“Oh, I’m always careful where Ivy is concerned,” Jack said as he stood. “Thanks for the warning, though. I’ll keep her safe.”
“You do that.”
Seven
The swimsuit Ivy ultimately picked was plain. It was a simple blue color, solid straps and full coverage, and although it didn’t have built-in foam cups or anything, Jack couldn’t stop himself from calling it a “granny” swimsuit.
“I wish you would stop obsessing about the swimsuit,” Ivy complained, a towel slung over her arm as she and Jack made their way to the VIP pool. “I think it’s perfectly nice.”
He slid her a sidelong look. “Honey, I don’t care what you wear.”
Ivy waited for him to continue. When he didn’t immediately say anything else, she gave him a push. “But?”
“But nothing.” Jack was firm. “I happen to like it when you wear those skirts that cover everything ... including your ankles. They give me ideas. The bathing suit is the same.”
Ivy glanced down at the simple tank suit. “I just don’t feel comfortable being on display. I’m never going to wear a bikini.”
Jack’s smile turned soft. “I don’t care about that.” He leaned closer to whisper so only she could hear him. “I think you forget that I get to see you naked whenever I want. Besides, you wear that coconut bra I like in the dreamscape.”
Ivy hadn’t really considered that and she tilted her head to the side as Jack held open a door for her. “Huh.”
“That wasn’t meant to be a suggestion that you take the coconut bra away from me in the dreams,” Jack added hurriedly.
Not long after they met, something odd occurred. Ivy found herself drawn into Jack’s dreams. That’s how she knew the details of his shooting ... intimately. He relived the night his partner betrayed him and fired two bullets into his chest over and over again. And he suffered because of it.
Jack called Ivy into his dreams and she helped him work through it. She still wasn’t sure why it happened. Jack was convinced she supplied the power and somehow recognized his need, but Ivy remained on the fence. That was hardly the only odd occurrence since they’d gotten together, though. Since then, Ivy had managed to see through the eyes of a killer, get a few psychic flashes, and even communicate with Jack on a very basic level when they were great distances apart.
She had no idea what to make of any of it.
“I’m not going to take your special treat away from you,” Ivy said finally. “I simply never thought about it. I’m trying to figure out why I’m okay dressing in skimpy clothes in the dreamscape but not in real life.”
It was early, so the VIP pool area was completely empty. Jack couldn’t help being thrilled by the turn of events.
“I think I know why you’re more comfortable in the dreamscape,” Jack offered as he spread his towel out over a lounger.
Ivy looked to him expectantly.
“It’s because you trust me.”
She snorted. “Of course I trust you. I wouldn’t marry someone I don’t trust. Beyond that, though, I’m pretty sure I recognized that I could trust you the first day we met. We fought and kind of sniped at one another, but there was something about you that I couldn’t stop thinking about.”
“Yeah.” Jack turned wistful. “I couldn’t stop thinking about your skirts. I wondered if you wore underwear under them.”
Ivy threw the bottle of sunscreen she carried at him, which he easily caught as he chuckled.
“You’re so easy, honey,” Jack teased.
“I’m not going to go there because it will lead to a fight,” Ivy said after a beat. “We promised not to fight while we were on vacation.”
“We promised to do our best not to fight,” Jack clarified. “Fighting is what we do. Making up is what we do even better.”
“Yes, well, I don’t want to fight today.” She stripped off her shorts and stared at the basic tank suit. “I do want you to finish what you were saying before, though.”
“And what was that?”
“About me being more comfortable in the dreamscape.”
“Oh, that.” Jack’s smile turned easy. “You’re more comfortable in the dreamscape because it’s just you and me. We don’t judge each other. We accept each other for what we are, who we are. It’s the same reason I’m more comfortable having my shirt off in the dreamscape than in public.”
Ivy stilled. “You have an amazing body. It’s so amazing I turn into one of those drooling women who lose the ability to think when you’re without a shirt.”
Jack’s eyes warmed. “Thank you, honey. I feel the same way about you even though you insist on covering yourself like you’re Amish sometimes. It’s not that I think I’m fat.”
“What is it?”
Jack sighed. “It’s this.” He pulled off his shirt, thankful they were the only ones at the pool, and tapped the scars close to his heart. “I don’t like people looking at them because I can tell they’re wondering what happened, what I did to deserve them.”
Ivy’s heart rolled. “Jack ... .”
“No, I know it’s ridiculous. I don’t like people staring at them. You don’t like people staring at you because you think they’re whispering behind your back. In truth, most people stare at you because you’re beautiful ... and unique.”
“Maisie and Ava?” Ivy let her dubious nature out to play, referring to two Shadow Lake women who made her temperature boil due to snide comments and rolled eyes.
“Those ladies are more hyenas than women,” Jack countered, holding out the sunscreen so Ivy would have no choice but to cross to him to reclaim it. “You can’t make everyone into a nice person. That’s not how the world works. Most people, though, see perfection when they look at you.”
“I think you’re laying it on a little thick.”
“I’m simply being truthful.”
Ivy sighed as she held his gaze for a long beat. “You’re really good for my ego.”
“You’re really good for my everything.”
