like to make waves, and she tried not to hang around people who did. Life was too uncertain, she’d found, to allow anger and bitterness to fester.

Even after Max’s betrayal, she tried not to let her emotions take control. Letting him go had been much easier than she’d expected. She realized that perhaps she’d been more in love with the idea of settling down and starting a family than she’d been in love with Max.

Now she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do after her contract was up. There was a certain allure to the sea, but it was a short-term gig. She could go back to teaching at the university, or she could open a private piano studio. She could take a year off and concentrate on composing music for a new CD. Nothing sounded enticing lately, and she hoped her path would become clear given a little more time.

“God is in control,” she whispered at her reflection. She used to believe that. Even after her mother’s death, Kat’s trust in God had never wavered. Lately, though, she’d wondered.

Surely, He could have given her just a little more time with her father. Why bring her back home and draw her in deep only to take him away so soon?

At least you had some time with him. That was what Morgan had reminded her quietly, and Kat knew she was right. But it hurt. And now she was more alone than she’d ever been.

Watching Sam with his grandmother reminded her of what she was missing, what she’d been missing for most of her life. A real sense of family. People to share life with. Morgan was the closest thing she had to family now, and she was anxious to get back to her room so she could check on her.

A quiet tap sounded at the bathroom door. “Everything okay in there?” Alice called from the other side.

Kat opened the door. “Yes, thanks. I feel a lot better now.”

Alice swept a quick glance over Kat and nodded. “Still in one piece, and all cleaned up. Too bad about the dress.”

Kat stepped out into the room. “It was my favorite one. My dad bought it for me.” And since the dress had been at the dry cleaner’s the week of the fire, it had been one of the only things she had left of her father.

Through slurred speech that was painful to listen to, he’d apologized for missing out on so much, for being too absorbed in his own grief to help Kat through hers. Said he should have done the things a mother would have done, like taking her for manicures and buying her a prom dress. So he’d told her he wanted to buy her next concert gown. Morgan had gone with her, snapped photos of Kat in her favorite choices. Later, Kat had come home to show her father the pictures and ask his opinion.

He’d never see her in a wedding gown or walk her down the aisle, but she’d at least shared those moments with him and seen the love shimmering in his fading brown eyes.

The memory hit her suddenly and without warning, and she felt the heat of tears threaten. She walked to the chair and grabbed the blanket, facing away from Alice so she wouldn’t see.

“Still chilly?” Alice said. “I got through to the concierge while you were in the bathroom, and they said they’d get your key to you soon.”

“Oh, thank you. It’ll be nice to change into some dry clothes.”

“For sure. Come on out to the balcony with me. Knowing Sam, he’ll be a while yet.” She smiled, pride lighting her eyes. “He was born for the work he does. It’s as if God gave him an extra little bit of bravery and honor. He’s just...not your average young man. But I’m sure you noticed.”

“He was the only one running toward me while the chandelier was coming down.”

“Exactly!” Alice nodded as if they’d just agreed on some deep philosophical truth. “Now, let’s sit down and try to enjoy this evening,” she said cheerfully. “It isn’t every day we face death straight on and live to tell about it.”

Her words did anything but cheer Kat. She hadn’t faced death once, but twice, and she didn’t want to face it again anytime soon.

FOUR

The sharp scent of burned wiring stung Sam’s nose as he made his way down the nearly empty stairway. He expected voices echoing up from the atrium, but the ship was eerily quiet. He hurried down the stairs, anxious for a good look at the scene, wanting to get a better feel for what had happened.

He hoped it was simply an electrical malfunction, but his gut told him otherwise. The timing had been too convenient—a lot of people had been streaming through the atrium while Kathryn performed and could have been taken out by the explosion. It was a hallmark of a terrorist act: injure as many people as possible. Ship security was tight, but criminals always managed to find a way.

An image of Kat flashed in his mind: the horror that washed over her face as the flames burst right above her.

He’d seen that same look on his wife’s face many times in his nightmares. For months after the car accident, he saw those terror-stricken eyes whenever he turned out the lights. Had Marissa seen the broken-down truck at the last minute and known her life was about to end? If he’d cut out on work and come home just a day earlier, would she still be alive today? Would he be at home right now, playing with their two-year-old daughter?

He would never find the answers to satisfy his feelings of guilt. Sam wasn’t used to failing, and he didn’t plan to make a habit of it. He would find answers for Kat, and he would make sure that she and his grandmother both made it safely off the ship and back home.

