Wicked Honeymoon (An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book 19)

by Lily Harper Hart

  Jack wasn’t ready to cede the point. “We might’ve needed help, too. We could’ve been left behind and he would’ve had no idea what happened to us.”

  “I get that but ... .”

  “He has a job to do,” Jack insisted, blowing right past her response. “I expect him to do it.”

  Ivy was quiet for a beat, waiting.

  “What?” Jack asked when she didn’t speak again, self-consciously running a hand through his hair. “Do I look funny?”

  “You look handsome, as always,” she said. “I just think you might be a tad worked up.”

  “Oh, you always say that. I’m not worked up.”

  “No? My bad.” She moved to roll away from him, but he kept her securely in his arms. “What?” She was honestly curious. She’d found, when he got like this, it was best to let him rant. Ironically, she got the same way. She understood he was feeling helpless and simply wanted to express himself. She wasn’t against it.

  “I love you.” He’d said it multiple times since they landed safely at the campsite.

  “I love you, too.”

  “I need you to be safe.” He spoke from the heart. “What would’ve happened if I’d been struck by lightning out there? How would you have gotten the kayak and my body here? I know you wouldn’t have left my body behind, which means you would’ve been in danger the entire time.”

  Since the idea of having to do anything with his body filled her with dread, all she could do was frown. “Jack ... that didn’t happen.”

  “It could have.”

  “It could’ve happened to you, too. How would you have gotten my body and the kayak down here?”

  He glared. “I don’t want to think about anything like that.”

  “And I do?”

  “I ... just hate camping!” The loud complaint was out of his mouth before he thought better of it. He instantly regretted losing his cool, but it felt good to vent.

  Rather than be offended, or upset, she merely smiled. “We have tonight and tomorrow to get through. Then we’re back at the rustic hotel for a night before hitting your tropical beach. We’re going to make it.”

  “We are,” he agreed, reining himself in. “We’re definitely going to make it. I just ... hate camping.”

  He sounded so whiny all Ivy could do was hug him. “There, there.”

  “I’m being serious. How can you think this is fun?”

  “Honestly, this trip hasn’t been what I hoped it would be.” And that, she realized, was like a dagger to the heart. “I pictured romantic nights and lots of cuddling. I expected philosophical discussions with other nature lovers. I expected snuggles next to the campfire while eating s’mores. Most importantly, I thought you would finally see why I love camping so much.”

  “Aw, honey.” He felt like the villain in a superhero movie. “I love camping. I didn’t mean that.”

  Ivy extended a warning finger. “Don’t start lying now. You meant what you said .... and you have a right to your opinion. This trip has sucked. We haven’t gotten to have any fun and you’re going to be able to hold this over my head for the rest of our lives. I think you’ve earned it by being a good sport about all this.”

  She made him laugh, as usual. “Is that what you’re worried about? Me holding it over your head, I mean.”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “I won’t hold this over your head.”

  She shot him a stern look.

  “I won’t hold this over your head once we’ve been back home a full month,” he clarified. “I’m going to have to hold it over your head a little.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It just means I love being right, too.”

  “Fair enough.” She pressed a kiss to his chest and then rested her head above his heart so she could hear the steady beat. “The good news is that I’m looking forward to the beach as much as you now.”

  “Good.”

  “I still want to talk to Tyson tonight. I have questions.”

  Jack considered arguing and then shook his head. “Then we’ll both talk to Tyson. You’re going to have to do something with your hair before that, though. He’s going to think you’re deranged if you hit him up for information right now.”

  Ivy didn’t have to look at his reflection to know he was right. “Five more minutes of this and then we’ll get ready. I’m starving again.”

  “That sounds like a plan.”

  DINNER WAS GOOD, TO THE POINT of Ivy being thankful she’d thought ahead and jumped in elastic-band pants to ensure comfort. Someone — likely Sandy, Ivy figured — had keyed into her love of morels and the morel ravioli they’d served her for dinner this evening had elicited so many groans Jack had taken to whispering suggestive ideas into her ear when nobody was looking.

  Instead of retiring to their tent, as both of them would’ve likely preferred, they headed to the bonfire once the dishes had been cleared. Ivy was determined to question Tyson, and she went right for the jugular once everybody was settled.

  “You mentioned before that people had gone missing when on the river,” she started. “How many people are we talking about?”

  Tyson’s expression was quizzical when he focused on her. “Are you worried about what happened to you guys today? I don’t know how many different ways I can apologize.”

  “You should never apologize,” Bart offered. “Stick to your guns. That’s how you get ahead in business.”

  Ivy ignored him — although it wasn’t easy — and kept her eyes on Tyson. “I’m just curious. I probably didn’t research the river as thoroughly as I should have before we decided to head out on our honeymoon. Jack will be reminding me of that for the rest of our lives.”

  Jack made a protesting sound. “I said it was only a month, and likely only with your father, brother, and Brian. I have to be able to complain to someone. Come on.”

  Ivy patted his thigh, which was pressed tightly against hers, but didn’t look in his direction. She had an agenda this evening, and nothing was going to stop her from tackling this problem directly.

