Perilous Waters. Sandra Orchard

      “It’s a possibility.” He examined the fruit and chocolate in the basket for signs of tampering.

      “I had that happen to me once. Broke out in hives whenever I ate a banana within a couple of hours of my multivitamin.” She dug through the night table drawer next to the bed and pulled out a box containing seasickness patches and a bottle of ibuprofen. “Switched vitamins and never got them again.” She dumped her find into his bag.

      “Do you mind if I check the bathroom?”

      “Go ahead. She’s particular about her moisturizers and shampoo and stuff. All scent-free. I don’t think any of that would have reacted.”

      The bathroom barely had enough space to turn around in, let alone enough counter space to sort through her makeup bag. He carried it out and dumped the contents on the bed. Toothpaste, lip gloss, an assortment of lotions. Sam returned the contents to the bag. Any of the products could have been injected with a substance that soaked through the skin, but it was improbable. And she would not be happy if he unnecessarily confiscated them all.

      The water was a likely source, but what motive would her uncle have for making her temporarily incapacitated at an unpredictable time of day or night? Sam picked up the small card lying next to the basket on the desk. It wasn’t signed. “How do you know the basket was from your uncle?”

      Cass stood by the balcony door, looking out, and jumped at his question. “Uh, it said so on the card.”

      “No, it didn’t.” It merely said “Bon Voyage.” He angled it her way.

      She stared at it dumbly. “You’re right.” She sounded surprised. “I guess we just assumed since he gave us the cruise as a birthday gift. Who else would?”

      “Either of you have a boyfriend?”

      “I have lots of guy friends.” Cass’s cheeks reddened. “But I told your brother. Just so you know, I’m not leading him on or anything.”

      “Okay.” Explained a lot. No wonder Jake had been enjoying her company so much—no strings. “Could any of your guy friends have sent this?”

      She shrugged. “Maybe Uncle Reggie’s son. Reg isn’t really my uncle, of course.”

      Uncle or not, the idea that their long-time guardian would slip a roofie into Jen’s drink was downright disturbing. “Let’s get back to your sister. You might want to grab a sweater and a book. Could be a long night.”

      Sam escorted Cass back to sick bay, and Jake slipped out of the room as she took his seat next to Jen. “Find anything?”

      “Maybe.” Sam drew Jake deeper into the empty waiting room and lowered his voice. “I’m going to see if I can send these back to Seattle with the pilot. Have them tested. Do you mind hanging around a while longer and keeping an eye on Cass and Jen?”

      “Do you know why someone would do this to Jennifer?”

      “No.” Sam felt in his pocket for the PI’s phone number, hoping it might offer some answers.

      Jake narrowed his eyes. No doubt rethinking Sam’s lame excuse for identifying himself as Sam Tate to the women the other night.

      “I don’t.” Sam insisted. “Believe me. I wish I did.”

      * * *

      Jennifer squeezed her eyes against the light seeping past her lashes. Her head felt ready to explode. And the bed...

      Why was it rocking from side to side like a...boat!

      She lurched up. “We’re moving!” She clutched her head and dropped back to the mattress, rolled onto her side and curled her legs into her chest.

      “Jen, what’s wrong? Do you feel sick?” Cass’s worried voice sounded above her ear.

      “My head hurts,” Jen moaned, trying to remember what she’d wanted to do before they left port. She massaged her fingers over her forehead, straining to coax out the memory, but she couldn’t make sense of anything. Faces swam through her mind—Sam’s, his sweet nephew’s, a waiter’s?

      “Can you remember anything?”

      Jen slit open an eye. “Where am I?” Why did her mouth taste so acidic?

      “Sick bay. You passed out in the elevator when we were heading up for dinner. Sam carried you here.”

      Sam? This was the second time something bad had happened when he was nearby.

      “What’s the last thing you remember?” another female voice said.

      Jen tilted her head to see who belonged to the voice—a woman in green scrubs. “Are you a doctor?”

      “Nurse.” She plugged a stethoscope into her ears and pressed the other end to Jen’s chest. “We believe you were drugged.”

      Her heart lurched. “Drugged? How?”

      The nurse placed two fingers at the pulse point on Jen’s wrist and turned her attention to her watch. “That’s what your friend’s been trying to figure out.”

      “Sam,” Cass filled in.

      After another ten seconds or so, the nurse dropped Jen’s wrist and recorded something on her chart. “You had a drink not long before you blacked out. Do you remember?”

      Jen clutched her head tighter. “I knew I shouldn’t have accepted it. I had this feeling. But the waiter said it was complimentary, and everyone seemed to have one.”

      The nurse rubbed Jen’s shoulder consolingly. “Well, we’ve given you charcoal to absorb whatever might have been in the drink, and notified the ship’s security. One of the officers will be here soon to talk to you.”

      “Does she need to stay here?” Cass asked.

      “I’d like to continue to monitor her vitals through the night. If nothing changes, she can go back to her room in the morning.” The nurse patted Jen’s arm. “But I’m afraid you’ll likely have a lingering headache for a few days.” She paused at the door. “Your fellow’s out here pacing the hall, anxious to see you. Shall I let him back in?”

      Unable to comprehend what the nurse meant, Jen flashed Cass a questioning look.

      “She means Sam.” Cass grinned. “He’s really worried about you.”

      Something warm and soft filled Jen’s chest at her sister’s words. “Let me freshen up first.” She sat up and the pain in her head exploded. As Cass helped her to her feet, Jen swayed, taking Cass sideways across the room in a zigzag toward the washroom.

      “I’m so sorry,” her sister whispered.

      Jen stiffened, trying to make sense of the apology through her pain-filled fog.

      “Here I talked you into coming on this cruise,” Cass went on, “saying you’d be safer, and look what happened.”

      “This isn’t your fault,” Jen assured, except...who was to blame? Her limbs began to tremble. “Why would someone do this to me?”

      “Some men are just sick.” Cass waited for her to do her business then helped her back into bed and cracked open the room door. “You need to be on your guard.”

      Shivering, Jen closed her hand over the cut she’d gotten after that creep stabbed the note to her car. The police hadn’t been able to prove it was Lester. Some stalker might’ve followed her onto the ship. “Do you think this is connected to the note in my car?”

      “Do you?” Sam asked from the doorway.

      The concerned timbre of his voice rumbled through her chest. Gripping the edge of the sheets, she pressed her arms against her rampaging heart. “I don’t know. I don’t know why anyone would do this to me.” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Sam hovered over her bed, deep grooves slashing his