Terrors of the High Seas - DK6 (2 page)

In addition, on the outside deck, Dar had installed a small air compressor so they could refill their own air tanks while they were out on the water, and a rinse sink to toss their gear into. It made the boat a very comfortable place to be, and Kerry suspected that even the extended length of time they'd spend on it this trip wouldn't be too much of a hardship.

She took the duffel bag and folded it, then tucked it away in a drawer under the bed. Wandering back up the short flight of steps into the main cabin, she snagged a bottle of water and made her way back out onto the deck. The city was falling away behind them—buildings crisply defined in the clear air. She could see the huge cranes of Port of Miami loading freighters, and in the distance, the outline of a moving cruise ship made its stately way 6
Melissa Good
through Government Cut.

It was a pretty view, but Kerry knew where a prettier one was, and she hauled herself back up the ladder and took possession of the second chair in back of the engine console. Now all she could see was sun, water, and Dar. She wriggled into a comfortable position and relaxed, content to let the salt air wash over her as they headed out to sea. Dar had a Jimmy Buffett CD playing, and Kerry rocked her head back and forth to the upbeat tune. “Hey."

Dar shifted in her seat and looked over. One dark eyebrow lifted in inquiry.

"You ready for a totally rocking week?"

Dar propped a bare foot up against the console and leaned forward against her knee, surveying the almost endless horizon in front of them. "Oh, yeah." A grin split her face. "I sure am. Hope the company is up to doing without the both of us at the same time."

Kerry grunted in acknowledgment. "I’m sure they'll manage to muddle through for a week, Dar. What could happen in seven measly days?"

"Yeah," Dar agreed. "I’m sure they'll be fine."

They both listened to the music for a few moments, contemplating the clear blue sky and rich, green sea before them.

Then two heads turned and they regarded each other.

"Let's not think about it." Kerry grinned. "We'll just jinx them."

Dar merely waggled her eyebrows in answer, and gave the engines a little more gas.

IT WAS ALMOST dusk by the time Dar shifted the diesels into reverse and idled them into the much smaller dock outside their cabin. She maneuvered the Bertram carefully, sliding into place and holding it there until Kerry could leap off onto the wood and secure the lines to the cleats onshore.

When Dar had first come into her Aunt May’s estate, she’d been a little wary of driving the large yacht. After all, other than some clandestine ventures on government-issue vessels, most of her piloting had been done on much smaller boats. However, she’d been working on the water since she was four, and it hadn’t taken her long to master the big boat’s powerful engines and imposing size, and after that she’d sort of enjoyed taking the vessel out.

Pulling up to some out-of-the-way shrimp shack in the thing and sauntering off to get a Coke in front of a legion of goggling guys tickled her sometimes dark sense of humor.

Now she handled the throttles with a master’s touch as she held her ground while they were tied. The boat bumped gently against the pylons, buffered by the large rubber bumpers Kerry had tossed over the edge of the dock, and Dar shut down the engines, flexing her hands as she removed them from the throttles.

As the sound died, the peacefulness of the place surrounded her, and Dar spent a moment just gazing at their little piece of paradise before she took her sunburned self down the stairs. It wasn’t a large lot, just big enough for the cabin, the sandy ground that led down to the dock on one side and to a small beach on the other, and on the far side of the cabin—a driveway winding up to the road.

It was shaded though, with a thick stand of trees, and surrounded by patches of foliage on either side, so the effect was of snug isolation on this little point of the Key. It was calm, almost sleepy, and Dar liked it.
Equally important
, she thought,
Kerry really
likes it too
.

And so far, it had been a great day. The quick dive stop had turned into a deep wreck excursion, followed by lunch inside a tiki 8
Melissa Good
hut, followed by a very nice reef dive in the late afternoon. They hadn’t been doing that much diving lately, and Dar felt pleasantly tired and a little embarrassed that she’d forgotten to put on enough sunscreen and had mildly toasted herself.

Ah well
. She stretched, hopped up onto the edge of the boat, and stepped off onto the dock. Kerry was returning from opening up the cabin, a splash of pink making her fair lashes stand out vividly. “Everything okay?”

“Looks like it.”

