Ghostly Seas

by Lily Harper Hart

“And how will that video footage allow you to do that?” Harper asked, lifting her head. “How will it help?”

  “If Zander was in that chair a significant amount of time before Tasha was killed, if he’s unmoving and passed out on the footage, it seems likely that what Jared said is true,” Quinn explained. “He might be alive because the killer simply didn’t know he was there.”

  Harper involuntarily shuddered. “It sounds like a long shot to me. Still, if you can clear Zander, that would make all of us feel better.”

  “I can give it a shot. I’ll put men on the footage first thing in the morning. We might be able to clear your buddy by noon.”

  “That would be great.” Harper brightened. “That will get him out of his funk and back in vacation mode.”

  “That’s the most important thing,” Jared said.

  Harper’s glare was pointed. “Don’t you start.”

  “I’m going to start something else,” he teased, kissing her. “Ok, let’s collect Zander and head back to the rooms. I don’t want to risk any of us being out late again.”

  “That’s probably wise,” Quinn said. “A storm is rolling in. It’s supposed to be a doozy.”

  “Then let’s get him and go,” Harper said. “I want to make sure we’re all safe tonight.”

  Jared nodded grimly. “That’s the plan.”

  10

  Ten

  Zander wasn’t keen on being torn away from the psychic to the stars, but the moment he heard the clap of thunder when they hit the main deck on their way to their rooms, he changed his mind. He was exhausted and needed sleep ... and nobody wanted to be out in the storm.

  Harper and Jared rolled into bed — and into each other’s arms — the second they finished brushing their teeth. The storm was loud outside and the ride was a bit choppier than usual, but it didn’t stop either of them from slipping into slumber.

  By the time they woke the next morning, the storm seemed to be over, which was a relief for both of them.

  “How are you feeling?” Jared asked, pushing her hair away from her face. She slept hard, so that usually meant she was plagued by bedhead. She hated it. He found it adorable.

  “I’m okay.” Harper’s smile was quick and fast. “I know you were worried about me yesterday, but I’m honestly okay.”

  “I was definitely worried,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You seem all right, though. I think we both needed the sleep.”

  “We did.” She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. “That was some storm last night. I thought there was a chance I might get sick from the rolling, but it wasn’t so bad.”

  “I thought I might toss my cookies there for a bit myself,” Jared admitted as he trailed his fingers over her spine. “Once I fell asleep, though, I slept hard.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  Harper nodded. “Yeah, but I want to stay like this for five more minutes. I mean ... if that’s okay with you.”

  He grinned as she shifted lower, and met her gaze. “I want to stay like this forever. I’m pretty sure that’s why I proposed.”

  She rolled her eyes. “We couldn’t make it more than a week because neither one of us likes pizza enough to live on it for the rest of our lives.”

  He barked out a laugh, genuinely amused. “Well, maybe we’ll luck out and get a new sort of delivery service, huh?”

  “That would be nice.” Harper rubbed her nose against his morning stubble. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “No, I really love you.”

  He paused. “Are you saying I really don’t love you?” he asked finally.

  “No, I just love you more this morning.”

  “Oh, really?” His eyebrows hopped. “And why is that?”

  “Because you held it together for me yesterday when I was falling apart. I needed that.”

  “Heart, I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but I was falling apart just as much as you,” Jared admitted. “I honestly understood the odds of Zander being the body on the deck were slim, but between your worry and that little niggling voice in the back of my head, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something horrible was going to happen either.”

  She smirked, amusement washing over her. “It’s good to know you’re not always perfect.”

  “Oh, I was still perfect. I was simply worried and perfect at the same time.”

  “Good to know.” She tightened her grip on him. “Jared?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I don’t know what I would’ve done without him.”

  Jared was well aware of that. “You’re not going to have to find out. He’s safe. He’s going to stay safe. In fact ... .” He broke off and looked at the small clock resting on the nightstand. “We have just enough time.”

  “For what?”

  “To do this for ten minutes, shower, and then collect him for breakfast. I figure you guys will want to spend a bit of time together today.”

  “And that won’t bother you?”

  “No. I’m going to volunteer my services to Quinn again.”

  “You are?” Harper was confused. “But ... why? He made it pretty clear yesterday that he doesn’t want your help.”

  “I want to make sure that Zander is cleared,” Jared replied, matter-of-fact. “The sooner that happens, the better it is for all of us.”

  “What if he won’t let you help?”

  “You let me worry about that.”

  “UGH. WHAT IS THAT NOISE?”

  Rowan wasn’t a morning person, so when Quinn’s phone started going off a full thirty minutes before her alarm, she didn’t take it well.

  “Oh, poor Rowan,” Quinn teased, kissing her forehead before leaning toward the nightstand to grab his phone. “I think you’ll survive.”

  “You don’t know,” Rowan shot back, squeezing her eyes shut. “I read a story in the newspaper once that said it’s entirely possible for people to die if they don’t get enough sleep.”

  “I believe they were probably talking about extreme insomniacs,” Quinn noted. “Getting eight and a half hours of sleep instead of nine isn’t exactly the same thing.”

  “I’m done talking to you.”

