Page 36 of An Epic Voyage (The Epic Beauty Salon Files #1)

I ndigo followed Garcia as he led her to where the meeting would take place.

She’d used makeup to highlight the bruising on her face instead of covering it.

That, along with the swollen eye, was not a pretty look.

Now she wondered if Van Houten would kill her on the spot because she was hideous and no longer of use to him.

She shouldn’t have worried. He looked like something the cat dragged out to the scorching desert, ate, and then puked up. Five days ago.

“Benny? You don’t look good.”

Understatement. He was as pale as a ghost, his usually pristine hair was unkempt, and sweat coated his forehead and clothing.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this, Ind . . .” He frowned. “What on earth happened to you?” It came out as a croak.

“What do you mean?”

“Your beautiful face.”

“Didn’t your men tell you?”

He looked from Zisk to Garcia, neither of whom would make eye contact.

“Gordon attacked me and tried to rape me.”

That brought a tinge of color to his cheeks. “Bring. Him. Here.”

“Uh, boss, that’s not possible,” Garcia informed him.

“Why not?”

Indy answered the question. “He came at me, and I jumped out of the way. He went over the railing and into the ocean.”

“Serves the bastard right. Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“You’re still gorgeous.”

She forced herself not to react when he kissed her, but she couldn’t stop her hands from balling into fists. He smelled of stale sweat and vomit, a disgusting combination.

She pulled away. “Thank you.” She turned to the bodyguards. “Someone bring me a comb and a washcloth.”

Garcia hurried to the bathroom and returned with the items. Indy mopped Van Houten’s face and then fixed his hair. Bloodshot eyes gazed at her with adoration.

“Now get him some clean clothes.”

Zisk almost tripped over his feet to do her bidding. He returned with a black Ermenegildo Zegna suit. Between the two men, they pried off the wrinkled, sweaty blue jacket and pants and wrestled him into the Zegna. He still looked like hell, but fresh hell.

Indigo’s decision to change his suit wasn’t about his appearance. She couldn’t care less what he looked like. It was for her benefit. She searched the pockets, looking for the dead man’s switch. With a frustrated sigh, she tossed the clothes on the floor. It wasn’t there.

“Indigo, you are a treasure. When I feel better, I’ll show you how much I appreciate and want you.”

Yeah, not going to happen.

The sound of a helicopter grew louder. “Zisk, go meet our guests and escort them to the meeting room. Garcia, help me up.”

“Are you sure you should do this, Benny? You need rest.”

“Thank you for your concern, but with you here, I’m feeling better already.” Garcia handed him a gun, and he slid it into his pocket. Then he held out his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes.”

They started out the door, but Van Houten abruptly stopped. “One moment, darling.”

He returned inside the room, weaving and unsteady on his feet, and picked up a small black box from the dresser.

The wireless DMS. Dang, she hadn’t seen it because it was the same color as the furniture.

She got a quick look at it. There was a safety mechanism that kept pressure on the button on the top.

To work, Van Houten would have to flip it off and manually depress the button.

If he let go— BOOM . She wondered if he planned to hold it the entire time, but he answered that question when he slid it into his right pocket.

Indy shifted to the opposite side of the door so that when he returned, she would be where she could dig the device from his pants.

He held out his left arm again. “This is my best side,” Indy protested.

“Sorry, darling, I need my right hand free.”

So he could shoot if necessary. He didn’t say the words, but she knew what he meant.

She moved over, and they continued to the elevator.

It took them up one level to the wheelhouse.

Van Houten puffed and moaned the entire time.

The doors opened into the control room. A padded chair was positioned in front of a desk with gearshifts, levers, and two monitors.

It overlooked one large window and several smaller ones on the sides.

Mounted above were three lit-up screens showing the water.

Other instrument panels were on the walls, and along the back was a bench.

The place was deserted, with no crew because Van Houten didn’t want witnesses. Plus, he planned on blowing up the boat.

There was a door behind the captain’s seat. Garcia opened it and led them into a room surrounded by glass. Sliders leading to balconies on both port and starboard sides were open, allowing the breeze to come inside. A large conference table devoid of chairs took up the center of the space.

A few minutes after they entered, Zisk escorted Jabari Abdullahi inside, along with two men who appeared to be bodyguards and a smaller, bespectacled man, who cast nervous glances around the room.

