Why did I do that?
Was it because Pim technically didn’t exist? That if anyone knew I had her, they could link me back to sex trafficking and the QMB? Maybe it was because even when I first rescued her, I knew I wanted her far more than I should, and a woman like Pim would be missed. She would be searched for.
I’d deliberately kept her presence a secret for my benefit.
“Umm,” Pim hedged, her bare toes turning white as she dug them into the hardwood floor. “Not sure....” Turning to me, she searched my face for guidance.
She was too obvious.
The officer rolled his eyes, telling me what I already knew—that I was an idiot for not following protocol. This could’ve been a simple board, cross check, walk around, and departure.
Now, with Pim’s arrival and the extra weapons on board, it would mean a full-on snoop fest.
“Answer me, girl,” the officer pushed.
I nodded for her to continue, not giving any hints on how she needed to reply. This was on her. I’d tried to prevent her from being in this mess, yet she’d ignored me.
You’re on your own, Pimlico.
And then, when we’re alone...you and I are going to have a serious chat.
Tearing her gaze from mine, Pim cleared her throat. “I’m not sure exactly. A few weeks. A few months? Time seems to pass differently on the ocean.”
“And do you have a passport? Visas?”
She stiffened. “I wasn’t aware I needed them.”
“Anyone sailing on international waters must be prepared for immigration.”
“Oh.” She looked at her feet then back to the man in question with rebellion in her gaze. “I might not have a passport, but I do have a police file with my fingerprints and who I am. Is that enough?”
I swallowed my groan, doing my best not to slap myself in the face.
Fucking great. She just admitted she’d been processed for a crime.
The M.O. gave me a snide look. “Aiding and abetting criminals now, Mr. Prest? This just gets better and better.” He strolled forward, his notebook clutched self-importantly. “What else are you hiding around here?”
“Nothing to concern you with.” I crossed my arms. “Look, just book me and—”
“He’s only trying to protect me,” Pim offered, stepping forward to meet the officer in the middle of the bridge. Buttons and monitors flashed from the control panel, painting her nightgown in an array of colours. “He saved me and is taking me back to my mother in England.” She threw me a quick glance as if to reiterate privately that she had no intention of being left behind in the UK while I sailed away.
I was glad because just the thought of her leaving buckled my knees—even while I was fucking furious with her.
“Well, isn’t that noble of him?” the officer asked even though he looked at Pim as if she’d told a silly bedtime story. “How about you give me your mother’s name, address, and that police record you mentioned, and we’ll see if that’s enough to clear you for passage.”
“And if it isn’t?” she asked, crossing her arms like a brave, stupid girl.
The guy narrowed his eyes, looking over her head to me. “If it isn’t, someone might be arrested or worse—his boat confiscated.”
Oh, hell no.
I’d pay any fine—shit, I’d even spend a couple of days in the slammer. But take my boat? I wouldn’t survive.
My body turned brittle with aggression. Images of throwing these men off the stern and chopping them into sushi with the propellers filled my head. “She’s telling the truth. I’m taking her home. Nothing more. Nothing less.” I glanced from the M.O. to Pim, glowering at her spitefully, doing my best to put her in her place.
All of this was her fault.
If she’d stayed where I’d told her, this wouldn’t be an issue. She’d disobeyed me, and goddammit, she’d pay once we were no longer under inspection.
Crossing my arms, I took back my power as ruler of this yacht. “Does the coastguard make it their duty to board at four in the morning?”
“The world never sleeps, Mr. Prest. You know that.”
“I do, but a simple radio call would’ve sufficed.”
“We did. Can’t blame us if that message was never passed on.”
I glared at Jolfer who shrugged with a tight nod. I might be the ruler of this vessel, but he was the captain. I trusted him to deal with things like radio conversations without micromanaging. Besides, at four a.m., I should’ve been asleep and not peering at the horizon waiting for an attack.
I sighed, accepting defeat. “I’d say this was a pleasure, but I’d be lying again. I’ll ensure to log Ms. Blythe correctly. Anything else?” I repressed the urge to tap my foot one, two, three. Or wring his puny neck.
“Yes, there is something else. I think a routine inspection is in order, don’t you?”
I swallowed my groan. “Nothing new to see.”
“Oh, I beg to differ.” He smiled coldly. “I never like to miss out on an opportunity to inspect yachts as nice as this under the call of duty.” Discounting me, he pointed at Pim. “Relay your details to my colleague over there, Miss.” With a pompous smile on his weather-beaten face, he rubbed his hands together. “Now, captain. Pass me the logs and unlock all the doors. Let’s see what you guys have been up to since our last visit.”
*
Three hours.
Three long, interminable hours for the coastguard to finally satisfy their curiosity.
Staff members returned from the safe room and confirmed their right to sail against the log we’d supplied each port we frequented. Maritime officers ticked their names off a register and verified their passports and visas were still up to date.
I stayed with Pimlico as she handed over her release from the Monaco Police and the signed statement proving no crime was lodged.
Jolfer showed our previous itineraries and activities while yet another team of inconsiderate men all puffed up on fake power thanks to their uniforms invaded every room on the Phantom.
Meanwhile, I waited for the accusations.
Sure enough, around dawn, I was summoned to a meeting with the head M.O. as he listed the extra weapons I’d installed and hadn’t advised.
The fine was substantial. The slap on the wrist fairly painful.
Throughout the inspection, I managed to keep my body still and straight—belying the twitching rage in my gut. My fingers, however, weren’t so easily tamed, and to anyone watching, they would’ve seen the musical notes and cello strings I practised to keep my brain focused and not spin into directions I couldn’t control.
Around seven a.m., Pim noticed my forever moving hands. Her lips pursed, her forehead furrowed—not just watching me strum out a chord but studying me as if trying to crack the answers to tricky questions she burned with.