“Only if you meet him along the way. If you do not see him, wait until after you have brought me my weapon.”
He nodded again. “I shall be quick about it.”
Nash managed a smile. “I thank you. I will be forever in your debt, Mr. Summers.”
Mr. Summers looked calm as he walked to his wife and took her arm, then rushed her to the stairs leading down to the cabins. Nash’s worry lessened, and he hoped his instincts were correct. If these men worked for his uncle, they wouldn’t cause a scene. Instead, they would wait to grab Nash someplace private. When that time came, he hoped his pistol was with him. Either that, or he prayed God would help him.
Chapter Twelve
Aloud knockboomed on Maxey’s door, bringing her out of a fitful sleep. She jumped to a sitting position. Her body shook. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself and crawled out of bed, slipping a wrap over her nightdress.
The loud knock came again.
“Who is it?” she called.
“It’s Mr. Summers. Mr. Black sent me to get something from his room.”
Curiosity led her to open the door. The bright light from the hallway made her squint when she looked upon her late-night visitor. “Why would he send you when he can come himself?”
He shook his head and stepped closer. The terror on the man’s face let her know he was certainly not being forward with his actions.
“Mr. Black is up on deck and sent me to get his revolver. He thinks he is in danger.”
Although Nash had talked about this subject quite a bit, he had now involved another person. Perhaps Nash had good reason to fear this time, since he was indeed the murderer—but then, why was his uncle searching for him? And why would Nash be in danger? Still, curiosity niggled her, and the investigator she tried to become wanted to solve tonight’s mystery.
“Why does my uncle believe that?”
“There are several men up on deck, and he thinks they are waiting for the chance to attack him. He doesn’t think they will approach him while there are still people milling about, so he is remaining there until I return with his weapon.”
Nothing made sense. In all this time aboard ship, Nash had only suspected one person, and that was Raúl. She knew the reason for Nash’s reaction was because of jealousy. As much as she wanted to argue with Mr. Summers, going back to sleep was more important.
She turned and hurried to the trunk that wasn’t locked. Underneath Nash’s top shirt, she located the pistol.
“Here it is.” She gave it to Mr. Summers.
“Oh, thank you, Miss Littleton. I suggest you stay here and keep your door locked until everything has settled.”
“I certainly will.”
Mr. Summers hurried out of the room, his chubby backside rolling with each movement. She shook her head and closed the door. It wasn’t like Nash to involve another person, so he must know something he hadn’t shared with her yet. Could his uncle’s men indeed be aboard? Why hadn’t Nash discovered this before now?
Then again, apparently Nash hadn’t been fully honest with her since they met. So perhaps something was going on this evening that might prove he killed his brother—other than the ring, of course.
She stepped to the bed and sat as her heart hammered against her ribs. Her brief nap left her wide awake, but it was the panic in Mr. Summers that worried her. Perhaps she should sneak up on deck to see what act Nash was performing this time.
A grin tugged at her lips. Yes. A good investigator would do that very thing.
Excitement bubbled up in her chest. She would prove to Nash how well she could handle danger, since he didn’t think she could. Not only that, but she would show that good-for-nothing man that shewasa fine investigator, since shehadcaught her suspect!
She rushed to her trunk, pulled out a dress, and quickly changed before going up on deck. She pulled the brush through her sleep-tangled hair in a hurry. As she walked through the door, her smile widened because of what she hoped to accomplish.
She rushed up the stairs, relieved at finding none of the other passengers up and about this late in the evening. Trying to make as little noise as possible, she climbed to the top deck, and then quickly darted behind a water barrel.
In the still night, she strained to hear any sounds. Scanning the area, she decided Nash must be on the other side of the deck, so she scrambled to another water barrel, then on to the next, and next, until she finally spotted him.
A group of several men stood around him, but Nash’s masculine frame towered over them all. Although she couldn’t hear their exact words, they were very upset. The tone of Nash’s voice was strong, yet calm, while the other men seemed belligerent and forceful.
The men’s actions set off an alarm in her head, which kept her spying behind the barrel. What exactly were they up to? And why did none of these men look familiar? In all this time on the ship, wouldn’t she have seen one of them at least once?
