“Because she knew something,” Jack answered. “Or, even if she didn’t know something, perhaps our killer thought she did.”
“Do you think Guthrie is the likeliest suspect?”
“I don’t know.” Jack rested his hand on Ivy’s knee under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “He’s a likely suspect. There’s no getting around that. When I talked to Brenda Farmer, though, she wasn’t a fan of Margaret’s desire to take over the world either. She thought things should be more equal.”
“She could be a suspect, too,” Quinn said. “In fact, I have to think Margaret would’ve been more likely to allow Farmer into her room than Guthrie after hours. It might be sexist thinking, but it seems to me that Margaret’s crusade for family values wouldn’t allow her to invite a man into her room so late at night.”
“Unless something was going on between them,” Jack countered, digging through the files they’d brought with them to peruse over dinner. “Your friend said that Guthrie was checking into a hotel once a week to spend the night even though he owns a house.”
“He’s married,” Rowan pointed out. “Why wouldn’t his wife put up a fight about that?”
“Maybe she’s having her own affair,” Ivy interjected. “Or maybe he’s bad in bed and has a rotten personality so she’s simply happy to have a break from him.”
“Your sunny outlook on life never ceases to entertain, honey.” Jack tapped the end of her nose. “You should have some dessert, by the way. Make sure you’re nice and full before we head back to the room for bed.”
Ivy was caught off guard by the conversational shift. “Are you trying to fatten me up?”
“No. I wouldn’t mind a smile, though. They have turtle cheesecake up there.”
Ivy brightened considerably. “They do? I’ll be right back.”
Jack watched her go, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. As soon as he was certain she was out of earshot, he pinned Quinn with a serious look. “I know what you’re going to do. You’re trying to find a roundabout way to suggest that the only true way to know who killed Emily is for Ivy to try and find her in a dream. I already told you I’m not comfortable with that.”
Quinn adopted an innocent expression. “Did I insinuate I was going to do that?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“When we were in line getting food.”
“I think you hear what you want to hear,” Quinn shot back. “I agreed to let you think about things. I meant it. I’ve given it more thought and you’re right, if Rowan was the one being asked to do this, I’m not sure I would be okay with it.”
“Okay with what?” Rowan furrowed her brow, confused. “What are you guys talking about?”
“I may have suggested we ask Ivy to find out what happened to Emily in a dream,” Quinn admitted, sheepish. “She’s got that ability for a reason. I thought it might be a good time to use it.”
“She’s never been trapped in the part of victim before,” Rowan argued. “That’s not fair to her.”
“That’s what I said,” Jack supplied. “I don’t want her terrorized.”
“I don’t want to terrorize her either,” Quinn said. “You’re the one who told me you share dreams. You said you can direct them. I don’t understand why you guys can’t go in together. Then you can protect her.”
“Can you do that?” Rowan was legitimately intrigued. “Can you stand with her in a dream?”
“We’ve never tried what your boyfriend is suggesting,” Jack replied, bristling. “Our dreams are meant to be fun. We go to the beach ... and camping, which is something she likes and I tolerate. We have romantic picnics. We do not go to dangerous places to see if she can turn into Wonder Woman.”
“I believe she’s already Wonder Woman in your head,” Quinn pointed out. “You believe she can do anything.”
“She can.”
“So why not ask her to do this?”
“Because I won’t risk her for anything,” Jack fired back. “She deserves a chance to rest and relax. This is supposed to be our vacation, for crying out loud.”
“A vacation you interrupted to investigate a murder before she even had the vision.”
“But ... .” Jack was frustrated, mostly with himself. “I’m not going to ask her to do it. You can’t make me. And if you ask her, we really are going to do that chest thumping thing you mentioned in the buffet line. Don’t push her to do something uncomfortable. I don’t like it.”
“I think it’s already too late for that,” Rowan said, inclining her head to the spot behind Jack, where Ivy stood with a huge piece of cheesecake.
“Honey ... .” Jack moved to stand, but Ivy shook her head.
“I want to hear Quinn’s idea,” she said as she reclaimed her chair. “If I understand correctly, you want me to force myself to go back into the memory, treat it how Jack and I do dreams, and try to come up with a face for the killer.”
“You don’t have to do it,” Jack said quickly.
Ivy ignored him and remained focused on Quinn. “That’s what you want, right?”
Now that he was staring into the fathomless depths of Ivy’s eyes, Quinn wasn’t sure how to respond. Finally, he opted to stick to the truth. “I think it’s worth a shot.”
“And what if it doesn’t work?”
“Then at least we’ll know.”
Ivy sliced into her cheesecake and took a large bite as she mulled the idea. Jack watched her, concerned, and occasionally glared at Quinn for good measure. When Ivy was done chewing and swallowing, she slid a sidelong look to Jack.
“I’m guessing you don’t like this idea,” she said finally.
“I don’t like anything that makes you upset.”
“Yeah, well ... I don’t see where we have a lot of choice in this matter.”
Jack sighed, resigned. He could tell she meant business. If he wanted to change her mind, they would have to fight. He wasn’t keen on that idea. “I’m going with you. I won’t let you do this alone.”
