Part 10 (1/2)

She'd never really liked guns. Handguns, in fact, scared the daylights out of her, as she'd realized when they'd been faced with one in Chicago. But Kerry had realized that she hated the feeling of being helpless even more, so she'd gone out and gotten herself a gun she at least had experience with.

Kerry was pretty sure her father had never intended his forced familial skeet lessons to have this particular result. She had always found it ironic that of all her cousins and siblings, she was the only one who could hit anything smaller than a Volkswagen Microbus with any regularity. She still remembered those frosty fall days with reporters in full attendance, watching as adolescents barely able to lift the d.a.m.n rifles gamely plugged away at skittish, fleeting, clay plugs.

She stood next to the door and peered out, holding the shotgun close to her body. If she squinted, she could just see figures moving out onto the bow of the larger vessel, one manning the annoying searchlight and two others approaching the railing.

Charlie limped up behind her and shut off the light in the cabin, affording them a better view. ”No sense putting up a target,”

he commented. ”Wonder what they're after?”

”I have no idea.” Kerry inhaled sharply as she realized the bigger boat was gaining on them again. She made a grab for the doorframe as the Bertram heeled over, then accelerated again in a new direction. ”Jesus, Dar.”

Being in international waters, there wasn't anyone, really, they could call. They could, Kerry realized, get into very real trouble out there and it would be weeks before anyone knew about it. ”Dar?”

”I know!”*65 Kerry exhaled.

”Ker?”

”Yeah?”

”This could get nasty!”

Kerry stepped out onto the stern and worked the shotgun mechanism. ”I'm armed.”

”Great.” Dar felt more than a little frazzled. ”Here I am playing Captain Kidd, and I've got Wyatt Earp on the stern.”

Bud leaned over the edge of the console and regarded Kerry's wind buffeted form. ”She know how to use that thing?”

Dar grunted, focusing on her route. Ahead of her, the sky no longer held stars, and as she stared ahead, lightning fluttered, outlining huge thunderheads. She pointed. ”That the storm you were telling me about?”

”It's a storm,” Bud stated. ”You figgering to head into it?”

”Not exactly.” Dar looked behind her. The big boat was definitely gaining on them now. ”But it could get a little rough.”

She plotted a course and then settled herself, wrapping her legs around the captain's chair. ”Kerry, stow it! I'm gonna be moving!”

She heard the cabin door slam. ”All right, a.s.shole. Let's see if you can stick with me.” Dar headed between two tiny, uninhabited islands. The Bertram raced over the waves, which were now perceptibly choppier. The searchlight zapped over their heads. Dar felt its glare on her neck and she pulled the boat into a gentle arc, first one way and then the other.

A popping sound brought her head up and around. Both she and Bud ducked as a flare seared past their starboard side. Dar spent an unfruitful moment wis.h.i.+ng like h.e.l.l her father was beside her, and then directed her full attention to threading the boat through the narrow channel.

”Getting shallow,” Bud offered.

”I know.” Dar kept one eye on the depth meter, and the other on the blinking buoys the marked the route. A roll of thunder rumbled overhead, almost obscuring the sound of the engines.

Another flare screeched by, this time on the port side. ”Next one's coming right up our backs, I'm guessing.”

”Inta the engine cowling,” the laconic ex-sailor stated. ”Fastest way to stop you.”

”Thanks.” Dar's eyes narrowed and she inched her route slightly to her left. Then without warning, she spun the wheel, sending the boat into a rapid curve. She straightened out and then went right again, daring their pursuer to follow them.

She heard their engines rev as they accepted her challenge, and with that sound, Dar smiled. ”Gotcha,” she whispered, ramming the throttles home and skimming down a specific line in the sea with a light, precise touch on the controls.

66*

Bud was gripping the console, his eyes wide. ”Dar, you're gonna bottom.”

Dar watched the depth meter. ”C'mon...c'mon.” It sounded a warning, and she kept her fingertips on the wheel, mentally crossing other body parts and just wis.h.i.+ng. The Bertram threaded a tiny line down the center of the meter, the klaxon blaring louder and louder as the sounds of their pursuers also got louder.

”Jesus Christ!” Bud yelled. ”You have all lost your d.a.m.n minds!”

”Nah.” The boat flashed over a section of water, then the klaxon cut off, just as they heard a horrific crunching sound behind them. Dar chanced a quick look behind her and saw the big boat heeling off to one side, its engines dying and panic on the bow. She faced forward again, into the rain now hitting the s.h.i.+eld around the console. ”I just play a mean game of chicken.”

Every nerve in her was alive. Dar could see her own grin reflected in the gla.s.s, and she just barely kept herself from letting out a wild yell of triumph. ”All right,” she was proud of the even tone in her voice, ”now let's get outta here.”

Bud unglued his hands from the rail. ”Whoinh.e.l.l taught you to drive?” he growled.

Glinting blue eyes reflected back in the winds.h.i.+eld. ”My dad,”

Dar replied, savoring the moment. Then she keyed the mic for internal communications. ”Kerry?”

”Here.” Kerry's voice sounded a little out of breath. ”Holy s.h.i.+t, Dar!”

”Yeah.” Dar trimmed the engines, which now labored against the rising seas. ”Out of the frying pan... I'm gonna circle back around and see if I can get past this storm and come back into the island from the other side.”

”Anything I can do?”

”Monitor the radio. See if you can pick up those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds calling for help. I want to know who they are.”

”Right.”

Dar clicked the mic off, and clipped it. ”Board me, will you?”

she muttered. ”I don't think so.”

KERRY PUT THE mic down, but left her hand on it for a long moment as her nerves steadied. ”Okay,” she finally said, gathering her composure and pus.h.i.+ng away from the wall. ”Glad that's over.”

”Me, too,” Charlie agreed. He was seated securely in one of the chairs bolted to the deck. ”Now, whatintheh.e.l.l was it?” He got up and peered out the window. ”Sumb.i.t.c.hes bottomed, huh?”

”Yeah.” Kerry walked over to the galley and removed a bottle of Gatorade, popped the top and sucked down several mouthfuls.*67 She set the bottle down. ”Now all we have to worry about is the weather.” She walked back over to the radio, set it to fast scan, and turned the volume up. The shotgun was already tucked back into its case under the seat, and now that the immediate danger was over, Kerry felt her entire body shaking in reaction.

Adrenaline rush, the hard way. With a sigh, Kerry sat down in the other bucket chair and let her hands rest on her thighs.

”Ain't' your cuppa brew, is it?” Charlie asked.

Kerry gave him a wry look. ”I'm a Midwestern Republican with a degree in Information Technology. What do you think?”

The big man chuckled. ”You done pretty good, though,” he said. ”Where in the Midwest you from?”

”Michigan,” Kerry replied. ”Saugatuck.”

”Been up there a time or two,” Charlie said. ”Got to do some dry suit work in the lake once upon a time.”