Page 5 of Viking Vengeance Cruise

“That was a proposal,” Bess counters. “The man filed a complaint.”

“He filed a compliment,” Nettie sniffs. “There’s a difference.”

“Words to cross-stitch on a pillow,” Bess muses.

“Already commissioned it,” Nettie fires back. “It’s hanging over my bed.”

Ransom’s hand settles warm on my lower back. “This cruise is already off to an interesting start.”

“They’re all interesting when Trixie’s involved,” Tinsley mutters, scribbling on her clipboard. “And deadly.”

I shoot her a look. “I heard that.”

“Good.”

I spot someone massive near the entrance, an entire mountain range in full Viking regalia. We’re talking fur cloak, leather armor, braided beard, and an actual shield. I get a better look at him and gasp.

Oh my word. He’s enormous. Seven feet tall at least, with shoulders that would need their own cabin. His hair hangs in thick braids of blond, brown, and gray. His face is all sharp angles and even sharper intentions, quite possibly nefarious ones, and he’s heading straight toward us.

Scratch that. He’s heading straight toward me.

“Speaking of Vikings, here comes one now,” I manage, my voice pitching higher.

The supersized Viking locks eyes with me and picks up speed. A breath hitches in my throat and a yelp escapes me as I grab onto Ransom’s arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his whole body shifting into protective mode.

I’m about to say something, but that Viking barrels over with a guttural snarl and does the unthinkable. He walks right into me before unleashing an ear-piercing howl that rattles through my skull and possibly my ancestors’ skulls. Somewhere back in the old country, a great-great-grandmother just dropped her knitting.

Then just like that, he explodes in a shower of silver stars and vanishes.

I stand there vibrating like a tuning fork while trying to keep my soul from jumping out of my body.

Embarkation day, my favorite brand of chaos. I’d like to formally amend that statement.

“What the—?” Ransom growls as he looks around. “What made that awful sound?” His eyes latch onto mine and he frowns. “That was an otherworldly visitor, wasn’t it?”

I nod, still waiting for my heart to climb back down out of my throat. Although, if I’m being honest, somewhere underneath the terror, a tiny part of me is already rolling up her sleeves for what comes next.

“You know what that means,” I say with a hesitant smile.

He gives a curt nod. “That means murder.”

Welcome aboard, everyone.

CHAPTER 2

The Coral Lounge, excuse me, the Valhalla Lounge, looks like someone capsized an entire shipment of romance novels into a perfectly respectable cocktail bar.

“Hubba hubba,” Nettie breathes, stopping dead in the doorway. “Now this is what I call interior decorating.”

“This is what I call a fire hazard,” Bess counters, but she’s grinning like a Viking-loving loon.

Life-size cardboard cutouts of shirtless Vikings line the walls, and I mean everywhere. Oiled abs, fur cloaks draped strategically low on hips, spears held at suggestive angles, and expressions that scream “I’ll pillage your village and your heart.” There have to be at least twenty of them posted around the room on bouncer duty, a full pantheon of pectorals.

The lounge itself is glitzy cruise-ship chic with deep burgundy velvet seating, gleaming brass fixtures, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing Copenhagen’s harbor lights fading into the distance as we pull away from port, and the dark water stretching between us. But someone went full Viking override with the decorations. Shields hang on the walls. Faux-fur throws drape over every available surface. And a massive glittery banner stretches across the back wall reading, WELCOME TO THE VELVET VIKING BOOK CLUB! PREPARE TO BE RAVISHED!

Consider me warned.