  “A lot of people have gone missing over the years,” Tyson admitted. “I don’t have a statistical breakdown for you, but I can say that more women than men have disappeared.”

  “How about bodies?” Jack queried. “Have bodies been found?”

  “Some. The part of the river we’re tackling tomorrow is notorious for sucking in bodies and not giving them up, though. Where they end up, nobody can say. I was worried about you guys earlier, but the part of the river you were on is known for being slow and steady, so I didn’t panic or anything.”

  “Why do you think it’s women who go missing more than men?” Vanessa asked. She looked worried at the prospect. “I mean ... does the river prefer women or something? There has to be a reason.”

  “I haven’t really thought about it, but I guess part of it likely has something to do with the fact that almost sixty-five percent of our customer base is female,” Tyson replied. He looked legitimately thoughtful. “We have entire groups of women who like to come down as a group.

  “Some groups are like you guys, all couples,” he continued. “We’ve had a few people go missing in groups like that, but they’ve been really good about removing dangers from the river over the past three years.

  “Most of the time, what happens is the kayak somehow gets snagged on a tree. We have regular scouting missions in case trees fall overnight. It happens after storms, and I promise there’s a team out there right now scouting thanks to the storm earlier today.

  “When the kayak snags, the initial instinct is to try to push your way free with a paddle. It works sometimes but other times it causes more problems. I would guess — and nobody quote me on this because I obviously have no proof — that somehow the kayak ends up tipped over in these scenarios. If the water is too fast, sometimes those inside the kayak can’t swim their way clear, find themselves trapped, and die that way.”

&nbs
p; To Jack, that sounded like the worst way to go. “What should you do if you tip over like that?” He looked tense at the prospect.

  “The key is to not tip over,” Ivy replied. “If you get snagged in a tree when the water is fierce, climb out of the kayak and wade around the tree, pushing the kayak to open water in the process. You’ll end up wet, but it’s safer.”

  Tyson beamed at her. “That’s exactly it. You have a firm head on your shoulders when it comes to things like this.”

  Ivy smiled, but it didn’t make it all the way to her eyes. “How many women have gone missing? Just ballpark it for me.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I would say more than twenty but less than forty. We’re talking over years here, and the route has been shut down when it comes to the most dangerous legs. There’s one right on the backside of the one we’re taking tomorrow, for example, that is treacherous. I’ve been doing this gig for years and even I won’t stay in the water for that leg.”

  “But we’re not doing that part of it, right?” Vanessa pressed. She looked absolutely terrified. “I mean ... there’s no way we could accidentally miss our window and end up on that part of the river, is there?”

  “Absolutely none.” Tyson was firm as he shook his head. “Tomorrow will be a little different. Everybody is expected to wear their life jacket. That is non-negotiable.” He sent a stern look toward Bart, who was the sort who would argue just to argue. “Then we will have a straight line.

  “Cara will go first,” he continued. “She’ll be followed by Ivy and Jack.”

  Jack stirred. “Why us?”

  “Because you’re the strongest kayakers. You don’t need anyone watching you, for the most part, and you’re capable of setting a good pace. Carter and Damien will follow. Then Harold and Eleanor will be in the middle, followed by Nate and Vanessa.” He was grim as he said the rest. “Bart and Lily will be back by me.”

  “Is that because you think we need the most help?” Lily asked, her pale features almost ashen. “I mean ... do you think we’re in danger?”

  “Probably not.” Tyson offered up a flat smile. “I think it will likely be fine. I just want to take precautions.”

  Ivy slid her eyes to Jack, contemplative. She had questions about the configuration for the following day, but she couldn’t ask them in front of everybody. Her biggest one revolved around Lily and Bart. She filed it away to talk through with Jack once they were back in their tent.

  “Well, I said I would never be able to eat again, but I kind of want a s’more,” Ivy admitted to her husband. “Do you want to get me all sugared up and then take me to bed?”

  Jack nodded without hesitation. “Just for the record, you never need to ask that question. The answer is always yes.”

  “Somehow I knew you would say that.”

  15

  Fifteen

  Jack decided that he wanted to scope out the campground before bed, despite Ivy’s sugar high … and how he wanted to utilize it once they were alone. She urged him to go — many of the men seemed to be doing the same — and took the opportunity to get to know the female group members better. She especially wanted to talk to Lily, Jack knew, so he decided it couldn’t possibly hurt to waste twenty minutes wandering around.

  “You and your wife seem really into one another,” Harold noted as he stood near the tree line and studied the shadows. “That’s good. It’s good to have a healthy marriage like that, I mean.”

  Jack nodded. “I love her more than anything.”

  “It shows.”

  “What about you and Eleanor? How long have you been married?”

  “Twenty-five years. She’s not much for the outdoors, but she knows that I’ve had my heart set on this trip for a long time. I was supposed to go with my brother, but he came down with cancer. This would’ve been our fifth kayaking trip together — and we paid for this one two years out — but he’s undergoing chemotherapy so he can’t really risk it.”