“I know.” Ivy patted his hand before slicing off another huge bite of cake and holding her fork near Jack’s mouth. “We’re better when we do everything together.”
Jack accepted the bite and stared at her as he swallowed. “I want you to pull the plug if things get too intense. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“Fine.” He rested his hand on top of hers. “We’ll do it together.”
“See, I told you this would work out.” Quinn preened. “I was right and you were wrong.”
“It hasn’t worked out yet,” Jack reminded him.
“When it does, I want you to thank me.”
“You’ll be lucky if I don’t kick you.”
“I’ll consider that a win, too.”
IVY SLIPPED UNDER SURPRISINGLY fast, leaving Jack behind to give chase. He rested next to her in bed, his tall frame pressed next to her slighter one, and willed himself to follow. His frustration was overwhelming when sleep refused to claim him. Settled in a crook of his arm, her head on his chest, Ivy lightly slumbered. Jack was left with nothing to do but force himself to calm, draw in deep breaths, and search for a way to follow.
He didn’t want her to go through this alone.
In the dream, Ivy found herself on the deck of The Bounding Storm. The sky over the ocean was littered with clouds, lightning illuminating the heavens as she stared out at nothing but the vast expanse of water. She was alone, Jack still searching for a way to join her, but she wasn’t afraid.
She knew that’s what Jack worried about most, that she would be overwhelmed with fear and he wouldn’t be near to offer comfort. He was smart, handsome, and unbelievably funny. Jack’s biggest gift, though, was the way he made her feel. She never knew true comfort before him, and she didn’t want to face a world where she had to go without it again.
“Nice night, huh?” The bartender was behind the counter. Demarcus. That was his name. He looked real, but Ivy was fairly certain he w
as a figment of her imagination.
“It’s an interesting night,” Ivy replied, choosing her words carefully as she sat on a stool. “What are you doing here? Were you here the night it happened?”
“I’m always here.”
He was cryptic, causing Ivy to double down on her assumption that he was only present so she could have someone to bounce ideas off of. “You haven’t seen Jack, have you?”
“Your boyfriend? No. He’s close but having trouble following.”
“Why? He’s never had trouble before.”
“He’s worked up, antsy. He can’t slip under and join the dream. He’s unbelievably frustrated. If you reach out with your feelings, you’ll recognize that yourself.”
Ivy knit her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side, thunder echoing throughout the night and causing her to straighten in her seat. “Jack’s fueling the storm.”
“Maybe,” Demarcus said. “Maybe we’re all fueling the storm. It’s an existential question.”
“Huh. I wonder why I made you talk like a weird philosopher. Maybe I needed the comic relief.”
Demarcus winked. “What makes you think you’re in charge of my personality?”
“Because you’re not really here.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Ivy wasn’t sure of anything. Still, she turned to face the deck. “Emily Little was down that way when she was killed. Did you hear something that night? Probably not. You strike me as the type who would run to the rescue if you heard a scream. That means the storm either drowned out the noise or she didn’t make any.”
“The storm was fierce,” Demarcus offered. “It was loud and strong, enough to kill the power.”
“Unless something else killed the power, like a person.”
“The odds of that are slim. Our security is very good.”
“So, basically you’re saying whoever killed Emily took advantage of the power outage,” Ivy mused, taking a step away from the bar as she tapped her bottom lip. The deck remained illuminated, which meant the electrical failure was still to come. “Perhaps they were talking, arguing even. Emily let slip that she knew something. The killer was upset, worried he would be exposed.
“Then the power went out and he had exactly one chance to get rid of her without anyone seeing,” she continued. “It must have seemed like divine intervention.”
“It’s coming soon,” Demarcus supplied, taking Ivy by surprise when he handed her a flashlight. “You’re going to need this.”
“Emily didn’t have a flashlight.”
“You’re not Emily.”
“No, but I’m limited by what she saw that night,” Ivy pointed out. “I can’t see what she didn’t see because I’m working from her memories.”
“No, you’re working with magic,” Demarcus corrected. “Your fear keeps you from seeing how powerful you really are. You might want to look harder, put more effort in. The results could be interesting.”
Ivy flicked on the flashlight at the exact moment the power went out on the ship. Even though she knew it wasn’t real, a gasp lodged in her throat and she briefly pressed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, she found herself in a surreal world where the flashlight offered more light than should be possible.
“What the ... ?”
Ivy didn’t get a chance to dwell on her surroundings, or what Demarcus’s appearance meant. The sound of voices on the deck assailed her ears, and when she turned back to invite Demarcus for a walk, he was gone. He wasn’t real — she knew that — but racing to watch a murder would’ve been easier if she wasn’t alone.
Still, Ivy steeled herself and broke into a jog, putting one foot in front of the other as she hurried toward the spot where Emily Little died. When she arrived, she focused first on the terrified woman backing toward the deck railing. Tears streamed down her face as the rain plastered her hair to her head.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Emily whined to no one in particular. However hard Ivy looked, she couldn’t find anyone else to focus on. Emily appeared to be alone. “You’re supposed to want to protect the world, not hurt it.”
No one answered.