Kerry waited for Dar on the end of the dock, then fell into step beside her as they walked up the short path. Having started out as a ramshackle old barn for a larger house that had once stood nearby, the cabin had evolved beyond recognition since they’d first purchased it. They’d ripped down most of the original building and rebuilt, using native stone for the foundation.

In the rear, facing the water, there was a small porch. They climbed the two broad steps up to it and crossed to the door, the new planks squeaking a bit under their weight. Someday, Dar wanted a padded bench or maybe one of the swing chairs like they had at the condo out there, but at the moment the porch was just an empty space.

Kerry pushed the door open and they entered; the strong scent of fresh wood and varnish washed over them. Inside, they’d chosen to keep the wood walls and stone floors natural, and the large room in front would eventually have comfortable chairs where they could sit and look at the wonderful view out the big picture windows.

Behind that room, a small kitchen was tucked into one corner, and in the other, a hallway led back to the master bedroom. Two more doors extended past that, an office for each of them—

complete with high-speed network access, printers, and everything else they’d ever need to run work operations from the cabin if they wanted to. Dar was particularly proud of the gigabit Ethernet hub and cabling she’d spent one weekend installing.

Aren’t too many rustic cabins
, Kerry acknowledged,
that can claim
their own Fractional T1 and Cisco router
.

They were still missing the living area furniture, some of the smaller kitchen appliances, and a lot of other trimmings like rugs and stuff for the walls, but already the place was taking on a certain personality of its own—a reflection of both of theirs. “Looking good in here,” Kerry remarked as she closed the door behind them. The air was cool and dry, evidence of the newly installed air conditioning unit.

“Definitely.” Dar grinned. The ceiling arched up to a skylight that let even more sun into the living room and lent a sense of lightness to the rich wood interior. “I really like it.”

Kerry glanced up at her. “Me too,” she admitted. “It’s…” She
Terrors of the High Seas
9

turned around and surveyed their little castle. “Don’t get me wrong, Dar. Only an idiot would complain about where we live, but this place is kinda special.”

Dar nodded. “It’s ours,” she replied simply. “We designed it.

We made it. Hell, we helped build it.” A not-quite-stifled yawn interrupted her speech. “Whoa.”

“Teach you to chase flounder.” Kerry chuckled, slipping an arm around Dar’s waist. “I got some great pictures of you doing that, you know.”

“Oh great, more fodder for the bathroom wall,” Dar replied drolly.

“Hmm…” Kerry mused in mock speculation. “Yeah, that would work with the silver and blue fixtures in there.” She glanced into their bedroom, starkly empty save for a neatly folded inflatable bed in the center. It was a large room, with two polarized floor-to-ceiling dormer windows on either side of where the bed was. A door in the rear led to a bathroom that had a stall shower and a large, thoroughly decadent spa tub. Around the top of the room ran a wooden ledge, common throughout the cabin, and Dar had already threatened to install a train set that would make its way around the place on top of the rail.

They were like a couple of kids, Kerry had to admit privately, furnishing their first tree house. She half expected to come out one day and find a tire hanging from one of the banyans outside. Of course it would be a high-technological tire, with three hanging points and a custom-molded interior ring. What was it that Dar had once referred to their place as? Microsoft Rustic.

True.
Kerry smiled. But they both liked their comforts, were used to the gadgets, and they could afford them. So, why not?

“How about something cold for dinner, and a pot of coffee?” she suggested.

Dar considered. “Tell you what—you start the coffee, and I’ll walk down to the corner and get the something cold.” She nibbled Kerry’s nose. “We need sugar anyway.”

“Mm.” Kerry leaned into the kiss, her fingers trailing over Dar’s bare arm. “Boy, you’re warm.”

Dar chuckled softly under her breath. “Gimme a minute and I’ll be even warmer.” She cupped Kerry’s chin and kissed her again, catching lingering traces of the tangerine yogurt they’d shared not long before. “You got a little burned, too.”

“Oh,” Kerry murmured. “Is that why I have chills?” She felt Dar’s arms fold around her. “Funny, they’re getting worse. Maybe you should hold me tighter.”

Dar chuckled. “Hedonist.”

