4

  The only problem with pulling a scam like that so early in the trip was that I then had to ensure every time I bumped into Gertrude I was still Beth the niece. Since we’d used the name I was using on the cruise anyway, at least I’d answer if she called me. But it was still going to put a crimp in my holiday. The ten percent of my take softened the blow.

  Or I thought it would soften the blow. If I’d received my ten percent.

  We were well out at sea and I was coming back to my room from yet another spa session, ready for a proper nap, when Rob waylaid me.

  “Come with me,” he growled.

  I didn’t have time to resist or respond. I felt the nudge of his gun at my back. “What the hell?” I murmured.

  “What did you do with it?”

  “With what?”

  “The money, bitch. What did you do with it? How did you get it all transferred?”

  “The… What?” I blame the superb massage I’d just had for being so slow on the uptake.

  “The money in my account is gone. All of it.”

  Shit. I blinked a few times. “Not me. I am content with my ten percent.”

  But now I was wondering if that money had made my account. I have one for these sorts of transactions, and I always move the money from that account to untraceable accounts immediately after I receive funds. But there’d been delays in all the money movement, so I hadn’t had time to shift my take yet.

  “You’re a liar. But you aren’t going to double cross me and get away with it. Come on.” He jerked my arm and put us both in motion.

  I tripped along beside him as we went downstairs, and along a corridor on the same side of the boat. I had a horrible feeling I knew where we were going. Stalling and conning another con was not an easy thing to do, especially when he thinks he’s been cheated.

  Still, I tried. “Going to get my suitcase finally? Great. I’ve missed my own clothes.” I searched that suitcase he’d planted on me and sure enough, there were hidden jewels ferreted away in the lining—something that wouldn’t have gotten through the security scanners, but Rob had had help with that. Anyway, I was tempted to keep the jewels, but as I mentioned, I’m not a thief. I was also pretty sure the jewels were hot, and I had more than enough heat in the tropical climate as it was, thank you very much.

  So I’d tucked the suitcase to one side of my room and Rob had promised to exchange cases just as soon as all the financials cleared.

  “I want my money back,” he growled. “You can kiss your freedom goodbye if I don’t get it.”

  “Don’t have it. Didn’t take it. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The problem with being a professional liar, though, is that the people who know don’t believe you even when you’re telling the truth.

  He pushed me into his room after unlocking the door, and I stumbled over the threshold. Only to see Gertrude trussed up on the bed, her hands taped together in front of her.

  “What the hell have you done?” I swung to face Rob. Now that the door behind him was closed, he had the gun out in plain sight, swiveling the point of it between me and Gertrude.

  “I have spent years on this and I will not lose out on my windfall now. You’re going to transfer that money back to me, Beth, or so help me god, I will shoot the old lady.”

  “Wait, what?” I moved a little so I was standing in front of Gertrude. Conning her was one thing. Murder something else altogether. I did not go in for murder. “That’s crazy. You have to think about this. There’s no way your guy in security will be able to get you out of a murder.”

  “He will if everyone thinks you’re the killer. What with all that stolen loot in your suitcase.”

  I scowled. “First of all…stolen loot? Really? Couldn’t have just said jewelry like an ordinary person? Second, I don’t even know how to use a gun.” Lie. “Why and how would I shoot Gertrude? In your room?”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I have that part all worked out.”

  That made me think he’d had it “worked out” from the beginning. But maybe not something he intended to pull the trigger on—so to speak—this soon.

  And here he was accusing me of double crossing all my partners. Bastard. I, at least, had the decency to not kill anyone or frame them for murder when I double crossed them.

  “I don’t know where your money is. I haven’t even checked my own account yet today.” I held my hands up and back closer to Gertrude.

  She was sitting on the bed, next to, of all things, my open suitcase. Everything in it had been tossed around, making a mess of the piles of clothes and shoes. The fact that Rob had my suitcase open and was going through my stuff was pretty skeevy. I’d have to wash every article of clothing before I could stomach wearing it. Probably should just buy new underwear, too.

  “Why the hell were you going through my case, by the way?” I asked, gesturing at it with one hand while I motioned Gertrude to raise her hands to my back. I’d had my nails done in the spa yesterday evening, and had gotten a particularly nice set of tips. Sharp. Solid. Impossible to break, the lady had told me.

  I flicked a finger at her and poked it at the tape, then held that finger still while she whimpered like she was terrified and hid behind me.

  “I couldn’t afford to leave anything ignored, could I?” Rob said.

  “You think I keep account numbers and stuff like that in a notebook in my suitcase? How dumb to you think I am?”

  “I don’t. And now you’re going to prove it by giving me my money back. Now. Or I will shoot her.”

  Gertrude hid farther behind me, make some mumbling noises around the gag he had in her mouth.

  “You can’t just go shooting old ladies, Rob,” I said, “especially ones rich as Midas, and expect to get away with it. Even framing me isn’t going to work.” I felt the tape give. I needed to go back after this and tip that manicurist an extra twenty for the rock-solid tips.

