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

I think she’ll be frightened if she wakes up and you’re in her room. I’ve barred her door, so no one is getting in there except from in here.”

“Aye. Okay if I text Shaan and tell him where I am?”

“Yes, of course. Sorry to disrupt your morning.”

“No problem. Glad t’be of help.”

Niall gets busy with his phone; I take the moment to send a text to Emily.

Niall’s in my cabin. If you need anything, knock three times.

She doesn’t respond and I take that to mean she’s asleep.

Feeling like I’ve covered my bases as best as I can, I leave Niall watching the morning news while I head to the bridge.

Bureaucracy is my least favorite thing. Well, maybe my second least favorite thing after real-life pirates. But it’s pretty far down there. I hate forms. With the stifling bureaucracy of the modern armed forces, you’d think I’d be used to filling out forms. But I still hate each and every one, and I expect to fill out a lot of them this morning. Complaint forms, incident forms, waiver forms. Whatever it takes to make our cabins safe again.

But Captain Lopez surprises me. As soon as I give my name to a purser, she appears, crisp and professional, despite the early hour. She listens attentively when I explain why I’ve disturbed her, then escorts me down to maintenance. There, she gives precise orders to the man who answers the door: a pot-bellied bloke who can’t be much taller than Emily and looks as rumpled as though he’s slept at the little desk in his office. He nods in response to the captain’s orders and offers me a thick-fingered hand, each nail outlined in black grime.

“Earl,” he grunts.

I shake. “Logan.”

“Let’s fix yer door.”

Captain Lopez nods at me. “I’ll leave you in Earl’s capable hands. If there’s anything else you need, let me know.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

I wait while Earl puts some tools and two spare locks in a canvas bag. Out of his little den, he moves at a trot, forcing me to stretch my legs to keep up with him. He eschews the elevator and trots up the four flights of stairs, pausing at each landing to catch his breath.

“Misses says I could stand the exercise,” he explains, patting his belly, which makes my lips twitch. “Yer a big feller. Military?”

I nod. “Navy.”

“Eh? You should be right at home on a boat, then.”

“Subs and gun-boats are a little different.”

Earl grins, showing teeth that have seen many years of both coffee and cigarettes. “That’s the God’s honest truth. C’mon, let’s fix yer door.”

I almost point out that it’s not broken but leave it. I’m guessing in Earl’s mind there are two states of being: broken and fixed.

The door locks turn out to be horrifically easy to remove. There’s one long screw that Earl whips out with an electric drill in less than ten seconds. Then he touches a little fob to the plate of the lock, and it falls off on either side of the door while Niall and I watch with dismay.

“Magnetic,” Earl explains. “Supposed to be the latest in security.”

I’m not feeling very secure.

He fits my door with a new lock even faster than he removed the old one and hands me a keycard. “For VIPs,” he says. “Only the captain’s master key and that key will open this lock now. You’ll need to let the cleaners in every day. Their keys won’t work.”

Only the captain’s master key, the key in my hand, a reversing drill, and a magnetic fob, that anyone might be able to duplicate, will open the new lock.

“You had the lock off in less than thirty seconds,” I point out.

Earl shrugs. “Latest and greatest. So’s they tell me.”

Fuck.

“Okay, thank you very much. I’ll need to open Emily’s door. Give me just a minute.”

I leave him packing the old lock in his bag.

Niall trails me. “That’s nae safe,” he says, his brogue so thick I can almost see it in the air, like a spill of malt whiskey.

“I know.” I’m cursing myself for believing my client when they told me they had serious security aboard. “We’ll use the manual latches when we’re in the cabins. Better than nothing.”

“And when yer out?”

I shrug. I don’t have an answer for that yet.

Niall puts his hand on my shoulder. “Logan, this is nae safe. Emily is nae safe.”

“I’ll rework her schedule so she’s never in her cabin when I’m not here.”

He runs his hand through his hair, looking troubled. “I don’t like this. Yeh don’t know meh well—”

“I called you,” I point out. “I could have called security.”

I didn’t because I don’t trust anyone who reports to Dan Reyes.

“Aye. Will yeh—would yeh check in with me every two hours? I know that’s nae reasonable, but this is all wrong. Searchin’ yer room, with Emily right next door? Fecking nightmare, that is. It’s what I ask me crews to do when they’re workin’ in bad areas. I know—”

He doesn’t need to convince me. “Niall, I’ll check in every two hours. I appreciate it.”

The fight drains out of him. He went into Dom overload for a minute there, and I don’t blame him, because I did the same thing, whipping out my baton like I was going to beat down the motherfucker who threatened my baby girl’s safety. It’s instinct, and that instinct doesn’t stop screaming just because the room turns out to be empty.

“I’ll spell yeh keepin’ an eye on Emily,” he continues. “Whenever yeh need meh. Just say the word.”

“Thank you.” I hold my hand out. “I’m glad to have a security buddy. Tell me if it becomes an imposition.”

Niall shakes, the lines on his forehead lightening. “Glad I didn’t have to knock yeh inta agreeing.”

I chuckle as I open the connecting door. “Do I really look like that kind of idiot?”

Niall’s chuckle echoes mine.

Emily’s cabin is cool and dim. She’s still curled on her side, tucked around her bunny, when I wake her for the second time this morning. I hate