Jack was uncomfortable with the way she phrased it. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I mean it.”
Ivy nodded. “I know.” She rubbed her forehead. “I want to go to bed. I know it’s early but ... I don’t want to be out here any longer. We can’t enjoy the deck anyway. It’s storming.”
“You didn’t get to eat anything.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Jack had no intention of letting that stand, but pushing her now would only make matters worse. “Come on.” He linked his fingers with hers and directed her toward the elevator. “We’ll go back to the room, get comfortable, and order room service. We’ll lock ourselves away from everyone for the rest of the night.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can go back to the room by myself.”
“Absolutely not.” Jack was firm as he pressed the button to the elevator. “You’re stuck with me for the rest of the night.”
Ivy laid her head on his shoulder. “The rest of my life.”
“Definitely. It’s you and me forever. Besides, I like the idea of it just being the two of us for the rest of the night. There’s no one else I would rather spend my time with.”
“Me, too.”
“WHY DID THE POWER go out?”
Quinn met the ship’s captain Michael Griffin in the control booth, his confusion on full display. Rowan was with him, her nerves frayed, but Michael barely glanced at her in the face of Quinn’s pointed question.
“It was a storm surge,” Michael replied calmly. “It’s not a normal thing, but it occasionally happens. Lightning hit the water close to us, caused a temporary disruption, but we rebooted the system and it’s fine. We have backups upon backups for situations like this.”
Quinn was momentarily placated. “Oh.”
“So it wasn’t something a guest did or anything?” Rowan queried. “You’re sure of that, right?”
“I’m definitely sure of that,” Michael confirmed. “We’ve been through this before. It’s not common, but it has been known to happen. Everything is back up and running, though.”
Quinn relaxed his stance, the worry that had been coursing through him dissipating. “Well, if you say it’s normal, I guess I have to believe you.”
“It’s not normal, but this is hardly the first time it’s happened. I’ve been through it three times over the course of my career. That storm came out of nowhere — which happens on the open seas — and it’s going to last at least another hour or two. We should be fine, though. We’re lowering our speed, just to be on the safe side, but we’ll be through to the other side by ten.”
“That’s a relief.” Quinn flicked his eyes to Rowan and offered her a rueful smile. “I guess I freaked out for nothing, huh?”
“We both freaked out for nothing,” Rowan corrected. “I thought it had to be something else. I didn’t realize lightning was an issue on the water. Now that I think about it, though, I feel kind of stupid for not realizing it.”
“We plan on sending out complimentary dessert baskets to all the rooms to keep the guests happy,” Michael said. “I’ve already ordered for it to happen. The guests will return to their rooms, eat some cookies, and then probably have sex because cookies make most people want to have sex.”
Quinn made an exaggerated face. “What world are you living in that cookies make people want to have sex? That’s not a thing.” He looked to Rowan for confirmation. “Right?”
Rowan shrugged, noncommittal. “I could eat a cookie.”
He snickered despite himself. “I’ll give you a cookie.” He poked her side before shaking his head and turning back to Michael. “Is there something I should be doing to reassure the passengers?”
“I’m getting reports from all around the ship. Everything seems to be back to normal. Go back to what you were doing and have a nice night. Not everything is cause for panic.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
“You do that.”
ROWAN WASN’T QUITE READY to let go of her anxiety once she and Quinn hit the tiki bar. Thankfully, because of the storm, the bulk of the guests opted to remain indoors. That gave them the run of the place — other than Demarcus — to talk over a few things.
“I thought for sure someone killed the lights so they could commit another murder,” she admitted as Demarcus delivered a rum runner to her before she could place an order. “What is this?”
“You look like you need alcohol to settle,” Demarcus replied, handing Quinn a Corona before plopping in a chair. “I need to get off my feet so I was simply trying to get ahead of your orders.”
“That’s very nice of you,” Rowan said dryly, making a face as she sipped her cocktail. “This is strong.”
“You look like you have a lot of settling to do.”
Quinn chuckled, genuinely amused. “He’s not wrong. That will probably take the edge off for you, which I’m not opposed to.”
Rowan muttered something under her breath that Quinn couldn’t quite make out. It sounded like “I’ll show you my edge,” but he couldn’t be sure. Either way, he was keen to avoid an argument so he opted to pretend he didn’t hear the disagreeable words. “Did you lose power up here, Demarcus?”
“I did.” The weary-looking bartender nodded. “It was freaky. I was up here alone and the power died at the exact second a huge bolt of lightning hit the water. It felt close — like ridiculously close — and I could actually feel my hair standing on end.”
“That is freaky,” Rowan said, clucking her sympathy. “What did you do?”
“I had a drink to calm myself.”
“No wonder you’re so chill,” Quinn teased. “Although ... are you supposed to be drinking on the job?”
“Bite me. It was dark as a crypt up here. You have no idea. Without the lights on the walkways around the deck, it was eerie. Like ... ghost movie eerie.”
“Well, I guess I’ll let it go this one time,” Quinn said. “I probably would’ve started drinking under those circumstances, too.”
“I definitely would have,” Rowan agreed, taking another sip of her rum runner. “This is good.”
