So, I either got unbelievably lucky that Yuri is next door, or he’s not actually as single as he looks and I’m enabling another Tyler in disguise.

  The thought makes me puke in my mouth a little.

  Or maybe that’s the fifth drink doing that. I’m not sure, but I am sure that the buzz is starting to turn into a spinning room, and I need to take a break.

  I dip from the bar as it starts to get loud and overwhelming, seeking solace in an empty bathroom with a ceiling that’s just a little too low. I reapply my lipstick, a light shade of pink with a slight metallic tint that makes me feel like I belong in a music video.

  It’s a confidence boost, for sure, but I don’t need it now that my stomach has enough booze to kill a small mammal sloshing around inside. And I am a small mammal. Never weighed more than a hundred and ten pounds.

  I pull my hair back into a loose ponytail, allowing a few stands to fall down on either side of my face. It’s sloppy in a good way, and I wear my refreshed look with a smile as I step back out into the increasingly busy bar.

  There aren’t any seats left, and my tab is already on my keycard, so I leave to check out the deck where the pool is. There are still a few hours of sunlight left, so I imagine catching a couple of rays while I sober up enough to find my room would be nice.

  The moment I feel the sun against my face, I know I’ve made the right decision. The sunset is so much prettier over the ocean. There’s nothing to block it, so golden light spills over everything like the Midas touch, casting long shadows that almost feel impossible.

  I lie down on a free chair by the pool, feeling the heat of the day that’s soaked into the plastic. I don’t even want to take off my cover-up. The warmth is enough to lull me into a drowsy half-sleep within seconds.

  I’m almost totally asleep when something catches my attention.

  Coconut and spices.

  My eyes fly open and I sit up so fast that my vision blurs. A shadow moves across me, long and dark, and I realize that Yuri is leaning over me, his eyes moving over my body with a hint of curiosity.

  He’s wearing very little, just a pair of swimming trunks that barely fit over his massive thighs. He’s so muscular that I imagine it’s a struggle to find things that fit him. The world simply wasn’t made for men this perfect.

  My eyes roll over his massive chest, examining the tattoos that hide under his thick hair. Some of them are fresh and dark, but others seem like they were etched into his flesh decades ago.

  Probably before I was born. He’s quite a bit older than me, but he carries his age well. Some people age like milk, but Yuri has aged like a fine bourbon. The wrinkles accent his features, making them deeper and more dramatic.

  But I’ve been looking for too long already.

  I straighten my cover-up and sit up straighter. “I was just getting some fresh air. A bit stuffy in my room,” I blurt, feeling the need to make excuses for why I’m reclining by the pool in something that will give me the weirdest tan lines.

  “Stuffy?” he asks, raising a thick eyebrow. “I could take a look at your ventilation if you’d like. It shouldn’t feel stuffy.”

  “Oh, um… No, it’s fine,” I reply with a nervous laugh. “I’m just not used to being at sea.”

  He holds up a crystal glass filled halfway with amber liquid. The veins are popping in his thick, capable forearms. “First time on a cruise ship?”

  I nod. “And you?”

  “I live in the water. Like a fish. Maybe a shark. More days at sea than on land.”

  I still can’t believe I’m talking to him. When we were in line, I thought he’d be lost in the crowd the moment he left my sight. But here he is, standing in front of me like he followed me to the pool.

  And maybe he did. I just don’t understand why.

  “So, why are you always on cruises? Is it to pick up women?” I ask, cutting straight to the point. I’ve lost most of my inhibitions due to the warm course of alcohol through my bloodstream.

  “Pick them up?” he asks, looking mildly confused. He takes a sip of his drink. “I am not taking them anywhere.”

  “You know what I mean,” I reply, but maybe he doesn’t. He’s clearly not from the United States.

  His eyes go blank. “No, I don’t.”

  I sigh. “Sorry, I’ve had a few drinks. I’m just teasing you.”

  “About what?”

  Suddenly, I’m self-conscious again. All the alcohol in the world wouldn’t make me comfortable having this conversation with Yuri. “Um, about your cruise habits,” I say. “But don’t worry about it. It was just a joke.”

  He smiles. “Tell me. I want to know.”

  “You probably don’t.”

  “I do.”

  Fuck, he’s not going to leave this alone. I don’t know whether he’s doing this on purpose to punish me for suggesting he’s a man-whore, or if it’s just because he really doesn’t understand my English, but either way it’s making me want to melt into my chair and disappear.

  I wish I had a drink right now.

  “You seem to be here alone,” I begin, checking his ring finger again before continuing. “And a lot of people come to cruise ships to… you know… have fun.”

  “Sure,” he replies with a shrug.

  “And by fun, I mean hook up,” I clarify.

  He cocks his head to the side, frowning down at me. “I don’t know this term. Hook up. What does that mean?”

  Blood rushes to my face, and I do my best to avoid his eyes, but they pull me in like a tractor beam from a UFO. They’re an icy-blue color, pale and intense, with a hint of mischief behind them.

  “Hooking up means having sex,” I finally say.

  He chuckles. “And you think I’m on this cruise ship to have sex?”

  I shrug, trying to play it off like I’m not supremely embarrassed. “It was just a joke.”

  “There’s a bit of truth in every joke,” he replies, his eyes traveling up my legs and pausing at the hem of my cover-up. “Maybe that’s what you’re here for.”

  I swallow hard, shaking my head. “No, just relaxing.”

  “For a whole month?”

  I nod. “A whole month. Sometimes that’s what you need.”

  He smirks. “Well, if you ever find yourself needing more, you know where I stay.”

  I’m at a loss for words, but he doesn’t give me time to regain my ability to speak before he makes his way further down the deck. My heart is thumping so hard in my chest that it’s painful, and I find myself unable to peel myself off the pool chair for several minutes.

  His claim that he didn’t know what I was joking about was obviously false. He just wanted to hear me say it so that he could revel in my filthy words. I feel like I’ve been tricked, and he did it so smoothly I barely even noticed.

  I let out a sigh. Either this is going to be the longest cruise of my life, or it’s going to go by in a blur of skin and sweat.

  5

  Yuri

  Playing dumb always seems to work, but I suspect that it won’t go very far with Stella. She’s smart enough to see through my act, and tougher to crack than most other women.

  But I like that about her. The price a man must pay climbs with the sweetness of the fruit, and Stella is as sweet as they come. I’ve never met a woman like her, and I’ve traveled thousands of miles and seen countries most people haven’t even heard of.

  Looks are one thing, but the way a woman speaks and carries herself gives her a charm that casts a rose-tinted shadow over everything else.

  A month couldn’t possibly be enough to enjoy her to the fullest, but it’s all we have. In another lifetime, I would make her my wife. In this one, though, she can only be a passing fancy. It’d be cruel to drag her into my business. Unfair to turn a perfectly happy civilian into a member of the most ruthless Bratva this world has ever known.

  So, even if Stella is looking for more than a couple of weeks of incredible sex, and even if she hates me for leaving her just as quickly as I stumbled into her life, there can be no other way. It’s for her own good, and she’ll never know why.

  She’ll remember me as an asshole, but I’ll always think of her as a goddess.

  I light up a cigar as I wander the lower level of the deck, near the back of the ship, waiting for Chekhov to show up. The air is warm tonight, and the smoke tastes like the days I used to spend in Bolivia when I ran drugs down there. It felt like everyone smoked, but they’d always be jealous of my cigars and want a few.

  I’m a generous guy, so I shared. Made some good friends, but times like that never last. I dream of the day when I can settle down and live out the rest of my days in peace like I did in Bolivia, but today isn’t that day.

  Nor is tomorrow.

  Or possibly… ever.

  The world is cruel to men who desire so much. It’s easier to be a bum these days than to work for what you have, and the richer you want to be, the more you have to sacrifice. Many people seem to believe that with wealth comes some kind of satisfying gain, but in reality, it’s wrought by loss.

