“Lemme know if that’s what you’re gonna do. I’ll swim back and tow…” Bud indicated his partner with a thumb, “this thing. I don’t want no part of them people.”

Kerry leaned on the counter. “Is this something that happens 68 Melissa Good often? I know we were reading something in the Miami papers about modern day piracy, but I never imagined the pirates drove luxury yachts.”

Bud and Charlie looked at each other but didn’t answer.

Kerry’s other eyebrow rose.

“They weren’t pirates,” Bud finally muttered. “Not the kind we have around here, anyhow.”

Ah. Kerry noticed neither of them would meet her eyes. “So it does happen.”

“Oh, well, you hear things,” Charlie interjected. “You know.”

Uh huh. “No, actually I don’t,” Kerry answered. “But then, what were these guys after?”

Bud shrugged. “Maybe they just didn’t like Dar’s attitude,” he suggested. “Inherited trait.”

Kerry was quite surprised to hear herself produce an almost audible growl. “Excuse me,” she said abruptly. “Keep an ear on the radio. I’m going topside.”

DAR UNCLIPPED THE plastic water bottle from under the console and gulped its contents, satisfied with her new course at last. They were headed into a little weather, the winds had picked up to about twenty knots and the seas were up, but the Bertram rode the surf solidly, and she knew she could make the eastward turn around the far side of the island in about ten minutes.

She turned around in her seat and looked behind her, shading her eyes against the rain. She could just see the other boat’s running lights far back, bobbing up and down in the surf but coming no closer. The depth would have been shallow enough to rake the bigger boat’s hull and maybe even puncture it, depending on how they hit, and though it was a wide sea and bad weather, Dar had absolutely no compunction about leaving them to their fate.

Dar swiveled around and thought about that for a minute.

“Okay.” She addressed the controls. “What would Dad do?” The dials and gauges peered mutely back at her. Dad would… Dar chuckled dryly. Her dad might have stayed and challenged the other boat, but if he’d done what she had, he might have at least called the Coasties for them; her mother wouldn’t have. To hell with them.

Dar still felt pumped, almost giddy at her successful escape.

She’d hoped the high speed run up the center of two parallel reefs, keeping her keel right down the space between them, would work, but she’d also known she was counting on luck and her own piloting skills a lot more than she should have.

But… Dar wiggled her fingers, looking at her strong hands.

She’d done it. She chortled privately, clearing her throat and Terrors of the High Seas 69

resuming a serious expression as she heard someone coming up the ladder behind her. A peek over her shoulder brought her grin back.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Kerry had on her rain slicker and was carrying Dar’s. She took the seat next to Dar and handed her the slicker. “I’ve finished pooping in my pants now. How about you?”

Dar laughed as she leaned back and pulled on her bright red rain jacket. “That was something, I gotta tell you. What the hell was up with those people?”

Kerry leaned on the console. “I don’t know, but we’d better find out, Dar. This is not funny.”

“No kidding.” Dar finished fastening her hood, then glanced at Kerry. “You okay?”

Green eyes blinked at her in the misty rain. “That was really scary.”

Dar laced her fingers through Kerry’s damp hair. “I know.”

“Your old friends are making my nape hairs rigid.”

“Sorry.” Dar scratched her neck. “Bud’s pretty abrasive,” she admitted. “I’ve kept in touch mostly because of Charlie. He’s a good guy.”

Kerry sighed, aggravated. “He’s married to a jerk.”

Dar eyed her. “There’re a lot of people who’d say the same about you,” she joked. “That you’re married to a jerk, I mean,” she added. “Not that you are one.”

“Pah.” Kerry started laughing. “Okay, I’m cranky, I hate being scared, and mysterious black boats who do great pirate imitations really tick me off.” She looked up as thunder rolled overhead. “Gee, thanks. That so helps.”

Dar reached out and pulled Kerry over into her lap. She hugged her close as she made a slight adjustment in the boat’s course and started her turn to the east. “We’ll be out of the rain soon. We’ll drop these guys off, then we’ll head out to St. Johns. Once we’re there, I’ll call in and have that damned boat checked out. Sound like a plan?”

Kerry found that not even rain and two layers of plastic could ruin a good Dar hug, and she grunted softly as she returned it. “I like it,” she agreed. “Do we have reservations on St. Johns?”

“Uh huh, at Caneel Bay,” Dar replied.

“Is that the one with the seven beaches?” Kerry was intrigued.

