4. Knox

"It's just the way I remember." Luna peered through the window at the front of the main cabin, and for once, her smile seemed genuine. Unguarded, not the fake grin she wore most of the time. "All those empty white beaches. There used to be pirates here, did you know that?"

"Like, real pirates?" Kory asked. "Or Jack Sparrow pirates?"

"Real pirates."

"One of the islands used to be a pirate prison," Jubilee said. "Skeleton Cay. It's meant to be haunted."

Luna shuddered. "We're definitely not going to that one. I just want to chill out for a while. Make some new content and relax on the beach."

Two new blondes had arrived yesterday, Lotus and Chanel, and their sole purpose in life seemed to be sucking up to Luna and Kory. Lotus giggled.

"Oh, totally. We could, like, have a bonfire by the water and tell ghost stories."

Luna gave her a scathing look. "We're not twelve."

A look of panic flashed in Lotus's eyes, but she recovered quickly. "Right. You're so right. Let's just make awesome vids."

This was like being back in high school. How did these people make it to adulthood? If you took any of them out of their bubble of privilege, they'd have no idea how to survive in the real world. Luna insisted on her drinks being served at seventy-five degrees and threw a hissy fit if the AC was too cold. Then, thirty minutes later, she'd get pissy because it was too hot.

Blackwood's logistics team was researching the location, and background was trickling in. San Gallicano consisted of one large island—Ilha Grande—surrounded by over a hundred smaller ones. Some weren't much more than rocks in the sea, but a number were inhabited. The area had once been a pirate's paradise, Jubilee was right about that, and smugglers used the islands as a base on their way to South America. The rabbit warren of cays and inlets was a Bond villain's wet dream.

But illicit activities had declined in the past several decades thanks to proactive policing and a tough legal system. Judges faced reelection every six years, and few locals wanted a return to the bad old days. No, the main source of income came from a loosely regulated banking industry supported by agriculture, sustainable fishing, and tourism. A handful of luxury resorts had sprung up on private islands, putting wealthy owners at odds with locals who preferred a traditional way of life. A culture clash. Scuba diving was a popular pastime thanks to the number of shipwrecks in the area, although conservation regulations meant permits were needed for many popular sites, and sheltered coves with clear water meant paddleboarders were a common sight. San Gallicano was one of the Caribbean's hidden gems, according to the nation's official website. A magical hideaway for those who wanted peace and quiet. They'd have to rewrite their marketing blurb once Luna Maara arrived.

Knox thought they'd head straight for the main harbour on Ilha Grande, a crescent lined with restaurants and stores selling trinkets. But Luna decided she wanted to sail around several of the smaller islands and scout for locations from the yacht before they ate dinner.

"Where are the sharks?" Kory asked the first officer. "We should go look for sharks. That would make a great picture."

"I'll try to find out, sir."

"I'm not going near a shark," Luna said. "Are you crazy?"

"You did that thing with the tiger last year."

"That was on stage in Japan. There was a handler, and I still thought it would bite my freaking arm off."

"Why don't you just snorkel with some fish?" Chanel suggested. "Underwater shots would look amazing. And you wrote that song about floating, right?" She began singing. "Floating on love, we resist the earth's pull…"

Luna joined in, and although she acted like Satan's baby sister, she had the voice of an angel. The whole diva act was unnecessary—she really could sing. "A cosmic connection, so beautiful; Our souls entwined, in the heavens we roam; In this boundless love, we've found our home." Then she rolled her eyes, and the spell was broken. "It was about floating on clouds, dummy. Not in the water."

"So no snorkelling?"

"No snorkelling."

A hundred photos of the sunset later, they arrived in Half Moon Harbour, waited while the captain handled the customs and immigration paperwork, and then rode the tender shore for dinner because Luna refused to wait for boats to shuffle around so they could dock. When she managed to get through three courses without causing a scene or pissing anyone off, Knox began to think they might survive this side trip unscathed. But what had both his former commanding officer and Emmy told him time and time again? Never assume—it makes an ass out of u and me. If he'd known what was to come, he'd have bundled Luna back onto the yacht and taken off for Saint Vincent, fuck her protests.

