Island Promises (6 page)

Chapter 5

Two days later, Riley stood in the cockpit gazing up at the night moon, so close she felt she could run her fingers over the surface, tracing the craters. It was a clear night and the stars were out in force, more stars than she had ever seen in her life, filling the sky with dots of color. Her shoulders chaffed from the sunburn she’d gotten while they were out sailing that day. The ocean wind smelled of deep, rich, primal life, and streaks of fluorescent color—the bioluminescence unique to the ocean—could be seen even here in the harbor when the water was disturbed.

For the first time in a long time she felt content and satisfied. Her muscles were sore from sailing. The plan had been for her to help with food preparation, but that had fallen through. They hadn’t been out more than two hours before Mitchell had kicked her out of the kitchen, or galley, as she kept reminding herself.

“You are truly sweet to want to help,” he’d said. “But you’re a complete ignoramus when it comes to cooking, and I keep tripping over you. So, to put it as nicely as I can: ‘This galley ain’t big enough for the both of us.’”

After that, she’d wandered onto the deck where a group of college fraternity boys were lulling in the sun, nursing the hangovers they’d brought with them this morning, and talking about the hangovers they’d acquire tonight. Except for when they were sleeping, they were loud, rude, and generally unbearable. Somehow, they’d gotten the idea that this was Spring Break Gone Crazy; one week of nonstop drinking, partying, and girls.

Mitchell said it happened every year; that the trip was booked by one of the rich dads, for their hormonal college-frat-boy sons. The charters were something Joe and Anthony dreaded and had tried to avoid but in the end, it was money in their pockets. After three hours of negotiations over the phone with the booking agent, and apparent pleading and threatening, they had cast off, the college boys wanting to know which rockin’ island they were headed for next.

Joe growled at them to keep their toes out of the rigging lines or have them snapped off when the sails went up, to heave over the side if they got sea sick, and to keep the noise down to bearable limits. Besides that, and a few instructions to Anthony about course, he hadn’t said much to her since two nights ago when he’d rescued her from the pirates. Much of his time had been spent ashore provisioning the boat with expensive rum and ingredients for exotic dinners, having expected to be serving executives and their wives. Instead, he had rowdy college kids who wanted keg beer, hot dogs, and pizza.

Anthony said very little, steered the boat, followed orders, and seemed always right behind her when she was about to get into something way over her head. When the sun was beginning to set in the fast-moving, brilliant way only found in the tropics, they pulled into a crowded, noisy dock area. Giant powerboats tied up next to sailboats that seemed too small to take on the ocean. The water was murky from churned mud and discarded waste. The dock area had the grimy, seedy feel of a place that had once been beautiful but had been stripped down for money.

Riley had been looking forward to a quiet anchorage, a rocking boat made better by a spicy rum drink and the promise of deep, uninterrupted sleep. Instead, they docked next to a power boat which was three times as long, with loud music blaring from the oversized stereo system and people partying on deck until the wee hours of the morning, including the frat boys after they’d returned from town.

“This is a miserable place,” Riley complained to Mitchell as they sat in the cockpit earlier, listening to a young woman lose the contents of her stomach three boats down. In the still night, the sound carried a little too well on the wind. There was barely a chop in the harbor so it wasn’t seasickness that affected her, but rather the beers her companions were waving in the night air.

“I’m not much of one for drinking and barfing,” said Mitchell. He was lying on the settee on the other side of the cockpit, watching the crowd parade before them on the docks. They were playing a game, making up stories about the various characters. And characters they were. So far they’d seen everything from a dashing gentleman to a skinny woman dressed all in feathers.

“Time to do dinner. All galley slaves front and center.” Mitchell ran toward the cabin as she reached out to swat him.

After dinner and trips to the local bars for the college boys, everyone else was below, sleeping or reading while Riley stood watch. Reluctantly, Joe had agreed to let her sit in the cockpit for four hours in the middle of the night while the boat was firmly anchored in the harbor about a mile off shore. When the frat boys returned, holding each other up, singing, and waving bottles, Joe had moved
Reprieve
off the dock area and into the harbor where she swayed now with the gentle rhythm of the water.

