Page 95 of Viking Vengeance Cruise

“Just my pride,” Marina says, smoothing down her blue gown.

Ransom hauls me up next and checks me over with frantic efficiency. The man has rescued his wife from too many ridiculous situations, and it’s starting to show in his technique. He checks the ribs first now. He’s learned.

Wes reaches down and pulls Poppy to her feet last, and she’s a complete mess, her composure utterly shattered.

“I had her,” Nettie announces, dusting off her sequined muumuu with as much poise as a woman who just yelled “dog pile” at a formal event can muster. “It was a total takedown. Ten out of ten. I should be deputized.”

“Try institutionalized,” Bess says without missing a beat.

“Deputized, institutionalized. Either way, I want a badge.”

Wes pulls Marina in close. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Just bruised,” Marina says as they lock eyes, and she doesn’t pull away from his protective grip.

I tuck that little moment away for later. I’m nosy, not dead.

Security descends on the lounge in force. Six officers in uniform, radios crackling, all of them looking very serious and very done with this cruise.

Quinn Riddle pushes through the crowd, handcuffs already out. She looks at Poppy, then at me, then back at Poppy.

“She admitted it,” I say. “Right before she attacked Marina and tried to run. She confessed to poisoning Astrid Storm with oxycodone—the medication is hers.”

Quinn steps in and efficiently cuffs Poppy, reading her rights in that flat, professional tone before escorting her toward the exit. She’s about to walk past me when she pauses. Quinn narrows her eyes at me, her expression caught somewhere between annoyed and grudgingly impressed.

“Good job, Troublefield Baxter,” she says finally. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

It’s already gone to my head, by way of an incoming headache.

She leads Poppy away, and the crowd parts clean down the middle. The Velvet Viking Book Club watches in stunned silence as their perfect, kind, helpful member is escorted out in handcuffs. The lounge comes back to life with murmurs and whispers as the music picks up in volume once again.

Penny for your thoughts, indeed. Turns out her thoughts were running closer to twenty-five to life.

Ransom reaches me in three strides and pulls me into his arms, holding me so tight I can barely breathe. Second time tonight, though this version is far more enjoyable.

“You caught the killer,” he murmurs into my hair.

“Technically, Nettie caught her. I just accused her, and I may have hopped on her back to prevent a getaway.”

“Close enough.”

Wes is still holding Marina’s wrist, examining the red marks Poppy left. “You should get ice on this.”

“It’s fine,” Marina says, but she’s blushing.

“Let’s let the doctor decide that.” He keeps her hand in his as he leads her toward the exit, and she doesn’t resist.

Bess appears beside me and puts her arm around Nettie’s shoulders. “You tackled a killer.”

“I did!” Nettie grins. “And it was amazing. How soon can we do it again?”

“Never.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m extremely fun. I just prefer my fun without felony assault charges,” Bess says. “Come on, let’s hit the dessert buffet. I think we’ve earned a cookie or two.”