“You haven’t eaten dinner yet,” Quinn reminded her. “You might want to take it slow so you don’t tip into drunk territory without realizing it.”
“Yes, sir.” Rowan mock saluted as her eyes fired. “Whatever you say, sir.”
“Oh, geez.” Quinn rolled his eyes. “Why are you purposely trying to make my life difficult?”
“I think that’s your imagination, sir,” Rowan shot back. “I’m being a diligent employee, sir.”
Demarcus’s amusement was obvious as he attempted to hold back a chuckle ... and failed. “I would definitely get some food into her.”
“That’s the plan,” Quinn acknowledged. “We simply wanted to check in with you before heading inside. You haven’t heard or seen anything else of interest tonight, have you?”
“Um ... I saw the personal assistant of the dead woman tying one on in the Neptune Bar & Grill a few hours ago. She looked to be drowning her sorrows with an audience.”
“What audience?” Rowan asked, abandoning her efforts to irritate Quinn. “Who was she with?”
“Other members of that group, including the two who will share duties as the face of the organization now that Margaret Adkins is dead.”
“Joseph Guthrie and Brenda Farmer?” Quinn queried.
“Yup. They were both there partying, too.”
“That’s interesting. Did anyone seem to be mourning Margaret’s death? From what I understand, she wasn’t exactly well-liked. Still, you would think they’d at least pretend to be sad over her passing.”
“You would think,” Demarcus agreed. “No one in that group looked sad. Of course, once you’re drunk, normal emotions sometimes go out the window. They might wake up regretting their actions tomorrow morning.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” Quinn slid his gaze to Rowan and found her watching him with contemplative eyes. “I don’t see where t
here’s anything we can do about their carousing tonight. I’ll question them tomorrow to see if I can get more out of them. Right now, we’re at something of a standstill. A lot of people hated Margaret. Only one of them killed her, though, and it isn’t easy to narrow down the suspect pool.”
“I think they’ll all have hangovers tomorrow, so maybe they will let something slip if you go at them hard enough,” Demarcus suggested. “The only other thing I saw was your Bohemian princess right after the power was restored. She looked a mess.”
“What do you mean by that?” Rowan asked, instantly alert.
“Just that she was white as a ghost and seemed upset,” Demarcus replied. “I went to check the main lobby once the power came back — just to make sure everything was okay — and she was in the corner with that big dude she’s dating. Seriously, he’s like the Hulk or something he’s so big.”
“I could take him in a fight,” Quinn noted. “He’s not that big.”
“Who said anything about a fight?”
Rowan arched a challenging eyebrow. “Yeah. Who said anything about a fight?”
“I was just saying that he’s not as big as he looks,” Quinn countered. “It’s not as if he’s a giant or something.”
“Right,” Demarcus said knowingly. “He’s not a giant. I thought you two were copacetic? I saw you sitting out here talking for more than an hour today. You seemed to be getting along, sharing war wound stories and everything.”
“How do you know what we were sharing?” Quinn asked.
“I’m an eavesdropper. Sue me.”
Quinn scowled. “We were simply getting to know one another.”
“Oh, it was a man date, huh?” Demarcus winked at Rowan, causing her to giggle. “I think that’s a good idea. You don’t have nearly enough man dates.”
“Ugh. I don’t even know why I try to talk to you sometimes.”
“I think you’re a glutton for punishment.” Demarcus flicked his eyes back to Rowan. “Anyway, the Bohemian princess seemed to be upset about something. The Hulk was petting her hair and hugging her. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they headed toward the elevator instead of the dining room. I think the power outage shook her for some reason, but it seems like an extreme reaction.”
“It does seem like an extreme reaction,” Rowan agreed. “Still, maybe she’s sick or something. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
“Do I look worried?” Demarcus tapped the edge of her glass. “Do you want another one or are you going to play it safe?”
“I think one is more than enough for me.”
“I knew you would play it safe.”
“I think he’s calling me a prude,” Rowan complained to Quinn, causing him to smile.
“I happen to like my prude,” Quinn said. “Finish up your drink and we’ll grab some dinner before it gets too late. Then we need to make a plan about how we’re going to handle things tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I know you think that annoys me, but you’re wrong. It kind of turns me on.”
“Well then ... .” Rowan took a deep drink. “What are your orders, sir?”
“Yup. That definitely turns me on.”
IVY DIDN’T EAT MUCH BEFORE slipping into an uneasy sleep. She curled into Jack’s side as he watched television and listened to the storm rage outside.
It was a doozy.
Living in northern Lower Michigan meant that thunderstorms were relegated to the summer months. Occasionally, if things got really bad during the winter, they were graced with something called “thunder snow.” Jack didn’t believe it was a thing until he witnessed it himself. Still, huge thunderstorms weren’t common in Shadow Lake. For some reason, though, on the open sea, this one was almost soothing.
He kept the volume on the television low, old reruns of Friends running in the background. Ivy picked at the dish she ordered from room service, but it mostly went to waste. Jack ate an entire steak and both of his sides before joining Ivy in bed.
