Imogen stared out at the muddy Mississippi and wondered how this day would end.Thank God she didn’t really get kidnapped.Imogen let out a long breath.Life with Jury is never boring at least.
“You might want to tell your boss you won’t be back on Monday. Just in case.”
She glanced at Nic. “You think?”
He nodded.
“Okay, I’ll send an email.”
Twenty minutes later, Imogen was stunned.That is what Jury broke into? Goodness. Gracious.
What looked like a navy warship was approaching the ferry dock. The workers were running to the edge of the concrete ferry terminal. Instead of looking angry, they appeared to be ready to help the ship dock.
“That’s us. Let’s go.”
Nic hadn’t let go of her hand. He tugged her to her feet, and they made their way past the line of cars to the concrete dock at the edge of the river.
Two men were visible on the top of the ship as it coasted toward them. They had massive lines in hand, and at an opportune moment, they tossed them to the workers.
As soon as the gap narrowed between the ship and the terminal, Nic squeezed her hand. “Let’s go. We gotta jump down.”
Imogen looked and nodded. Together, they leaped.
Her feet hit the metal deck, and he reached out to stabilize her.
The ferry workers tossed the lines back, and the ship pulled away from the dock at speed. It was like a marine symphony of movement.
“Whoa,” Imogen said. “I wondered how they’d pull that off.”
One of the men came toward them.
“Monsieur Marchand will see you in his office.”
Imogen barely had a moment to look around before Nic was leading them across the deck and through a metal door behind the man.
While the exterior was purely functional and militaristic, the interior was unexpectedly luxurious.Poshwas right. The walls were done in tufted brown leather with nailhead detailing that coordinated with dark wood trim and brass fixtures.
The man led them through a well-appointed hallway with plush carpet and paused to knock at a door.
“Enter.”
He opened it and gestured for them to go ahead.
“Jury!” Imogen bolted inside when she saw her sister sitting on what looked like an antique leather chair. “Oh my God. Are you okay?”
She hugged her, breathing a sigh of relief as Jury hugged her back.
Imogen pulled away and scanned her sister. “Are you all right?”
“Fine. Just a bruised ego.”
“She may have some skill at skulking around, but she’s a terrible thief.”
“For the millionth time, I wasn’t trying to steal anything,” her sister shot back toward the voice coming from across the room.
Imogen glanced over her shoulder, taking in the man she’d missed when she ran toward her sister. It was the guy from the night before her date with Nic. Except this time, he was seated behind what appeared to be an antique desk, in this stunning library of a cabin, full of antiques and priceless art.
Is that a Degas ballerina?On a boat?