“Riley can call for help if anything goes wrong.” Mitchell had pleaded her case. “She’s totally hopeless in the galley.” He glanced at her. “Sorry, darling, but it’s true and you know it. We need someone between midnight and four. Why not? She can earn her keep. I’ll even loan her my whistle.

“I bought it during Mardi Gras last year. In that hell hole, believe me, a man needs to protect himself.”

Riley didn’t want to stand watch in the middle of the night. It sounded boring and lonely and maybe even a little scary. After her experience with the pirates, she was gun shy, which was a new experience for her. She was used to charging in anywhere, asking anything of anyone, and using the mike and notebook as her protection. People either hated or loved journalists, depending upon the slant their story was taking. But for the most part, they got out of the way and let her do her job. But, even though she was nervous, since Joe had taken the position that she would be useless on watch, she dug in her heels and insisted she could do it.

Sleepy and cranky, she had been dragged out of her bunk just before midnight. Joe shoved a cup of coffee in her hand, pushed her toward the cockpit, whispered not to touch anything and not to do anything except yell if she needed help, and then disappeared into his own cabin. At first the darkness seemed threatening, but as she settled in, the anxiety eased and she was mesmerized by the night. Far from bored, she was entertained by the inky black sky with its stars slowly shifting, and the marine life that sometimes broke the surface, just to let her know she wasn’t alone.

Suddenly, a noise on the ladder caught her attention. One of the college boys, Darren, took down the screening and plopped in the settee next to her making the boat rock and the halyards ring out as they banged the mast.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Too much damn rocking. I told my dad to book us a hotel but he thought he was pulling one over on us sending us on a rinky-dink-assed boat into the middle of nowhere. Hell, half my friends are partying on the beach on one of the islands right now.” He popped the top off a beer can and chugged half of it in one swallow. “Want some?” He removed another beer from his shorts pocket and offered it to her. She shook her head, annoyed at having her solitude interrupted, especially by a snot-nosed college boy who thought he was God’s gift to the female population.

“On this island we were on tonight,” Darren continued, not noticing or not caring that she had moved away from him and was not interested in what he had to say (college boys were not good at picking up subtleties), “there was no one. Hell, there were some parties, but mostly natives or old people.” He threw the empty beer can over his shoulder.

“Hey,” she said. “Don’t do that.”

“You one of them environmental freaks? Lots of ‘em where I go to school. Don’t have much in common with ‘em, though, seeing as how once I get that diploma my mama’s got her heart set on, I’ll be going into the oil business with my daddy. All those tree huggers will be scraping along and I’ll be living it up in the hills in a big old house.” Darren popped the top off another beer.

“How about we party some?” His hand, large and meaty—a football player’s hand—covered one of her thighs.

Shocked and somewhat amused, Riley decided to use humor. “I’m not in the cradle-robbing business.” She moved into the corner of the settee and his hand fell heavily onto the cushions.

“I like my women older.” He got onto his knees and crawled forward, trapping her against the cabin. He was a big boy with a muscular frame, an intimidating square face, and a buzz cut. His white skin radiated heat where it had been torched by the unrelenting tropical sun.

“Shame I don’t like my men in diapers.”

“You just need to give me a try.” When he leaned into her she could smell the beer on his breath and the dried sweat on his body. Too late, she realized he meant to kiss her. Scrambling, she tried to get out of the way, but there was nowhere to go in the small area.

Just as he was about to make contact, Darren rocked backward and let out a howl of pain.

Joe stood behind him, gripping the neck of his T-shirt. With one cool toss, he hefted him to the settee on the other side of the cockpit. Darren landed heavily and the yeasty scent of spilled beer rose up from the cushions.

“Sorry, man,” Darren said. “I didn’t realize you two had a thing. Should have known. All the good ones are always taken.”

“Get back to your cabin,” Joe said. He wore his usual cut-offs and was barefoot. His hair was tousled from sleep but his eyes were burning. “Tomorrow you’ll call Daddy and tell him it’s time to move on to somebody else’s boat.”

“Like, no hard feelings.” Darren held up both hands in a gesture of surrender and flashed the college-boy smile that probably got him out of a lot of scrapes at home. He looked to Riley before he noisily stumbled down the ladder.