  “No, I would say not.” Jack was taken aback by Harold’s suddenly forthcoming nature. “That’s ... terrible. I’m sorry.”

  Harold flashed a wan smile. “It’s stage two. That’s better than the other stages, so he’s got a good shot. I just wish he was here.”

  “It sounds like you’re close with your brother.” Jack thought about his sister. “Ivy is close with her brother, too. This is the sort of trip I think they would love to take together ... if they didn’t kill each other going down the river that is.”

  Harold let loose a low chuckle. “Do they fight like you and Ivy fight? That must be rough on you.”

  Jack was hesitant to answer the question but knew it would be awkward if he sidestepped it. “They’re competitive. You should see them when morel season rolls around. I’ve been with them during two seasons now and they disappear in the woods for hours to see who can get the most mushrooms.”

  “Mushrooms you seem to hate.”

  “I do hate them. They’re gritty and gross.”

  “At least they’re not poisonous. Your wife is such a fan she would never fall for the fake morels, the ones that can kill you. Although, if she ever wanted to plot your death, I’m guessing that would be the way to go for her.”

  Jack swallowed hard. “I ... um ... haven’t given it that much thought. I’m hopeful she never wants to kill me.”

  “I doubt she will. Maybe in the heat of the moment or something, but never over the long haul.”

  The clarification didn’t make Jack feel better. “Yes, well ... do you eat a lot of morels?”

  Harold snorted at the question. “Not really. You can find them by us, but I’ve never been one for heading out to the woods to mushroom hunt. That seems like a waste of time. That being said, roadside stands pop up with them in April like clockwork and I do stop once a year to buy for a little treat. I always make sure to look for false morels in whatever I buy, too. Just in case.”

  “That’s good. Does your wife like them?”

  “No, she won’t eat them. It’s fine. I just throw them on a steak.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jack found he was distinctly uncomfortable with the conversation, although Harold didn’t strike him as the type to want to kill his wife. He was simply too boring to plot anything of the sort. “Well, I’m sorry to hear about your brother.” Something occurred to him before he could peel off and check the rest of the campsite. “You said you’ve taken river trips with your brother before. Have you ever been on this river?”

  “No. We usually opt for smaller rivers. This was going to be our big trip. I’m hopeful, once he’s better in a couple years, we can make the trip how we intended to.”

  “Yeah. I hope that works out for you.”

  “HOW ARE YOU DOING, LILY?” Ivy opted to take the conversation directly to the quiet woman once she was certain Bart wasn’t within hearing distance. She had no idea how much time she would have to feel Lily out and she was anxious to take advantage as quickly as possible.

  “I’m fine.” Lily flashed a bland smile. “How are you?”

  It was a perfunctory answer, Ivy noted. Lily was big on being polite. As far as Ivy could tell, the woman hadn’t as much as uttered a single complaint since they all landed in front of the registration table that first day.

  “I’m pretty good.” Ivy hoped her demeanor came off as friendly rather than inquisitive, merely curious rather than digging for specific information. “The storm earlier was something, huh? Were you guys on the river when it hit?”

  “We were.” For the first time, Lily offered up an actual facial expression. “I was terrified, but Tyson told us to stay on the river because we were only five minutes out. It took us more like ten minutes — and the water was rocky there for a bit — but we made it.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah, everybody was worried about you, though.” Lily turned her full attention to Ivy. “Were you frightened when you were out there?”

  Ivy lifted one shoulder, internally debating if she should eat another s�
��more. She was already sugared up, but she was also a big fan of the campfire concoction and she wanted something to do with her hands. “Not really. We got off the water the second the rain started. We were already under the kayak when the storm got really bad. We just had to wait it out.”

  “Yes, but you were trapped under a kayak with your husband. That had to be terrifying.”

  “My husband isn’t terrifying.”

  “He yells. I’ve seen him.”

  Ivy racked her brain for instances of Jack showing off his temper in front of Lily and came up empty. Sure, he’d raised his voice a few times, but that was his way. He hadn’t outright yelled as far as she could remember. “When did he yell?”

  “He yelled at Bart, said he was smug and cold.”

  “That wasn’t really yelling. Trust me, when he wants to yell, it sounds nothing like that.”

  “So ... he didn’t yell at you when the storm started?” Lily queried. “Bart would’ve been hopping mad if we were in your position. He would’ve done nothing but yell the entire time.”

  Ivy’s heart went out to the woman. “I’m sorry about that. He sounds like a real ... .” She wasn’t certain what word to land on.

  “Jackass,” Carter volunteered easily. “He’s a jackass.”

  Lily’s eyes went wide and she immediately searched the area surrounding the fire. It was clear to Ivy that she was frightened her husband might hear someone speaking poorly about him and perhaps take it out on his wife.

  “It’s okay,” Ivy said in a low voice, leaning closer. “You don’t have to be afraid of him.”

  “I’m not afraid,” Lily replied automatically. “He’s a good husband, a good provider. He’s a good man.” She tagged on the last part as an afterthought it seemed. “I’m not afraid of my husband. I respect him. There’s a difference.”

  Ivy decided to go for broke. “I think you’re afraid of him.”