Page 62 of Fire and Ice Cruise

I’m not going in that water. I have standards. And a survival instinct.

I did, however, agree to enter a body of water on land, one that promises to rival every hot tub I’ve ever set foot in, and I can hardly wait.

But that’s for later.

Right now, I’m loading my breakfast plate as if I’m preparing for hibernation. Scrambled eggs fluffy enough to use as pillows. Bacon crispy enough to shatter when you bite into it. Sausage links that smell like heaven. And enough hash browns to feed a hockey team.

Of course, there’s a stack of Belgian waffles that I plan to drown in syrup. Fresh fruit that makes me feel nutritiously smug in contrast to the waffle. A chocolate croissant because France and Iceland are basically neighbors if you squint at a map. Smoked salmon because we’re in Scandinavia-adjacent waters and it seems disrespectful not to. A small mountain of roasted potatoes, which count as a vegetable a little more so than the hash browns. And a chocolate chip muffin for later.

I’ve always been one to plan for the future.

Or maybe I’ll have a bite now. We’ll see how I feel.

Bess and Nettie are at the omelet station making the chef’s life difficult by requesting seventeen modifications, so I’ve got a moment to survey the crowd.

Ransom left twenty minutes ago. Quinn actually asked for his help with something security-related, which is ironic considering she inadvertently got him banned to begin with. She was trying to ban me from investigating, and that backfired so spectacularly that Ransom took the fall and here we are. Living our best husband-on-involuntary-sabbatical life while a killer roams free.

Speaking of things going sideways.

I spot Marina sitting alone at the counter that runs along the wall lined with windows, the prime real estate seating where you can eat and stare at Iceland simultaneously. She has a plate in front of her but she’s not eating. She’s just staring out at the water as if it offended her on some level.

I make my way over, and my overladen plate requires some serious navigation through the wall of people clamoring to get their hands on breakfast and a seat to enjoy it in.

“Stunning view, right?” I slide onto the stool next to her.

Marina startles, then laughs. There’s something layered just beneath her smile and I can’t quite read it.

“Oh, it’s beyond stunning. I’ve never traveled like this before.” She gestures at the harbor, the mountains, the whole stunning panoramic scene. “I have a confession to make. This is my very first cruise. And I can see why you’d choose to live on this ship.”

I bite down a smile. “There’s always room for one more.”

I have a feeling Wes would pen me a thank-you letter if I could convince her to stay on board.

Marina shakes her head as something sad blinks across her face. “I’m afraid my budget wouldn’t allow for it.” She casts a dark look out at the water. “It can’t afford a lot of things.”

The words land heavy between us.

I take a bite of bacon to buy myself some time to think. Marina is wearing designer clothes, carries herself with the polish of a woman who’s had money, and she’s on a luxury cruise that runs into serious money. But there’s something in her voice, something brittle and sharp, that suggests the fancy packaging might be hiding an empty box, and maybe an empty bank account.

I’ve solved enough homicides to know that money is a great motivator for murder.

Money problems are motive problems. And motive problems are my business when there’s a dead man involved.

“Are you having financial troubles?” I keep my voice just above a whisper.

Marina’s jaw tightens. She’s still staring out at the water, but her knuckles go white where they’re gripping her coffee mug.

“I guess you could say that.”

I wait. Sometimes silence does better work than questions.

She gives a heavy sigh. It’s the sound of a woman who’s been carrying something heavy for too long.

“Things are complicated right now,” she says with a frown.

“Marina.” I set down my fork and turn to face her fully. “What’s going on? What really led you to this ship? I mean, what led you to that bar in Copenhagen? Whatever it was, it left you devastated.”

Her eyes widen slightly before pooling with tears, and she’s quick to blink them away.