  “Stop stalling.” He held out a cellphone—he must have paid for the extra wi-fi, too. Everyone was a money bags, just dropping outrageous fees for wi-fi. “Call whatever bank you’ve moved my money to, get them to move it back. All of it this time.”

  “You stealing my ten percent now, too? What a bastard.” I shifted a little from one foot to the other.

  “I don’t share with people who double cross me.”

  “Rich. Since you intended on double crossing me.”

  He opened his mouth to say something, and the next moment he was struggling with a swan-shaped towel in his face.

  The distraction lasted a full three seconds, not long at all. But long enough.

  I grabbed the plastic-covered dildo baton from my bag and brought it down across his wrist with a crack. The gun hit the deck. Rob’s wrist looked…not good.

  He screamed and lunged at me. I brought the baton around and wacked him in the side of the head. Another crack. Then Rob hit the deck.

  Hopefully I hadn’t killed him. I’d like to see him in cuffs. I would enjoy that scene.

  Gertrude stood up beside me.

  “Thanks for the towel distraction,” I said.

  “That’s some mighty dick you have there.”

  I hefted the baton disguised as a dildo. “It’s got good weight.”

  “Have one myself in my luggage. They’re handy, aren’t they?”

  We both looked at the unconscious conman on the ground at our feet.

  “Handy alright,” I said. I faced her. “You moved the money back out after you transferred it?”

  “I never trusted him. Look at his face? He might as well have a sign that says, ‘I’m a conman.’ And bringing in disabled children.” She tsked.

  “I’m thinking you might be more familiar with the whole con game than you let on.”

  Gertrude smiled. “In my youth.” She let out a sigh. “At any rate, your performance was exemplary. He blackmailed you to get you to help?”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s why I always worked alone.”

  “Me too! Partners are a pain in the ass.”

  “Oh, my dear, you have no idea.” She went to the room phone beside the wide bed.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “My man on the security team. She’s the head of the detail on this ship and has no time for people like Rob York. She’ll ensure everything is set to rights. And she’ll be very interested to hear one of her own team has been working with this criminal.”

  “What about me?” I asked. I didn’t want to go to jail. But I figured, I could get off with self-defense, maybe manage some sort of plea for parole since I’d saved someone’s life with my dildo baton. I’d work it out. So long as Gertrude was fine and Rob was not, I was going to call this situation a win.

  I really had to give up my delusions of Love Boat cruises, though.

  “Don’t worry,” Gertrude said with a wink. “Once this old lady has finished the telling, they’ll be giving you free drinks and vouchers for future cruises and probably a medal. Trust me.”

  “I want to be you when I grow up.”

  She preened a little before launching into a truly impressive performance for the security person she’d reached.

  I glanced down at Rob.

  I don’t trust other cons. We’re not a trustworthy group. But between the two of them…

  Yeah, I’ll take the cunning old lady any day.

  A Vacation to Die For

  1

  Casey Logan laid in bed, staring up at the dark thatched wood roof of the little open-sided bungalow, breathing in the salty ocean air, the night thickly humid, a cool breeze through the open walls keeping things cool and fresh, the moonless night ensuring deep shadows. She listened to the waves swishing gently underneath her, the sound of the waving palm tree fronds back up on the beach…

  And the click of a cocked gun.

  A gun. All the way out here. When she was supposed be on vacation with not a soul around to disturb her peace and quiet.

  Someone was about to get hurt.

  The little island off the coast of Bali only had about two dozen people on it. Three couples and one other single traveler, all occupying individual hunts at the ends of wooden docks out over the shallow blue ocean. Each hut spaced far enough apart to maximize privacy. The rest of the people on the island were resort staff, who lived here permanently, providing meals and fresh linens and emergency help if such were required by the vacationing tourists.

  White sandy beaches, palm trees surrounded by leafy ferns, birds and fish and the occasional cockroach. No rats, though. She’d been delighted by the lack of rats. The resort was only accessible by boat, was only about two miles around, and was surrounded by the bluest, clearest ocean she’d ever seen in her life. Since she was from New York, that wasn’t hard to accomplish. The Hudson was as opposite to clearest and bluest as water could get.

  Her intent on this vacation, in this particular bungalow, with the ocean sweeping beneath her over shallow sand and reef, had been to nap, eat, and read every single paperback novel she’d stuffed into her luggage. She only needed minimal clothing in the tropical climate, which left more room for books. No technology. No phones. No jobs.

  And she was supposed to have a full three weeks of just this.

  The click of that gun meant her vacation was over.

  She sighed. Rolled in the direction opposite the gun, dropped from the bed, hitting the wooden plank floor with a thunk, and slid underneath the bed frame, another beautiful collection of wood and thatch that had made for extremely cozy sleeping.

  Curses to her left. “Where’d she go?”

  She shook her head. Not even professionals. Thugs. She should have guessed when they made enough noise to warn her. Sending idiot thugs to interrupt her vacation. That was just insulting.

  Someone was going to pay for that.