Ivy rested her fingertips on his scars as he drew her in for a hug. “You’re perfect, Jack. Don’t let anyone say anything different. Even when you’re being a walking booger about the morels, you’re still perfect.”
“Oh. How can I not kiss you after that?” Jack didn’t wait for an answer, instead pressing his lips to hers and offering a smoldering kiss that made Ivy’s head spin. “I love you,” he whispered against her ear. “For so many reasons.”
“I love you, too.” Ivy patted his back. “Now, you need to help me put this sunscreen on. I don’t want to burn.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And after that, we’ll vacation like nobody has ever vacationed before.”
Jack snickered. “That sounds like a plan.”
“WHAT AM I LOOKING AT again?”
Sally Jenkins, the head chef on The Bounding Storm, was supposed to be making a decision about changing her seafood distributor. Instead she was looking at a photograph featuring a woman with pink hair and her ridiculously attractive boyfriend while Rowan spouted nonsense that Sally couldn’t quite follow.
“How many times do I have to tell you this?” Rowan’s eyes flashed. “I need to know what this symbol means. You’re the one who knew what the other symbols meant. How hard can it be to figure this one out?”
Sally wasn’t used to Rowan being the one to fly off the handle. The auburn-haired photographer was the even-keeled one in their relationship. Sally was the one prone to fits of whimsy. “I’m not sure I even see a symbol,” she said after a beat.
“You don’t see a symbol?” Rowan was taken aback. “How can you not see it? Quinn sees it. I see it.”
“Maybe I don’t have your eagle eyes,” Sally drawled, her annoyance coming out to play. “Maybe you should draw it for me or something.”
“Fine.” Rowan plucked the ink pen from Sally’s hand and stole the notepad she was doodling on.
“Hey!” Sally made a face. “I’m doing actual work here.”
/>
“So am I.” Rowan was firm. “I’m trying to figure out if this woman is in danger or if this symbol means something else entirely. You’re our symbol expert.”
“I grew up in New Orleans and recognize a few pagan symbols,” Sally corrected. “I hardly think that means I’m a symbol expert.”
“Yeah, well, you’re better than me.” Rowan finished her haphazard sketch and handed it to Sally. “It kind of looks like a woman, right?”
Sally furrowed her brow as she glanced between the sketch and the photograph. “Huh. Now that you mention it, I can see the symbol. That is so weird.”
“Focus!” Rowan tapped the table for emphasis. “This could be important.”
Sally had only been in on Rowan’s big secret for a short amount of time, finding out by accident and then picking a fight until she could think things through. Ultimately, she realized it was Rowan’s secret to tell – and she had plenty of reasons for wanting to keep it – and there was no reason to hold her self-preservation impulse against her. They’d been carefully feeling around each other ever since.
“It looks like the crone, Rowan,” Sally said finally.
Rowan wasn’t sure how to respond. “What do you mean? Crone?”
“It’s a pagan symbol.” Sally chose her words carefully. “There are several of them. The crone is one of them. It’s a standard symbol, not good or bad. I’m not sure what it means in the grand scheme of things ... especially from your perspective.”
Whatever she was expecting, that wasn’t it. Rowan sank into the chair across from Sally and stared hard at the drawing. “Give me your best guess,” she said finally. “Why would this symbol show up in the same spot as the other symbols?”
“I don’t know.” Sally wished she had a way to help her friend. Rowan looked so morose she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d disappointed the woman. “Maybe she’s a priestess.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“A witch,” Sally said finally, cringing when Rowan shot her an incredulous look. “Listen, I’m not the one who created the crone symbol, so you can wipe that look right off your face. I don’t know what to tell you.
“The crone symbol is as old as the new world and it often referred to witches,” she continued. “At home, in the French Quarter, a lot of tattoo artists use the crone symbol when creating one-of-a-kind works because people believe there’s magic associated with it.”
Rowan was perplexed as she rubbed her jaw. “Do you think witches are real?”
“Oh, definitely.” Sally bobbed her head without hesitation. “I’ve seen some hinky stuff in my time. There are good witches and bad witches, by the way. White and dark, if you will. Not all witches are evil.”
“Okay.” Rowan sucked in a breath as she stared at the photograph. “So Ivy is a witch. Do you think she knows that?”
“Probably. Although ... how can you be sure that the symbol is referring to the woman?”
“Because it’s a crone.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t necessarily denote gender,” Sally supplied. “Warlocks are witches, too. They’re just witches with dingles and berries.”
It took Rowan a moment to realize what Sally was saying. “That is ... so crass.”
“You act as if you’re surprised by that.”
“I’m not but ... so crass.”
Sally chuckled. “Yes, well, I’m a crass sort of person. As for this symbol, I don’t know what to tell you. If Ivy Morgan is a witch, that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s in danger. Maybe your camera picked up on her magic and it was simply trying to alert you.”
“Magic?” Rowan snorted. “You don’t believe in magic, do you?”
“You see death omens in a camera,” Sally reminded her. “I think the better question is, why don’t you believe in magic? You’re magic yourself.”
“I hardly think ... .”
Sally wagged a finger to silence her friend. “And yet you are magic. Maybe you should try wrapping your head around that.”
