Terrors of the High Seas - DK6 (11 page)

“You know,” Kerry leaned on the edge of the cabin door, “if I were the gambling type, I’d bet that guy’s name is Bud.” She watched as the man passed Christen and Juan coming back the other way, brushing by them without a word. The two continued back to their boat, but not without a look in Kerry’s direction. “This is starting to look squicky.”

“Did you say something, Ker?” Dar appeared at her elbow.

“I’m just going to kick the engines on and give Rufus the ride I promised him.”

“Sounds like a great idea.” Kerry patted her on the side. “I’ll untie us.” She jumped onto the dock and set them free, aware of being watched from across the way.

Something is definitely going on.
Kerry suspected that sooner or later they’d be finding out what it was.

IT WAS SUNSET when they pulled back into the dock, having enjoyed their late afternoon ride. Perched on the bow of the Bertram as Dar navigated in, the first thing Kerry noticed was that the small tender was gone.

Rufus was a cute kid. Kerry found his enthusiasm over anything nautical adorable, and watching Dar explain the working of the large diesels was a precious moment she wished she had on camera. Rufus obviously adored her partner, and even now he was glued to Dar’s side as she edged the big boat into dock.

Kerry made a mental note to get Dar to let her bring the craft in sometime, though this tiny dock probably wasn’t the best one to start with. Dar had to shift the diesels into reverse twice and then into idle, before they drifted into place. As they gently hit the bumpers, Kerry stepped off and secured the lines. The setting sun was turning the white beach sand a deep gold and painting the wooden buildings into a tropical watercolor scene. She leaned against a pylon and stuck her hands into her pockets, simply enjoying the view.

“Hey, Ker.” Dar jumped off the boat and onto the dock. “See that?”

Kerry obligingly peered down Dar’s arm. Her eyes widened.

“Whoa…what
is
that?”

A young woman was racing around the waves on what looked like a surfboard, but this surfboard had a handle and, apparently, an engine. As Kerry watched, the girl zoomed around in a big figure eight, effortlessly racing over the surface of the water. Kerry clutched Dar’s shoulder. “Ooo,” she crooned. “I want.” She craned her neck to see better. “That rocks!”

Dar smirked. “I thought you’d say that.” She turned and watched Rufus jump off the boat. “Okay, Rufus, tell your friend he’s got a customer.”

“Cool!” Rufus grinned at both of them. “I’m gonna go tell ’im.

Go see papa Bud, too.” He pattered off down the dock, only to turn and race back, throw his arms around Dar and give her a hug.

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“Thanks for th’ ride!”

“No problem.” Dar seemed a little embarrassed, but she returned the hug before she sent him on his way again. “Nice kid.”

“Mmhm,” Kerry agreed. “He’s got great taste in heroes to worship.”

Dar rolled her eyes. “Don’t you start that, Kerrison.”

Kerry snickered. “But it’s so cute,” she teased, reaching up to tweak Dar’s cheek. “C’mon. How about a shower before we go to dinner?”

They had turned to go back onto the boat when heavy footsteps made them look around. Charlie was limping down the dock toward them, giving them a friendly wave. “Ho, Dar!”

Dar lifted a hand in greeting. “Evening, Charlie.”

The big ex-serviceman halted as he reached them. “Evening, you two. Listen, got a favor to ask.”

“Sure,” Dar replied easily.

“Damn fuel delivery’s being held up ’cause of weather down south. We gotta shut down tonight. Mind if I bring over a potluck on your pretty boat here?”

“Not at all,” Dar said. “We’ve got a table inside. How about we go out and do it under the stars?”

Charlie beamed. “Sounds great. Bud’ll love that. It’ll take ’bout forty five to an hour; see you then?”

“Sure.”

Charlie turned and limped up the dock, waving his hand in farewell.

“Well,” Kerry mused, “that’s interesting. I guess they use a generator for power, right?”

“Yep.” Dar stepped onto the boat and offered Kerry her hand.

“So we get to be hosts for the evening. That work for you?”

“Definitely.” Kerry allowed herself to be pulled on board.

Quite unreasonably, she’d developed a wary dislike for Bud, whom she hadn’t even met yet, and she was glad their first encounter would occur in their home territory.

It isn’t really fair to the guy
, she acknowledged. Kerry reasoned it was mostly her gut level reaction to someone who professed a dislike for someone she dearly loved and admired, and she was willing to give the unknown Bud a chance when she met him, especially since Dar seemed to be at least willing to sit down to dinner with him.

