The Viking Throne: The Cursed Seas Collection Read online

  “Oh wonderful, so I get to murder someone in cold blood, then,” I said.

  “See, no one is home.” Pierce crawled aboard the ship.

  I maneuvered feet-first into the cabin bathroom. I nearly put my foot into the loo. Pierce switched the light on. He had already unzipped his wetsuit and was prepping his tux.

  A loud male voice followed a loud cabin door entry. “Hold on! Hold on! I forgot my chips!”

  I gripped the knife with the blade down and raised my arm slowly to strike. Pierce knelt to open the bag to his tux and froze in that position.

  The man fumbled around looking around for his gambling chips. He seemed in a rush, his movements loud.

  I scanned the bathroom for the chips. There were none. Thank Poseidon.

  “Where are the bloody things?” he exclaimed.

  “Come off it already. Let’s go!” Another deeper male voice sounded from the hall.

  “Ah! I found them! Alright, let’s go!” The door to the cabin slammed.

  I didn’t realize I had stopped breathing. I gasped for air and lowered the knife. That was too damn close.

  Pierce continued to unpack his tuxedo. Didn’t skip a beat. He was truly cold-blooded.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I put on my white long-sleeved turtleneck and my black leather vest. I looked more like the help than a paid passenger. I also chose to keep my beard that had grown aboard Monty’s ship. Pierce shaved his off. I pulled on my black pants and secured my boots, then finished tying my shoes.

  Pierce adjusted his bow tie in the mirror. His white jacket and black pants looked better than I thought they would considering they had been jammed in a sealed plastic bag.

  Pierce loaded his small Walther PPK pistol. He kept the silencer separate from the barrel as if to make it easier to conceal.

  “Let’s head to the bottom floor. The most likely place to find the serious gamblers will be there. I trust your wife is attractive.”

  I balked. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

  “It is pertinent information. The more attractive she is, the more likely she was sold into the circles of people we will find down there. I trust she is a beauty.” Pierce secured the cufflink to his jacket.

  My gut turned inside out. I wanted to vomit. I was glad we were still in the bathroom.

  “James. Your wife…”

  “Yes. Yes. She is gorgeous. I hadn’t thought about that.” My blood boiled.

  “You will need to maintain your cool. We will not enter together. I will go first and you second. Take a quarter of those credits in my bag. That should be enough for a buy-in at one of the games down there. Play and pretend to have fun. Scan the area for this man.” Pierce pulled out a picture of Cornwallis. He was bald and menacing. His belly was large, and he was barrel-chested. His shoulders wide and his arms toned.

  “Yikes, he looks like a gorilla from Old Earth,” I joked.

  “He does, but a bullet to his head negates his physical prowess.” Pierce put his gun into a holster under his armpit and smoothed out his jacket.

  I put our bags in the hawsepipe on a hanger from the cabin closet.

  Another trick Pierce pulled out of McBain’s magic swag bag was a gas grenade. Pierce attached it to the cabin door. When and if the blokes came back from their night partying, they would be knocked out.

  “Is there no end to the bounty of gifts McBain showered upon you?” I shook my head.

  “McBain thought of everything. The man really wants Cornwallis dead.”

  Pierce walked much the same way he swam, with purpose as if he belonged. We walked to the center of the ship to the grand lobby. There was a wide red carpeted staircase with two winding staircases on each side. A giant chandelier ironically adorned with finned mermen and mermaids hung above. Humans milled about. A piano played in the background. We headed down the grand staircase to the lobby floor. I looked for a way down to the lower levels.

  The Atlantis Club seemed like the logical name for the club on the lowest level that I assumed had had incredible views of the Submerged French Riviera.

  “There. The Atlantis Club,” I said to Pierce.

  He was already headed toward the tightly wound staircase that led into the club. The club’s name was etched in a gold sign with a copper inlay. On the way down, the club’s opulence was on fully display. The floor was made of thick glass with unbelievable views of the multi-colored lights of the Riviera. The amount of power needed to light Monte Carlo must have been enormous. This was where rich humans survived and where they played. I hoped they weren’t playing with my wife, even though I hoped I would find her here.

