“Ma’am?” The chief inspector pulled out a notebook. “Can you tell me your name?”
Pim narrowed her eyes; her throat working as she swallowed. She didn’t answer, and once again, I was reminded how silence was her friend when she was uncertain or afraid.
If I was to get out of this without an arrest or a serious fine, she had to do what they asked—including giving up her true name. Nodding gently, I encouraged, “It’s okay. Answer him.”
She frowned as she looked from me to him, trying to see a trap. Finally, she straightened her spine and said with ringing steel, “My name is Tasmin Blythe.”
“And how long have you been a guest on the Phantom?”
Ah, Christ, I’d get a fine tonight no matter what she said. Another rule I’d broken: I’d refused to lodge any of her details. No mention of embarkation or places visited. I hadn’t logged a single thing or notarized what country she was from for ports and immigration.
Why did I do that?
Was it because Pim technically didn’t exist? That if anyone knew I had her, they could link me back to sex trafficking and the QMB? Maybe it was because even when I first rescued her, I knew I wanted her far more than I should, and a woman like Pim would be missed. She would be searched for.
I’d deliberately kept her presence a secret for my benefit.
“Umm,” Pim hedged, her bare toes turning white as she dug them into the hardwood floor. “Not sure….” Turning to me, she searched my face for guidance.
She was too obvious.
The officer rolled his eyes, telling me what I already knew—that I was an idiot for not following protocol. This could’ve been a simple board, cross check, walk around, and departure.
Now, with Pim’s arrival and the extra weapons on board, it would mean a full-on snoop fest.
“Answer me, girl,” the officer pushed.
I nodded for her to continue, not giving any hints on how she needed to reply. This was on her. I’d tried to prevent her from being in this mess, yet she’d ignored me.
You’re on your own, Pimlico.
And then, when we’re alone…you and I are going to have a serious chat.
Tearing her gaze from mine, Pim cleared her throat. “I’m not sure exactly. A few weeks. A few months? Time seems to pass differently on the ocean.”
“And do you have a passport? Visas?”
She stiffened. “I wasn’t aware I needed them.”
“Anyone sailing on international waters must be prepared for immigration.”
“Oh.” She looked at her feet then back to the man in question with rebellion in her gaze. “I might not have a passport, but I do have a police file with my fingerprints and who I am. Is that enough?”
I swallowed my groan, doing my best not to slap myself in the face.
Fucking great. She just admitted she’d been processed for a crime.
The M.O. gave me a snide look. “Aiding and abetting criminals now, Mr. Prest? This just gets better and better.” He strolled forward, his notebook clutched self-importantly. “What else are you hiding around here?”
“Nothing to concern you with.” I crossed my arms. “Look, just book me and—”
“He’s only trying to protect me,” Pim offered, stepping forward to meet the officer in the middle of the bridge. Buttons and monitors flashed from the control panel, painting her nightgown in an array of colours. “He saved me and is taking me back to my mother in England.” She threw me a quick glance as if to reiterate privately that she had no intention of being left behind in the UK while I sailed away.
I was glad because just the thought of her leaving buckled my knees—even while I was fucking furious with her.
“Well, isn’t that noble of him?” the officer asked even though he looked at Pim as if she’d told a silly bedtime story. “How about you give me your mother’s name, address, and that police record you mentioned, and we’ll see if that’s enough to clear you for passage.”
“And if it isn’t?” she asked, crossing her arms like a brave, stupid girl.
The guy narrowed his eyes, looking over her head to me. “If it isn’t, someone might be arrested or worse—his boat confiscated.”
Oh, hell no.
I’d pay any fine—shit, I’d even spend a couple of days in the slammer. But take my boat? I wouldn’t survive.
My body turned brittle with aggression. Images of throwing these men off the stern and chopping them into sushi with the propellers filled my head. “She’s telling the truth. I’m taking her home. Nothing more. Nothing less.” I glanced from the M.O. to Pim, glowering at her spitefully, doing my best to put her in her place.
All of this was her fault.
If she’d stayed where I’d told her, this wouldn’t be an issue. She’d disobeyed me, and goddammit, she’d pay once we were no longer under inspection.