But still…
Kerry entered the cabin after Dar and cast her eye around it. “Go grab a shower first, I’ll straighten up in here.”

Dar looked around and then gave her a wry look. “Oh, right.

It’s trashed. Thanks, Ker,” she teased, referring to the customarily neat appearance of their joint living space. But she ambled towards the head anyway, filching a towel on the way.

Terrors of the High Seas
61

Kerry drummed her fingers on the galley counter, thinking hard.

DAR BROUGHT THE pot of coffee to the table and resumed her seat. They’d finished dinner, and the conversation had gotten more casual as the night had gone on. Bud was behaving, and he’d discovered Kerry was a camera fan after his own heart. Dar suspected the evening was going well and she relaxed, sneaking a glance outside at the dark, restless sea.

She’d anchored them near their dive from the prior day, and the moon had cooperated, lighting up the area with a ghostly silver glow. The ocean was picking up a bit, rocking the Bertram lightly but not enough to really bother anyone.

“So, Dar.” Charlie’s voice caught her attention. “You got any plans for your vacation?”

“Not really,” Dar replied. “We’ve just been picking spots and diving, taking it easy,” she said. “It’s been a busy year.”

“S’what I heard,” Bud said. He had a very deep voice that was typically emotionless. It matched his dark, somewhat hooded eyes, and the watchful gaze he habitually wore. “Scuttlebutt said you folks got to take over all the armed service gigs.”

“That’s right,” Kerry responded with a smile. “Starting in January, we’ll be taking over a lot of infrastructure. Should be quite a project.”

Bud eyed her. “Careful they don’t mess you up. You know the Navy, Dar. If they can point a finger, it’s in your eye.”

“They’re not that different from any other company,” Kerry told him. “Trust me, when you’re the outsourcer, if they can blame you for anything, they will. We have to deal with that all the time.”

There was a momentary silence, then Bud cleared his throat and looked at Dar. “Heard about your dad,” he rumbled. “That’s good stuff, Dar.”

Kerry neatly retracted her mental claws and took a sip of beer.

“It was…” Dar studied her glass, “one of the most amazing things in my life.” She shook her head. “But then, this last year’s just been full of things like that for me.” Twinkling eyes shifted to Kerry.

“He living down near the old place?” Charlie asked.

Kerry chuckled. “Right now, he and Mom are puppy sitting for us,” she replied. “They usually live on their boat, though.”

Bud snorted. “Boats? Puppies? That ain't the same people I remember.”

Dar shrugged. “Things change. People change. They went through a lot.”

Bud snorted again and Kerry’s claws emerged, just a bit. “I like 62
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their boat. I think it was a great choice for them to live on,” she replied.

“Yeah, well, if you say so,” Bud said. “Musta changed a lot if Ceci Roberts’ll park her butt on some fishing dingy.”

“Oh, I doubt she’d do that,” Kerry said. “But…”

Kerry paused as the sound of engines came through the half open windows. She looked out, as did the rest of the table, and saw a large, well-lighted craft cruising slowly past them. “Hm.”

Dar leaned on the back of the banquette and studied it. “That’s a big one.”

Bud got up and positioned himself behind her, crouching down and resting his elbows on the sill. He squinted, studying the ship’s line. “Huh.” He pointed. “Got a search light on it. Just hit us.”

Charlie was also now peering out the window. “Hey, you know, I think I saw that boat two days ago off the lee side of our island,” he said. “Big, ugly, black thing.”

Kerry rested her chin on Dar’s head. “Dar, that can’t be that obnoxious boat that passed us in the straits, can it?”

“Hard to say,” Dar murmured. “Let’s go check it out.”

They got to the door, but as Dar opened it, a loudspeaker suddenly cut the night.

“
Dixieland Yankee
, do not pull anchor. Stay where you are and prepared to be boarded.”

Dar blinked, and then abruptly her brain kicked into gear.

“Boarded? Who in the hell is that?”

Charlie watched over her shoulder as the boat started coming in at them. “Some very big shot with a ton of money, tell ya that.”

Dar headed for the bridge. “Kerry, go watch the anchor, will ya?” she shouted down as she scaled the ladder. “You guys, hang on!”

Bud turned and poked Charlie in the chest. “That means you, muskrat. I’m going up top.” He turned and followed Dar up to the bridge. Charlie remained in the doorway, holding on and watching the big ship approach.