“Sir!” someone called, drawing Sam’s thoughts back to the present. To the musty, smoke-filled air. To the broken bits of piano two floors down. To the two cruise employees who were moving up the stairs, heading straight for Sam.

Neither looked old enough to have graduated high school. The taller of the two caught up with Sam and attempted to stand in his way. Lanky and awkward, he wore a white uniform that was just a little short in the pants and arms.

“We’ve been asked to remind passengers to stay in their cabins until further notice,” he said.

Sam narrowed his gaze and waited a beat. Watched the young men shift uncomfortably.

“Thank you for the reminder,” he finally said. “But I don’t intend to stay in my cabin.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.” The second crew member joined the first, jogging up behind his coworker as if to offer moral and physical support.

He could offer whatever he wanted, but Sam would go where he desired.

“No?” He took a step closer, and the two exchanged worried glances. Sam didn’t make a habit of physically intimidating people, but he towered over both kids and probably had fifty pounds of muscle on each of them. He doubted they’d attempt to detain him.

“It’s for passenger safety,” the second of the two said. Much shorter than his buddy, he had freckled skin and dark brown eyes behind round glasses. He pushed them higher up the bridge of his nose and shifted anxiously. “It should only be for a couple of hours.”

“Look, you’ve done your job,” Sam responded. “You’ve warned me. I’ve decided to ignore you. If something happens, you can tell your boss and anyone who asks that you did your due diligence.”

“But—” the freckle-faced kid began.

“Go ahead and let your boss know.” Sam walked past them, ignoring the sputtered protests and unhappy shouts. They’d call Security, and he’d deal with that, too. He’d been hardwired from day one to be proactive. His parents said he’d always been a daredevil. His siblings said he was too independent for his own good. They were right, but he used both qualities to his advantage in his work.

In his personal life? Sometimes they got him into trouble. Sometimes they kept him from remembering important dates like birthdays and anniversaries. And 3-D sonogram pictures. Memories of his failures were never on short supply lately, hadn’t been for the past two years. His work kept him from falling too deeply into a pattern of regret. With a job to do, there was simply no time to dwell on the past.

Two uniformed security officers and a firefighter met him as he turned onto the second flight of steps, their expressions hard. Unlike the kids who’d tried to stop him before, these three looked as if they meant business.

“Sir, you’re going to have to return to your cabin,” a bulky guy with a menacing demeanor said. His name badge said “Larsen,” but he didn’t bother to introduce himself. He stared hard at Sam, arms crossed, feet in a wide stance that was meant to intimidate. “We’re investigating a fire that occurred in the lobby below,” the man continued. “All passengers need to stay clear of the area for their own safety.”

Sam pulled out his wallet. He didn’t have his credentials, but he handed over a business card. “Sam West, Secret Service,” he said. “I was there when the incident occurred. I think we all know it wasn’t a simple fire.”

“We don’t know anything,” the second officer said. A few years younger than Larsen and at least three inches taller, the officer looked fit and strong in his tailored uniform, his blond hair in a high fade cut. Sam pegged him as former military, and that might play to Sam’s advantage. “I don’t guess we need the Secret Service involved,” the officer said. “We’re trying to avoid contaminating evidence.”

“Before the Secret Service, I worked for the Miami PD,” Sam added. “I’m not trying to get in your way. I just figured the more hands, the better.”

“Right.” Larsen’s eyes gleamed black with anger. No one liked other departments nosing in on their investigations. “I don’t think we need any more hands. We’ve got things—”

“Actually—” the younger man cut him off “—it might not be a bad thing to have an extra set of eyes. I’m Nick Callahan. A good friend of mine works for the Miami PD—his name’s Brent Mitchem.” He held a hand out toward Sam, and they shook.

“Brent Mitchem, solid officer,” Sam said. “Got to know him pretty well on the night shift a few years back.”

“How ’bout that?” Nick said with a brief smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. Then it was gone, and he was all business again. “Been working cruises for nine years, and I’ve never seen anything like this before. Come on. I’ll bring you down. Don’t touch anything, though. We need to preserve the scene.”

