Fearless Curves (12 page)

Finally, we arrived at the docks after what seemed like hours. The docks served fishermen mostly and the boat Marco had charted seemed far too big next to the small dock. It wasn’t a large boat but it dwarfed the fishing skiffs that would normally use the wooden docks. Many of the other refugees were already there and waiting including Enrico.

“Ah, Marco. I was worried,” Enrico greeted us.

“With good reason, my friend. Castro’s thugs were waiting for us at my home. If we wouldn’t have left to get dinner, we wouldn’t have been able to join you,” Marco explained. Enrico didn’t look surprised.

“I have heard rumors. I am sure I am on their lists too,” Enrico told us.

“We must leave right away,” Marco said.

“Some of the others haven’t arrived,” Enrico told us. Marco looked at his watch. It was nearing midnight.

“We will wait for a little longer. Take Nancy to the boat and I will wait for the stragglers and keep watch,” Marco told Enrico. I looked at Marco, taking his hand and squeezing. “We will leave as soon as they arrive,” he assured me. Enrico led me to the boat and I took a seat near the stern. It was a charter fishing boat and lacked any real comforts but it was only ninety miles or so to Florida.

“I will go to wait with Marco,” Enrico told me. I was nervous but not for myself. I was worried about Marco and until he was on the boat and we had departed I couldn’t relax. Only a little while more.

“Thank you,” I said but as soon as I had, Marco began shouting.

“Salir, salir!” he yelled. Enrico went to the side and then turned to the passengers and told them to get down in Spanish. I rose and pushed my way to the rail on the opposite side from the dock. Two cars skid to a stop as Marco ran towards the boat but before he could get to the dock, men emerged from the cars and shouted for him to stop. Marco didn’t halt immediately but when the men fired their guns into the air, Marco stopped just short of the dock.

“Marco!” I yelled as the boat’s engines roared to life. Enrico hesitated to order the boat to leave but Marco told him to go.

“Tell Nancy that I love her,” Marco shouted. I tried to climb from the boat as it drifted away from the dock but Enrico grabbed me and held me.

“No! Marco! Marco!” I shouted as the boat turned. The men seized Marco and more pointed rifles at the boat and yelled for the captain to stop. The captain shook his head and once he had the room, he turned the boat and threw the throttle all the way forward. The boat lurched forward and began to gain speed. The men fired on us and Enrico shouted for the passengers to get down once again as he pulled me to the deck. I struggled but he was too strong. “Marco!” I yelled.

Soon the boat was out of range of the gunfire but when Enrico let me go I forgot about Marco for a moment. The woman I’d been siting next too was dead from bullet to the chest and lay lifeless next to me. I looked at her in horror and then back at the shore as I got to my feet. Marco was gone, only his Cadillac remained behind. I fell to my knees and began to sob. Enrico consoled me as he lifted me to my feet again.

“We will get him back,” he assured me.

“They will kill him. We need to go back,” I wailed.

“We cannot,” Enrico told me. I knew he was right but right then I didn’t care. He took me into the cabin where I collapsed crying. Enrico sat next to me and held me as I sobbed. Marco was gone and there was nothing I could do to get him back. I was sure he would be tried and executed like so many others and I was helpless to save him. My world was as dark as the night that swallowed the fishing charter as it sailed for Florida. The engines droned on as I wept.

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About the Author

D. H. Cameron enjoys writing stories with a heart and a little, or a lot, of erotic sizzle.  Ms. Cameron also writes fantasy under another pen name.  Besides writing, Ms. Cameron enjoys music, specifically hard rock and heavy metal, cooking, clothes and photography.  Ms. Cameron is happily married with two wonderful children.  Home, where Ms. Cameron writes full time, is in Nevada.

Copyright © 2014 D. H. Cameron. All rights reserved worldwide. 

This is a work of fiction intended for mature adults. Names, characters, places and events are purely the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to actual places, events and/or persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental.