runs on ship

“Not yet,” he said. “Not until I’m sure it’s only them. Just thinking of the shape of things to come.”
I looked up and down the waterfront, what I could see of it through the weather, and said, “Well, we’re not sitting out here all night and babysitting the boat.” And we weren’t going to be moving quietly around the Betsy Lee, either, not with all that ice on the deck.
But I could.
“I’m going to take a peek around,” I said. “Right back.”
“Whoa,” Carlos said. “What? Molly …”
I ignored him and ran lightly over the short distance to the dock and down it, and then leapt lightly out onto the deck of the ship. My feet didn’t slip, and a continuous series of rippling shivers ran up and down my spine. I was putting myself in danger, treading into the territory of what was clearly a dangerous predator, and it felt really, really good.
Is that what happened to Maeve? Had she gotten a little too fond of the feeling of danger? I mean, she’d spent years defying freaking Mab. Could it get more dangerous than that?


Brief Cases, Cold Case, Page 299