She had never heard of anyone reacting to it the way she had. The way they both had. As though someone had thrown you a lifesaver and you drowned rather than grab hold of it.
Is it still there?If she closed her eyes—if she concentrated, if she looked for it…
“Frankie, there you are!”
…then someone could stab her, and she wouldn’t even notice.
Eloise was, again, the perfect hostess. She summoned one of the waitstaff with a single gesture the moment she caught sight of Francine and stalked towards her, smile like a searchlight.
“Please tell me we won’t have anything new to celebrate tonight,” Francine complained as a platter with a single champagne flute appeared at her shoulder. “My lioness sounds like my mother, complaining about all the poison I’m putting into my system.”
Eloise paused, a tiny furrow appearing between her eyebrows. “And you let it talk to you that way?”
Francine lifted both eyebrows, hiding her surprise. “Shouldn’t I?”
“Keep it in line. Your lioness makes you strong, but it’s only an animal. You’re the one who should be in charge.” She moved closer, searching Francine’s eyes. *You’ve seemed off, the last few days. Is this what’s been bothering you?*
Francine couldn’t answer. Her lioness was part of her. An intrinsic element of her soul. Not something to be controlled, like a pet or caged wild animal.
Eloise squeezed her arm. *Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.*Her smile brightened again. “Nikolaidis! Mrs. Smith! Come in, come in. Isn’t the view tonight divine?”
The sunset was as brilliant as the ceiling, spreading blood-red fingers across the sky. Francine’s chest tightened.
Two days.
She just had to keep this up for two more days.
Eloise welcomed them all, then dashed off to attend to something. Francine sat, painfully aware of Eloise’s absence at her side—and the empty chairs around the table.
Their party was down to six.
And then Eloise’s latest taunt appeared, sitting exactly where Francine would have to turn her head to look at him.Angelo Clay. The pharmaceuticals expert. Eloise clearly meant her to wonder and worry about why he was there on the ship, and she was.
She’d never considered what sort of drugs someone might want if they were in the business of hunting shifters. The possibilities were terrifying.
“How have you been enjoying the cruise so far?” Nikolaidis asked. They were seated together again. Whoever had been picking off the other guests hadn’t managed to remove him from the game. Or maybe he was the one getting rid of the competition. “It must be a strange experience, to see all the changes made to a ship you designed.”
Francine pushed the problem of Angelo Clay from her mind. “All the changes have been perfect. But I haven’t got much further than the spa and gym,” she admitted.
“You should explore a little further next time. I passed a very enjoyable day in the vehicle storage area.”
“You boys and your toys,” tutted Mrs. Smith from the other side of the table. Both her seatmates from the night before were nowhere to be seen.
Nikolaidis tipped his glass to her. “We do enjoy our toys, yes. But I found this collection particularly interesting. Trucks, boats, amphibious vehicles … Everything we will need for the next step of this venture. If they were all where they should be.”
“What do you mean?” one of the Tourneurs asked, which meant Francine didn’t have to.
“There were a few gaps.” He looked around the table, meeting the eyes of each guest seated there and letting his gaze linger briefly on the empty seats.
“Oh, don’t say theyran off,” Mrs. Smith gasped, outraged. “And here I thought—well.That things were getting interesting, at last.”
“There’s still time for that,” Nikolaidis reassured her gravely.
“I should hope so!”
“Still time for what?” Eloise reappeared, looking—distracted. The tension in Francine’s shoulders dropped fractionally. If Eloise was having trouble holding up under all this, then maybe…
Maybe what? Maybe there was a chance for her old friend? And if there was a chance Eloise could come back from the brink, then maybe she could, too?