  I’ve grown used to it, though. You have to when you’re the leader of a powerful Bratva Family, because the only way out of it is through the cold embrace of death. Sometimes, I even feel the reaper next to me, like we’re old friends waiting to be reunited in the afterlife.

  And at night, I can practically feel his bony hands on my arm, urging me to let go early.

  Chekhov would be pissed if I died, though. I certainly wouldn’t, but I rule over hundreds of men who have families, and they all depend on my leadership. Without me, their worlds would fall apart, and I would be to blame.

  It’s funny to me that nobody is going to be sad at my funeral if it comes too soon. They’ll just be angry.

  I roll my cigar between my knuckles, gazing out into the water as the sky turns violet. I can hear Chekhov walking down the metal stairs behind me, but I don’t turn to great him.

  Just a few more seconds of silence.

  Just a couple more thoughts of better days.

  “Sir.” Chekhov’s voice is deep and urgent. That can’t be good news.

  I spin around, nearly tossing my cigar into the ocean. “What is it? What’s the news?”

  He sighs. “No Brazilian police on board as far as I can tell, but they’re on to you. I just received word that you have a bounty on your head.”

  “I always do,” I reply in a dismissive manner. “Is that all you came to tell me?”

  “It’s a pretty big thing,” he replies, his eyes shifting to avoid mine. “A million dollars.”

  Every muscle in my body tenses at the same time. “I hope you’re talking about Brazilian Reals and not US Dollars.”

  He gives me that lame office-worker-at-the-water-cooler smile, and I know it’s dollars. Jesus, they must really have it out for me. I wonder whose toes I stepped on this time.

  I try not to show my anxiety about this. It’s not like we’re going straight to Brazil this time. We’ve been taking the long way through South America, and this time is no different. Brazil won’t even be getting the majority of our shipment, just the leftovers.

  But now, I’m thinking we might need to avoid them completely.

  “Okay,” I say, taking a puff of my cigar. “We don’t sweat Brazil right now. Let them cool down. I’m assuming this bounty is only valid if I’m returned in one piece.”

  He shakes his head, and my stomach sinks. “Dead or alive, and you know every amateur bounty hunter is going to be on your ass. It’s not just the Brazilians, either. Once the word gets out, you’re in real trouble.”

  “Shit,” I hiss, turning back to the water. I almost feel like throwing myself over the railing, but I resist the temptation to take the easy way out.

  I’ve been through things like this before. One time, I sold cocaine to the son of a king, who promptly mixed it with amphetamines and overdosed. I thought for sure that I was a dead man, but it turned out that money spoke louder than half-hearted apologies, and I walked away with emptier pockets and my head still intact.

  I figure that this time, I could pay off my own bounty somehow, and get away clean.

  But until then, I’m going to have to watch my back. Stuff like this gets people real antsy, and itchy trigger fingers on a cruise ship are never a good thing. It could blow up my entire drug operation in an instant.

  Any attention is bad attention when you’re trafficking enough cocaine to get an entire country high.

  Or seven countries, in my case. We’re unloading a portion at each port, and by the end of it, the ship should be empty, and we’ll be able to plan our next move. I might lay low for a while after this and figure out why the Brazilian authorities want me dead so badly.

  That, or I’m taking another cruise with a shipload of cocaine. The world isn’t going to stop for a million-dollar bounty, so why should I?

  “Okay,” I say, forcing a smile as I turn back to Chekhov. “Tell me something good. There don’t appear to be any undercover police or bounty hunters on the boat, as far as you can tell. I’m assuming you’ve already checked in with the first port. Everything in order?”

  He nods. “Everything is good on that side of things, and our men have dispersed with the regular crew, giving us eyes and ears everywhere. If something does happen, we’ll know.”

  “I’m hoping it doesn’t, but I know you can handle things if we need to act quickly,” I reply, pulling a second cigar out of my pocket when I catch Chekhov eying mine with palpable envy. “Take this. You look like you need it.”