  Pierce stepped out onto the glass floor. He turned to me and nodded. I kept a safe distance from him. He went left toward the card tables. I took a right and headed toward the roulette tables. There was a cocktail waitress who carried drinks on a gold tray. Thirst dried my mouth. I could use a drink. I quickly snatched one from her.

  “Here you go, love,” I tipped her a few credits. She was a brunette with deep green eyes. Not Imogen. I kept scanning the room. I was nervous. Impatient. I needed to find Imogen, or at least someone who could lead me to her.

  I took a sip of the drink. It was a dry, shaken martini. It tasted like shite, but it did well enough to take the edge off.

  Pierce had bought his way into a poker table. He didn’t mess around. After a few minutes, examining the table workers and dealers, and wait staff, I realized I would not find Imogen here. Anger welled up in my heart, then desperation again.

  “Take it easy, James,” I said to myself.

  My next move was one I didn’t want to execute. I walked up to an older man who sat with two young ladies. Their breasts poured from their tight dresses.

  This old pervert would know where to find ladies one had to pay for.

  “Beg your pardon, sir.” The deep breath I took made me sound like I was about to belch.

  “Yes, young man. You keep your grimy hands off me gals now. Ha-ha-ha!” The older man’s yellow teeth and wispy gray hair made my skin crawl, yet his two escorts were happy as can be.

  “I would love to know where one acquires such lovely company?” I smiled.

  “First, you have to have the credits. Then, see the barman over there. He has the menu.”

  A fucking menu. Seriously?! If I could have broken my glass and stuck a shard of it in the old pervert’s neck, I would have.

  He kissed both girls on the cheek and patted their asses.

  “Thank you kindly.” I walked over to the bar. There was of course an aquarium behind the bottles of hard liquor.

  “May I see the menu, please? And yes, you know the menu I want.” I smirked at the barman.

  “Of course, sir. Another martini for you?” He scrubbed a wine glass.

  “A whiskey will do,” I said.

  The middle-aged, dopey barman dropped the menu in front of me.

  The contents of the menu were just as awful as one could imagine. A section for hair color, weight, age, etcetera, everything for your choice of women. I flipped to the other side of the menu. The options were the same, except for a choice of men.

  “Red-haired, 130-140 pounds, average height,” I said, giving my order.

  “Red is currently unavailable. Can I interest you in any of our other varieties?”

  The compulsion to drive this idiot’s head into the bar was strong but not strong enough to deter me. How in the hell could there be only one redhead on the entire cruise ship? Imogen, my dear, if that is you, I am coming.

  I pulled out too many credits and slapped them on the bar.

  “Tell me where she is. I want to see her now.”

  The bartender stared at the obscene display of bribery.

  “That really isn’t how things work here, sir.” He put the towel over his shoulder.

  I stared at him straight in the eyes, intensely pleading, not intimidating.

  “She is with Stirling. He has an officer’s cabin thr
ough those doors at the stern. The cabin at the end of the hall.” The bartender quickly swept the credits off the bar into a garbage can. He poured my whiskey and made it a double at that.

  “Good man. Good man.” I walked towards the stern and looked back towards the tables.

  Pierce was still at the table. Must be a decent card player. I would have been frustrated and quit already. He would have to find his man himself for now.

  The farther I went into the Atlantis, I realized how deplorable most of these humans were. They were hanging on each other, some yelled at each other, some roared with laughter, and others drank so much their heads fell onto the table. The ape-like security guards dragged people out and back up the stairs. Many were smoking tobacco or some synthetic shite. The tables and games were full. The slot machines made too much damn noise. Everyone seemed fake to me. I hated the place. I needed to get out of the club, and fast.

  I went as far to the stern as I could. There was a set of double doors, and I pushed through them with ease. I was surprised at the lack of security. Luck of the Irish strikes again.

