Page 7 of An Epic Voyage (The Epic Beauty Salon Files #1)

E verywhere Indigo looked , luxury dripped from surfaces and furnishings. She’d lied to Griffin earlier. She had been on yachts before, but never one quite as glamorous as this. Billionaires were a whole different species from regular folk.

“What’s a double major in psychology and political science from Indiana University doing as a cosmetologist?”

Indy swung her gaze to Griffin as he slid his phone into a pocket.

She’d expected him to do a background check on her, but, holy moly, that was incredibly fast. He would’ve found her genuine history, minus the months and months of intensive training.

That, and her job as an agent in a shadow government unit that only a handful of people even knew existed.

“How do you know my majors?”

“You think I’d let anyone on this boat without scrutinizing them?”

“Beats me. I don’t know you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t, and you didn’t answer my question.”

Indy shrugged. “I had a change of heart.”

“It seems like a pretty big jump. You graduated with honors.”

“I burned out.”

“You like what you do now?”

“Love it.”

“That’s all that matters. Here’s your suite.”

Griffin opened the door of a third-floor room, and Indy walked through, her eyes widening. “This is for guests?”

“It is.”

Sheesh. Some people had way too much money. She wandered around, taking everything in. She even had her own deck with a hot tub.

“How many floors are there?”

“Three above. The top level is the bridge where the captain pilots the boat. There are two below deck.”

“Where is your room?” Not that she planned on sneaking in for some mattress gymnastics or anything.

“Most security and yacht personnel are on the lower level. There are also crew cabins, a mess, and laundry facilities down there.”

Swift dodge of her question. “Wow. How many people are on board?”

“Besides security, there’s the captain and his crew, the chef, the interior staff, the deck hands, and the engineers. So, to answer your question, many.”

“Tell me more about the yacht.” Yeah, she was inventing questions to keep him close. She already knew the details.

“Technically, it’s considered a superyacht.

It’s sixty-five meters long with a helicopter deck, beauty salon, massage room, movie theater, bowling alley, two pools, a dozen guest suites, two VIP suites, and the owner’s suite.

Each suite has its own hot tub, sauna, and steam room.

There’s a sky lounge, a saloon, a dining room, a game room, a gym, a library, and a medical center.

There are jet skis, kayaks, fishing and diving gear, a sailboat, and a motorboat. ”

“My gosh, the cost of keeping this behemoth afloat has to rival the GNP of most small countries.”

“Probably, when you count all the salaries of the employees.”

“How often does Van Houten use it?”

When he didn’t answer, she looked at him. “What?”

“Why all the questions?”

“I’m interested. It’s not that often that you rub elbows with billionaires.”

“This is the first time he’s used the yacht since I’ve worked for him.”

“Oh, really? Which is how long?”

“A few months.”

“That’s all? I would’ve thought you’d been here longer.”

“You can leave your suitcases here, and I’ll show you the salon. Then I’ll take you to meet Jinger.”

Well, darn. Apparently, question and answer time was over.

Indy pushed her bags next to the dresser and removed the small crossbody clutch she used to carry her phone and a weapon disguised as a brush.

She draped the strap over her head and settled it against her hip.

Knowing Jinger was suffering from a nail issue, she grabbed her cosmetic case. “What about the key to my room?”

“The guest suites don’t lock from the outside, but you can secure the door when you’re inside.”

“What if I don’t like leaving my bags unattended? I certainly don’t want people going through my things.”

“There’s a safe in the closet with a key.”

She grabbed her luggage and found the strongbox. It was large enough for her to put all her bags inside. Once the door was closed, she slid the key into her purse and turned, almost slamming into Griffin. “Gah!”

His hands shot out to steady her. “Sorry.”

Electricity sizzled along her arms. “I, uh, didn’t realize you’d followed me.”

“Just making sure you found it.”

Was it hot in here or did someone crank up the heat? “Well, I did.”

“I can see that.”

Yet, he didn’t let go of her. She was a breath away from dragging him to the enormous bed in the other room and having her way with him.

He visibly shook his head and released her. Hum. Maybe the feelings weren’t one-way after all. If he were as attracted to her as she was to him, she might be able to use that to her advantage.

“We should go. Jinger doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Griffin led her inside the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor.

“I would’ve thought Jinger would stay on one of the top levels.”

“She is. I’m showing you the salon first.”

“Ah.” Right. He’d said that earlier, but then he’d fried her brain by touching her. She was excited to see the shop, expecting that it would be outfitted with high-end products.

She followed him down a hall to a room with a glass front.

He took out his phone and punched in a code.

The door unlocked, and they entered. The space was as stylish and trendy as any upscale salon, featuring two workstations outfitted with state-of-the-art equipment and supplies.

