“You made them just the way I like them.” Kerry plucked a flake from the bowl and put it into her mouth, chewing it. “Just right.”

“You’re welcome,” Dar drawled. “Want to go outside?”

“Sure.” Kerry turned and opened the refrigerator, removing a yogurt and adding it to the tray Dar had sitting on the counter. She put the two cups of coffee and some milk on it as well, then stepped back as Dar finished pouring her own breakfast into a bowl and picked up the tray.

She followed Dar onto the back deck, smiling a bit as the cool sea air blew against her. She waited for Dar to put the tray down on the little table, then she took her usual left hand seat and reached for her coffee. A few sips of the brew seemed to ease her headache, and she leaned back, propping one bare foot up against the footrest and gazing off toward the horizon.

The nightmare had shaken her. Kerry put down her cup and picked up her bowl, pouring some milk over the flakes and patting them down with her spoon. She took a mouthful and chewed, one ear cocked to catch the louder crunching as Dar munched on her favorite Frosted Flakes.

Watching her father die had been bad enough. But in her dream, after she relived that again, and again, and again, her father’s stiffened figure would be replaced with Dar’s, and the feeling of utter helplessness and the shock of loss drove her to wake screaming every time.

Kerry forced herself to swallow past the sudden lump in her throat.

“Ker?”

How does she know? Kerry glanced to her right. “Hm?”

Dar was watching her with an expression of concern. “You okay?”

C’mon, Kerrison, get yourself together and let it go. It’s just a damn dream. “Yeah.” She smiled at Dar, trying to convey her gratitude without saying it.

Apparently receiving the message, Dar’s face relaxed and her eyes gentled.

“So.” Kerry firmly shifted her focus. “Tell me more about Charlie and Bud.” She dug into her cereal again. “And Dad.”

“Mmph.” Dar swallowed a mouthful of flakes. “Long story.”

“My favorite kind,” Kerry said.

“They were in a special training class together,” Dar said between bites. “Dad says from the very start, Bud was always confronting him, challenging him, while Charlie was just the opposite.”

“Uh huh.”


Terrors of the High Seas 53

“So, after they graduated, the three of them plus about six other guys were assigned to a special ops unit, and they shipped out for six months,” Dar went on. “Dad said Charlie was a great guy, real friendly, all right to hang out with, but Bud was your typical antisocial, military hardass.”

“I see.”

“They were…somewhere…and ended up under fire,” Dar said.

“I don’t really know what happened, and I’m not sure I want to ask Dad, but they walked into a mine, I guess. They lost two guys and Dad ended up carrying Charlie out.”

“Oh.”

“After that, Charlie got discharged, and a month later, Bud didn’t re-up. They hung out around the guys at the base, though, and it came out that they were lovers.”

“Ah.” Kerry finished her cereal and started on her yogurt.

“So then, Bud accused my Dad of chasing after his partner. He somehow was convinced that the only reason Dad got Charlie out of that firefight was because he wanted to impress him and get between the two of them.” She shook her head. “Bud’s a couple chips short of a motherboard, if you ask me.”

“No.” Kerry disagreed mildly. “He’s just not facing the real picture.” She swallowed a mouthful of the plain dairy and pointed the spoon at her partner. “He doesn’t want to think about the fact that the guy he’s in love with is head over heels in love with your father.”

Dar stopped eating, the spoon still in her mouth. She turned round, almost comical eyes on her partner.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know that,” Kerry spluttered.

“C’mon, Dar!”

Dar removed the spoon. “Kerry, it took a medical exam for me to figure out I had a crush on you. Gimme a break, okay?”

Suppressing a smile, Kerry went back to her cereal as she watched Dar process out of the corner of her eye.

“Son of a biscuit.”

“You realize what a can of worms we just opened, right?”

“Son of a biscuit.”

KERRY SIPPED FROM the straw in her glass of iced tea, her eyes scanning over the book in her lap. She and Dar had just finished lunch, and true to her word, Dar was sprawled in the chair next to her, doing nothing more than beautifully taking up space, her body splashed with sunlight.

Her mystery novel was interesting, but from time to time Kerry found herself sneaking looks at her companion. Dar’s bathing suit clung to her body and outlined its sculpted lines, which held a hint 54 Melissa Good of dynamic motion despite the light doze Dar was in.

She was glad to see the bruising had faded around Dar’s shoulder, leaving only a faint discoloration that was hardly visible against her tan. Kerry had also noticed that despite her stubborn refusal to go to her prescribed therapy sessions, Dar had mostly stopped favoring the injured arm. Lucky thing.

Her own dislocated shoulder had taken weeks of physical therapy to ease, and she was still being careful of it when she attacked the climbing wall at the gym. Kerry shook her head in wry bemusement and returned her attention to her medieval mystery. She stretched out her bare legs and crossed them at the ankles, then looked up from her book as the sound of a boat engine broke the peaceful silence.

A small tender was coming around the corner of the island.

Kerry tipped her sunglasses down and squinted, wondering if it was the same boat that had passed them by the day before. It was about the same size, but as yet it was too far away for her to tell for certain. It was coming closer, though, and by its arc Kerry suspected its destination was the dock. She set her book down and reached over to close her fingers around Dar’s wrist.

“Hm?” Dar stirred, turning her head towards Kerry. “What’s up?”

Kerry pointed. “Company.”

Dar pulled off her sunglasses, revealing sharp blue eyes that scanned the newcomer intently, all trace of sleep gone. “Ah,” she murmured. “Our curious friends.”

“It is them? You can tell?”

Dar nodded. “Same ID numbers on the bow.”

Kerry squinted, then turned and looked at Dar in amazement.

“You can read those?”

Her partner gave another nod and a shrug. “Yeah. It’s…” Dar made a vague motion near her face, “close up stuff I have a problem with.” She paused. “Sometimes.”

Kerry wasn’t sure if she should be more shocked by the boat, or by Dar’s frank admission of her vision problems. She finally decided to deal with the boat first. “They’re coming here.”

“Looks like it.”

“It could just be coincidence,” Kerry reasoned. “Maybe they heard about the food.”

“Could be,” Dar agreed, settling her glasses back onto her nose and resuming her relaxed posture. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Kerry felt a prickle of apprehension, unsure of what they might be getting into. She watched the boat come nearer and nearer, then slow as it prepared to dock several slips away from them. It occurred to her that both she and Dar were far out of their usual world, and if real trouble found them, it might not be as easy to Terrors of the High Seas 55

deal with as their usual day-to-day crises were. Dar, however, seemed to be completely at ease, so Kerry leaned back in her chair and opened her book, found her spot and continued to read.

The small boat docked and four people got off, three men and a woman. Two of the men continued up the docks toward the buildings, but the third man and the woman headed toward the Dixieland Yankee. Kerry kept her head down, but watched them from behind her sunglasses as they approached, evaluating them.

They were dressed in sharply pressed shirts and Docker shorts, with conspicuous gold at their throats and wrists, and Kerry got an immediate impression of sophistication and money. The woman had blonde hair a few shades darker than her own, pulled back in a neat tail that exposed an elegantly made up face with high cheekbones. Carrying herself with a sense of aggressive self-possession, she was the one who was leading the way toward the boat.The man behind her was tall, dark haired, and skinny to the point of emaciation. He had a high forehead, and he was carrying an over-the-shoulder briefcase with a satellite cell phone clipped to it.

Maybe they just want to say hello, Kerry reasoned. Maybe they just like the boat. Maybe—

“Ahoy, there,” the woman addressed them. “Excuse me.”

Sounds about as friendly as an auditor with hemorrhoids. Kerry closed her book and looked over, aware of Dar’s watchful alertness next to her. “Hi,” she replied. “Something we can do for you?”

The woman put her hands on her slim hips and regarded Kerry.

“We’re looking for some information. Maybe you could help us?”

Hm. “Sure, if we can. Would you like to come aboard?” Kerry politely replied.

They stepped onto the railing, then down onto the deck and approached the two of them. Kerry watched their eyes flick to Dar, who was to all appearances blissfully asleep. The woman returned her attention to Kerry.

“My name is Christen Mayberry,” the woman stated. “This is my associate, Juan Carlos.” She paused, giving Kerry an inquiring look.

“Kerry.” A sudden impulse toward reticence took hold.

“Roberts.” Her ears heard the faint snort of surprise from Dar, and she smiled. “Nice to meet you.”