Page 73 of Viking Vengeance Cruise

“It’s what a woman who plans to die in her own bed would say.”

I leave them to it. Some fights aren’t mine to referee, and this one has been going since the Nixon administration. Neither side has ever won, but the trash talk has aged beautifully.

Marina appears at my elbow. She’s windswept and gorgeous in a peach-colored peacoat, because some women get to be windswept and gorgeous while the rest of us get hair in our lip gloss. “This place is incredible. Have you been here before?”

“First time. You?”

“Same.” She glances around, and I catch that thing she does—scanning exits, noting camera positions, cataloging escape routes. Most people tour a fortress. Marina cases it.

“It’s very secure,” she says.

“That’s the point of a fortress,” I say with a wink.

“So they tell me.” She’s not winking back or smiling, for that matter.

I tuck that one away with the rest of my Marina collection. A woman doesn’t rate a tourist attraction by how hard it would be to get caught in it unless she’s spent time doing the math. Long division, from the look of her.

Wes strides up in his captain’s jacket, looking official, handsome, and dimpled to a fault, and Marina’s face does that thing where it tries very hard to stay neutral and fails spectacularly.

“Ladies,” he greets us with a nod. “Enjoying the fortress?”

“That we are,” I say. “Despite the fact we just got here.”

“Then enjoy it preemptively.” He smiles and those dimples dig in. I swear I just heard Marina sigh.

“Will do, Captain,” she says dreamily.

Oh brother. Lucky for Wes, she’s got it bad.

He takes a step toward Marina. “Walk with me? I’d like to hear your thoughts on the historical significance of maritime defensive structures.”

Marina blinks. “Is that actually what you want to talk about?”

“Not even a little bit.” His lips curve with wicked intent.

She laughs and takes his offered arm, and they head off toward a stretch of ramparts while Bess and I exchange glances.

“They’re adorable,” Bess observes.

“Painfully adorable,” I agree.

“Think he knows about her mysterious past?”

“He knows as much as Ransom told us the other evening.” I filled Bess and Nettie in on it that night at the midnight buffet. “Ransom ran a background check, and we’re still in the dark about so many things.”

“And he’s still pursuing her?”

I nod. “I have a feeling complicated women are his type.”

Bess snorts. “He did almost marry you.”

“Excuse me,” I laugh. “I’m delightfully uncomplicated.”

Bess scoffs. “You see ghosts and solve murders for fun.”

“See? Simple.”

Nettie slaps her thigh with a cackle. “Trix, you’re a jigsaw puzzle missing half the box.”