“Now, hold on a minute,” Larsen said, face ruddy with agitation. “Policy—”

“Policy,” Nick cut in, “should welcome an extra pair of eyes. We’ve got six thousand people on board with no way to evacuate.” He looked pointedly at his partner. “Why don’t you check on his creds? As long as they check out, and I’m sure they will, there’s no reason to keep him in the dark about what’s going on.”

“You’re the boss,” Larsen muttered as he brushed past them, and Nick motioned toward the man next to him.

“This is Colton Hughes. He heads up our firefighting team.”

“Nice to meet you.” Sam offered a hand, appreciated the firefighter’s firm grip and steady gaze.

“Appreciate your coming down,” Hughes said as Nick finally began to lead the way down two more flights of stairs to the atrium.

Sam was anxious to get to the scene, observe what he could and return to the room to check on Grandma and Kathryn. He didn’t want to leave them alone for long, especially Kat.

Back home, he’d have the discipline to keep his distance from a woman like Kat, the kind of woman whose smile alone could stir up dreams he hadn’t entertained for two years. But here on the ship Sam felt he had a duty to stay close. At least that was what he tried to tell himself, even as Kathryn’s liquid amber eyes flashed in his mind. He’d seen sadness there behind her easy sense of humor, and an inner strength that drew him in.

Sam denied the thought almost as soon as it rose, focusing instead on the atrium ahead as he and the other two men exited the stairwell on deck eight.

The smoke had cleared, leaving behind a gray film over every surface and an acrid scent Sam couldn’t quite place. Shards of crystal lay heaped with splintered wood and twisted piano strings. Yellow tape cordoned off most of the atrium. Sam’s gaze traveled straight up from the mess to the scorched opening in the ceiling.

“That’s a lot of damage,” he said. “Will we dock at the nearest port?”

“The closest port is where we’re headed.”

Sam had expected as much, but had hoped to hear otherwise. A week ago, they’d departed from São Paulo, Brazil, making two other stops in the country before embarking on the next leg of their trip—a seven-night journey to the Canary Islands.

Impeccable timing, for sure, with three days left at sea before reaching their destination. The realization only fed his suspicion that it wasn’t an accident that had caused the chandelier to fall.

“Any leads on what happened?”

Sam had expected to see a crew of officers combing through the debris for evidence, but he counted only three officers in the area other than Nick, and they stood outside the borders of the yellow tape.

Nick shook his head. “We don’t have the means to perform a thorough investigation on a cruise ship. Our job is to preserve the scene until we dock.”

Sam didn’t like the sounds of that. With three days until they reached land, they needed to discover the origin of the explosion in the atrium before something worse happened.

“What about security footage?”

Nick pointed to a spot two decks above, parallel to where the chandelier had hung. “I’ve got men scrolling through footage from that camera specifically. Hopefully, we’ll be able to get a closer view of how it all started.”

“What are your initial thoughts on the cause?” Sam asked.

Nick was quiet for a moment, not taking his eyes off the wreckage. Finally, he gestured toward Colton. “Colton suggested it could have started with a bulb exploding. That could account for the popping sound many people heard.”

“Is that a common malfunction?”

Colton shook his head. “Rare. And not likely to cause such a big fire.”

“Could it have caused the chandelier to come down?” Sam pressed, because the theory didn’t sit right with him.

“Not unless one exploded and caused several others to explode in succession.”

“Is that possible?”

Colton nodded. “Sure. Anything’s possible. Could also be faulty wiring. Ship’s pretty new—this is only her second year at sea.”

“So, we’re talking a long shot.” Sam peered up at the hole in the ceiling. “I’d say there was more to it than a few bulbs popping. Do you agree?”

Neither man seemed eager to share more, but Sam was sure they were all following the same line of thought. Someone had caused the chandelier to fall. Deliberately.

“Off the record,” he assured them. “I’d be the last one to spread word that could incite panic.”

Nick turned to Sam, a troubled expression in his eyes. “The most unlikely scenario, of course—it could have been a bomb.”

Sam said nothing. The theory didn’t surprise him. Several times he had replayed the sounds he’d heard, the loud pop, the explosion. And that chemical scent.

“Why unlikely?” Sam asked. In his opinion, a bomb was the most likely possibility.

“Our security policies are tighter than even air-travel policies. It’d be tough to get explosives on board,” Nick said.

“Looks to me like someone may have figured out a way,” Sam said. “You can’t ignore the extent of the damage.”

“Hard to believe the pianist made it out alive,” Nick said. “You said you were there when it happened?”