“THE WATER IS NICE.”
Ivy stroked lazily next to Jack as they did laps. Swimming wasn’t part of their normal routine. There was a river not far from Ivy’s house — and a lake for that matter, too — but she preferred hiking to swimming. If she was going to get wet, she preferred it happening in the tub ... with bubbles.
Jack didn’t immediately respond to the sound of Ivy’s voice, his mind clearly somewhere else as they sliced through the water. She watched him for a bit as they made a turn to keep swimming, and then she shook her head.
“I’ve been thinking about running off with a biker gang,” she offered. “I didn’t think you would mind. It should only take six months or so to work my way through all of them. I’ll see you when I get back.”
Jack stirred. “I don’t know. Where do you want to eat lunch?”
Ivy stopped swimming and planted her feet on the pool floor. “Where are you at?”
“What do you mean?” Jack shook himself out of his reverie and put his full focus on Ivy. “I’m swimming with you. Where else would I be?”
“You’re not swimming with me. I just told you I was going to run off with a group of bikers for a sex party and you asked what I wanted for lunch.”
Jack turned sheepish. “I didn’t mean to get distracted.”
Ivy waited.
“I was just thinking about the woman who died,” he admitted. “Quinn said something that’s been bothering me. He said the group asked for the cameras to be turned off in that part of a ship. I don’t understand why he would acquiesce to that.”
“Maybe there are certain privacy rules they have to follow.”
“Yes, but people choose to take a cruise,” Jack pointed out. “They don’t own their rooms. They borrow them from the cruise liner. They shouldn’t technically have rights like that.”
“Maybe it’s a respect thing.”
“Maybe.” Jack’s gaze drifted again, causing Ivy to scowl.
“Hey!” She snapped her fingers in front of his face, causing him to jolt. “I thought we were supposed to be spending time together, vacationing like rock stars, drinking blue drinks by the pool, and all that other stuff.”
Jack caught her hand before she could snap again. “I’m sorry, honey.” His anger was more forceful than his regret when he started speaking, but the frustrated expression on her face shifted things quickly. “I really am sorry. It’s just ... I find it weird that members of her own group were the ones to ask for the cameras to be turned off.”
“And you think that suggests premeditation,” Ivy finished. “I get it. That’s the first thing that popped into my head, too.”
“It is?” Jack couldn’t contain his surprise. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because I really don’t care. I thought we were supposed to be relaxing.”
Jack stared at her for a long beat. He spent two weeks worrying that everything would be perfect for their trip, no outside forces ruining anything, and now he was the one ruining things. “Honey, I’m sorry. I’ll put it away.” He dragged a hand through his damp hair. “Let’s make some plans, huh? We can decide where we want to go for lunch and then maybe take a nap in one of those hammock things with the umbrellas we saw. How does that sound?”
Ivy merely stared at him. “Lunch sounds good,” she said finally. “There’s that salad bar place in the main promenade. You said we could try that.”
“I am all for that.” Jack was sincere. “Whatever you want.”
“Well, I want a big salad.”
“Great.”
“I’m going to need a big meal if I plan on helping you question people about the dead woman.”
Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. He practically tripped over his own feet as he moved to follow her toward the pool stairs. “What?”
“You heard me.” Ivy wasn’t in the mood for games. “You’re not going to let this go. I’m not going to force you because it doesn’t seem fair. You did all th
is for me. The least I can do is return the favor.”
“No, no, no.” Jack snagged her hand before she could exit the water, spinning her to face him. “You don’t owe me anything. I wanted to do this for us. Us. Not just you.”
“And yet you’ve gone out of your way to make this a big deal for me,” Ivy pointed out. “If you want to spend a few hours asking questions about a dead woman because you’re a workaholic, I don’t want to stop you. I’ll simply carry a blue drink with me as we wander around the ship.”
“But ... .”
“No.” Ivy shook her head, firm. “I’m serious about this. You can’t stop thinking about it and I don’t want to force you. I think we should work together — like we normally do — but make a plan to split time between work and fun.”
“How do you mean?”
“We’ll have lunch together. You’ll spout more of those ridiculous lines about how you had no life before you met me and I’m the best thing that ever happened to you. Then we’ll work for a few hours. Then we’ll take a break for dinner so you can fawn all over me again. And then we’ll go from there.”
Jack grinned at her scheduling prowess. “How about I explain how you’re the love of my life in between questioning people, too? How does that sound?”
Ivy shrugged. “I’ve had worse offers.”
“Me, too.” Jack stopped her from getting out of the pool by dragging her close, pressing her chest against his so he could stare into her eyes. “I really do love you. You have no idea how much.”
“I think I know. I love you, too.”
“Yeah, well, you’re the best girlfriend ever.”
Ivy smiled. “You can do better than that.”
“You’re not only the queen of my heart but the queen of all women.”
“So schmaltzy, but I like where this is going.”
“There’s more. There’s always more.”
“Lay it on me.”
Eight
Quinn tackled Joseph Guthrie right after breakfast. The man, who was in his late fifties, carried himself with an imperious air that grated the security chief the moment they exchanged pleasantries.
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