One Night in Monaco - Blair Babylon Page 0,42

the whole ship quickly to back into the parking space.

Gen swallowed hard and turned to keep watching the direction the boat was going to keep from gagging. Sweat broke out on her scalp and upper lip, and she staggered toward the rear of the boat as they chugged in backward. Did he have to do that so quickly or so soon? They were still a good hundred yards or so from the parking space.

On the sidewalk next to the dock, a very familiar man sauntered, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He appeared to be wearing formal navy-blue slacks and a tight white tee-shirt, which seemed odd. His black hair blew around his head.

Gen didn’t even need to see his face to know who it was. She yelled, “Arthur! Casimir! There he is! Max is right there!”

Arthur darted out of the wheelhouse and hastened down the stairs. “Yes, my love? What is it?”

Casimir, who was over on the other side of the deck, turned quickly and followed where she was pointing. “There’s Maxence! Shit!”

With Casimir’s expletive, Gen turned back.

On the sidewalk, two men were running toward Maxence. One reached under the jacket of his dark suit.

“No!” she yelled.

The yacht was still much too far from the dock to get there in time, perhaps fifty yards away, and they were backing in slowly for safety.

Casimir raced past Gen, and she grabbed the railing for balance. He pounded down the stairs to the lower level of the yacht.

Arthur followed, leaping over the railing to the lower level.

That’s right. That was her husband, looking all athletic and hot. She liked it.

Less than ten seconds later, a tiny motorboat shaped like a crystal drop leaped out of the rear of the Flirting with Disaster. The tender streaked for the shore, churning the seawater as the engine shrilled.

Arthur waved his arms and shouted to Maxence as Casimir drove the small boat toward the dock.

Gen paced toward the rear of the boat to see better.

Maxence straightened as he realized that the men signaling to him were his oldest friends Arthur and Casimir and, a split-second later, that people were chasing him. He sprinted for the dock where Arthur and Casimir were aiming their tender.

Gen gripped the rail, watching.

Roxanne slammed into the rail next to her. “Did they get him?”

“Not yet,” Gen said, trying to will the tender to fly faster and Maxence to run more quickly toward it.

The tender turned sharply, throwing a plume of water onto the dock.

Maxence was almost there.

The splash missed Max but slapped the three guys chasing him, slowing them just enough for Maxence to hurl himself into the tender.

Casimir slammed the accelerator.

The tiny boat tore through the teal water, leaving a white froth behind it.

In another minute, the boat and the men reached Flirting with Disaster, which was reversing direction. Propellers, or whatever was under there that made the boat go, churned and roiled the blue saltwater.

The crew hauled the tender inside the yacht.

Flirting with Disaster motored toward the break in the sea wall and into the open Mediterranean Sea.

A moment later, the guys climbed the stairs to the main deck where Gen and Roxanne were waiting.

Maxence stomped up first, laughing at the other two.

Casimir was chewing out Maxence, reading him the riot act about how he could not damn well disappear like that from Monaco and freak everyone out. “We flew here at two in the damn morning, Max! We thought some asshole had kidnapped you and was holding a gun to your head. Gen threatened to rip Pierre apart with her teeth if he had anything to do with it. You cannot disappear like that.”

Roxanne smirked at her husband. “You tell him, buckeroo.”

Maxence tried to explain himself, “I had to get Simone Maina onto a flight out of Genoa. Her husband’s an asshole and hurt her, and she’s pregnant. She’s on her way back to Mauritius now, where her family will take care of her. I had to watch her plane take off.”

Gen sucked in a breath, trying not to throttle him. Yep, Maxence had been off playing Sir Galahad or Sir Lancelot or whatever, because he would rescue any maiden in distress.

“She’ll be okay now,” Max said. “She’s beyond Estebe’s reach. I’d like to see him try to get to her once she’s on Mauritius. Her family would make sure he never washed up on the beach.”

Arthur, stalwart British gentleman that he was, did not harangue Maxence. He placed his feet firmly on the steps as he ascended