Michelle Karl - Fatal Freeze

“Done what? Look for someone?” Shaun’s eyebrows scrunched together as Lexie flopped back down into her chair. “I thought you said you worked for a missing-persons organization.”

She nodded, feeling a weight in her chest. “I do. But I haven’t tackled a search like this on my own before. I’ve spent several years proving I’m capable and trustworthy enough for a solo project, and now that I’m VP, I can’t mess it up.”

“Do you have a backup copy somewhere?”

Lexie shrugged. “I might be able to access some of it on my phone through email or cloud storage. The rest is on file at the office, which I could have someone scan and send to me.” She dug through her bag for her phone, hope surging—until she looked at the reception icon in the upper right corner. Still no bars. “No signal, but you’re right, I’ve had trouble getting decent reception for the past day or so. Maybe they haven’t turned on the wireless yet?”

“I think they have an internet kiosk elsewhere on the ship.” Shaun reached down and picked up her bags. “Let’s find your room first. While you’re getting set up, I’ll find out where the kiosk is and then come back to walk you there. Sound like a plan?”

Sure, except for the part where he watched over her as though she was a china doll. “I’ll be fine walking around on public decks. If whoever took the folder had wanted to hurt me, wouldn’t they have done it then? Why go to all the trouble of potentially drugging my coffee?”

Shaun adjusted her bags on his shoulder. “Because the room was still full of other people. The coffee was likely a crime of opportunity—which we’ll report as soon as we can. But if you happen to get lost down a corridor, or take a wrong turn and end up alone...” He shook his head when she tried to protest. “Maybe they only wanted the folder, sure. Maybe this is about something else. I can’t answer that, I can only assess the risk—and the risk here is losing sight of the possibility that it might not have been an accident, or that having the information in your file will incite a reaction.”

Lexie tried to come up with a reply that let him know how she felt about his insistence on trying to insert himself into a situation that didn’t pertain to him, when a muffled, crunching noise interrupted everyone’s conversations. The ship shuddered, and Lexie’s heart leaped into her throat. “What was that?”

Around the room, worried faces searched for ferry staff, while many of the passengers in the room continued as they were. Before Lexie could ask Shaun if he knew anything, he’d already flagged down a passing attendant.

“Ice,” he said, turning back to Lexie. “It’s normal during winter months, but if we can hear the cracking, it means we’re moving through a thick patch. The ship is fine.”

Lexie noted that he looked back at the attendant a second time and followed his gaze. Several people in employee uniforms were making the rounds throughout the lounge, stopping to reassure passengers who demanded to know what they’d heard. Lexie crossed her seating area to look out the nearest window, but it had grown too dark outside to see anything.

And then Shaun was at her side, looking outside with her. Much to her annoyance, having him nearby felt comforting. She blamed it on the lure of familiarity. Definitely not attraction.

“Nature is unpredictable,” he said. “But it’s winter, so I guess they expect this kind of thing. It’ll be fine. Let’s get you to your cabin.”

Lexie struggled for composure, not wanting to reveal just how scary the ship’s shudder had been. Her brain knew how unlikely it was for a ship of this size to capsize—and as far as she knew, there’d never been a serious accident on this ferry crossing route—but her legs felt shaky as the crunching continued at random intervals. She didn’t even have the strength to protest as Shaun touched her elbow and led her away from the window, escorting her through the ship’s corridors to find the passenger cabins on the deck below.

The cabin deck hallways were narrow, providing just enough room for two people to pass each other or for a wheelchair to navigate successfully. At room forty-two, Lexie dug the key card out of her pocket and unlocked the door.

She’d reserved the smallest, most austere room they offered—the coach of ferry cabins—and the bunk bed on the left wall gave the place a college dorm feel. The rest of the room contained a desk and chair, a little bathroom and shower, and a window that overlooked the ocean. It was no Hilton Suites, but it would do for an overnight trip.

“Thanks,” she said, when Shaun pushed past her to place her bags on the floor. “But you didn’t need to carry those.”

“It’s nothing.” He folded his arms and glanced around the room. “Basic amenities? And I bet you fly coach, too.”

“Of course. I’m being responsible with company funds. What’s your point?”

He shrugged and exited the room, tapping on the door frame. “I bet your sister wouldn’t go for this. If Nicola were here, she’d—”

Lexie’s temper flared. How dare he even speak her name? “Because you’re an expert on my family? Please, tell me more.”

Shaun stepped back, his face a mask of confusion. “I was just suggesting—”

“Stop suggesting, then.” If he hadn’t lead her sister on and then broken her heart eight years ago, well, they wouldn’t even be here right now.

“Fine.” Shaun exhaled through his nose, clenching his jaw. “I’m going to go find out where the computers are. I recommend you stay here and lock the door. Don’t open it to anyone except me. I’ll knock twice, wait ten seconds, and then knock once.”

Lexie stared at him. When had Shaun become a conspiracy nut? The guy had no idea how this kind of thing worked. “I don’t see why I can’t come with you.”

“Safety,” he said, his voice betraying a hint of annoyance.

“The only person in danger here is the girl I need to find. And I can’t find her without the information from that folder.” Did he really think she’d act carelessly after the events of the past hour?

Shaun raised his hands, the corners of his mouth turning down into a scowl. “Lexie, I need you to listen—”

Another crunching noise reverberated throughout the ship and Lexie put her hand on the wall to steady herself. The ship shuddered more violently this time, and the noise continued instead of quieting. Her heartbeat sped up, pounding in her ears.

“You think that’s normal?” Lexie almost spat the words at Shaun, whose scowl had vanished, replaced by concern. “Pretty sure ferries aren’t supposed to sound like a bag of chips when they sail.”

He shook his head and caught her gaze. Lexie stopped the gasp that threatened escape. He was worried, and he wasn’t trying to hide it. For some reason, that made her feel better. Despite their acquaintance being separated by almost a decade, a familiar face in a moment of uncertainty helped to quell her immediate panic.

“Keep the door closed. I’ll be right back. Don’t do anything rash.”

She shut the door behind him, despite wanting to slam it in sudden anger at his parting comment. Who did he think he was, telling her not to do anything rash? He didn’t know her. Or her sister. Not anymore, anyway, and he’d made it quite clear all those years ago that he didn’t care to. Lexie sucked in a deep breath, trying to ease the tingle of adrenaline. The last thing she needed was to lose control of her emotions. She had a job to do, and if Shaun insisted on being a part of it, surely she could put up with an annoying hero-wannabe for a little while longer. He had potentially saved her life, after all. When she got the information from her folder back, she’d politely ask him to stop distracting her for the rest of the trip.