“But where do we go from here?” She glanced sideways. “Who do we tell about this? The cops? The Coast Guard?”

Her father tapped his thumbs together, giving her a surprisingly furtive look. “Let’s see what’s left coming back of those fellers,” he said. “Ain’t no point in telling more than you hafta.”

Dar’s head dropped forward a little. “Are you saying we should cover this up?” she asked in an incredulous tone. “Dad, they kidnapped Bud, they almost killed us! What the hell!”

Andrew stared evenly at her. “Chances are, they already done paid for that,” he stated. “Paladar.”

Dar stared back. “You think they sank,” she said. “And—”

“Ah do,” her father agreed. “And Ah do not feel sorry for that, and you shouldn’t neither.”

Dar sat back in her chair, her heart thumping erratically in her chest. “Could we have—”

“No, ma’am.” Andrew shook his head firmly. “We got lucky to get out of that storm our own selves, and you know that.”

She knew. “I called the Coast Guard for them,” she admitted.

Andrew’s face wrinkled into a frown. “You done a step more than Ah woulda,” he said. “So…wall, let’s see what comes of that then. Ain’t likely they found nothing, neither.”

Dar stared at her hands, clenched on the console. “You taught me—”

‘Yeah, Ah know.” Her father laid a hand on her shoulder. “But that was a long time back, Dar. Learned me about some rules between then and now.”

The rain cleared a little in front of them, and Dar could now see some order in the boats being shifted. “Like the difference between what’s right, and what’s legal?” she asked, watching his profile.

He gave a half shrug. “Somethin’ like that.”

Well. Dar wasn’t sure if she should be relieved, nervous, or disappointed. Maybe she was just too tired to really care all that much about moral issues she couldn’t do anything about at the moment. “Okay.” She nodded. “Let’s see what happens, I guess.

Sorry we had to end up in such a damn mess.”

He relaxed, giving her shoulder a pat. “Seems to me like you done all right,” Andy replied. “I figured you two had things covered ’til Kerry done sent that last note, about Bud and all.” He 330 Melissa Good shook his head. “Took me one of them there seaplanes over.” He paused. “Ah do not like them things.”

Dar had to smile. “Me neither.” She watched through the rain as the lights seemed to diminish ahead of them. The radio crackled.

“Dixieland Yankee, dockmaster. Come on in.”

Dar picked up the mic. “Dockmaster, this is Dixieland. We copy.” She set the device down and straightened. “Want me to take her in?”

Andrew eyed her. “You speculating on mah driving, young lady?” he asked. “Ah am not the one who—”

“I’ve gotten better since then,” Dar interrupted.

“So Kerry was saying.” Andy slid over and offered her the pilot’s seat. “G’wan.”

Dar took the controls and settled into the chair, still warm from her father’s body. She curled her fingers around the throttles and adjusted them, focusing her attention on the dark sea before her. On ether side of them, the channel markers bobbled wildly, barely visible in the high surf. Slowly the engines overcame the chop and they were moving forward through the cluster of boats on either side. “Kerry’s got coffee downstairs if you’re interested,” Dar remarked, keeping her eyes flicking over the patch of water just in front of them.

Andrew grunted. “Ah’d rather not,” he answered. “This here

’pears to be more fun watching.”

It wasn’t fun doing. Dar concentrated on navigating the obstacles, guiding the big craft through the channel littered with smaller boats. Some were trying to get out of their way or stay out of their way, but others were being tossed by the weather to the point where their pilots had little control.

Dar half stood, her weight coming up onto her thighs as she gave the engines a little more diesel. “Damn.” The rain came down harder, almost obscuring her view and making the surface near indistinguishable. She could feel the wind rising at her back, and a gust fluttered her slicker hard against her body. And yet, she felt no fear. “You ever been scared out in weather like this, Dad?” Dar asked in sudden curiosity.

“Naw,” Andrew replied absently. “Part of bein’ a seaman is knowin’ you’re a part of all that,” he said. “Can’t control it; no sense in being scared of it.”

Mm. Dar felt the rhythm of the sea under her and understood what he meant. She followed the riffle of the waves, carving a careful path through them.