Abdullahi’s black beard was neatly groomed, and he wore a navy suit similar to Van Houten’s.

If she had to guess, she’d say Armani. His dark eyes were shrewd, assessing, and dead.

He looked every bit the African assassin.

“Mr. Van Houten,” Abdullahi greeted in accented English.

She remembered that he’d attended college in the United Kingdom.

His teeth sparkled white against his swarthy skin until his gaze landed on Indigo.

Then the smile disappeared. “I do hope you are not responsible for the mark on this lovely lady.”

“I am not, and the person who was has been dealt with swiftly and forcefully.”

Yeah, by her.

“Good. Good. Let’s get down to business. I’ve brought Dr. Cheung to verify the validity of the product.”

Sweat had popped up along Van Houten’s hairline, and Indy could hear his stomach rumbling. There couldn’t be much left inside him. If he hadn’t been taking in liquids, he was most likely severely dehydrated. Excessive sweating was a sign.

“You don’t trust me?”

Abdullahi’s smile was predatory. “In our business, Mr. Van Houten, I trust no one.”

“Fine. I’ll need to see proof of payment before I allow your professional to inspect anything.”

Abdullahi motioned the guard holding a silver briefcase forward. The man placed it on the table and flipped open the latches to reveal stacks of crisp one-hundred-dollar bills. Van Houten signaled for Garcia to check them out.

Garcia took out a batch and examined them, ensuring they were legitimate. Then he removed random bills and held them up to the light, looking for the embedded security thread to the left of Ben Franklin. He nodded to Van Houten, who was now holding on to the table with one hand and trembling.

Garcia closed the case and started to lift it when a hand slammed down on it. “This stays here until we are ready to make the exchange.”

Garcia held up his hands and backed away.

“Zisk, bring the case.”

Zisk reached behind a desk and withdrew the container. He placed it in front of the doctor, who had taken a seat and was opening the kit he’d brought with him. Soon, he began to run tests.

“My friend, you do not look well,” Abdullahi said to Van Houten.

Van Houten straightened, probably thinking he looked weak. He did. “Food poisoning.”

“Ah. Nasty, that.”

Alarm bells went off in Indy’s head as she watched the doctor inspect the nuke. His brows were furrowed, and his lips pursed. He shook his head and took something else from his bag. He didn’t look happy with the result.

“Is there a problem?” she asked him in Chinese.

He looked up at her, his eyes troubled, and answered in his native language. “Yes. This is not a nuclear weapon.”

Ah, shit. And it was about to hit the fan.

“I didn’t know you spoke Japanese, Indigo,” Van Houten murmured racistly. “What did you ask him?”

Before she could answer, Abdullahi spoke.

“Dr. Cheung? Do you have results?”

The doctor closed the case and stood. He pushed his glasses up his nose with a shaking hand. “I do. This is not a nuclear weapon. It is a fake.”

The sound of guns being cocked rang out around the room. Abdullahi’s guards pointed their weapons at Van Houten, while Zisk and Garcia did the same to Abdullahi. Van Houten grabbed Indigo and thrust her in front of him. Seriously?

He let go of her right arm and then grabbed it again. Something hard bit into her triceps. Van Houten had retrieved the dead man’s switch.

“You are such a coward, you use a woman as a shield?” Abdullahi taunted. “You have tried to trick me.”

“No. No, I didn’t. I was the one who was deceived. I was led to believe it was real.”

“Did you have it inspected?”

“Well, no. I trusted my source.”

“That was your first mistake.”

Van Houten’s fingers were digging into Indigo’s arms. There was no easy way to reach back and relieve him of the DMS. If she made a move, there was a genuine possibility that Abdullahi’s bodyguards would shoot her.

“I came here in good faith,” Abdullahi growled. “I do not tolerate double-crossers.”

Van Houten insisted, “I’m a victim, too. I was told it was legitimate and shown the proper paperwork.”

“Where is it?” Abdullahi wanted to know.

“Right there.”

Abdullahi was losing his patience. “The paperwork. Where is it?”

“I didn’t bring it with me.”

“Convenient.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

“I don’t believe you, and if you think using this woman will protect you, you are sadly mistaken. We will shoot her too.”