Page 24 of Fire and Ice Cruise

“Security will be present at all events,” Nicolette assures them. “But we can’t let fear paralyze us. Gideon wouldn’t want that.” She pauses, her dark eyes scanning the crowd. “He’d want us to live boldly, to seize our second acts with both hands, and to remember that life is too short for regrets.”

A hesitant round of applause breaks out.

It’s a good speech.

Almost too good, considering her supposed beloved mentor died less than twenty-four hours ago.

“Please,” Nicolette concludes, “help yourselves to coffee and donuts, and try to enjoy your vacation. I’m certain that’s what Gideon would have wanted.”

The room begins to stir as people stand and migrate toward the refreshment table. Conversations resume in hushed tones, and I watch the group dynamics shift and realign—some people gravitating toward Nicolette for comfort, others clustering together in worried knots.

“That went well,” I say as Bess, Nettie, and I rise from our seats just in time to see Marina slip into the lounge, her crimson hair catching the light. She scans the room before her eyes land on me.

“Oh, there’s Marina.” I wave her over and she starts to approach, then seems to think better of it, hovering near the door as if she’s about to bolt.

“No, no,” I say, speeding in her direction, and Ransom, Bess, and Nettie follow in my wake.

“Marina,” I say quickly, “what you saw on the bridge was not at all what it looked like.”

Nettie perks up immediately. “What did it look like?”

I shoot her a look. “Like Wes and I were about to make out.”

Ransom inches back in horror, his blue eyes going wide. “Whoa.” He tilts his head my way as we all but encircle Marina so she can’t escape.

If I don’t clear this up, Wes will have a bullet in him before sunset.

I shake my head at my handsome hubby. “Which we weren’t.”

Marina’s lips twitch. “You were certainly locked in one another’s arms.”

Ransom lifts a brow at me, a look that strongly suggests that I speak now and spill it all.

“Because we were—” I flounder for a plausible explanation that doesn’t involve the supernatural. “Knocked into one another by a rogue wave? A deadly rogue wave.” Emphasis on the dead.

Nettie chortles. “We’re in the North Atlantic in early spring, not the Bermuda Triangle. Try again, Trixster.”

I shoot her a look for the nickname alone before leaning in close to my hot husband and whispering, “There was a ghost involved.”

He sighs, the sound of a man who’s heard this excuse more times than he’d like. “That explains a lot. Give Wes a supernatural inch and he’ll take a corporal mile.” He spots Quinn near the exit and straightens. “Excuse me, ladies. I need to have a word with the temporary Chief of Security.” Emphasis on the temporary.

He stalks off, and I shake my head. “I can already tell this conversation is going to end with Quinn telling him to stay in his lane and Ransom politely ignoring her. Been there, done that, but it’s usually him and me.”

He really is getting a taste of his own medicine, so to speak and I have no doubt it tastes like bitter poison with a side of tough luck.

Marina leans in, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Did he say the word supernatural?”

I’m about to answer—or more accurately, about to deflect—when I spot Nicolette standing alone by that tower of chocolate-glazed crullers. She’s checking her phone, and her expression looks troubled, and for a moment, she loses that ultra confident appeal.

“Would you ladies excuse me?” I say. “I have a sudden craving for a chocolate-glazed cruller.”

Okay, so it’s not so sudden, but it’s still a good cover.

Nettie and Bess hook their arms through Marina’s before she can escape.

“Let’s talk about that hot captain over lattes,” Nettie says, steering Marina toward the coffee station.

“While noshing on a raspberry jelly-filled dream,” Bess adds, already eyeing the pastry table with predatory focus.