Page 51 of Wayward
“Right, I still want to avoid them if I can. Shifting course twenty degrees.” I take it slowly, like I’m drifting, not yanking the wheel.
“Sounds good,” Calvin grunts.
Water sprays over the cockpit, and we bounce over a few rogue waves. Dante’s and Calvin’s heads sway by my feet.
“Fuck, the other boat just changed course.” My hands are locked on the wheel, but I glance behind me.
“You want me to take the boat hook now, Sam?” Calvin asks.
“No, but be ready to. I’m taking the offensive. Let me try to talk my way out of this.” I pick the radio mic. “Green Summit, Green Summit, over.”
The radio crackles. “Hey, Green Summit, tell me there’s still some dinner left?”
“Negative on that, you know Esmeralda.” I shrug and keep my eyes off Calvin and Dante. The other boat might have a scope on me.
“What did she make? Over.”
My eyes flick downward to Dante.
“She swore to the Philadelphia Eagles. She’s an expat but been here a good time for as rapid as her Thai was,” Calvin says.
“Thai cheesesteaks?” Dante raises his eyebrows.
I pick up the mic and repeat it.
“Fucking hell. We missed them?”
“Afraid so. Over,” I say.
Their boat straightens out. We’re going to pass, and pass far enough apart that we’ll be able to see each other. But not close enough that, even with a Heisman Trophy arm, Dante would be able to knock somebody out with a can of beans. And having Calvin hit someone with the docking hook won’t happen either. Bullets, however... bullets won’t have the same problem beans do.
I rub the back of my hand over my face, covering my mouth. “Stay down unless I give you a signal. All the way down.” I grab the wheel with both hands again and stare straight at my route. Veering off-course would be highly suspicious.
The five minutes waiting for the other boat coming our way has my heart slamming in my chest. Theirs is a converted fishing boat, but the way their bow is hitting the water, there’s nothing standard about the boat. I’m betting they have Mercury 400’s too. They might be trying to blend in, but even a tourist could see they’re not trying to hook a blue marlin. There are a half-dozen guys sitting on the side of the boat with guns resting in their laps. I incline my head and keep going. The one steering gives a small nod back. And they’re past my aft. My heart should be slowing, but it’s not. One quick radio call from the boathouse and they’re going to turn around and then . . . it’s over.
“They’re gone,” Haley says, her shoulders squeezed between Dante’s and Calvin’s.
“Yeah, but don’t come up. The last thing we want is for them to see.”
“Right,” she says. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah.” But I don’t mean it.
“I hear you.” Haley reaches up and grips the top of my ill-fitting shoe. “You’re doing great. We’re almost home, and then you can give your niece and nephew a hug.”
“Almost home,” I repeat, but it doesn’t feel real. There are still a hell of a lot of things standing between us and home.
“We’re not docking where Turner told us to, are we? The resort?” Haley squeezes my toes again.
I glance down at her blue eyes. “That’s what I’ve got plotted. My gut still says it’s a good thing.”
“The paper charts have a dock right after it. They’re current,” Calvin says.
“Maybe. But I’m not changing course. Not yet.” Adjusting the GPS, I scroll through the map. “I see the other dock. Thirty minutes to the resort, thirty-five to the other dock. Let’s see what we come up with when we get closer.”
“He seemed like a nice guy. Not radioing when he found us. I just can’t help but think it’s a trap.” Haley hangs on to Calvin’s arm as we go over another rogue wave.
“Sassy, you’ve become cynical? I knew I could bring you over to the dark side.” Dante laughs.
