Christina Skye - Code Name - Bikini

Now Gina would have to beg, wheedle and trade favors to find adequate space for her sensitive chocolates and edible flowers in the ship’s already tight refrigerated areas. There was no way she’d ask Blaine to share her space.

Not that asking would help.

Never pleasant, Blaine had lapsed into full bitch mode after she learned that Gina was being considered for a food series on national TV. Since that day three months ago, it had become Blaine’s sole goal in life to beat out Gina with her own wine series, and her sabotage efforts were becoming more difficult to avoid. Gina had spoken to the head of food services twice, but he had been no help.

No surprise there. Blaine was boffing the man every chance she got. There was little that didn’t get noticed aboard a crowded ship, and crew gossip had pinpointed the spots and times, right down to the noise level and positions involved.

Ugh. Some details you just didn’t want to know.

“Thanks for all your help, Blaine.” Gina’s voice was icy. “You’re a real team player.”

Blaine buffed another nail. “Nobody said it was a team sport, honey. Just remember. If I don’t get a TV series, then nobody on board does.”

“Wow. Now there’s a healthy adult attitude.”

Much as she would have liked to, Gina didn’t stay around to trade insults.

She had a pallet of varietal semisweet chocolate to rescue before it started to sweat.

WHEN GINA TURNED into the corridor to the rear storage area, she nearly ran into her Brazilian sous chef. Andreas looked exhausted and worried. “He wants you and it’s not pretty.”

“Who wants me?” Gina ran through any recent problems with personnel, management or the captain and was relieved when she found none.

“Tobias Hale from security. He was down at the kitchen ten minutes ago. And ten minutes before that. He said you were to go straight to his office as soon as you came aboard.”

“Can’t. Gotta go save a ton of expensive chocolate from imminent peril. The Wicked Witch sent them over to the malfunctioning cooler.”

Andreas muttered a string of harsh words in Portuguese street slang. “You want me to help you with this transfer?”

“I can manage. But come back when you’ve finished checking on the tarts for dinner. We may have to work fast.”

“Nothing to sweat for, boss.” Andreas’s English was very good, but he occasionally mixed an idiom. “I will come soon. But Tobias—”

“Can wait.” The ship’s security chief was six feet five inches tall, built like an oak tree and had the smooth, dark features of a slightly younger James Earl Jones. He stopped fights with one glance and shot fear into the hearts of boisterous travelers and drunken crew alike. Because of him the ship never had security problems. The crew scuttlebutt said that he was a former CIA operative; others said he was ex-Delta Force. Maybe both were right.

His orders were never ignored.

But Gina did that now. She had her food to protect.

She was racing along the corridor to the galley so fast that she didn’t see a hand truck half hidden by a box of cleaning supplies. Her ankle hit metal and she went flying headfirst, skinning her palms, elbows and one cheek.

Closing her eyes to the sudden burst of pain, she sat up slowly.

A worried face loomed over her. The cleaning man shoved his hand truck back against the wall. “You okay? I had to use the bathroom. Sorry about that. Hey, you’re the one who made the rum cake for my birthday last month. Man, it was great.” He offered her his hand and tugged her to her feet.

Gina blinked, feeling a little dizzy. “Glad to hear you liked it.”

“Ma’am, you don’t look so good. You want me to get someone—like a doctor or something?”

“I’ll be fine. Just be sure you store that hand truck so no one else trips over it.”

“Sure. Real sorry about that. By the way, Tobias Hale is looking for you.”

Great.

Gina dug a tissue from her pocket and limped off. Most of the blood was gone by the time she located her chocolate pallet, just in time to keep it from being loaded into the cooler with the unreliable thermostat. After fifteen minutes of mixed pleas, promises and threats, she found an alternate berth in a different unit, but it meant volunteering to prepare special desserts for staff dinners the following month.

Next time she’d definitely beat Blaine to the dock. And until then she’d remember to watch her back.

When Gina finally reached the kitchen, she sank wearily into a chair, kicked off her shoes and pressed a bag of ice against her bruised cheek.

“Want to tell me what you are doing?”

“Resting?” She didn’t look up. She knew that deep voice, and there was no ignoring its edge of anger. “I had to rescue some chocolate.” She sighed. “And after that I was trying to avoid running into you.”

“In my office.” There was steel in Tobias Hale’s order. “Five minutes, Gina. Otherwise I’ll put you on report.”

If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have jumped up and saluted. “Aye-aye, sir.”

“Don’t bother sounding nice and obedient. We both know you’d like to insert one of your favorite knitting needles up my…nose. So stop smiling and get over to my office.”

One more fire to put out, Gina thought wearily. What had she done to piss off Tobias so royally?

She rubbed a fresh trickle of blood off her cheek and wiggled back into her shoes. Whoever thought cooking was glamorous needed to have a serious mental evaluation.

“YOU SHOULD HAVE told me.”

“Told you what?” Gina paced Tobias’s small office, watching seabirds rocket past the porthole. The ship was two hours out of San Francisco, following the curve of California south to Mexico. Given the hum of the big engines, she put their speed around fifteen knots.

Funny how she’d picked up the maritime life. Now it seemed like second nature. She was going to miss all of this when she left.

When she had to leave.

She prayed it wouldn’t be soon.

“Stop pacing like a scrawny, caged cat.”

“Who’s scrawny?” Gina muttered.

Tobias sat down at his desk and glared at her. “You know damned well what I mean. You’re not eating enough. You’re not sleeping enough. Scrawny,” the big security officer repeated flatly. “Bad-tempered and wound up tight.”

Gina started to rub her forehead, then caught herself. Tobias missed nothing. She couldn’t give any sign of the headache that was digging in behind her eyes. “You have a cigarette?”

“Why? You gave them up four years ago.”

“Right. Then how about some of those lemon drops you think you’ve kept hidden in the top left drawer of your desk?”

Tobias flipped open a drawer and tossed her a bag of candy. “Don’t change the subject. I know what’s going on.”

What was he talking about? Had she forgotten to return those last two videos of 24 from the ship’s video library? Did she owe money for uniform laundry?

No to both. But something had Tobias riled up big-time.

She savored the bite of a sour lemon ball, frowning. “Gee, Tobias, I don’t know what—”

“Of course you do. You were pale and shaky out at that damned pastry class you refused to say no to. You were dizzy by the end.”

“Oh, that.” She should have known Tobias would get reports on staff activities ashore. The man was spooky in his ability to gather information. She shrugged. “Didn’t sleep very well last night. Must be too much partying.”

“Partying, my ass. You don’t party. You don’t take time off. You work twenty hours out of every twenty-four and your staff is worried about you.”

Gina stopped pacing. “They told you that?”