A cabin door slammed, then Joe turned to check the decks, the rigging, and the anchor chain. He moved silently to go below when she couldn’t stand it anymore. “I could have handled myself,” she said. “He was just a kid.”

“For a big time city girl you don’t seem to be doing too well with the natives out here.”

“You’re so cocky,” she said. “If you hadn’t come along, I would have done just fine with that college boy. As for those pirates, they won’t know what hit them when I do an exposé on them.”

He wheeled around and, even in the low light, she could see the anger sparking from his eyes. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Why not? It’s what I do. I take on criminals and corrupt officials everyday back home. I get paid for it.”

“This isn’t home. The rules are different here. For something like this, there are no rules. You have no idea what you’re taking on.”

“I know that I’m not going to let a little run-in on the beach scare me off. I’ve never been scared off of a story and I’m not going to start now.”

“I thought you were here hiding out from a story gone wrong.”

“That’s different.” How could he have known that since the most information they’d exchanged had to do with what sheets to put on the bunks or which sail to pack? “Coming here was a tactical move.” She enjoyed flaunting the nautical term he always used.

Joe stood over her, hanging on to the rigging. His body moved naturally with the boat. His whole presence was secure, more mature than Darren’s. Even his smell was more powerful, more enticing. “I forbid you to do that story.”

“Forbid me?” Riley rose and stood inches from him, grabbing some rigging herself as a slight swell moved across the harbor. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m a big girl. Nobody
forbids
me anything. Especially not when it comes to my work.”

The motor from a yacht passing by reached them across the quiet anchorage. The wake came a moment later, rocking them back and forth. Without warning, she found herself in Joe’s arms. They were strong and safe and he held her as the water tossed
Reprieve
. With one arm hooked through the rigging, he touched her face gently, the calluses on his hands rough against her skin made ultra-sensitive from the sun and the salt.

Half of her wanted him to kiss her, wanted to feel the power behind it, the confidence, and the security. Half of her wanted to melt into him, to let go and not worry about pirates and missing sources and documentation for the boat. It would be so nice for a change to let someone else carry the burden. With RK, it had never been that way. He had his life, she had hers, and they came together on that basis. But they never took on the other’s problems, never let the other be weak and needy. In fact, they laughed about couples who did that, who leaned on each other and seemed to not be able to survive without the other.

Joe did kiss her then. Not a sweet, slow, exploring kiss. But a take-charge, all-encompassing, this-is-my-woman kiss that nearly rocked her off her feet. The half of her that was the strong, independent reporter from Chicago, who overanalyzed everything, gave way and let herself melt against him, let him hold her up as the boat tilted with the waves, gave over her being and her equilibrium to him.

All too soon it was over. Her lips felt cold and empty, even though he’d only edged back a few inches.

“Come below.” His voice was deep and throaty as he took her hand and led her to the companionway.

“The watch. I’m standing watch.” It was her turn to reject him.

“
Reprieve
will be fine. It was just to keep you busy. Normally we don’t stand watch inside the harbor.”

She waited for the indignation to come, for the anger. He had made her stand watch when it was unnecessary. Everyone knew that but her. There was no rage, though. All she felt was an overwhelming need to be with him, to feel him on top of her, to watch his face light up by the starlight through the porthole. She was mad at herself for allowing that feeling in. She needed to be angry at him, to get even.

“The kids,” she whispered as they went below. “Mitchell and Anthony. They’ll hear us.”

He stopped in the companionway and his breath tickled her ear. His body shook and he held her a little too tightly. “I know,” he said. “Yeah, I know.” He kissed her again, deeply, intently, then abruptly broke away. “We’ll have to save this for another time.”

Loneliness came over Riley. She hadn’t planned on sleeping with Joe, although the images of his body against hers sometimes kept her tossing and turning in her bunk. Things had gotten out of hand here really fast. She had been faithful to RK, even when she suspected he was anything but faithful. Did she want this? Her body had been doing all the talking tonight. Maybe she was letting it because she knew with a literal boat load of people tonight was going nowhere but to frustration city.

“You can go below, get some sleep.” Joe had turned away from her.

“What about you?” she asked. “You just got done telling me there doesn’t need to be a watch in harbor.”