She walked over to a set of shelves loaded with cosmetics, hair products, and nail polish.

Top-of-the-line. She’d been right. No expense had been spared.

“Will this do?”

“Absolutely.”

“Let’s go meet Jinger.”

Indy exited the room and waited for Griffin to lock the door. Then she followed him to a different elevator. There had to be a dozen on the boat.

“What’s Jinger like?”

“Didn’t Pammy tell you?”

“No. She was too ill.”

“Jinger is . . . a handful.”

From the long pause, she could tell he was looking for a diplomatic description. “How long has she been with Mr. Van Houten?”

“Two, no, three months.”

The doors swished open. Griffin waved a hand for her to precede him.

The floors on this level were made of marble until they butted up against a wooden deck with a private pool.

A blonde woman in a skimpy bikini reclined in a beach chair, soaking up the sun.

She had ginormous boobs that looked out of place on her thin, almost emaciated frame.

“Jinger, Ms. Adair is here.”

Jinger lifted her head and shaded her eyes from the sun. “It’s about damn time. Get over here. I have a nail emergency.”

Indy glanced at Griffin, whose expression was unreadable, then back to Jinger. “Let’s take care of it. If you want to come with me to the salon—”

“No. You come to me.” She wiggled her fingers.

Indy obliged and studied Jinger’s manicure. She saw nothing wrong. “They look beautiful.”

“Of course they don’t!” Jinger squealed.

“You’re going to have to help me out here,” Indigo told her.

“There’s a scratch! Right there.”

Jinger pointed to the offending mark, but Indy was still having a hard time seeing it. She didn’t have that shade of pink with her, so she’d have to raid the beauty salon. “Alright. I need to get the supplies. I’ll be back.”

Jinger relaxed back on the chaise. “Make it quick.”

Griffin walked her back to the elevator. “You weren’t kidding.”

“About her being a handful? That was nothing. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Great.

Griffin led her back to the salon and opened the door. “I’ll keep it unlocked so you can come and go as needed.”

“Good. I have a feeling I’ll be spending most of my time here.”

#

G riffin reluctantly left Indigo to her task.

He didn’t envy her in the job ahead. Jinger Jenkins was a complete nightmare in every sense of the word.

He’d never met a more spoiled, arrogant, entitled person in his life.

He had no idea what Benedict saw in her.

Frankly, he didn’t know how she didn’t topple over every time she stood.

She was thin to the point of gauntness, with bones poking through her deeply tanned skin, and had a ridiculously large, surgically enhanced chest. Her face might’ve been pretty at one time and she photographed well.

She had big blue eyes and poofy blonde hair, but Botox injections and collagen-enhanced lips made her look more plastic than real.

Plus, she was just plain evil. That trait tended to make anyone look ugly.

Griffin had the overwhelming urge to stay with Indigo and show her around, but he had a job to do—one he’d been working toward for months. There was no time for distractions.

He returned to the loading dock. All the yacht personnel had been previously vetted, as had the staff on the island.

Van Houten usually traveled with an enormous entourage, but he’d pared down significantly for the trip.

The only guests on the boat besides Benedict and Jinger were Indigo Adair, in place of Pammy Baxter, Jordy Crier, Jinger’s personal stylist, and Franklin Shepherd, Benedict’s assistant.

Van Houten had numerous personal bodyguards, but only three in his inner circle.

They were also on board while the rest remained in Los Angeles and Miami.

Griffin entered the security room and turned the television to a weather channel.

What started as a tropical disturbance in the Atlantic had developed into a tropical depression and was now a tropical storm.

The next step would be a hurricane. It wasn’t currently projected to hit Van Houten Island, located halfway between The Bahamas and the Turks and Caicos Islands.

However, despite advances in technology, hurricanes were notoriously unpredictable.

Griffin had notified Van Houten about the possible impending storm, but Benedict had brushed him off, saying they never came near his place. It wasn’t as if the man had an impenetrable shield around his land. Disasters happened. Griffin needed to be prepared for all contingencies.

Despite his misgivings, he proceeded with his duties.

In the few short months he’d been employed with Van Houten, he’d worked his way to head of logistics security, but he hadn’t been able to break into Van Houten’s private cadre of protectors.

The three men tasked with that duty had been with him for years.

Before anyone had boarded the yacht, Griffin had gone over every square inch himself. Every. Square. Inch. Because of the massive size, it had taken him hours. There was nothing on board that shouldn’t be.

This would be Griffin’s first trip to the archipelago. He planned on searching every inch of that too. The item he was looking for wasn’t in Van Houten’s Los Angeles mansion, nor on his private jet, helicopter, or yacht. That left the island. Hopefully, Griffin would hit pay dirt there.