  The hallway was filled with cabin doors. The barman had said it was the one at the end. I reached the end of the hall and put my ear to the door.

  “That feels good. Where did you learn to do this?”

  I assumed that was Stirling.

  “Ah, I didn’t receive any formal training. I just think about where I want to be touched.”

  Shite. It was definitely Imogen’s voice.

  Chapter Twenty

  I downed my whiskey and bit my knuckle. The intense urge to smash through the door and end the bastard being touched by my wife pulsed through me. I bit harder on my knuckle and forced myself to calm the hell down and think of the best way to deal with the situation. I didn’t want to cause any trouble and get Imogen hurt.

  “Ah! Keep going.”

  “Don’t you worry. You have me all night, my dear.”

  Imogen’s voice was soothing, calm, and downright sensual. She was handling the situation with ease. Still, I had no choice but to interrupt in some way.

  I rapped on the door lightly.

  “Go away! There is no need to disturb me!”

  “Mister Stirling, sir, there is an urgent situation, I am afraid.” It was the best I could do. I hope he would open the damn door.

  “Oh, for the love… Grab my towel, please.” Stirling stomped to the door and opened it.

  Dagger time.

  I shoved him down on the floor, entered the room, pushing the door closed behind me, and put my left foot on his throat. His towel came undone. I didn’t need to see that.

  He grabbed my leg and gagged. He was not in any shape to fight me. He was a man who had others do his fighting for him.

  “James! For the love of Triton! What are you doing here?” Imogen said.

  I looked around to see her and let the pressure ease off Stirling’s neck. A mistake. He stood up and hit me in the back of the head.

  “You bastard.” I turned around and punched him square in the mouth.

  He dropped to the floor once again. My anger overwhelmed me. I grabbed his head and readied the dagger to drive into his neck.

  “James. Don’t.” Imogen grabbed my arm.

  Stirling’s face was bloodied. He was unconscious.

  “James. Put him in the bed. He will be out for some time. You hit him pretty hard.”

  “Take his legs.” I grabbed his arms. We put him in the bed and covered him in the blanket.

  I didn’t waste any more time. I hugged Imogen and began to weep. She squeezed me harder. I pulled away and looked to see if it was really her. I couldn’t believe I’d found her. I owed McBain more than he owed me.

  “I am so sorry. I am so sorry I let this happen.” My guilt spewed from my mouth in an uncontrollable flood. My love for Imogen grew stronger every day. In her absence, the notion of ever-deepening love intensified. I vowed to never lose her again.

  “James, we need to get out of here now. It won’t be long before his goons come to check on him. We have much to discuss. Let me get my clothes.” She turned away, wearing only a black slip. Her long hair reached the small of her back.

  I had to keep staring to suspend my disbelief.

  She put a black skirt on and a long-sleeved white blouse made of silk.

  “Who is that idiot? What did I interrupt?” I couldn’t help myself.

  “I was giving him a massage when you knocked. Nothing sexual, but that doesn’t mean that didn’t happen over the last few months. I did what I had to do, James. What choice did I have? I did my best to find out all I could on where you and Maggie were.” Imogen held it together. She was stronger than I.

  “What did you find about Maggie?” I focused on her rather than process the fact that my wife had been forced into prostitution.

  “I know that one of the officers of the New East India Company is running dives all over Submerged Europe to find some treasure. A stone that wields great power. He uses siren children to dive into small spaces they can fit into to look for the stone. If we find out more about his operation, we can find Maggie.”

  “I know him. I know the bastard,” I said.

  Imogen’s eyes went wide. “Who is he?”

  “Montgomery. He forced me to dive for him too.”

  “Let’s table this for later. I will leave the room first. Give me a couple minutes, and I will wait by the bar for you.” Imogen walked out of the room.

  Before I left, I made sure to gag and tie Stirling to the bed. I grabbed his room key card from the table next to him. Perhaps it would help us.

