Page 19 of Fire and Ice Cruise

Steam practically pours from Tinsley’s ears. “He offers that to just about everyone. I wouldn’t go feeling so special.”

Bess and I gasp at the audacity.

And well, neither Nettie nor Elodie are all that surprised. I shouldn’t be either.

Tinsley picks up her notebook again and sighs. “Too much work, not enough pay. I need three more staff members and maybe a miracle.”

“Can I see?” Marina asks.

Tinsley hands over her notebook, looking suspicious. Marina studies it, her expression shifting to something professional and focused.

“I’ve worked my entire life in the hospitality industry. I’ve been in charge of my fair share of entertainment for guests.” She scans the schedule, making humming sounds. “You’re double-booking the Constellation Lounge, and these two activities are too close together for proper setup. If you shift this one to Deck Ten and move the wine tasting to afternoon instead of evening, you’ll free up staff and give guests a better flow between events.”

“Wow.” Tinsley blinks. “That’s—actually brilliant.”

Marina shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind helping out if you need an extra set of hands.”

“Really?” Tinsley’s entire demeanor shifts. “You’d do that?”

“Sure. Beats sitting alone in my cabin.”

Elodie applauds slowly. “Look at you two, teaming up. Now you can have a threesome with the captain. Who says women can’t get along when a man is involved?”

I’m about to say something—probably something about how nobody is having a threesome with anyone—when something catches my eye.

That blonde poltergeist zips past our table, her flowing white gown trailing behind her as if caught in an invisible current. She glows a shade of electric blue like an ethereal flame in the gray morning light, and she moves with purpose, heading toward the forward deck.

Oh, for the love of breakfast buffets. I haven’t even finished my cinnamon roll.

I stand so abruptly, my chair scrapes against the deck. “Sorry, I just remembered I have to uh… check on something.”

“Check on what?” Bess asks suspiciously.

“Art supplies,” I cringe as I say it. I’m a terrible liar. “Very important art supplies.” I double down on the deception without hesitation.

I take off before anyone can question me further, weaving through deck chairs and following the ethereal flame of a very dead woman. She leads me up three decks, through a crew-only corridor, and straight to the last place I expected.

The bridge.

The nerve center of the entire ship, the exact place where Captain Wes Crawford commands his floating empire.

The ghost hovers just outside the door, her translucent form flickering in and out of focus, and she turns to look at me with those hollow, angry eyes.

I guess Tinsley was right—the captain really does offer bridge tours to just about everyone, no matter what side of the veil they’re on.

Hunting down a ghost is complicated enough.

Hunting down a killer while the ghost watches your every move? That’s a whole new level of complicated.

CHAPTER 7

Iblow into the bridge with all the grace of a category-five hurricane.

Wes looks up from whatever captain-y thing he was doing—probably plotting our course or calculating exactly how long before I bring him another body—his green eyes widen with concern. The bridge crew consists of three officers in crisp whites, all of whom turn to stare at the wild woman who just burst through their sacred space as if she’s being chased by invisible demons.

Which, technically, I am—or in this case I’m the one doing the chasing.

“Everyone out,” Wes doesn’t hesitate to shout, his voice carrying that commanding tone that makes people move without question. “Now.”