  She waited until they were farther into the interior of the open-walled bedroom. Then she pushed the bed up with feet and hands, tossing it in the intruders’ general direction.

  By the time they’d finished cursing and had shoved the heavier-than-it-looked piece of furniture out of their way, she’d grabbed her waterproof go-bag and dove into the ocean.

  A bullet whizzed wildly overhead, digging into the water a few feet from her. But the moonless night gave her good cover. They were shooting blind.

  Amateurs.

  Casey stayed underwater, swimming beneath the bungalow in the opposite direction from where she’d hit the water. She surfaced when she was on the far side of the hut, coming up silently and taking in enough air for another dive just as quietly.

  There was a lot of cursing from the hut, a lot of knocking things around. Some of her paperbacks were tossed out the side of the building. She watched the pages flutter as the books splashed down into the waves.

  They weren’t just going to pay now. They were going to pay with pain. Lots and lots of pain.

  The beam of a wildly swinging flashlight forced her to dive before the light caught her.

  She slipped close to the beach before surfacing again, letting the waves roll her toward shore so she could minimize the strokes she had to take, making it harder to spot her in the shallow swells. The men had left her hut and were running along the long wooden dock back to the beach, the beams of their flashlights still flailing around as they ran.

  Hadn’t even thought to turn the lights off. She sighed.

  Whoever had hired them was going to get her foot up their ass at her earliest convenience.

  Really, if you were going to send people to kill her, at least do her the courtesy of sending professionals. This was an insult to her professional pride.

  She waited in the waves, just off shore, watching the chaos. There were three of them all together. The two that had come out to the bungalow and one still on shore. The one on shore was yelling at the other two, not even bothering to keep his voice down. Given the nearest bungalow was around a bend in the island, she supposed she could understand his mistake. But sound carried across the water.

  Someone had heard those gunshots.

  Unfortunately, that meant some poor sod was about to walk into the middle of all this and get themselves shot. She didn’t trust the idiots not to just kill any witnesses. You couldn’t trust amateurs not to panic.

  And from all the noise they were making, they were panicking.

  What a pain in her ass. All she’d wanted was three weeks of novel reading and naps. Was that too much to ask?

  She swam gently to a section of beach where the beach was narrow and the trees came close to the water. Slipping out as a set rolled in, she let the pounding thud of the waves against the sand cover her movements. Though why she bothered… The thugs were making so much noise she wasn’t sure they’d hear a troop of walruses marching out of the ocean.

  She hit the cover of the trees without drawing any attention.

  2

  The three amateur assassins charged up and down the beach, looking out at the water, their flashlights hunting vainly in the rolling waves.

  Nowhere near where she’d come ashore.

  Squatting behind a crop of pale rocks inside the swaying palm trees, she unrolled the top of her go-bag and pulled out a hair clip, wrapping her wet hair up into a bun so it would be out of the way. Then quickly changed from the soaking wet t-shirt and pajama shorts she’d worn to bed and into a wet suit that would give her some flexibility with what she did next. The moonless night was humid and warm, but she hadn’t been dressed for a late night swim.

  No gun because she was on vacation, but she belted on the diving knife in her pack. She considered the nine inch flashlight, but she was better off maintaining her night vision, so she left it.

  She rolling down the top and quietly clipped it closed, then slid her arms through the straps, wearing the bag as a backpack so she could keep her hands free.

  Then she started across the edge of the beach, keeping to the trees.

  The dumb bastards were still watching the water. What’d they think, she was mermaiding around out there waiting for them to leave?

  She snuck up behind them without effort—and wasn’t that just annoying. Not one of them turned when she stepped out of the cover of trees to stand on the beach.

  Hands on her hips, she hung her head and sighed. Amateurs.

  She cleared her throat.

  All three swung to face her, their flashlight beams whizzing wildly around the sparse tropical jungle at her back. She’d counted to twenty before one of the beams finally caught her.

  “So slow,” she muttered. “You realize I could have killed all three of you before you knew I was out of the water? What the hell?”

  “Stay where you are,” one of them, the one who’d remained on the beach, snapped. Then in what he probably thought was a calming tone said, “We’re not here to hurt you.”

  She gave him a look. He had the decency to wince and glance away.

  Waving his gun vaguely in her direction without looking at her, he said, “It’s nothing personal, see.”

  “Oh I see, all right.” She took in all three men in one sweeping glance. Mid-twenties, maybe pushing thirties, white, all three of them thick shouldered, one a little thick around the middle, the other two relatively trim, all wearing some variation on tank tops and board shorts, their Tevas wet and sandy now.

  She flexed her bare toes in the soft, cool sand.

  All three had guns pointed at her and little flashlight beams wavering over her. Did they realize the jumping beams were a tell? Probably not.

  “Who sent you?” she asked.

  “It’s nothing personal, see,” the one who seemed to be the leader said.

  “Yeah, we’re just doing a job,” another one said. He was shorter and squatter than the leader, his brown hair lanky and in need of a trim.

  “A job,” the third said, punctuating his statement by jabbing his gun in the air.

 

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