Page 22 of Ship Happens
“Answer?” Jim prods.
“Give us a moment?” Kindra pleads. “This is kind of a tough one.”
“Frankie, do you have any input?” Eve asks me, her voice low. “You seem to have a pretty deep knowledge base here. I guess I slept through Serial Killer History in school.”
“You and me both,” Kindra whispers.
Maverick leans forward. “Kindra, considering your line of work, I’d think you’d know more than you do. How does Cat have all the answers?”
“Are you saying that because I’m blonde?” Cat squeals.
Maverick sighs. “Cat . . . I’m blond as well.”
I lean forward, breaking Cat’s line of sight to her intended target. “Guys, let’s focus. How specific do we need to be here?”
Eve looks up at Jim, then repeats my question.
“Just ballpark.” Jim rolls his hand through the air. “If you get anywhere near the vicinity of correctness, I’ll be a magnanimous host and let you have it.”
I can’t give them the answer, but maybe I can guide them in the right direction. “Okay, let’s consider what we know about how they profile us,” I whisper. “Usually, they nail us with a common way we kill, but sometimes there are other tells.”
“Like the location,” Kindra says.
I nod, then raise my finger as if I’ve just had an epiphany. “Or the way the bodies are disposed of.”
“Ooh, what about Satan’s Fury?” Cat says. “He’s a Japanese serial killer who got his name because of the mask he wears.”
“And the brutality of his kills.” Eve shivers. “I met him at Rakuten Fashion Week in Tokyo, and?—”
“Table two?” Jim taps his wristband. “Time is wasting.”
Maverick finally speaks. “Maybe it has something to do with the time of day when he takes his kills.”
“Or when he disposes of them,” I say, trying once more to lead the horses to water.
Cat slaps her palms on the table and stands. “It has something to do with his M.O., but there are too many things that make up a killer’s profile, Jim. This is the sort of question thatonlya government agent would know, and we clearly don’t have one of those at our table. This game is rigged.”
Jim smiles and looks directly at me as he raises the mic to his lips. “I’m sorry, Catarina, but that answer is incorrect. Thank you for playing.”
As he turns to the next table and asks their question, a nail runs up my spine. It’s clear Jim knows I’m a fed, especially if he set up this scavenger hunt. I might be in more trouble than I realized. I have to get off this ship.
I’ll make my escape tonight, when Maverick falls asleep. A little fake snoring should do the trick, and once he’s out, so am I.
Chapter Ten
Maverick
As we wander back to our room after the game, there’s no denying the heavy blanket of tension weighing down the air in the elevator. She likely suspects I know her secret. That’s fine. After a good night’s rest, I plan to lay everything out for her, anyway. It’s the only way I can keep her safe (and win).
She begins readying for bed the moment we step into the room. Kneeling on the floor, she digs through a bag until she finds what she needs, and then she scurries off to the bathroom. Seconds later, the shower kicks on.
I try to stop my mind from going places it shouldn’t, but it’s useless. The woman is just too damn pretty for her own good, and I bet she’s even prettier when she’s wet.
The lighter in my pocket calls my name. It speaks in a sing-song voice and begs me to flick the wheel until a spark ignites. Once the flame heats the metal, I’ll hold it to my skin and lose myself to visions of a dark-haired woman touching herself in the shower.
I pull my hand away from my pocket and stand before I do something stupid. The last thing I need is for her to walk in to me furiously beating my dick while intermittently burning myself.
After stripping down to my boxer-briefs, I call down to room service and request a cot. Minutes later, a bug-eyed man appears at the door. Burn scars cover his face, along with several long scars that look like the work of a blade. Thinning hair stands in short spikes on his head, letting his scalp shine through.