“Please don’t do this,” Emily begged. “I didn’t know. I had no idea what was going on. I ... just wanted to be part of something. I wanted to be part of this.”
Again, no answer.
“Please don’t do this!” Emily practically screeched her angst. “I don’t want to die. I’ll go away and never say anything about all of you, what you’re doing. I promise.”
All of you? Ivy sucked in a breath and looked around the deck again, trying to force herself to see faces. She couldn’t, but slowly, several shapes started taking form.
She didn’t recognize faces. It was more blobs than figures. She couldn’t tell if she was dealing with men or women, or a mixture of both. She could count, though, and there were five shapes on the deck staring down Emily, closing the distance to the frightened woman.
“I’ll forget what I saw, what I know,” Emily offered. “You have my word. I’ll be done with it all.”
“It’s too late for that,” a voice rasped. It was neither male nor female, just ominous. “You should have thought about that before you got involved. We warned you. You didn’t listen. You let ambition rule you. Now something else will rule you.”
Ivy jerked her head away when the biggest shadow advanced on Emily and grabbed her by the neck. She pressed her eyes shut and put her hands to her ears to block out the noise. She wanted to wake up. She wanted to be anywhere other than here.
Then, suddenly, a hand rested on her shoulder and she viciously slapped out as she tried to stumble away from whoever dared pull her into the action. She moved so fast she tripped over her own feet and hit the deck hard enough that, even in a dream, her hip ached.
“Honey, it’s me,” Jack said quickly, dropping to his knees as he scrambled after her.
“Jack?” Ivy held back tears, but just barely. “You’re here.”
“Of course I’m here.” He held open his arms. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get here quicker. I couldn’t fall asleep.”
“It’s because you were worried about me.”
“Always.”
Ivy launched herself into his arms and pressed her face to the hollow between his shoulder and neck. “It was more than one person, Jack. There were five of them. I think it might be at least half the members of the executive group. She begged for mercy, but they didn’t listen.”
“It’s okay.” Jack rubbed her back as he kissed her forehead. “It’s okay. Did you see faces?”
“No. Just shadows.”
“You’re okay.” Jack sat on the deck and tugged her until she was on his lap. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not here. Not home. Not anywhere.”
“I know. I was afraid when I couldn’t find you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I faced it myself, though. I was strong.”
“Oh, honey. You’re the strongest person I know. I have you now, though. I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.”
“I’m thankful for that.”
“We both are.”
Eighteen
Ivy woke to find herself wrapped around Jack, her face pressed against his chest and their legs twined together. He was already conscious, his dark eyes on her. When she smiled, he returned it and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth before they could even share a word.
“Are you okay?”
Ivy nodded. “I am. Are you okay?”
“I wasn’t the one left alone.”
“I was never in danger.”
“That’s not how it felt.”
Despite herself, Ivy chuckled. “I think you have a hero complex.”
“I think I love you.” Jack was in no hurry to untangle their limbs. “We need to talk about what you saw in the dream. You know that, right?”
Ivy nodded, solemn. “Yeah. We need to tell Quinn and Rowan.”
Jack scowled.
“I’m still angry he tricked you into doing what you did.”
“It’s only a trick if I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Yeah, well, I still don’t like it.”
Ivy’s sigh was long and pronounced. “Do you want to know what I think?”
“Most of the time. In this particular case, probably not.”
“I think you and Quinn are a lot alike, which means your personalities naturally clash.”
“I think I’m nothing like him.”
“No? From where I’m standing — er, laying — I think you’re both stalwart ... and protective ... and a little schmaltzy. I think he loves Rowan the same way you love me, with a fierceness that can’t be measured. I also think you’re both a little sarcastic.”
“And I think you’re hungry.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “We promised Quinn and Rowan we would meet them for breakfast. We should shower and get cleaned up if we expect to make it on time.”
“We could probably save time — and conserve water — if we showered together.”
Jack’s eyes lit with mirth. “That’s a fantastic idea.”
“Yeah. One thing before then, though.” Ivy pressed her palm flat against Jack’s chest. “I love you, too.”
“I know. I’m lovable.”
Ivy giggled as he tickled her, squirming as he pressed kisses to her neck. “We’re not in the shower yet.”
“Think of it as a head start.”
ROWAN AND QUINN WERE already seated when Jack and Ivy hit the dining room. Jack signaled they were going through the buffet line and would join them shortly – something Quinn nodded in agreement to – and then disappeared in the line of hungry guests.
Rowan slid her eyes to Quinn, curious. “Do you think she did what you asked?”
Quinn shrugged, uncertain. “I don’t know. I’m guessing she at least tried. I think Jack probably stopped her.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he wants to protect her.”
“Would you do any differently for me?”
“No.” Quinn smiled as he covered her hand with his. “If you were the one who could see things in dreams and he suggested you try to sniff out a murderer, I wouldn’t be happy about it. Still, we’re running at a deficit here. We need to figure out who we’re dealing with ... and fast. We dock this afternoon and our killer could disappear and never be heard from again.”
Wicked Ghostly Seas: A Rowan Gray, Harper Harlow and Ivy Morgan Mystery Omnibus Page 37