“Mmhm.” Kerry let her hands slide over Dar’s back as she continued exploring with her lips. Then she exhaled, and nuzzled 10
Melissa Good
Dar’s neck, reveling in the peace, the quiet, and the fact that it was just the two of them.

“Think you’d better blow up the bed,” Dar whispered in her ear.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dar replied. “’Cause I need to take care of those chills.

Don’t want you catching cold.”

Kerry rested a hand on Dar’s hip. “Sweetie, you’re the one causing the chills.” She ducked her head and nipped at Dar’s breast.

“And because it’s the only furniture in the place,” Dar teased.

“I figure we can inaugurate that spa tub, then have dinner in bed.”

“Or dinner
and
bed,” Kerry replied, her eyes twinkling.

“Sounds great to me either way.” She kissed Dar again, then nudged her belly. “You go, I’ll blow.”

Both of Dar’s eyebrows hiked up.

“Careful, they’ll stick like that.” Kerry reached up and yanked an eyebrow down. “Wouldn’t you look silly?”

Dar stuck out her tongue. “You’re in a mood,” she remarked. “I like it.” She gave Kerry a tickle across her ribs, then headed down the hallway to what they thought of as the back door to the cabin.

It was, of course, the front door, but since they tended to arrive by boat, they didn’t often enter that way. Dar passed the small utility room with its unused connections for the washer and dryer that hadn’t been delivered yet, and entered the plain open space near the outer door to the cabin. She turned the lock and let herself out, then closed the door behind her.

They had put a porch in front too, but smaller than the one that faced the water. It was surrounded by a sturdy wooden flower box that was hip high on Dar, and there was a gate flanked by two wrought iron, coach-type lights. Dar opened the gate and walked through, heading along the neat, rock-defined path up to the road.

The yard was more sand and scrub than grass, typical of the Keys, and was bordered by a Chinese cherry hedge. Dar broke into a jog as she passed it, then ran lightly down the road towards the small, what Kerry called “charmingly rustic” market just at the next crossroads.

She made the trip without bumping into another soul until she pushed open the door to the market and walked inside. The shop had well-stocked shelves, a respectable collection of fresh fruits and vegetables, and best of all, a very fresh seafood counter in the back.

Dar headed for it, then examined the choices laid out on ice in the cold case.

“Well, hello there, young lady.”

The cheerful voice almost made her jump. Dar looked up to see the owner standing behind the fish case, wiping his hands on a
Terrors of the High Seas
11

towel. “Evening.”

“Got some great looking crabs today.”

Dar’s eyes twinkled. “Not today, thanks. Gimme a pound of the shrimp and two of the tails.” She watched contentedly as the man wrapped up the chilled, already cooked seafood. “Thanks.” She accepted the package and went toward the dairy case, not really paying attention when the market door opened.

“Hey, mister.”

Aware that the salutation didn’t include her, Dar studied her choices in milk, cocking half an ear behind her mostly because the rough voice that had spoken had set off her trouble sonar.

“What can I do for you?” the market owner replied.

“Got any shotgun shells?”

After a moment’s pause, the owner chuckled. “Son, this is a grocery, not a Sportsman’s Paradise,” he said. “We don’t sell no guns here.”

“Aw, man, you mean I gotta go up to the Wal-Mart? That sucks!

Why don’t you get them stuff here? You got all kinds of other crap!”

“Well, you gotta get a license, for one thing—”

“So? Go get one!” The voice was getting belligerent. “You’re supposed to get what people need, right?”

Dar set her package down and replaced the sugar she’d been considering; then she circled the row of canned goods and examined the noisy newcomer. It was, as she’d suspected, a boy in his late teens, dressed in an NRA T-shirt and jeans with patches consisting of Confederate flags. “Oh, look,” Dar muttered under her breath. “Walking stereotype. Wonder where his pickup’s parked.”

“So get off yer ass and get us some service here!” the boy demanded.

“Now, look, son—”

“Don’t you call me that, you old jackass!”

Dar walked over. “Excuse me.”

The boy turned, irritation switching to lechery in the blink of a hormone as his eyes took in Dar’s suntanned, mostly exposed body.

“Hey, baby! What c’n I do for ya?”

Detecting fermented malt, Dar’s nose twitched. “Stop breathing.”