Page 15 of Fire and Ice Cruise

“That poor woman,” I say. “What are we going to do?”

Ransom waves a few security guards over. “Help her to her cabin, please.”

The security officers immediately respond to his instruction, guiding a hysterical Nicolette toward the exit.

They still listen to him even without the badge, which I’m guessing will drive Quinn absolutely bonkers.

Speaking of Quinn, she stalks over to Ransom with her jaw set hard enough to crack walnuts. “I’m just going to make one thing crystal clear. This is MY investigation. The two of you are to steer clear, and if I get a whiff of you interfering, I’ll make sure to report it to the cruise line.” She glances at Ransom, and her expression softens just a touch. “I’m sorry. I’m just following protocol.”

She wastes no time stalking off with her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

I shrug up at my husband. “Now you know how it feels to have someone say those words to you.”

He frowns right back. “When I tell you those things, it’s to keep you safe.” He glances in the direction Quinn disappeared. “When she tells me those things, it’s to annoy me.”

“Welcome to my world, Detective.”

“Not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“Trixie.”

“Fine. Zero percent funny. Moving on.”

I’m about to say something else—probably something snarky about protocol and power trips—when movement near the edge of the crowd catches my attention.

Marina stands alone, her emerald dress catching the light, her crimson hair still perfectly styled despite all the chaos. She’s staring at the cordoned corridor, at the spot where Gideon’s body lies just out of view.

Instantly, my internal alarm bells start clanging. Marina leans in and the edges of her lips curl upward a notch.

“What in the world?” I say, squinting over at her.

The corners of her mouth relax just slightly. Her shoulders drop half an inch.

It looks to me like it’s the posture of someone who just heard good news, not terrible news. And by the looks of it, there seems to be satisfaction written all over her face—not shock, or horror, or even mild surprise. Just pure, undiluted satisfaction, as if she’s watching karma deliver a particularly well-deserved smackdown.

Note to self: Marina Maxwell has secrets, and at least one of them involves not being upset in the least that Gideon Vale is dead.

Wes clears his throat, pulling me back to the present. “Ransom, why don’t you get Bess, Nettie, and Trixie back to their cabins?” He hitches his head toward Marina. “I’ll make sure Ms. Maxwell makes it to hers as well.”

He takes off toward Marina before any of us can respond, and I watch as he speaks quietly to her as his hand hovers protectively at the small of her back. She nods, then says something that we can’t hear, and they walk away together as passengers continue filing out in shocked clusters.

Nettie watches them go, and I can’t help but note the spark of mischief in her eyes despite the circumstances. “Well, look at the captain making his move with a dead body as his wingman. Now that’s bold strategy.”

“Nettie!” Bess balks at her bestie, and so do half the people within earshot.

“What?” Nettie balks right back. “It’s working for him.”

Bess swats her with her purse. “It’s a body, not a dating app.”

“Tell that to the captain.”

Ransom doesn’t look amused. “Let’s go.”

He guides us toward the exit, his hand firm on my lower back, and I can feel the tension radiating off him. He’s in protective mode now, which means he’ll probably insist on checking under our beds for a killer. And under the nightstand. And possibly the minibar. I’ll let him. A girl doesn’t turn down a thorough husband.

We’re almost to the exit when something catches in my peripheral vision and makes me stop cold.