Code Name: Bikini. Christina Skye

sir.”

      Tobias frowned. “I mean it. Start delegating or I’ll report you.” His eyes were steely. “Don’t mess with me, Ryan.”

      “I won’t.” This time her voice was soft, hesitant. “Delegate.” She snapped a small salute. “Even if it kills me.”

      “It’s a hard thing to learn, but your people have to advance sometime.” He stood up, shaking his head. “I thought it was money problems, or Blaine. Maybe something with an old boyfriend. Nothing like this.”

      Gina gripped his arm for a moment. She didn’t cry this time. The tears were gone. Saying the words had driven them away.

      She stood up, smoothed her hair. “Hell, isn’t it? So what happens now?”

      “Work. The usual grind. And we live for Thursday nights.” He smiled slightly. “You got all that stuff we ordered in San Francisco?”

      “Safe and sound in my cabin. Andreas brought the second box himself. Brown paper wrappers, just the way you asked.”

      “One more thing.” His forehead furrowed. “A friend of yours contacted corporate to set up some time with you. The cruise brass okayed it.” Tobias glanced at his computer screen. “Carly McKay, wife of Ford McKay. Three children traveling with them.”

      “Carly’s here? But she isn’t supposed to be taking the cruise until next month.”

      “They boarded three hours ago. Her husband looks like an interesting guy.” Tobias scrolled through the passenger information, his eyes intent. “Navy, I see.” He kept on scrolling. “A man who’s been a lot of places.”

      “Something wrong with that?”

      “Not that I can tell. Your friend has your ship e-mail address and she wanted to get together later today if you have time.”

      Gina hid a grimace. The first few days at sea were always hectic. Tonight would be worse than usual due to the malfunctioning refrigeration unit. But she and Carly had been college roommates. It had been far too long since they’d been able to meet. How could she refuse?

      “Okay, I’ll e-mail her back. I’ll check with the captain about—”

      Tobias waved one hand. “Already done. Strings have been pulled. As long as your work is complete, you can see your friend whenever you like.”

      “I appreciate it, Tobias.”

      “Thank corporate. All I did was field the calls.” He cleared his computer screen and stood up abruptly.

      “Tobias? Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

      The tall man let out a slow breath. “Turns out that McKay and I have…friends in common. Not that it matters.” He pulled a set of keys from his top desk drawer. “The doctor tells me a nasty strain of flu has hit coastal Mexico. He wants everyone down for flu shots in the next twenty-four.”

      Blaine. Medical files to Tobias. Flu.

      What else could go wrong?

      “I’ll get my staff lined up. Nothing for me, though.” Gina worked at a knot in her neck. “I’m under strict orders not to combine anything with my experimental meds.” She laughed dryly. “But the good news is, I won’t be losing my sight because of any flu.”

      Tobias stared at her, his gaze cold and angry. “That isn’t funny, damn it.”

      “I guess not.” Gina let out a slow breath. “Sorry. My humor’s been a little…warped lately. I’ll try to keep it to myself.”

      “If it bothers me, I’ll let you know.” He glanced at his watch and held open the door to the outer office. “Remember Blaine’s out there somewhere, and she’s one very hungry shark.”

      “Warning noted.”

      As she walked back across the hall toward the kitchen, Gina ran through the night’s pastry platings and calculated her staff assignments. Suddenly she felt a sharp prickling at her shoulders.

      She stopped across the hall from Tobias’s office, looking in both directions. One of the purser’s staff walked by with a paperback and a bottle of water. One of Tobias’s security team moved down the hall, his walkie-talkie squawking.

      No one else was in sight.

      Stress. Lack of sleep. She had enough problems without conjuring any new ones from her imagination.

      Gina leaned against the wall and rubbed her eyes gently, using the exercises the doctor in Palo Alto had shown her. Though they wouldn’t reverse her problem, they reduced some of her pain.

      But even after she walked into the pastry kitchen, the probing sensation between her shoulders remained.

      TOBIAS HALE CLOSED his door and stared at the paperwork forgotten on his desk. He was reeling with the news Gina had just given him.

      Blind.

      And he thought his problems were bad.

      Rules or not, he’d find a way to protect her as long as he could. He only hoped it was the right thing to do.

      How did you ever know until years later?

      Meanwhile there was Ryker to consider. Damn Ryker for hanging on to him when he had worked so hard, paid so dearly to sever all ties and put the past where it belonged. But old debts never got repaid, and the past didn’t stay forgotten for long.

      He’d done what he thought was best all those years ago.

      Now he owed Ryker. One favor to make his family safe forever. That one favor became ten and then twenty.

      Tobias studied the two photos on his desk. His callused fingers traced the worn wooden frames the way he had daily for seventeen years.

      It had all seemed best at the time.

      It had seemed the safest for those who counted most.

      But people had a way of growing up and making their own choices, even if they didn’t understand the truth. Tobias had no doubt that Ryker had manipulated everyone to suit his own purposes. No one did manipulation like Lloyd Ryker.

      Now Tobias was trapped. It was too late to go back, too late for explanations or amends.

      Too late for everything that mattered.

      He stared at the photos on his desk for a very long time. Then his head fell, braced on his hands in the empty room that was the only home he had allowed himself since he’d left the government.

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      TRACE WASN’T SURE what a cruise ship security office was supposed to look like. He didn’t have a clue what to expect of his contact on board, either.

      The man was probably overweight, fiftyish and an ex-Marine with delusions of operational grandeur. Probably read Soldier of Fortune religiously.

      A balding, middle-aged man in a brown uniform walked out of the Security office.

      Figured.

      Trace frowned at him. “Are you the security chief?”