Fallen Hunter (Jesse McDermitt Series) (15 page)

A few minutes later I heard Tina's bike coming across the parking lot and walked down to open the gate.

“Good morning,” she said. “Did you sleep alright?”

“I don't think I moved a muscle all night. Pulling an all-nighter was easy a couple decades ago. I must have gotten old and didn't notice.”

“Old?” she said. “You can't be any more than thirty-eight or forty, right?”

I looked down at her as we walked along the dock to the
Revenge
and said, “Thanks, but that channel marker is well astern.”

She looked up at me and studied my face in the dim glow of the dock lights and asked, “How old are you then?”

“Turned forty-four last summer,” I replied. “I'm guessing you're about thirty?”

She laughed and said, “Yes as a matter of fact, that's exactly how old I am. With four years of experience, too.”

I took her bag and set it inside the hatch to the salon, noting it was pretty light. That was a good indicator, in my book. “So, how far do you want to run?” I asked.

“Up to you,” she said. “I can run quite a ways without tiring. Did a half marathon last spring.”

“Well, we'll keep it shorter than that,” I said. “How's five miles sound? Then we can shower and shove off after this fog burns off.”

“Hmm,” she said thinking. “We could do the loop around northern Stock Island, past the Naval Station and back. That's about five miles. I got a good warm up on the ride over.”

“Then let's go,” I said.

“You don't need to stretch, or warm up?”

“Never have before,” I said and started down the dock, toward the gate.

I started off at a slow pace. She was a good foot shorter than me, but she had a good running form. When we reached the end of MacDonald Avenue, we ran against the traffic, what little there was, on A1A. Then we turned north on College Road passing the botanical garden. The smell of night jasmine filled the air.

“How tall are you?” she asked.

“I'm a hair under six-three,” I replied. “Why?”

“Is this your normal pace?”

“No,” I said. “I usually run faster.”

“Don't think that just because I'm only five-two you need to hold back,” she said as she lengthened her stride and increased her rhythm.

I caught up and held her pace, looking over occasionally. I was wrong, she had a very good form. I'd obviously misjudged her. We held a six minute mile pace all the way around the loop and she was still breathing comfortably. When we crossed back over A1A and started down Second Street to MacDonald again, she even picked up the pace and we did the last mile in under five minutes.

As we jogged into the parking lot and slowed down I said, “I'm really impressed. That was a good run. How often do you do it?”

We slowed to a walk as we neared the dock, letting our bodies cool down. “I'd like to run every day, but usually every other day. I usually run the eight mile loop around Roosevelt, along the beach.”

“Eight miles every other day?” I said. “Very impressive.”

We climbed aboard the
Revenge
and I showed her to the head. I told her to shower first, I needed to check my email. Once I heard the water running, I opened my laptop and saw that I had only one email. From the lawyer. He wrote that he really needed to meet with me, as soon as possible. He'd be in Marathon until Saturday, but then had to fly back to Oregon. He also said it would be very beneficial to me to meet him as soon as I could.

I still had no idea what this was all about, but I wrote back a quick note that I would be in Marathon Friday afternoon and he should meet me at the
Rusty Anchor
at noon.

Then I called Deuce. When he picked up, before he could say anything, I said, “I only have a minute. Santiago offered me the job of hauling his grass. I have to confirm that I'll do it by tomorrow.”

“We leaked the information that his guys were arrested by DEA, like you said.”

“It worked perfect. Now he doesn't want to trust anyone. He's going to personally ride each shipment from now on. If I take the job, he'll let me know when to pick him up. But, it's in a little fishing village on the western tip of Cuba.”

“The ADD isn’t going to go for that,” he said. “I’ve already told you that.”

“Yeah,” I said, “and like I said before, just don’t tell him. Look, your intel says he’s moving guns to Hezbollah and my intel says he’s trading guns for grass. If he’s smuggling guns into Cuba, it can't be to Fidel’s forces, he was adamant that the place wasn’t patrolled by gun boats. He hasn’t mentioned guns though. I'll know more tonight. Gotta run.”

“Jesse, wait...” he started to say something more, but I’d already turned the phone off as I heard the shower stop in the head.

Tina came into the salon, with a large towel wrapped around her and another one wrapped around her head. “I forgot my bag,” she said.

The towel wrapped around her body, barely touched her thighs. I just stood there with my mouth open. She reached past me and picked her bag up off the settee and I said, “Oh, yeah, um, your bag. Sorry.”

She smiled and said, “The bathroom, I mean, the head is all yours. Where can I get dressed?”

Collecting my wits I said, “The guest bunk is across from the head.” I brushed past her and stepped down into the companionway and opened the door to what used to be Jimmy's bunk. “Make yourself at home,” I said. Then I went into the forward stateroom, grabbed a pair of cargo shorts and a tee-shirt from my hanging locker and went into the head. I was glad to see her door was closed tight.

I was in and out of the shower in seven minutes. Another habit from the Corps. Her door was still closed, so I went into the galley and poured us both a cup of coffee. When she came into the salon, I was in the galley frying bacon and mixing up some eggs. She was wearing cutoff jeans and a Blue Heaven half tee-shirt.

“Bacon and egg omelet okay?” I asked trying not to stare.

“Perfect,” she said. “What can I do to help?”

“There's some chives, onions, and tomatoes in the fridge. Chop up whatever you'd like to put in it.”

“Anything you don't like in an omelet?” she asked.

“I'll eat anything on this boat,” I said. “Otherwise, it wouldn't be here.”

“Anything?” she asked with a wicked smile.

I almost dropped the mixing bowl.

“Sorry,” she said, with a chuckle. “I couldn't resist myself.”

