He winked at me but I missed it. Just my damn luck. I’d snuck myself onto a ship heading to Malta where my former kidnapper worked his cover job as ‘vice president’ of a bank.
The ship had begun moving. Before answering Anthony, I glanced over the balcony as we passed Alexei’s yacht. Still too far to make out any individual, I knew he’d be following me, and now to his goddamn home base.
“I wouldn’t mind the company, Tone,” I said, enacting my next plan. “I’ve never been to Malta before.”
“Me neither.” He smiled wide at my acceptance, but he wouldn’t have if he’d known why I’d accepted. “So, what do you write, likeHunger GamesorTwilight?”
“Are those the only two types of books you know about?” I asked.
“The only two chick books I know,” he scoffed and shook his head.
A small traitorous part of me insisted on comparing my new ‘friend’ Tone with Alexei. My British-accented Russian captor could carry a conversation a hell of a lot better. When I forgot about the whole captor part, conversing with him had been a joy, at least compared to Tone. A quick scan of the water and I found his yacht behind us on a similar course.
“I gotta be honest, I’m not much of a reader,” Tone said, jerking my attention from the distant vessel, “but I’d love to check out what you got.”
He wasn’t talking about my nonexistent book anymore. I might need him when we got off the ship in Malta. If it came to blows, Alexei would make short work of him, but I could slip away in the excitement. I’d done it once today already. I wanted the man to leave me be now, but still be available later. No more bridge burning today. He’d get off lightly.
“I still have to proofread, maybe I’ll have that done by the time we get to Malta,” I replied. “I should probably get back to the computer, might be celebrating too early. The book really comes together in the editing. But we’re still on for Malta, right?”
“Oh, I’ll be waiting for you.” He was smart enough to read the ‘not yet’ written on my expression. “If you get done proofreading, I’m in room 223. You?”
“547,” I replied, thankful they’d printed the room number on the badge I’d snagged from Nicola.
“Until I see you again,” Tone said, lifting his beer before walking off. He scanned the bar three times then made a beeline toward another table with a couple of women at it.
A waiter approached with a plate in hand, the sandwich I’d ordered. He dutifully put it in a takeout container when I asked and I headed to Nicola’s room. I had a few calls to make.
The cabin’s aesthetics matched the business class hotel look of the rest of the ship. The narrow room featured an equally narrow bed, small desk with one chair and a flat screen television on the wall. A glass door opened to a balcony at the far end. Nicola hadn't been a very clean passenger. Her clothes were strewn over and around the open suitcase on the desk. A few empty wine bottles sat next to it. She’d even left the door to the balcony open.
I finished the sandwich before finally turning to the room’s phone. A helpful sticker above it read ‘Ship to shore calls are $7.99 a minute.’ The envelope fattened again when I dialed Katie’s number.
“Hello?” my best friend answered, suspicion leaking from her voice. She normally let any number she didn’t know go unanswered. Who didn’t?
“Hey, Katie,” I replied.
“Gia!” she yelled so loudly I had to pull the phone from my ear, “what the hell! You never text me back or answer your phone and I come to the hotel this morning and all your stuff’s gone and you still have not responded to any of my texts! Last time I saw you, that tall, blond and handsome slab of a man had joined you. Did you get lucky?”
“No!” I blurted before she could continue.
“Oh,” she sighed and then giggled. “I would have forgiven you for leaving so suddenly and ignoring my calls if he whisked you off for your own private Roman Bacchanal.”
“Well, he did kind of whisk me off,” I chuckled darkly. “He kidnapped me but I got away.”
“Kidnapped?” she yelped. “Now I don’t feel bad about calling your dad.”
“You called my father?” I froze. He was going to be my next call anyway, but that conversation had just gotten harder, the few answers I’d receive from him shorter.
“What was I supposed to do? You disappeared on me, I was scared,” Katie said, only a little defensive. “I’m not stupid you know. I understand why you don’t talk about it but I know the rumors about your father. Did that guy kidnap you to get to him?”
I’d always dreaded this conversation, yet another line of thought I tried to ignore, pretend it didn’t exist. As she said, Katie wasn’t an idiot, close as we were, she’d see my father for what he really was sooner or later.
“We should talk about my father in person,” I said after a long pause, “the guy who kidnapped me is trying to make me fall in love with him.”
“Really?” Katie’s concern turned into gossipy curiosity. “What did he do? Are you still in Rome?”
“I’m on a cruise ship heading for Malta,” I answered. “He took me to his yacht for dinner and then took me to Syracuse on Sicily.”
That alone had been way more than I’d meant to share but I stopped myself before describing my escape. Katie might have known more about my father than I expected, but I wasn’t going to talk about my adventures in shoplifting and identify theft.
