kind with a candle inside and a sturdy iron handle. He crept down the hallway, his bare feet silent on the wood floor. Emerging onto the Saloon Deck, he turned to the woman in white, his attention riveted. The lantern light shone on her pale face and delicate features, the eyes he knew were green, though he could not make out the color in the dim light. She wore a vintage wedding dress with lace around the neck and a delicate wisp of veil pinned to her long hair.
“Piper,” he breathed.
She couldn’t hear him, of course, and his own wildly beating heart was deafening. He remembered his sister’s advice. Run, Cy. Run. He edged backward as a man in black stepped out of the shadows. He looked vaguely familiar.
Piper whispered something, which he didn’t catch, more a sob than a statement.
“I won’t let you betray me or anyone else ever again.” The man grabbed Piper by the throat and began to choke her.
“You’re hurting me,” she gasped.
A fine red mist swam in front of Cy’s eyes. Every nerve, every muscle decided on a course of action in the space of a moment. He did not think; he merely reacted.
Cy tackled the guy, knocking him away from Piper. He struck out at Cy, who ducked and delivered a solid punch to the man’s nose.
The guy grunted, swiping at his nose with his sleeve. “I don’t know who you are,” he spat, “but you’re making a mistake.”
“Don’t touch her. Ever,” Cy growled between clenched teeth.
The man backed up to the railing. Cy’s rational mind noticed he was wearing a tuxedo, but his rage was still in charge. The man dealt a blow that glanced off the side of Cy’s face. Cy dove for him, and the momentum carried the stranger over the railing.
“No!” Piper yelled.
Too late. Though Cy tried to catch him, Tuxedo Man fell overboard and splashed into the cove below. Cy got a good look at his face as he toppled. It was Carson Spooley, the big-shot concierge guy. Certain details began to cement together. The tuxedo, a top hat lying on the deck, Piper in a wedding dress. Carson Spooley, the showbiz guy. Uh-oh.
“What did you do?” Piper shrilled.
“I didn’t...” he started.
Piper Brindle clambered up the rail, straddling the top bar. One second later, after an anguished look at Cy, she dove neatly into the ocean below.
“PIPER!” CY RUSHED to the railing. He knew she swam like a barracuda, but in that wedding getup, in these murky waters? Stripping off his jacket, he prepared to dive, but a uniformed young man caught him by the legs, dragging him down to the decking.
“Hey, man, it’s not worth it. Things’ll look better in the morning.”
“I’m not suicidal. Two people just went overboard,” he said, shaking the kid off and leaping to his feet.
They both peered over the side.
“Piper,” the man called. “You all right?”
Piper shouted back.
“Yeah,” the young man said. “She’s got him by the waist, and she’s swimming around to the other side so they can climb up to the gangplank.”
Relief chugged through Cy.
The young man turned a suspicious glare on him. “Did you have something to do with this, pal? We’ve got a brig, you know.”
There was indeed a makeshift brig on the boat, Cy had discovered. It was a remnant from the days when the navy had commandeered the River King to serve as barracks for soldiers during the Second World War. They’d been constructing the underwater net that covered the mouth of San Francisco Bay to thwart submarines.
“It was an accident.”
The fellow did not appear convinced until Piper returned to the deck with her erstwhile groom, his black hair curling into wet tendrils around his face.
“I’ll grab some towels,” the uniformed man said as he dashed off.
Spooley studied Cy, dripping water as he did so. Cy’s stomach sank to his shoes. An apology was in order, most likely.
“Uh, Mr. Spooley? I’m not sure what to say.”
Spooley’s eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you the decorator?”
“Well...”
Piper stood next to him, glaring. “He was helping me.”
Cy closed his mouth and murmured, “Looked to me like he was hurting you.”
“That’s called acting.” She glared at Cy. “I’m wearing a wedding dress. Didn’t it occur to you for one split second that this might be a scene from a play?”
“My thinking powers were temporarily offline,” Cy said.
She grimaced and looked at Spooley. “I’m really sorry about this, Carson.”
Carson? Cy didn’t like the softness in her voice when she said his name.
Spooley laughed. “It’s okay. I’ll have a funny anecdote to share so I don’t sound so boring at parties.”
She smiled. Cy fumed.
The concierge raised a glistening eyebrow. “So, you know each other well?”
“A little. He’s...he was a friend.”
I was more than that. At least he’d thought so.
Piper put on a pitying face as she regarded him. “He suffers from a severe chemical imbalance that happens when he doesn’t get enough sugar.”
Cy huffed. “No, I don’t.”
She jabbed her elbow into Cy’s sternum. “I’ll take him someplace and make sure he has a Twinkie or two.”
Spooley considered. “All right. Why don’t we both get into something dry, and we’ll do the scene debrief in the salon in fifteen minutes? Unless you’re too tired? I know it’s late.”
“Not at all. That would be great,” she said, offering him a full kilowatt smile.
Cy watched Spooley go, wondering if this time he’d made a blunder of cosmic proportions. Should he beat a hasty retreat? But Piper stopped him, her slender hand resting on his rib cage, and for some reason, he felt immobilized by it.
Spooley called back. “Should I get the ship doctor or something? For the blood sugar issue?”
“No need,” Piper called, offering him a wave. “I’ll take care of him.”
She