“I was a few feet away.”

Nick glanced at him, assessing. “Some witnesses said an unknown man pushed the pianist out of the way just before the chandelier came down. That you?”

“Yes.”

“You see anything or hear anything before then?”

“Thought I did,” Sam said. “Saw a man rushing through the crowd and into the coffee shop over there.” He pointed in the direction of the shop. “Almost as soon as he was gone, I heard the loud pop, and the chandelier burst into flames.”

“Did you get a good look at him?” Nick asked, eyes lit with interest.

“No. Just saw his back in a passing glimpse. Dark jacket, black ball cap, dark pants, maybe cargo-style.”

Nick turned toward the coffee shop. “I’ll have my team pay close attention to footage from that angle, too.”

“Excuse me, I’ve got a briefing with my team,” Colton said from behind them. “Callahan, we’ll catch up later. Sam, good to meet you.” He hurried back toward the steps and away from the accident scene.

“Any chance I can get a look at that security footage?” Sam asked, and Nick hesitated.

“Let me get back to you on that,” he said. “I’ll need you to verify the person you saw when we get ahold of the image. And I may ask for your assistance if I need more hands. If this was just an accident, that’s one thing. If it wasn’t...”

He let the thought trail off, but Sam knew where he was going.

If it wasn’t, there could be more trouble to come, and days from land, they were in a vulnerable position. Getting six thousand people safely into lifeboats would be a nightmare. Sam had stood through the muster station drill before the cruise set out, and he’d listened as a fresh-out-of-high-school crew member instructed them on ship-evacuation procedures. As if everyone would simply follow the muster rules in the case of an emergency. Sam had spent nearly a decade in law enforcement, and he’d seen people in desperation. Knew one human truth: in times of disaster, most people cling to just one rule—every man for himself.

* * *

Black water stretched before them under a moonless sky. Dark clouds had rolled in, bringing a cool breeze. Kat tugged the blanket around her shoulders. She was chilled, but happier outside than in. Couldn’t stand another minute breathing in the stench of smoke from her dress. At least out here, the breeze carried the odor away.

“Nothing as far as the eye can see. Just water and sky and stars. All of it a testimony to God’s creative genius.” Alice spoke the words softly. “I always wanted to go on a cruise with my Frank. I wish we’d had the chance.”

“Frank?”

“My husband. He had an artist’s soul and would have enjoyed every moment. It wasn’t meant to be, though. He passed away a little over a year ago. We had booked this trip already. It was to be our fiftieth-anniversary celebration.”

“I’m sorry.” Words were never enough, but they were all Kat had. “This trip must be hard for you.”

Alice watched the waves, silent for a moment. “I do wish he was here. But God’s been good to me. Frank and I spent forty-nine wonderful years together, raised four children, became grandparents. We even got to be great-grandparents. Many people don’t get that chance. I can’t complain. Plus, Frank wouldn’t have wanted me to come on this cruise and moon over the past.”

“I’m sure it gets lonely, though, sometimes.” Kat knew the feeling all too well.

“If I let it,” Alice said. “Happily, I’m not alone on this cruise.”

“Sam came with you.”

“Sam. Yes.” She sighed deeply. “My babysitter. He can be a stick-in-the-mud, such a rule-follower. Always has been. But my Red Hat Society ladies make up for it. Three of them came, actually, to make sure I had a good time. And let me tell you.” She leaned close, eyes sparkling. “We’ve been having a blast!”

“Does that mean you’ve been causing trouble?” Kat asked, amused with Alice’s sense of mischief.

“Causing it? Never! Trouble just seems to find me.”

“So you really are a trouble magnet, Alice?”

“That’s what my family says. All because of a few very minor incidents. But let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about Sammy. He’s a lot like my Frank.”

“Is he?” Kat murmured, resistant to the turn in conversation. Alice clearly had an agenda that included finding a woman for her grandson, and Kat didn’t want to encourage her. She’d learned at a young age to take care of herself, and she’d done it well until Max had come along with his charming words and pretty promises. She’d let herself start dreaming then. What a mistake that had been.

“Oh, yes. He likes rules and quiet and order.” She said it as if it was a bad word, and Kat laughed.

“I like those things, too,” she admitted.

Alice smiled. “But Sammy, he’s got an edge to him, too. His mom calls him her adrenaline junky.”

