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.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

Dar abandoned that tack. “You go to the hardware store for bread?”

“Naw.”

“So why come here for gun supplies?”

The boy didn’t seem to mind the questions, his eyes busy taking in Dar’s athletic form. “’Cause it’s closer’n hauling my ass 12 Melissa Good up the road to the Wal-Mart.” He grinned suddenly. “You wanna ride in my truck?”

“No,” Dar replied. “What are you shooting?”

“Huh?”

“You’re buying shotgun shells.”

“Yeah?”

“What are you going to shoot them at?”

“Signs,” the boy replied amiably. “Or them little deers, or whatever.”

Dar frowned. “For what?”

“Fer fun,” the boy said. “You wanna come? I got me a box of shells. Just wanted some more in case I find me some ’gators or something. You up fer some fun, baby?”

Dar stared at him for a moment, then felt the wash of adrenaline and anger sweep through her. “Sure.” She grinned. “I love fun.” She moved in a blur, drawing her right hand back and cocking it, then letting loose and cracking the now really smirking boy across the chops. He spun away from her and fell over a stack of beer cases, slamming his head against the doorpost.