“And DSL in the rooms?”

Dar nodded. “With rental laptops. Got all the essentials covered.”

Kerry briefly considered telling Dar that she had stashed one of their laptops, but decided it wasn’t the time. “Be still, my technobeating heart.”

The mic crackled. “Hey, Dar.” Bud’s voice came through. “Got 70 Melissa Good a distress call casting down here. 117.9”

“Thanks. I’ll tune it in,” Dar answered. “We’re coming in around the eastern side of your island.”

“Yeap.” The mic clicked off.

Dar frowned, then shook her head and tuned in the marine radio. For a few moments, there wasn’t any sound, and she thought she’d gotten the wrong channel. Then a shrill feedback sound erupted and a voice came through.

“Mayday! Mayday! Help!”

“Oh, that’s professional,” Kerry sniped.

“This is Siren of the Sea…in bad weather… sinking…”

The words cut off. Dar peered at the radio, then looked behind them. “I don’t think that’s them.”

“Help! This is Siren of the Sea… Thirty foot sailboat in bad weather. I lost my engine and snapped the mast lines. Taking on water.”

“Oh, that’s bad.” Kerry sat up. “He needs help.” She looked at Dar. “I’ve crewed a thirty footer, Dar. It doesn’t stand a chance with no sail control.”

Dar keyed the mic. “Siren of the Sea, this is Dixieland Yankee. Do you know your location? Over.” She released the mic and waited.

There was no response. “Siren of the Sea, do you copy?”

There was still no answer. Finally they heard, “Hello? This is Siren of the Sea to whoever’s calling. I think I’m off St. Johns…off the western coast!” A break filled with static sounded before they made out, “…raining like hell! I think the swells are twenty feet!”

Kerry got up. “I’ll tell our passengers and get out the safety gear.” She kissed Dar. “Think we can find him?”

Dar flipped on the radar scope, which showed not much of anything. Given that she was not familiar with the waters and had no idea what she was really looking at, she didn’t want to give Kerry false hopes. “Do my best,” she replied.

“Done deal, then,” Kerry answered blithely before she turned and made her way to the ladder.

Dar shook her head then plotted a new course, this one curving back toward the sound of thunder and the rising wind.


Chapter

Eight

DAR BLEW THE wet hair out of her eyes and leaned forward, peering with a scowl through the rain lashed darkness. The weather had worsened severely, and the boat was now being tossed by fifteen-foot seas. Dar had turned on the big searchlight on the bow, but it really did very little to penetrate the darkness. The light reflected off the huge raindrops and almost made it seem like she was plowing into a silver curtain.

The Bertram rolled in a swell and Dar turned into the wave, watching both her radar and sonar with careful eyes. She was concentrating so hard, she didn’t hear Kerry come up the ladder and almost jumped right through the console topper when her partner plopped down in the seat next to her. “Yeeeah!”

Kerry sniffled and pulled her jacket closer. “Sorry.” She patted Dar’s back. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Mmph.” Dar collected her composure. She glanced at Kerry, watching her slit her eyes against the rain. “Y’know, there’s no reason for you to suffer up here in this mess.”

“Yes, there is,” Kerry disagreed. She carefully put her elbows on the console. “I can either sit up here and brave the best Mother Nature can offer, or I can stay downstairs and chuck my cookies.”

“Ah.” Dar peered more closely at her. “Yeah, you look a little…”

“Just call me Kermit,” Kerry admitted, swallowing. “Didn’t think I got seasick.”

“I think you can blame the weather this time,” Dar comforted.

Kerry grimaced, and then managed a wan smile as the Bertram rolled in the waves again.

“Watch the horizon,” Dar advised, reaching over and circling Kerry’s wrist with two long fingers.

“Honey, I love you,” Kerry leaned against Dar’s shoulder, “but you don’t have to hold my hand, really.”

Dar chuckled softly as she pressed down on Kerry’s wrist with her fingertips. “Try calling him again,” she suggested, more to distract Kerry than because she believed the man in distress would 72 Melissa Good answer. There had been no response to their last two hails, and Dar was afraid their unlucky friend had run into potentially fatal trouble.

Kerry took a few deep breaths, and then picked up the mic.

“Siren of the Sea, Siren of the Sea, this is Dixieland Yankee. Do you copy? Over.” She paused and listened to the crackling, closing her eyes as the boat hit a trough and pitched down.