  He hesitates for a moment, but the allure of nicotine after a long day is hard to resist. Taking the cigar, he joins me against the railing for a long smoke. It’s just us and the sound of the waves hitting the side of the boat.

  It’ll be peaceful like this for the next couple of days, but it never lasts. Inevitably, something comes up, and I must tend to business.

  This time, that something comes before I even have the chance to loosen my shoulders and finish my cigar.

  A boat on the horizon.

  And a swirling blue emergency light.

  I look over to Chekhov as he’s muttering a curse. “Alert the men and meet me down in the storeroom. I want everyone armed and ready.”

  He takes one last drag from his cigar and throws it into the water, following me as I rush up the metal stairs to the main lobby. If the police are heading toward our boat, it could mean serious trouble.

  The last thing I want to do is shoot my way out of this, but if push comes to shove…

  I’m using bullets instead of my fists.

  6

  Stella

  Day one and someone has already died. That doesn’t bode well at all.

  I slip out into the hallway, watching as a man is carried away on a stretcher in such a hurry that the medics are almost sprinting. Whispers are running down the hall, rumors of how it happened.

  A heart attack?

  No, someone swears they heard a gunshot.

  I sniff the air, and maybe it’s my imagination, but it does smell a bit like smoke in here.

  Two hours after drinking, and I’m already sober. Adrenaline pumps through me, and I feel awake and alert again. More people are coming out into the hallway, whispering to each other and asking questions.

  Who was it that got shot? Was it really a gunshot? How did they get a gun through security?

  I look over to room B676, one number away from the devil, but Yuri doesn’t come out. He doesn’t appear to be around right now, which might be a good thing. He stresses me out. Not really his fault, but it’s still the truth.

  “You hear what happened?” A woman’s voice just to my right startles me, and I nearly scream.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says as I turn to her.

  I put my hand over my heart, letting out a sigh. “Sorry, no, I should be apologizing. It’s just a bit scary.”

  She nods, pushing a strand of curly ginger hair behind her ear. She has so much of it, piled up on her head like a messy basket of yarn, but it suits her face. There’s a wildness in her green eyes, and a sharpness to her smirk.

  “I didn’t really hear anything,” I lie, not wanting to bring up the gunshot and perpetuate a rumor.

  “Someone died,” she says, her pupils expanding as she leans in. I can smell the faintest scent of mint and eucalyptus on her. “Murdered, actually. That’s what I heard.”

  “Murdered?” I ask, fearing the gunshot story to be true.

  “Yes, and you might notice that nobody has been arrested yet,” she says, an edge of excitement in her voice. “Which means we have a killer on board. A proper murder mystery.”

  A nervous laugh escapes my mouth. “I think the cruise is excitement enough already.”

  “Pretty boring until now, if you ask me,” she replies, looking at her long baby blue fingernails. “Sometimes you get a fight on the first day, and occasionally, someone fucks someone else’s wife.”

  “With a few thousand on board, I would expect a little drama, but nothing like this,” I reply, leaning back against my door.

  “Yeah, I’ll admit I’ve never been on a cruise where someone was brutally murdered,” she says, her voice dead serious, without a hint of remorse or even amusement.

  I give her a confused look. “How do you know all this?”

  She smirks. “Fucked one of the security guys this afternoon. He was a little shy, but I like them better that way. I texted him immediately when I heard the shots.”

  “You heard them?” I ask, leaning in. “You’re sure someone was actually shot?”

  “Oh yeah, for sure. Like I said, he wasn’t just murdered. It was brutal. They shot him at least a dozen times.”

  I cringe. “Who would do something like that? I mean, aren’t their cameras, like, everywhere?”

  “Probably fucked someone’s wife,” she mutters, and I can’t tell if she’s being serious. I’ve been meeting the strangest people on this cruise, and she’s certainly one of them.

  She looks down at her feet for a moment, and I consider going back into my room, but then she turns to me, extending her hand. “I’m Molly, by the way.”