“You're making it damn hard for me,” I said

Then, realizing what I'd just said, we both laughed. “Just get to chopping, woman,” I said.

We ate quickly and Tina volunteered to clean up, while I got ready to make way. I went up to the bridge and started the engines, as the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. I switched on all the electronics, then climbed down and untied the mooring lines. By the time I stepped back aboard, Tina was just coming out of the salon.

“Everything's put away in the kitchen,” she said.

“Galley,” I corrected her.

She rolled her eyes and said, “Is there a book I can buy that has all these terms in it?” Then she handed me my thermos and two mugs of coffee and added, “I figured you'd like more.”

“You figured right,” I said. “We're all set, go ahead on up and I'll hand these up to you.”

I tried not to look as she climbed the ladder, but it was hopeless. By this time, I was certain she was purposely enticing me. She got to the top, turned around and bent over the rail for the coffee, her breasts nearly spilling out of her shirt. I handed the thermos and mugs up to her, then climbed up myself. She took the second seat and poured us both a cup, sitting mine in the cup holder by the helm.

I put the boat in gear and idled forward to the end of the piers, then reversed the starboard engine to make the tight turn. Minutes later, we were in the channel heading out of Stock Island. As we cleared the last markers I turned west and said, “When do you have to be back?”

“Nikki is filling in for me tonight,” she said. “My shift tomorrow night starts at seven o'clock. Or should that be 1700?”

“1900,” I said. “You add twelve, for a twenty-four hour clock. “I have some business to see to at noon tomorrow in Marathon. Should be able to get back to Key West by 1800 easy.”

I looked over and could see she was thinking. Then she said, “Six o'clock!”

I reached my arm around her and hugged her close. “I'll make a swab out of you yet,” I said.

“Is that good?” she asked.

“Well, it's a step up from Galley Wench.”

“I know I'm not a boat person,” she said. “But shouldn't we be going the other way?”

“Oh dang,” I said. She looked at me concerned and I laughed. “The water from the Atlantic up to my house is too shallow,” I said. “We'll run the Gulf to Harbor Key Bank and come down through Harbor Channel. There's a chart in that cabinet to your right.”

She opened it and I pointed out the one on top. She pulled it out and unrolled it. Pointing out the different features I said, “Here's Harbor Key Bank. See the channel going south, then southwest? That's Harbor Channel. And that little dot, where the channel turns south, is my island.”

I pushed the throttles forward and the
Revenge
raised her bow momentarily then came up on plane. I synched the engines at 1800 rpm, its most economical speed. Thirty minutes later, we were through Northwest Channel and turning northeast at Smith Shoal. I had the sonar searching forward to keep us off the many obstructions in this area.

Once we were clear and running in deep water I said, “You want to take the helm?”

“I thought you'd never ask,” she said and stood up to change seats.

I slid over as she squeezed between me and the helm, straddling my legs. She finally settled in at the helm and took the wheel. I'd already punched in the light at Harbor Key Bank on the GPS. “See the line on the chart plotter?” I asked. She nodded and I said, “Just follow that line. In about thirty minutes you should be able to see the light. It flashes every four seconds.”

She looked out over the bow and I could see her looking for just the right cloud to follow, glancing at the GPS now and then. She looked right at home there, with her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and a big grin. I was thinking it'd be nice to spend more time with her.

“You know,” she said. “I could call Nikki and she'd probably take my Friday night shift, too.”

She looked over at me, smiled and added, “Unless you have somewhere else to be.”

“No,” I said. “All I have is some business in Marathon at noon today and a phone call to make about some other business tomorrow afternoon. Can’t think of anything else on my day planner.”

Suddenly, my cell phone rang. I hadn't heard it in so long I didn’t recognize it at first. Then it took a couple more rings to find it in the console. By the time I opened it up to see who it was, they’d hung up.

“Anything important?” Tina asked.

“An old friend,” I said. “Rusty and I served together back in the early eighties. He owns the
Rusty Anchor
Bar and Grill
in Marathon.”

I hit redial and he picked up before the first ring ended. “Where the hell you been, bro?” he asked.

“Out past the Marquesas,” I said. “Been piloting Trent's shrimp boat the last few days. What's up?”

“You gonna come around any time soon?”

“Yeah,” I said. “In fact, I'm meeting that lawyer at the
Anchor
at noon tomorrow.”

“Perfect,” he said. “Guess who's back in town?”

“Who?”

“Dan Sullivan,” he said. “He's agreed to play here Friday, Saturday, and Sunday afternoon on the deck, for the next month.”

Dan and I went way back. He's a guitar player and used to make a decent living at it, up and down the Keys. We met at Dockside about six years ago, just after I bought the
Revenge
. I learned he was into Tae Kwon Do and we started working out and sparring together. He left over a year ago, sailing across the Caribbean, spreading his laid back, island style music. Last I heard he was on Tortola in the British Virgin Islands.

“Deck? What deck?”

“You need to come around more often,” he said. “I built a nice deck out back with a stage last month. Dan's playing two sets on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, in exchange for dock space.”

I cupped the phone and said to Tina, “Go ahead and call Nikki. We're gonna be on Marathon until Saturday afternoon.” She smiled.

“Who you talking to?” Rusty asked.

“Just a lady friend, piloting the
Revenge
for me,” I said. “I'll introduce you tomorrow. Should be there by 1100 or so.”

“Okay, bro,” he said. “See ya then.”

I ended the call, closed the phone and put it in my shirt pocket. Tina looked at me and said, “Didn't mean to eavesdrop, but he talks loud. An old friend in town, I gather?”

“Yeah, you'll like his music. He's playing and staying at the
Anchor
. We'll spend tonight at the house and go down there in the morning and stay at the docks.”