Page 35 of Undercover Star
To Josh's gaze the craft looked sleek rather than sturdy, and it bobbed and rolled in the rising swell. By the time Josh had stepped down and moved cautiously towards Matisse, the boat's engine was roaring and the craft was straining its mooring lines.
"Cut her loose," Matisse ordered, nodding to the line that held the boat in place.
"You can't just steal a boat."
It was feasible that Matisse didn't hear him over the engine noise. Or maybe he simply ignored Josh. "Get on with it or he'll get too far ahead of us."
Faced with that level of good sense, Josh stopped arguing. He cast off the mooring line, and Matisse turned the boat smartly and headed out into the middle of the river. Swells, eddies, and their steadily increasing speed rocked the boat, so much so that Josh had to hold on to the side of the wheelhouse. Matisse didn't seem bothered. He sat in the pilot's seat and gazed out the sharply angled windows, his hands firm on the controls.
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THE RIVER RAN SWIFTLYwith the outgoing tide, and despite the weather the waterway was busy in both directions. Laden fishing boats made their way home before the water level dropped too low. Others used the outgoing tide to carry them down to open water. Matisse kept to the centre of the channel as he followed the fishing boat the thief had boarded. White-capped waves rippled across the bay, and spray hit the port side of the cabin. Josh huddled beside Matisse, his broad shoulders hunched as he did his best to stay out of the wind.
Matisse knew he wore a broad, manic grin, totally at odds with the controlled, careful way he drove the boat. He probably looked a sight, too, with his long hair wild around his face and damp strands clinging everywhere. It didn't matter a jot. He loved his weather on the rough side, a legacy—or so his mother had made him believe—of having been born during a violent summer storm. This—ripples, wind, and streaks of rain—was nothing. Once they were clear of the bay and out in open water, there would be proper waves, rain that stung like whiplash, and a gusty wind that made breathing a chore. It'd be real weather out there, the kind that made him feel alive, and Matisse didn't want to imagine how Josh would cope if he struggled right now. He only hoped Josh wouldn't be hanging over the side of the boat, heaving up his guts. Watching Josh suffer would put a damper on his fun.
The rain came at them sideways as soon as they made it out of the bay, and a heavier swell made the boat heave and pitch.
"Get in here," Matisse ordered, trying not to think about the two of them in the tight confines of the wheelhouse, pressed together from shoulder to knee. Having Josh draped over or wrapped around him while he drove the boat seemed like a cliché of the worst sort. Though it might be nice in other ways.
He followed the fishing boat out into open water, not entirely sure yet where they might be headed.
Fortunately, he didn't have to guess for long.
"He's meeting someone. You want to watch them?" He pointed to a sleek cruiser coming up on their port side.
Josh shook his head. He looked a touch green, but he stood straight enough despite the deck heaving under his feet. "McKinnoch should have alerted someone down here by now. Man's never been known to hang about. Can we—"
"Sure." Visibility was poor in the heavy rain. Matisse couldn't make out the cruiser's markings, but she seemed to run without lights. He cut his speed and reached for the radio, calling up the Coast Guard.
"Yo, Dougie," the reply came swiftly. "Nice seein' you around these parts. You need assistance?"
"Please." Matisse smiled when he heard the familiar voice.
"We had a call from Glasgow sayin' you got roped into some real work for a change. How does it feel?"
"Like a friggin' holiday."
"Look who thinks he's funny. I see two boats near you. Which one are you after?"
"The fishing boat. Police want to talk to the guy who's with the skipper. I've no idea who the cruiser is, but she's showing no lights."
"They're meeting up?"
"Looks like."
"Leave it to us. We're almost on top of you."
Matisse kept the two boats in view as he followed. The wind picked up, and while it wasn't a storm, it was strong enough to make all three boats pitch and roll. Rain moved across the sea in visible sheets, and Matisse enjoyed the awed, incredulous look on Josh's face every time he snuck a peek. They weren't that far out at sea. In fact, without the clouds and rain the coast would be clearly visible on their starboard side. As it was, it felt as if there was nothing around them but sea and sky, rain and wind.
Ahead, the two boats drew close together. A man dressed in oilskins tossed a line from the stern of the cruiser, which the thief repeatedly failed to catch.
"Leave it to the experts, landlubber," Matisse commented. "What? He may be an ace burglar, but he's clearly never been on a boat. If he doesn't watch it, he'll fall overboard and drown."
"I've never been on a boat, either," Josh grumbled. "Well, except for the Woolwich ferry."
"I know." Matisse grinned a wider. "I can tell by how you're hiding from a little wind and rain."
"It's blowing a fucking gale, and if my lunch is making a comeback, I'm blaming you."
