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Frank Decorah told Emma and Cole. I’ll come along to brief you.”
    Cole winced. That was certainly getting things rolling at lightning speed, but he understood the urgency. Given the description he’d just heard, there was no telling what had already happened to Karen Hopewell on that damn ship.
    The boss drove them to a small airport between Baltimore and Washington where an executive jet was waiting.
    Cole was glad the boss was going with them because he still had a lot of questions. Which he hoped Decorah was going to answer.
    The passenger cabin was laid out like a lounge, with comfortable seating around the bulkhead, facing inward. There was also a service area stocked with sandwiches, since they had skipped lunch.
    Cole wasn’t very hungry, but he took apart a couple of rare roast beef sandwiches and ate the meat.
    “What are you doing?” Emma asked.
    “Low carb diet.”
    “You?”
    He shrugged and picked up one of the briefing folders that Decorah had put on the table in the center of the cabin.
    It had the schematic of the ship, speculation about the specific activities in the entertainment areas, and a lot of information on Del Conte.
    He was fifty-five and kept himself in excellent shape with regular workouts in his ship’s extensive gym. He’d gotten a degree in finance from the London School of Economics and used his inheritance from his father as a springboard to even greater wealth—often by criminal or at least questionable means. His floating resort was probably an outgrowth of his own sexual interests. And his need for control. Having a whole ship full of people who did his bidding reinforced his image of himself as a man of power.
    He had never been married and never had a girlfriend who was with him for more than a few years.
    Cole wondered he’d paid them off with a nice parting gift or if they’d ended up dead. It didn’t seem likely that any of them would dare to leave the guy—unless they went into hiding. But he didn’t voice that thought to Emma. She was looking unsettled enough as she read the report.
    “When the ship is at sea, there are two ways for guests to arrive,” Frank said, interrupting Cole’s thoughts. “Chopper and hovercraft. No one is authorized to come in by air at the moment, which is another indication that something unusual is going on there.”
    Emma nodded.
    “Since I was pretty sure you’d be going to the Windward , I had a suitable wardrobe packed for both of you. You’ll be leaving for the hovercraft shortly after we land, so you should change into resort clothes now.”
    Cole glanced at Emma. She looked tense but resigned.
    Frank gave her the kind of critical look that Cole knew she detested. When he’d first joined Decorah Security, he had dug into her background. He knew her father had drummed old-fashioned values and morality into his offspring. He had also demanded more from his children than they could possible give. Her brother had responded by becoming a drug addict. Emma had gone the other way. She pushed herself to the max but bristled when anyone else pushed her too hard.
    He also knew she had never had a serious relationship that had lasted more than a year, which suggested that she had a commitment problem.
    He couldn’t argue with that. He had the same problem, only for a different reason. He liked his life fine the way it was, and the thought of settling down made his skin prickle.
     “Try to act like you’re anticipating a good time,” Frank advised, speaking to both of them.
    “Right,” she clipped out, standing up and reaching for the carry bag that the director indicated. She took it to the head in the back and returned a few minutes later wearing white shorts that barely covered her ass and a halter top.
    “I love being turned into a sex object,” she muttered as she sat back in her seat.
    Cole understood her point, but he couldn’t help admiring the way the clothing set off her high breasts and long legs.
    He took his own