Her Lieutenant Protector. Lara Lacombe
to the fact they were staying behind. Now they were making their way through the ship, going from room to room to modify the boxes on the plan.
At least they had been, before this nosy guy had stumbled across something he wasn’t supposed to see.
“What should we do with him?” Harvey nudged the body with the toe of his boot, as if he expected the man to stand up and walk out of the room. He glanced up at the ceiling, nodding at the dark opening where Terrence had been only moments before.
Terrence answered his unspoken question. “No. There’s not enough room.” The body would also begin to stink and leak fluids soon, which meant it wouldn’t stay hidden for long. Maybe they could weigh it down, sink it in the water? But no, there was so much boat traffic in the harbor nothing stayed under for long.
Terrence glanced around the room, wishing the answer was written on the walls. Thick plastic sheeting hung from the ceiling and covered part of the floor, a protective barrier that would soon be removed as the cabins were finished. Would anyone notice if it came down a little early?
“Pull that down,” he instructed Harvey. “Lay it flat on the floor.”
“This?” Harvey tugged at the plastic tarp dubiously. “Why?”
Terrence ground his teeth together. “You’re going to wrap the body in it.”
“Oh.” Harvey wrinkled his nose. “Are you going to help?”
“Nope.” Terrence crossed his arms and stared hard at the other man. “You killed him. You get to clean it up.”
It took several minutes, punctuated by Harvey’s mumbled complaints, but eventually the body was arranged on the thick layer of plastic. “Hand me that duct tape.”
Terrence picked up the silver roll, glancing dubiously from it to the body. “Won’t he smell?” He had no idea how they were going to dispose of the man, but he did know the coming stench would only make life more difficult.
Harvey rocked back on his heels, considering the question. “Yeah. Give me a minute.”
He stood and walked out of the room before Terrence could protest. What the hell? This was not going well at all. And now the idiot had left him here with a dead body at his feet. What if someone walked in and saw? How was he going to explain the situation?
He needn’t have worried. Harvey returned a few minutes later, lugging a large bag on his shoulder. He dropped it to the floor, and Terrence read the label: Ice Melt.
“Are you kidding me?”
Harvey spared him a glance. “It’s basically salt. It will keep him from stinking.”
Terrence swallowed a surge of disgust. “How do you know that?” He immediately regretted the question. The less he knew about Harvey’s activities, the better.
Harvey merely raised one brow. “I just do.” He started tugging at the laces of the man’s boots, loosening them.
“What are you doing?”
Harvey didn’t look up as he pulled the boots off the man’s feet and set them to the side. “These are nice boots. Be a shame to waste them.”
Terrence shook his head, wondering why he’d even bothered to ask. At this point, he shouldn’t be surprised by anything Harvey did.
It didn’t take long to spread the white pellets of ice melt over and around the body. Terrence rose, dusting his hands on his pants. Harvey stayed crouched by the man’s head and began folding the plastic over the body. He stuck out his hand, silently asking for the tape.
Terrence handed it to him, then began to pace around the room while Harvey completed the gruesome task, his thoughts a tangled knot of worry and frustration. The man who had hired him would know how to get rid of a body, but Terrence didn’t want to tell him about this little hiccup. Even though Harvey had been the one to kill the interloper, Terrence knew he would be held responsible.
Harvey stood up and put his hands on his hips, eyeing his handiwork with a critical expression. “Think that’ll hold him?”
A small shudder ran through Terrence, and he closed his eyes, trying to clear the image from his brain. “I don’t know. I don’t have a lot of experience in this.”
“I say we put him in the wall.”
The sheer insanity of the statement nearly made him laugh, but he choked off the sound. “Which wall?”
Harvey pointed at the back wall of what would someday be the closet. “Why not there?”
Terrence glanced at it and shrugged. It was as good a plan as any, provided they could patch things up enough that no one would notice.
Harvey removed a section of drywall with surprising delicacy, revealing the curve of the ship’s hull. They worked quickly, maneuvering the body into the space and propping it against a steel beam. Terrence stood back while Harvey sealed the wall up again, patching the seams with some putty a worker had left behind. It was all very neat and tidy, and Terrence felt a grudging respect for Harvey as he finished disguising the cuts he’d made. Apparently the man had some skills after all.
“What do you think?” He stood back from the wall, tilting his head as he studied it.
Terrence did the same. “Looks good,” he admitted. “You really can’t tell.”
Harvey nodded. “Not bad for a quick job. Once they spray the texture on and paint it, no one will ever know.”
“Let’s get going,” Terrence said. They couldn’t stand here all night admiring Harvey’s construction work. “We’re behind schedule.”
“We’ll catch up,” Harvey said confidently.
“Only if you don’t kill anyone else.”
“I’m not making any promises.”
Pressure.
No, that wasn’t right. Mallory searched her brain, trying to find the right word to describe the unsettling sensation. Something pulled at her, an insistent tugging at her shoulders and hips that made it hard to focus. She tried to lift her hand to brush away the annoying feeling, but her arm wouldn’t obey her brain’s command.
Her heart kicked hard against her breastbone, panic rising in her chest as she fought against the unexpected paralysis. What was happening to her?
She tried again and managed to shift her leg to the side. It was heavy, the movement sluggish and difficult. But it was a start.
Her eyelids were twin weights trapping her in darkness. Opening her eyes proved too much of a challenge, so she tried to call for help instead. Her tongue was a thick obstruction in her mouth, but she managed to make a sound—a moan, really, but hopefully it was enough to draw attention.
The tugging stopped and a blast of cool air hit her skin. Another strangled sound escaped her throat, and suddenly there was warmth spreading across her torso.
“Shh.” The whisper was hot against her ear, an urgent command that made her catch her breath. Someone was here! They were going to help her!
A split second later a weight descended on her body, pressing her flat. Mallory tried to move away, to ease the pressure on her chest that made it hard to breathe. But the effort was like trying to swim through syrup, her limbs stiff and uncoordinated.
“Just relax. It’s okay.”
It was a nice thought, but her body refused to consider it. She thrashed around as much as she was able, trying to dislodge the crushing burden pinning her down. No matter what this voice said, something was very, very wrong.
“Stop it.” Sharp pain at her wrists cut through her confusion,