  “Oh, my heart.” He touched the “answer” spot on his phone and pressed it to his ear. “Davenport.” He kept an arm around Rowan’s back as she burrowed into his chest. It was as if she knew he would have to leave shortly and she was trying to get her fill while she could. “And you’ve entered his room just to be on the safe side?”

  Rowan lifted her chin to stare at Quinn, concern replacing morning malaise.

  “Okay.” Quinn bobbed his head, resigned. “Get on the cameras — and don’t forget the job I left last night — and see what you can find. I’ll be in my office in thirty minutes.” He disconnected and slowly shifted his eyes to Rowan. “There went my plans for you this morning.”

  She forced a smile. “What’s wrong? I’m almost afraid to ask, but I have to know. Is someone dead?”

  “No, sweetie.” He gave her a quick, reassuring kiss. “No one is dead. Yet.” He hated adding the last part but he felt it was necessary. “Someone is, however, missing.”

  “Who?”

  “Mark Brady.”

  Rowan couldn’t quite identify the emotions rolling through her as she slowly moved to a sitting position. “The psychic to the stars?”

  “One and the same.” Quinn moved his fingers over her arm, noting the goosebumps that had broken out upon her skin. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Do better than that.”

  The look Rowan shot him was withering. “I don’t know what I’m feeling. The guy is a douche — and he’s not dead, at least as far as we know — but the entire thing is weird.”

  “Did you take photos of him?” Quinn asked.

  Rowan nodded. “Yeah. He didn’t have the omen.”

  “Can you do me
a favor and check again?”

  “I should’ve thought of that.” Rowan scrambled out of bed, leaving Quinn to miss her warmth. When she returned with her laptop, he made sure to wrap the blankets around her as she scanned through the photos. “Huh.”

  “What is it?” Quinn propped himself on an elbow and angled his head so he could see the computer screen. “What’s going on?”

  Rowan pointed. “He has an omen, but it’s not the death omen.”

  “It’s the one that means danger, right?” Quinn had trouble keeping the omens straight in his head. So far, Rowan had seen three different symbols. Before arriving on The Bounding Storm, she’d only seen one. The new omens were hard to grasp, although Quinn recognized Rowan would eventually have to get over her reservations.

  “That’s what Sally told me,” Rowan replied after a beat. “She recognized the symbol from her time in New Orleans. I’ve only seen it once before.”

  “There’s no death omen on that photo, though,” Quinn pointed out. He’d trained himself to recognize the omens no matter where they showed up in a photograph. “That’s good. That means he’s not dead.”

  “Probably not dead,” she clarified. “I don’t think being in trouble precludes someone dying.”

  “No. I agree.” Conflicted, Quinn rested his forehead against her temple. “I don’t want you getting worked up over this situation. We’re going to find him. Odds are, he’s naked in some woman’s bed somewhere. I have to figure that he occasionally takes sex as payment when removing one of those curses he keeps talking about. That’s why it’s always women who end up with the curses.”

  Rowan made a face, horrified. “Do you think that’s true?”

  He shrugged. “I think it’s likely.”

  “Ugh. That is horrible.”

  “I agree with you there.” He wrapped his arms around her, being careful to protect the laptop as she continued to stare. “I have to get going. I’ve got men all over the ship looking for Brady. I need to join in, though.”

  “Do you want me to help? I mean ... I can stick with you all day if you need me.”

  “I always want you with me.” He meant it. “You need to focus on photos, though. I want fresh photos of everyone you can manage so we can track the omen situation ... and by that I mean the death omen situation. I still think we’re dealing with a big event and I don’t want to lose sight of that.”

  “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

  “If I had my druthers, we would spend the entire day in bed and tune out the rest of the world. That doesn’t appear to be an option today. We have to do what we have to do ... and that means figuring out what’s going on with those death omens and trying to track down the missing psychic. I think we’re going to have to split duties on this one.”

  She recognized what he was saying. That didn’t mean she liked it, but she understood. “Okay. I’ll keep on the death omens.”

  “Good.” He kissed the corner of her mouth softly. “Keep in touch throughout the day. I want to know that you’re safe ... and if you’ve managed to track anything down.”

  “Will you do the same for me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then we have a plan.”

  “We do indeed.”

  “I’M DYING.”

  Zander was a pasty mess when he ushered Harper and Jared into his room. He was pale, a bit green around the gills, and his eyes were sunken.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Jared asked, confused.

  “I just told you that I’m dying,” Zander shot back. “Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

  Jared glared at him. “Do you want me to smack you around?”

  “Oh, whatever.” Zander flopped on his bed and threw an arm over his face. “I think I have scurvy.”

  “Oh, geez,” Jared muttered under his breath.

  Instead of giving her best friend grief, Harper moved to his side and pressed her hand to his forehead. “You might be a little warm,” she hedged. “I’m pretty sure you don’t have scurvy, though.”

  “How do you know?” Zander was feeling petulant as he glared at her. “How can you possibly know that I don’t have scurvy?”

  “Well ... .” Harper looked to Jared for help.

  “How am I supposed to know that he doesn’t have scurvy?” Jared protested. “I’m not a doctor. Unless ... is scurvy one of those made-up diseases I read about, like the vapors?”