Dar swung behind the console and hit the switches to retract the boat’s anchor, her eyes darting out toward the oncoming ship.

“Feels like I’m trapped in a cheap movie of the week,” she muttered, glancing up as Bud appeared next to her. “This happen a lot out here?”

Bud didn’t answer.

Kerry’s voice rose up from the bow. “Anchor’s in!”

“Get off the topside!” Dar yelled back, as she punched the starter buttons for the diesels. The engines caught at once and rumbled into life.

“
Dixieland Yankee
, I repeat: stay where you are. You are trespassing in restricted waters.”

Terrors of the High Seas
63

“Are we?” Dar asked.

“My ass,” Bud muttered. “This thing got legs?”

“Kerry!” Dar bellowed.

“I’m down!”

“Hang on.” Dar shoved both throttles forward and heeled the boat over, watching the bow rise as the dual diesels dug into the water. The bigger boat was moving to intercept them and a searchlight hit her in the eyes. Dar cursed and kept the wheel turned, just clearing the other boat’s bow before she whipped the wheel straight and gave the engines full throttle.

Their conjoined wakes rocked the Bertram, then the boat leveled out and Dar turned her eyes toward the depth meter, checking their draft. Behind them, the bigger boat had turned to follow, and she heard the roar as their engines were let loose in the chase.

“What in the hell is this?” Dar snarled.

Bud chuckled dryly, the first time he’d laughed that night.

“Welcome to the Caribbean, Paladar. There still be pirates here, y’know.”

“Pirates in seventy-freaking-foot, mansion cruisers?” Dar asked, glancing behind them. “Jesus!” The searchlight pinned them, and she could hear the engines getting louder. “Kerry! Strap everything down!”

“Already there!” Kerry yelled back. ‘What the hell is going on?”

“
Dixieland Yankee
. If you don’t reduce speed and go to idle, we will halt you by force. Please obey.”

“Kiss my ass.” Dar flicked two switches on the console and nudged the throttles a little further.

Bud was wedged between the seats and the console as their speed increased and the wind slammed against them. “You ain’t much of a rule follower, are you?” he commented.

“I
make
the rules,” Dar replied. “Hang on.” She set two final switches, glanced behind them at the boat rapidly gaining on them, and shoved the throttles all the way forward. With a throaty roar, the engine superchargers cut in and the bow planed up out of the water as their speed doubled.

Bud clutched at the railing. “Shit.”

Dar looked back, and felt her heart rate slow a little as the other boat stopped gaining as quickly. She looked again, swallowing a nervous lump as she frantically tried to figure out what to do next.

The compass showed them going south, and the depth finder showed good depth under their keel. The only question was: where the hell was she going, and what was she going to do when she got there?

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KERRY EXHALED IN relief as she saw the big vessel drop a little further behind them. “Excuse me.” She gently eased past Charlie, who was still in the doorway to the cabin. “This is getting very icky.”

“No shit.” Charlie eyed the big boat. “What the heck did you girls get yourselves into?”

“I wish I knew.” Kerry strode into the cabin and went to the storage chest, flipped the seat up and pulled out a long, black case.

She set it on the table and undid the catches, lifted the lid and laid it back. Inside rested a powerful, blued black shotgun, giving off the very distinct scent of gun oil.

“Ah.” Charlie was at her shoulder. “Shoulda figured Dar’d have one of these.”

Kerry pulled the gun out and opened the stock. “It’s not Dar’s,”

she murmured, flipping open a door in the case and removing shotgun shells. “It’s mine.” She glanced up at the surprised man.

“I’ve been shooting since I was eight.” She closed the shotgun and pocketed a handful of extra shells, then headed for the door.

She’d never really liked guns. Handguns, in fact, scared the daylights out of her, as she’d realized when they’d been faced with one in Chicago. But Kerry had realized that she hated the feeling of being helpless even more, so she’d gone out and gotten herself a gun she at least had experience with.

Kerry was pretty sure her father had never intended his forced familial skeet lessons to have this particular result. She had always found it ironic that of all her cousins and siblings, she was the only one who could hit anything smaller than a Volkswagen Microbus with any regularity. She still remembered those frosty fall days with reporters in full attendance, watching as adolescents barely able to lift the damn rifles gamely plugged away at skittish, fleeting, clay plugs.