Whatever she saw in the vision — or whatever it was — jolted her. She was subdued for the rest of the night, her mind clearly busy, and no matter how Jack tried to cajole her out of her mood, she was determined to remain in her own little world. Ultimately he gave up, tucked her in at his side, and was relieved when she drifted off to sleep. That gave him a chance to think about things without her watching his every facial expression for a hint.
In truth, Ivy’s abilities had been growing since they met. When things first started, she had a hint of intuition that he found intriguing. He wasn’t even sure she realized she had it. She simply knew the best way to approach things, where to look, and how to react when certain situations arose.
Things got weird when they started sharing dreams. Ivy claimed Jack called to her in his slumber, which he believed, but she supplied the power to make it happen. Somehow she sensed he needed her to break from the endless string of nightmares that haunted him. The dreams they shared weren’t always nightmares. Now that he’d put the past behind him, they shared fun dreams. They went on dates ... and she wore coconut bras to amuse him. They fished, something she would never do in real life because she refused to harm an animal. Sometimes they camped, although it was much better than their real camping trip. Still, Jack made a mental note to set up a camping trip for the summer. Ivy loved camping, which meant he would learn to tolerate it.
No matter how weird the dreams were, they weren’t the end of it. She’d seen through the eyes of a killer, which made her a potential victim. They’d solved that case together, but it had been scary toward the end. She’d also talked to a ghost, a feat she accomplished a second time around when hanging with a ghost hunter, and she’d managed to convey her fear to him on more than one occasion.
Jack didn’t believe for a second he was psychic. Ivy was supplying all of the power for the things she managed to accomplish. However she was accomplishing it, though, it was never by design. She didn’t set out to do any of the magical things she managed ... except for the dream walking. They made regular dates for that, although not too many because they both agreed that tripping into each other’s heads every night probably wasn’t smart or healthy.
Ivy murmured something at his side, cuddling closer.
Jack stared at her for a long time, making sure she remained settled, and then he tucked in the covers around her before killing the television and the light. He slouched a little lower in the bed, securing his arm around her back so she would feel safe, and closed his eyes.
They hadn’t agreed to dream walk tonight, but somehow he knew she would be waiting for him. Once he fell into slumber, he knew exactly where he would find her, and he wasn’t disappointed. She was working in the garden in front of the house they shared, seemingly intent on some task he didn’t fully understand.
“Why are you here?” Jack asked, causing her to look over her shoulder. “We should be doing something fun.”
“I wasn’t sure you were coming tonight.”
“I wouldn’t give up the opportunity to spend time with you for anything.”
“Oh, so sweet.” Ivy abandoned her trowel and removed her work gloves. It wasn’t necessary to wear gloves in a dream, but she always did. She was a stickler for certain rules. “Do you want to go to the fairy ring with me?”
Her fairy ring, located in the woods that surrounded the cottage, was her favorite spot when the weather allowed a visit. It was peaceful, and the one place she could always relax.
“That sounds great.” Jack extended his hand. “We’ll go to the fairy ring and have a picnic since you didn’t get to eat very much tonight.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“And yet a picnic still sounds fun, doesn’t it?” As if by magic, a basket appeared in his hand. “It’s your favorite cucumber sandwiches. I also packed a pound of chocolate.”
Ivy snorted, amusement washing over her. “That was impressive. You’re learning how to control the dreamscape.”
&nb
sp; “You would be surprised by what I can learn when it comes to making you happy.”
“Well ... I’m sorry about tonight. I didn’t mean to ruin an entire evening of our vacation.”
“You don’t ruin things. Ever. This is just as good as walking around the ship.”
“Are you sure?”
“Honey, when I’m with you, I’m sure about everything. You’re my heart.”
“You’re mine, too.”
“So, a picnic it is. Then I wouldn’t mind a nice romp under the sun.”
Ivy chuckled. “I like how you just put it out there without being embarrassed or anything.”
“I believe in being honest.”
“And that’s why we’re perfect for each other.”
“Definitely.”
Twelve
Ivy slept hard and was bright-eyed when she woke the next morning. Jack stretched as he watched her, enjoying the soft curve of her mouth.
“That was quite the dream last night,” she offered, her smile wide.
“It was,” he agreed. “I think you really liked those brownies I packed. And the chocolate.”
Ivy snorted. “Yes. You must have spent hours slaving over a hot stove to bake those brownies.”
“Don’t hate the chef.”
“I’m not hating the chef. I’m simply hungry.” Her stomach growled loud enough to fill the room. “See.”
“Then it’s time for breakfast.” He gave her a quick kiss. “I’m glad your appetite is back. As for the rest of it, we’ll figure it out. I’m not sure why you saw what you saw, but we’ll find answers. I promise.”
“You always keep your promises, so I’ll take it.”
QUINN GROWLED WHEN HIS phone beeped on Rowan’s nightstand, cursing under his breath when he snagged the phone. Rowan stirred next to him, her auburn waves standing out in a hundred different directions.
“What’s wrong?” she murmured as his jaw set. “Did something happen?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Emily Little.”
“What about her?”
“She’s dead.”
Wicked Ghostly Seas: A Rowan Gray, Harper Harlow and Ivy Morgan Mystery Omnibus Page 31