A sailboat heeled with sickening suddenness. It arced into their path, not a length in front of the bow. Dar reacted, swinging to her right and gunning the engines. The wind shoved the sailboat just shy of their hull, the spar scraping lightly against them before Terrors of the High Seas 331

falling free. In the rain, she could just barely see its crew frantically working to regain control of their sheets, and was more than glad to have the secure power of her engines under her. The seawall loomed ahead, and Dar was glad to see most of the boats keeping well clear of it.

“Careful there, Dar,” Andrew murmured. “Got a strong riptide coming in.”

“I feel it,” Dar answered, and did, through her legs. “Hold on.”

She turned the boat into the wind and increased the power to the engines, now able to hear their rumble above the weather. The boat surged against the waves, cresting them and fighting against the strong current. She gave the engines full power and they surged past the jetty, heading full on into the cluster of boats beyond it.

Dar heard her father inhale, and she grinned privately as she cut the throttles and swung the bow around. The current picked them up and turned them very neatly into the center of the marina channel. Dar edged the throttles forward again slightly and headed for the concrete docks.

“Son of a biscuit.” Andrew chuckled. “Damned if you can’t drive this here bus.”

Dar approached the docks and swung around to the larger ones. She could see a cluster of people waiting at the empty slip they’d been assigned, and she thought she saw medical personnel.

The waves were rushing up against the docks, breaking over them and dousing the watchers. Ordinarily, she would have let the boat drift gently in, but the tide was running the wrong way. Dar swung the boat into line, then set the engines into reverse, allowing the water to pull them very grudgingly into the slip. The dockmasters had already thrown bumpers over the side, and she skillfully maneuvered into place until her hull just touched them.

Two of the men on the dock hopped on board and grabbed their lines. Dar cut the engines and sat back, cocking her head and giving her father a questioning look. “Better than when I was ten?”

Andy ruffled her damp hair affectionately. “Good job,” he complimented seriously. “You’da made a damn good sailor, Dar.”

Dar crossed her arms and smiled. “Thanks.” She glanced behind her. “Guess we’d better get moving. Kerry and I have a room up at one of the hotels, if it’s still open in this mess. We can probably get you in there.” She stood up and eased around the console chair.

“Ah do think Ah can scrabble up my own bunk,” Andrew remarked. “Let’s get Bud and Charlie settled down first off, and git that cowardly pissant off’n this boat, then find us some shelter.”

That sounded very good to Dar. Some place dry, and quiet, and ideally supplied with lots of ice cream.


332 Melissa Good KERRY HAD FINALLY dozed off, nestled into the bed in their bedroom on the Dixie. She hadn’t thought she’d be able to sleep, owing to the boat’s motion and the stress of the day, but her body had simply taken over and demanded she close her eyes and shut out the world for a while.

Her dreams were formless. She kept seeing fireworks, as though replaying the Fourth of July in her mind, over and over again. Finally, the last cracker went off and the faceless crowd around her faded away, their clamor slowly morphing to a sound of clinking that beckoned her toward consciousness.

She opened her eyes, gazing at her surroundings in momentary confusion before memory kicked in. “Urmf.” Kerry rubbed her face and rolled over, missing Dar’s presence. She spent a moment wondering where her partner was, then realized the boat was relatively still and the engines were off.

“Jesus. We must be in dock.” Kerry rolled out of the bed and straightened, holding on to the chest of drawers for balance as the Dixie rolled with the waves. “Why the hell didn’t she come get me?”

She flipped on the lamp and stretched, feeling aches along the entire length of her body. Her arms hurt. Kerry leaned against the drawers and flexed her hands. They were stiff and felt slightly swollen, and there were bruises across the heels and knuckles of both. For a brief moment, her stomach churned at the thought of how she had pounded DeSalliers against the floor of the cabin, and then she had a flash of how Dar’s hands had looked after Dar had saved her from a pack of scrungy carjackers—painfully bruised, but in a good cause.

Kerry lifted her head and gazed into the dimness of the stateroom. “You know what, Stuart?” she addressed herself. “You don’t have a damn thing to be sorry about. That guy was a scum-sucking, whore pig, and he deserved to have his clock cleaned.”

As the echo of the words died away, she felt a little better. She twitched her shirt straight and ran her fingers through her hair, then slipped into the head. It was quiet on the boat. As she splashed water on her face, she listened for sounds of Dar’s presence.