“I guess that explains the Secret Service job.”

“Yes. And he even looks the part,” she said slyly. “Quite a good-looking young man, isn’t he?”

Kat laughed again, heat flushing her cheeks. Good-looking wasn’t the right term. Devastating. Yes, that was the one. And Kat had experienced enough devastation for one year. For a lifetime, really. “Very, and you’re quite the matchmaker, aren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged.” Alice smiled. “I can’t help myself. After nearly fifty years with the love of my life, I’m always eager to see others find their perfect match.”

“Nothing is perfect in this life,” Kat responded, pushing back the image of Max as it rose in her mind. If he wasn’t happy, he should have broken off their relationship. Instead, he got involved with another woman. While Kat was in the hospital. She didn’t want him back, but the betrayal still burned.

“You’re right, but there are some things that come very close. This moment, for one.” Alice gestured to the broad expanse of dark ocean. “The soft sound of waves lapping against the ship. The dark swirl of clouds filling the night sky. Is that not close to perfect?”

Kat was cold, the sky looked dreary, and the clouds seemed a little foreboding. “I think your Frank wasn’t the only one in the family with an artistic soul.”

“You’re right about that, dear. Maybe that’s why we had such a wonderful marriage.”

Someone knocked on the door before Kat could ask more questions about Alice and her husband, about the family that seemed almost too good to be true. For a while, her own family had seemed that way, too...but she’d learned that most things that were too good to be true simply didn’t last.

“Sit tight, Kat,” Alice said as she stood. “You’ve been through a big scare. And it does these bones good to move around.”

“I’m ready to go inside anyway,” Kat said, following behind as Alice answered the door.

“I have a keycard for Kathryn Brooks.” Johann stood just outside the door, blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, a tight smile on his angular face. “May I do anything else for you ladies this evening?”

“Not unless you can break us out of this joint.”

Kat laughed behind Alice, but Johann cocked his head, the joke lost in translation.

“Just a little joke,” Alice said. “Actually, would it be too much trouble to get some tea brought up?”

Johann nodded and quickly headed back down the hall.

“I’m sure the cabin stewards are getting a run for their money right now with everyone trapped in their rooms,” Alice said as she handed Kat her key. “Now, you go on down to your room and take that shower you’ve been waiting on.”

Kat hesitated. As desperate as she was to get into her room, Sam wasn’t back yet. “I told Sam I’d stay—”

“Actually, you didn’t. You said you’d stay while you waited for your key. You did. Now, go on to your room, clean up and come back to share some tea with me. I guess my Red Hat friends are stuck in their rooms, too, and I get lonely without company.”

Next thing Kat knew, she was out in the corridor, her keycard in hand, not quite sure how she’d gotten there. She considered knocking on Alice’s door, but she was just relieved and more than ready to change out of the smoky, wet clothes.

The hall was silent and empty, unusual and eerie for eight in the evening on a cruise ship. She hurried along the teal carpet, unsettled by the quiet. She almost turned back. Everyone else was following the captain’s instructions to stay in their rooms. Except her. But the promise of a hot shower was too enticing to pass up. She ignored the unnatural silence, the hairs rising at the nape of her neck. What had happened down in the atrium had been a freak accident, she was sure, and she wouldn’t let it throw her into an anxiety attack.

Maybe cruising hadn’t been the best idea, so soon after so much trauma. But the stint had seemed to come at the perfect time. She had needed desperately to get away. To find some solace. To regroup.

The hall seemed longer than it had been earlier. And much emptier. Yet she had a haunting feeling she wasn’t alone.

She glanced behind her. No one there. She quickened her steps, the quiet settling around her, eerie and thick. She looked back again. Hunted. That was how she felt, but she shook the thought away. She’d almost been killed a few hours ago, and she was probably still shaken from that.

Trust your instincts.

Wasn’t that what every police officer who taught women’s safety classes said? Go with your gut. Listen to your instincts. When you think you’re in danger, don’t second-guess yourself.

She shivered, quickening her pace even more, anxious to get to her cabin. Almost there. When she finally reached her door, Kat moved to swipe her keycard. But she sensed movement to her right. She peered down the hallway to where it darkened and veered left. Empty and quiet and lonely.

And then a shadowy figure emerged and sharp terror washed over her. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark glasses he wore and the black cap he’d pulled low. But there was no mistaking his stride was aimed at her.

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