  Harper rolled her eyes so hard Jared was surprised she didn’t topple over. “Scurvy is real. It’s what happens when you don’t have enough vitamin C in your diet. It used to happen quite often on ships because they didn’t have access to fresh fruit.”

  “Oh.” Jared was mildly impressed she knew something like that. “The vapors isn’t real, though, right?”

  “How do you even know about the vapors?” Zander complained.

  “Harper has dirty books and I read about it in one of them.”

  “Oh, Mutiny from Behind?” Zander asked knowingly. “Yeah. I read that book, too. I thought it was a pirate story.”

  “There was a lot of booty talk,” Jared noted, causing Zander to give up a dry chuckle.

  “The vapors was a catch-all term used for people — usually women — back in the day,” Harper snapped. “It was used to describe things like bipolar disorder and PMS.”

  “Wait ... PMS?” Jared was officially amused. “Oh, I can’t wait until the next time you’re bloated. I’m totally going to get you a T-shirt exclaiming you have the vapors.”

  Zander chortled before groaning and rolling to his side. “Seriously, I think I’m dying.”

  Harper returned to fretting over her friend. “Well, what’s wrong with you?”

  “I have scurvy.”

  “You don’t have scurvy,” she snapped, annoyed. “Maybe you’re sick from yesterday or something.”

  “You mean from when you puked on me?” Zander’s expression turned dark. “Oh, you’re the one that gave me scurvy. I should’ve seen it coming.”

  Sensing where the conversation was going, Jared smoothly stepped between the two friends. “You don’t have scurvy. Harper isn’t sick.”

  “Scurvy isn’t contagious anyway,” Harper growled.

  “All she had yesterday morning when she puked on you was coffee,” Jared pointed out. “She didn’t throw up because she was sick with anything but worry about you. Stop giving her a hard time.”

  “Oh, you always take her side,” Zander complained. “She gave me scurvy and you know it.”

  “I’m going to give you a black eye,” Harper muttered, concern for her friend evaporating.

  “Just ... chill out.” Jared held up a hand to Harper. “When did you start feeling sick, Zander? Did you wake up like this?”

  “No. It was last night.”

  “Last night?” Jared searched his brain. “Wait ... did you get sick during the storm?”

  Zander shot him a withering look. “I didn’t realize you needed all the pertinent details. Do you want me to describe how the puke looked to you, too?”

  “No. When you got sick is more than enough information.”

  “It was last night.” Zander made a whining sound in the back of his throat. “I remember because the storm was raging. I was in bed, ready to fall asleep, and the next thing I knew I raced into the bathroom. It lasted all night ... even though my stomach was empty.”

  Things slipped into place for Jared. “You’re seasick.”

  “I am not.”

  “You are. You got sick during the storm because the ship was more active than usual. It’s essentially motion sickness.”

  “It is not motion sickness.” Zander was incensed. “Motion sickness is boring. I have scurvy.”

  “Fine.” Jared held his hands up in mock defeat. “You have scurvy. What do you want us to do for you?”

  “There’s nothing you can do.” Zander adopted a dramatic tone as he waved his hand in front of his face. “I’m dying and there’s absolutely nothing you c
an do about it. Go on. Save yourselves.”

  Harper opened her mouth to say something, but she caught Jared’s eye a split second before and he shook his head. Following his cue, she merely nodded and changed course. “Well, you’re the bravest person I know, Zander. I hope the scurvy doesn’t kill you.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Do you want me to stay here with you all day?”

  The gleam in Zander’s eye told Jared he’d been considering just that, but he clearly changed his mind when he recognized the dark expression on Jared’s face.

  “No, I’ll survive on my own. I don’t want you to get it.”

  “I already told you scurvy isn’t contagious,” Harper complained.

  “And it’s definitely not contagious if you’re not in the room with him,” Jared said, grabbing Harper’s arm and giving it a good tug. “Come on. We need to leave Zander to suffer on his own. That’s the only way his sacrifice will truly be appreciated.”

  “Save yourselves,” Zander echoed.

  Harper waited until they were safely on the other side of the door to speak. “What are you doing? He’s sick. He needs me.”

  “He’s seasick,” Jared corrected. “He’s not dying. He’s fine. I bet he’ll be back on his feet in a few hours. He’s just looking for attention.”

  “Why don’t you want me to give it to him?”

  “Because it will be easier for us to investigate things on our own if he’s not with us. We can’t clear him if he’s constantly hanging over our shoulders.”

  “I don’t know.” Harper glanced back at the closed door. “He’s my friend.”

  “And he’s in no danger of dying. In fact ... .” Jared trailed off when Quinn rounded the corner. The security guard pulled up short when he saw them, his eyes keen. “What’s going on?”

  Quinn regrouped. “The psychic is missing. We’re trying to track him down. I was just checking on Zander to make sure he’s accounted for.”

  “He is,” Jared confirmed. “He’s seasick, though. He was up puking all night and looks like death warmed over.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” Quinn came to a stop in front of them. “The ocean was a bit rough last night.” He bounced his gaze between Jared and Harper. “You guys look okay.”