The proof of the print version of Dangerous Allies arrived in the mail today. Despite my love of all things digital, I have to admit that the printed page is still something special. I allowed myself an hour to drool over it, and then got down to the real work of proofing and revisions. (Will they ever be done? Sigh.)
Meanwhile, here’s the next chapter.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mila held both hands over her ears, wincing as backup beepers echoed off the cavernous steel walls and the rumble of forklifts resonated in her chest. Ducking behind a wall of crates, she peered at the Apollonis’s huge marshaling area through a chink in the stacked provisions. A white-uniformed petty officer signaled a worker near the far wall, but the officer was looking away from Mila. She could chance it. She darted out from behind the boxes and turned to her right.
“Look out!”
A forklift truck stacked with melons swept past her with inches to spare. The truck halted with its engine chugging and the driver, wearing ear protection and a hard hat, looked over his shoulder at her. Shaking his head, he pointed to the exit. Mila held up a hand with her fingers splayed and mouthed, Five minutes. The driver shrugged and moved on.
With the departing forklift as cover, Mila sprinted to the wall on her right and stopped next to the stacked mountains of supplies to scan the vast room. Where was Dimitri? She tucked a hand into her pocket, making sure its precious contents had not fallen out during her dash from the door, and stood on tiptoe to survey the area. There was no sign of her husband among the thousands of boxes, bins, and barrels. Mila had often heard the ship’s tour guides count out the massive amounts needed to feed two thousand guests on a week-long cruise: Two hundred and fifty pounds cheese, twenty thousand pounds fresh vegetables, nine thousand eggs, eighteen thousand pounds beef, two hundred tubs of vanilla ice cream. Today, all that and more stood in her way.
The petty officer turned in Mila’s direction and she scrunched down behind large blue barrels marked grease. The cold storage room was on her left, about twenty paces away. The kitchen staff stored the chopped fruit needed for rum punches and other umbrella-topped beverages there. Dimitri went there regularly to replenish the stock in the promenade bars. It was worth a look.
Mila jogged to the cold storage room, tugged open the heavy door and parted the plastic strips that kept the cold air from escaping. Inside, she strolled up and down the narrow aisles of metal shelving, rubbing her goose-bumped arms.
“Looking for something?” a voice behind her said.
Whirling, she almost bumped into a heavily muscled man with a black brush cut and heavy knitted brows. A hissing cobra was tattooed on his cheek. Mila shuddered. Why did she have to run into Bogdan, of all people? She glanced sidelong at the door. Although she had been trying to escape notice, a petty officer’s arrival at this moment would be a relief.
“I was looking for my husband.” Mila tried to duck around Bogdan, who stretched out his arm to the nearest shelf to block her passage.
“You should be working.”
“I am working,” she said, trying to push his arm away from the shelf. “Please. I will be late.”
“Why do you want Dimitri?”
“I have to … tell him something.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s personal.”
Bogdan tilted his head, running a hand slowly up her arm. “How personal?” His dark eyes glittered under the lights.
Cringing, she turned her head away. “Please. I have to go.”
He closed his fingers and thumb around her slender arm. “What are you stealing?”
“Nothing.”
“No?” Releasing her arm, he slid his hand around her waist and yanked her closer. “I think you are. I think I will report you.”
“Let me go. I am doing nothing wrong.” Mila struggled to break free.
Bogdan pinned her arms against her sides and spun her around, pulling her against him so tightly that the metal buttons of his starched white tunic dug into her back. His torso was hard and unyielding and her frantic wriggling only tightened his grip.
Her heart hammered in her chest.
“Let me go.”
“Or what?” he hissed. “You will tell Viktor? You will tell your uncle?” Bogdan bent over her, grinning as she turned her head away. He slid one hand down her stomach, his splayed fingertips digging into her flesh, and rammed his hand into the pocket of her uniform. Shoving her away, he stepped back triumphantly. A diamond pavé hair clip glittered in his hand.
“What is this?”
“It’s mine.” She reached for it.
Bogdan laughed and held it above her outstretched hand. Mila hopped up, but he dangled it out of her reach.
“It is not yours. Where did you get it?”
“It was a gift.” She tried to reach it again.
“Mila.” He shook his head. “Not everyone is as stupid as Dimitri. Where did you get this?” When she didn’t answer, he grabbed her upper arm and squeezed. She flinched and tried to pull away, but his fingers gripped her flesh like talons.
His eyes narrowed.
“Is this more of Ruby Delaney’s jewelry?”
“No, of course not.”
With a snort of derision, he released her arm.
“Did you put the earrings back?”
“Yes,” she whispered, rubbing her wrist and staring at the floor. “She will think they dropped from her bag.” If she misses them at all. Mila recalled the cash strewn across the bed in the Emperor Suite. More than enough money to—
Bogdan thrust the jeweled clip in front of her face.
“So is this why you are looking for Dimitri? To give him this?”
“No. I told you, it’s mine.”
Not true, of course. She had intended to ask Dimitri to hide the clip until the owner noticed it missing. Then she would accept a small reward for finding the misplaced jewelry in its owner’s stateroom. It was a simple scheme, but it had worked before. And now Bogdan was messing it up, just as he had earlier with the earrings. She glanced up at him.
“Why do you care, anyway?”
“Viktor has plans for Delaney and her husband. He does not want trouble.”
“That has nothing to do with me.”
Bogdan’s eyes flashed and Mila took a step back, her heart pounding.
“You think because Viktor is your uncle, you can do as you please,” he hissed. “Not true. If you screw this up for him—” He glowered at her.
Mila held her breath. Screw up what? What were they planning?
“If you screw this up, you and Dimitri will be tossed off the ship. Without pay.” Bogdan grabbed her arm again, yanking her close, and bent his head to her ear. “But you may get another chance,” he said, “when this is all over.”
Leering at her, he slipped the clip back into her pocket and walked out.
Mila’s arm was burning and she shook out her hand as she watched him leave. Naturally Bogdan assumed she meant to keep the jewelry, because that’s what he would have done. The diamonds in that clip were worth enough to pay for an entire year of Sergei’s tuition, but she wasn’t a thief. She sighed. There had been a time when she wasn’t a liar, either.
Mila narrowed her eyes, watching the door. What had Bogdan meant, ‘When this is all over?’