  I walked out of the room and made sure it was locked, then reached the Atlantis club again. The guards were at the door to the cabins. I brushed past them.

  “Excuse me, sir.” One of the guards grabbed my shoulder.

  “I just boarded gentlemen, please.” I showed them my key card.

  “Okay, we just didn’t see you come in is all.”

  “No worries. No one was here when I arrived a few minutes ago. Appreciate the thorough security.” I winked for some reason.

  The guards squirmed and shook their heads which made me giggle.

  I walked to the bar area where Imogen waited at a cocktail table.

  “Well, hello. Are you married?” I joked.

  “I am. Haven’t seen him in months though.” Imogen smiled.

  I kissed her on the lips. “We can’t leave yet. I am here with a mate, and he may need our help. Do you know Cornwallis?”

  “I do. He is a pig. He isn’t your mate, is he?” Imogen’s bottom lip jutted in disgust.

  “No. No. Quite the opposite. Pierce is my friend. You can see the back of his head. He’s the bloke in the white tuxedo at that poker table.” I pointed.

  “Cornwallis would never be down here. He loathes gambling. I know where he lives. Get your boy to come here.”

  “Ha-ha! What the hell would I do without you?” I couldn’t contain my happiness, and I had to let myself feel it. There was still Maggie to find, but I felt much better about my chances about finding my baby girl with Imogen at my side.

  I strolled to the poker table and put my hand on Pierce’s shoulder. “We won’t be finding your man down here.”

  “It hasn’t been very long. We must be patient.” Pierce stared at his hand.

  “Trust me and get your stubborn English arse up.”

  “Let me at least finish this bloody hand,” Pierce said.

  “No. I found her. She is waiting for us at the bar. She knows him.”

  “Fold.” Pierce stood up and left his chips at the table.

  The dealer called out, but we ignored him and made our way back to Imogen.

  “Pleasure to meet the beautiful Imogen.” Pierce kissed her hand.

  I took a deep breath and held it. I didn’t like other men touching my wife.

  “Why, thank you. Your man is in a cabin on the top deck. He likes the solitude. He is heavily guarded. I can help you pas
t his security detail.”

  Two guards swept the casino floor from the direction of the cabins.

  “Speaking of security…we better move now. I think Stirling’s men may have conducted their checks,” I said.

  “What did you do, Henihan?” Pierce gave me a stern, almost parental, look.

  I glared back at him.

  “Now, boys,” Imogen urged. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  We made our exit in a cool fashion and climbed the staircase to the lobby with the mermen chandelier. I found my eyes drawn to it for some asinine reason. I hated this place, but I couldn’t help but get caught up in its aesthetic.

  “There is an express lift to the top deck from the lobby. We need a key card.” Imogen pointed to the corner next to grand staircase.

  “Lucky for us.” I pulled out Stirling’s card.

  “Let’s not waste any more time.” Pierce pushed me.

  The lobby was busy with even more people than before. The night was still young. Dinners were being prepped, and the stage shows were about to start. We weaved our way to the express lift. I scanned the card, and the cylindrical door opened. We piled in, and the door shut.

  “This should only take but a few moments.” Pierce pulled out the Walther PPK pistol and checked the magazine. He screwed the silencer to the barrel.

  “Let me clear the way first before you start shooting,” Imogen insisted.

  The doors opened to another loud party. Dancing, etcetera.

  “I thought you said he liked the solitude. A sanctuary this is not,” I said.

  “We aren’t at the top yet. He has a cabin that bubbles out of the funnel or smokestack of the ship. He keeps watch from there.” Imogen maneuvered her way through the crowd to the smokestack.

  Pierce and I looked up the side of the funnel, and a rectangular structure jutted from the side.

  “How do we get up to him?”

  “There is a corridor shielded from the diesel fumes that shoot out of the stack. That corridor leads to a ladder up to his cabin.” Imogen pointed to the two guards standing at the base of the smokestack.