“Josie Saint-Martin. The poor, shy little lamb who got hauled into jail with the big, bad wolf by pure accident. What a scandal. However did she get caught up in that? He probably roped her into it against her will. Sounds like something nefarious and sexy went down.”

“What? That’s not what people are saying!”

Is it … ?

“And now she wants to talk to little ol’ me? Oh wow. Just wow … This is the most exciting day of my life.” He snaps his fingers. “Dammit. And I forgot my autograph book.”

“Lucky, please!” I beg.

He gives me a withering look before glancing over his shoulder, checking to make sure his father isn’t nearby, I think. When he finds the coast clear, he pats the ladder. “Permission to come aboard, Miss Saint-Martin. Escape your adoring fans on the S.S. Fun N Sun—not to be confused with the Sun and Fun, which overheated last week.”

“You want me to come up there?”

“Did you develop a fear of heights over the last few years?”

“No. I just mean … it’s on blocks. Is it safe? Is this, like, a dead boat or something? It doesn’t drive?”

He laughs. “Pilot. You pilot a boat and drive a car.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” When we were kids, we spent most of our time in the apartment above the bookshop or running around town. The Karrases’ old boat-repair place was a lot smaller, and it was the last place we wanted to be. This boatyard here? It’s huge. And obviously way more successful. This is new territory for me.

Lucky taps the side of the boat. “This here is what we in the boat-repair biz like to call a floating death trap out on the water. But right here, it’s perfectly fine. It’s been sitting on blocks for about a month because the cheapskate who owns it won’t pay for the repairs. I come up here every day. It’s not going anywhere, I assure you.”

“Fine,” I tell him. “I’ll come up.”

“Whoa, watch your step. Rickety ladder and seagull shit are a dangerous combo.”

“You just said it was safe!” I complain, stumbling as I clear the edge of the deck.

“Safe-ish. Sit down before you break your neck and I get blamed for that, too.” He gestures to an empty spot next to him on a built-in seat, moving a paperback out of the way.

Jesus. This is not how I thought this would go. My stomach clenches, and I feel a little sick and terrified. Gosh, it’s tight quarters up here. “Lucky …”

“Josie.” He leans back against the boat, legs sprawled, arms tightly crossed over his chest, and he stares at me from under a curved lock of dark hair that’s fallen across his brow.

I twist in my seat and try to focus on why I’m here. “What happened at the arraignment?”