The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection Frost, J (good beach reads .TXT) 📖

were having over breakfast about the scenes we saw last night and the scenes we’re going to do. I want to hear more of the little quips she kept making about my sexual prowess. I even want an explanation of what the hell a blog tour is, which she’s evidently doing during her free time this morning.

I haven’t craved my bottom’s company before. I’ve craved their bodies, their submission, but not their companionship. I want Emily’s constant attention, which I know is the one thing she can’t give me.

I take a deep breath and focus on the next thing: the interview with Dan Reyes. As I push away from the door, I hear music through it. A woman’s voice singing that she’s a wounded warrior. I listen for a minute. The music’s beautiful: soaring and falling, aching and needy. Emily music. It’s not a song or a singer I’m familiar with. Making a mental note to ask her to play it for me later, I move through my cabin to get ready for the interview.

Dan Reyes is an asshole. I understand the reasons behind his assholism, but it doesn’t make him less of an asshole.

He sits back on the couch across from me and crosses his arms over his chest. I know what will be out of his mouth next before he even opens it.

“Not a fucking chance,” he says.

Surprise, surprise.

“This already has the sanction of Ed Isaak,” I tell him.

“I’ll bust you to the Mexican po-po and you’ll spend the next three months in jail until you can find a gringo lawyer to bail your ass out. Nothing Mr. Isaak can do about that.”

Such an asshole.

“Brick isn’t illegal in Mexico yet. Or in the United States.”

Although it probably will be any day now.

“Tell that to the Mexicans. I guarantee they’ll give not one shit.”

“If you force me to get the Mexican police involved, I will, but your own people have been very specific about not wanting the authorities notified. I need to know the source of the brick that killed Bill Black. You’ve told me, repeatedly, he didn’t get it from one of the crew. If you’re right, that means he bought it at one of the ports and brought it back aboard with him, through your security. So did at least four other passengers. I need to understand how. If you can think of better way, other than for me to try to bring it through at Cabo, tell me. I’m open to suggestions.”

He shifts on the couch but doesn’t uncross his arms.

I don’t think any suggestions are going to be forthcoming.

“None of my guys are in on this,” he says finally.

“I’m not pointing any fingers. I’m trying to spare your company potentially monumental liability by finding the source of the brick and the avenue for getting it on the boat.”

“Through my guys.”

I spread my hands in what I hope is a conciliatory gesture. “Tell me how else the brick got on the boat.”

“Maybe the fuckers had it dropped off by fucking drone.”

So helpful.

“Right, I’ll look into your drone theory. In the meanwhile, I’d appreciate it if you’d provide me with the security rotas for the last two months.”

“No.”

I restrain the urge to belt him. “Or you can provide them to Mr. Isaak, and he can provide them to me. I don’t really care. I don’t need your cooperation. If you force me to roll over you, I will.”

“You think you can come in here and tell me how to do my fucking job—”

I cut him off before he works up to full spittle. “No, I don’t. I couldn’t do your job. I have very specific skills, and that’s why your people hired me. Provide me with the things I need to do my job and I’ll stay out of your way.”

He glares at me for a while, and when I don’t back down before his hard, blue glare, he shifts on the couch again. “Security rosters for the last two months. Anything else?”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk to anyone else about my investigation. There’s clearly a lot of discussion going on among the officers—”

“We’re a family on this ship,” he interrupts.

A very chatty family. He knew about my Cabo test before the interview even started, which I thought was need-to-know limited to the captain and Michael Lehmann.

“Sure, I get that. I served in the Navy for eight years. I understand wanting to protect your family. I also understand that one man’s dead and at least four others could be facing severe, long term, health consequences as a result of taking a drug while they were aboard. Mrs. Black’s lawsuit is just the first. Your employer’s insurance company is not happy and may not provide coverage if we can’t determine the source and distribution route of the drugs. If they refuse coverage and Mrs. Black or any of the other victims is successful with a lawsuit, Pink Pearl is out of business and you’re out of a job. So’s everyone else in your family.” I pause to let that sink in, in case Reyes didn’t fully appreciate the magnitude of this mess. “You don’t believe that they got the drug aboard? Great. Help me prove it by shutting down all the chatter. It’s only going to hurt your family in the long run.”

That seems to get through to him. His arms drop to his sides.

“This idea of yours.” He waves his hand, presumably indicating the Cabo test. “It hasn’t gone any further than me. I’ll make sure it doesn’t. But the more people you talk to, the more the word’s going to get around about what you’re doing.”

“I know. You’re the only security staff member I’m interviewing before Cabo. After that, I hope to have a very clear idea about the route and source of the drugs.”

“What are you going to tell the other people you’re interviewing? Who’re you talking to next, Jan Millek? He barely speaks English.”

So I’ve been told. Pink Pearl, like a lot