Page 26 of Viking Vengeance Cruise

He nods at Marina specifically, and her cheeks go pink before he’s taken a step. He heads off toward another table, and Bess and Nettie immediately lean in like schoolgirls.

“Ooh,” Bess sings.

“He likes you,” Nettie tells Marina, grinning wide and showing off her molars.

“He’s being friendly,” Marina protests, but her face stays pink.

“Sure, he is,” I say. “That’s why he looked at you the way Nettie looks at lava cake.”

“He did,” Nettie confirms. “I recognized the hunger.”

“He absolutely did,” Bess seconds. “And I’ve been alive long enough to know the difference between friendly and smitten. Friendly remembers your name. Smitten forgets his own.”

“Ask him what it is next time,” Nettie says. “I dare you. The man will have to consult his nametag.”

Marina drops her face into her hands. “This is mortifying.”

“This is adorable,” Nettie corrects.

“This is dinner theater,” I say, “and I didn’t even have to tip.”

Marina looks up, and the giggle drains right out of her. “But what are we going to do? You heard him. Captain’s orders. We’re to steer clear of danger.”

I give her the wry smile, the one Ransom claims means I’m about to do something he won’t approve of. He has never once been wrong about it, and I’ve never once let that stop me.

“We will absolutely steer clear of danger,” I say. “Danger won’t get so much as a wave from us. But nothing in the captain’s orders prevents four law-abiding women from enjoying a highly popular, family-friendly pastry excursion tomorrow. If a killer happens to be strolling the same sweet stroll, well, that’s Sweden’s problem.”

“Swedish Sweet Stroll, here we come,” Bess says, raising her wineglass.

Nettie nods with enthusiasm. “Somebody warn Gothenburg. And somebody tell that hot dead Viking he’s welcome to tag along. I’ll even share my cinnamon bun.”

“You’ve never shared a cinnamon bun in your life,” Bess says.

“For him, I’d learn.”

Marina lifts her glass, shaking her head but smiling. “To terrible ideas and even worse decisions.”

She says it lightly, but her knuckles have gone white around the stem, and that’s a lot of grip for a woman making a joke. It makes me wonder which terrible ideas she’s toasting tonight. Something tells me they’re not all sitting at this table.

Whatever Marina Maxwell is carrying, she carries it beautifully, and I’ve already decided I’ll be right here whenever she’s ready to set it down. Until then, I plan to feed her dessert. It’s not a cure, but in my experience, it’s a solid down payment.

We clink glasses, and I catch the glint of determination on all three faces. A killer may be loose on this ship, and the captain may have issued direct orders to stay out of trouble. But pastries and murder suspects wait for no one.

Fortunately, neither do I.

CHAPTER 7

Suddenly Hitched—What a Trip!

Dear Trixie,

I’m writing from the Emerald Queen docked in Gothenburg. My daughter (she’s twenty-eight) surprised me by booking this Baltic cruise for “mother-daughter bonding time.”

She paid for everything and upgraded us to a balcony cabin, and I was thrilled. Except now I’m wondering what’s really going on. She’s acting strange. Secretive phone calls on the balcony. Crying in the bathroom (she claims allergies—on a ship?). Constantly checking her phone.

When I ask what’s wrong, she insists everything’s fine and just wants to “spend quality time together while we still can.” While we still can? What does that mean?

Yesterday, during an entire sea day of pool decks and trivia, she barely noticed any of it. She stared at her phone looking heartbroken.