But instead, he climbed into the top bunk, mumbled a "goodnight" to Ryder, and got the last decent sleep he'd have in a while.

* * *

Saturday morning started bright. Not a cloud on the horizon, not a whiny complaint from Luna or her entourage. Knox took advantage of the peace to indulge in a quick swim across the bay while Ryder stood watch, but before he could towel himself dry, a trio approached the Cleopatra. He tensed, then relaxed as he recognised the harbour master. The two men with him looked like police officers. Neither wore a uniform, but Knox had seen a thousand cops and unless they were undercover, they all moved the same way. A slight swagger and a superior expression seemed to come as standard with the badges they wore on their belts.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" Ryder asked as Knox grabbed a T-shirt.

"We're here to speak with Luna Maara," the taller of the two cops said.

"Under what authority?"

"Under the authority of the Court of San Gallicano. I'm Detective Fernandez, and this is Officer Roy." Fernandez produced a folded sheet of paper. "We have a warrant for her arrest."

What the fuck? Knox stepped forward as Ryder took the paper and began to read.

"What did she do? We've been here less than twenty-four hours, and she just rode around in the yacht and ate dinner."

"The warrant relates to a matter last year. She's being charged with illegal disturbance of a wild animal."

"A turtle," Officer Roy added. "She dragged it along the beach and poured it a cocktail."

Blackwood ran an excellent training program. Operators on the Special Projects team spent hours in simulated scenarios, kept themselves in peak physical condition, practised hand-to-hand combat, jumped out of airplanes, kept up their dive certifications, and put hundreds of rounds through a variety of weapons. But never, not once, had they covered the steps to take if two cops turned up to arrest a high-profile client for drinking with a turtle.

What the hell should he do? Rouse Luna and tell her to stand still while they cuffed her? Stall for time? Refuse the officers permission to board and flee for Saint Vincent? Fortunately, he didn't have to make that decision because the devil herself appeared.

"What's all this noise? Who are you people? Don't you realise people are trying to eat breakfast in peace?"

"You're Luna Maara?" Detective Fernandez asked, presumably to be certain he had the correct suspect. On this boat, arresting the wrong bikini-clad blonde would be an easy mistake to make.

"Of course I am. What do you want? A picture?"

"Yes, we do want a picture."

"Well, make it quick. My waffles are getting cold."

"Ms. Maara…" Knox started. "I wouldn't?—"

"Oh, be quiet."

He did as he was told. The sound of poetic justice turned out to be two quiet clicks and a lot of screeching.

"What are you doing? Help! I'm being kidnapped!"

"Ma'am, you're under arrest for disturbing a turtle during nesting season. You're not obliged to speak unless you wish to do so, but anything you do say may be put into writing and given in evidence."

"Hey, snake guy! Don't just stand there—do something. They can't do this."

Ryder held up the paperwork. "Actually, they can. This is a signed warrant."

People were taking pictures now, and several passers-by were videoing with camera phones. Why was Luna so upset? Hadn't she been chasing publicity on this trip? Now she had it in spades.

Jubilee ran down the stairs from the main deck and stopped short when she saw her cousin struggling between two police officers.

"What's going on? Why aren't you stopping them?"

Ryder was trying not to smirk. Knox saw the telltale twitch of his lips. "Not our jurisdiction."

"Call Mom," Luna wailed. "Tell her to send a lawyer."

"Uh, okay."

If the client was being held in a police station, did she still need bodyguards on duty? Or should they take the day off? Knox figured he'd better call Emmy. Occasional hiccups on the job weren't unusual, but this one was going to go down in Blackwood history.

"Wait! Wait!" Luna pleaded. "I need to change my outfit."

"We'll provide you with clothes, ma'am."

An orange jumpsuit? This got better and better.

"We'll make some calls," Knox told her. "Just keep your mouth shut and do as the officers ask. Don't make this worse."

"Worse? How could this possibly be worse?"

Knox had a feeling she was about to find out.