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He took all of the bags and hustled out of the house. I followed, feeling useless, a product of my guilt. He waited until I was on board the yacht before he undid the knots. Once done, he came aboard. He didn’t go to the top level. He sat in the right of the two captain’s seats in the front lounge.
“You can pilot from here?” I asked.
“Here or upstairs.”
For once, I didn’t ask any more questions or put up a fight. The cove wasn’t that big, and the rocks were plentiful. One false move and we’d be shipwrecked. He used the key chain thing to open the gate. Water rushed in, and I heard him throttle the engine to work against the incoming tide. Then the wave rushed out, us with it.
Striker proved he was skilled by navigating us out with only one light bump against the rock wall. Then we were in open sea.
“So what was that all about? How could someone get to us so quickly?” I asked.
“It’s likely not about us but the safe house. Some have been searching for its location for a long time.”
“Whose safe house?”
“That’s classified,” he said.
“What? Do you work for the government?”
“I know people.”
I didn’t fight him on that. He wouldn’t tell me. “If that phone was so important, why was it so easy to make a call?”
“Dual purpose. It belongs to the house. If someone finds the place, they might use it and without keying the passcode. Then that call could be traced.”
“By using the phone, I not only compromised the CIA or whoever, but my brother and us too.”
“Exactly.”
“What now?”
“We have to leave. Without a phone, we’ll have to radio in, which isn’t secure. We’ll need a way to send a coded message to Griffin.”
“I speak Griffin,” I said, finally feeling useful.
“Good. We’ll figure that out once I see if we have enough gas to get us to Florida.”
“Why can’t we go back to the airport here?”
“A hurricane is heading our way.”TwelveConnorHer eyes popped. “A hurricane? Why hadn’t I heard about this until now?”
“There was no reason to. That house,” I said, pointing in the direction of the island we’d left, “could withstand a category five hurricane. We would have been fine.”
“And now?”
“Now we have less than a day and a half to get to Florida before the hurricane hits, given its current speed and heading.”
“How long will it take to get there in this?”
“At top speed, thirty-three hours. We’ll be cutting it close.” I stood. “Take the wheel.”
“What?”
“It’s almost like driving. I need to check our fuel reserves.”
“I can’t drive a boat.”
“We’re in open water. You should be good.”
I left and went to the lower deck. According to the gauge, we had a little more than half a tank, which should get us to Florida. I’d been told there was more fuel in the hold, and my contact was right. With the customizations to the boat, there should be an access panel on the inside of the boat to replace the reserve tank. I breathed a little easier and went back upstairs. Lizzy was holding the wheel in a white-knuckle grip.
“You can let go,” I said.
She did, and when the steering remained steady, she glared at me. “I didn’t have to hold the wheel.”
I took the seat before speaking. “Technically no. This boat has an upgraded autopilot. But I wanted eyes on the ocean to be sure.”
She nodded.
When I was satisfied she wasn’t about to launch into another argument, I said, “Now we need to radio Griff with a message. I need you to tell him we’ll be in the Keys and will need a flight—not to New York—without saying as much.”
“What was the pilot’s name who flew us here?”
“Grant.”
“Okay. I’ve got it.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I dialed up the frequency Griffin and I had agreed on. It wasn’t secure. Anyone who happened to be dialed in at the same time would be able to hear us. I let silence play out for a minute before I handed the mic to Lizzy.
“Papa bear,” Lizzy said.
Seconds felt like minutes before Griffin’s voice came on. “Baby bear.”
“Aye,” she said. “I’m ready to go home. I’m going to need my keys.”
Clever girl, I thought.
“Yeah, how soon?”
She glanced at me. “If I had it my way, I’d be there before tomorrow morning, but night is fine.”
“Have you checked the weather for storms?” he asked. “Moving in rain can be a bitch.”
“That’s why I said tomorrow night. I’m hoping to beat any bad weather. Do you think Grant can help me?”
“Grant?”
“Yeah, he helped me move in what feels like a few days ago. God, I miss that place.”
“Weren’t you planning a vacation in the next few weeks?”
She looked at me and mouthed, “Where?”
I shrugged and pointed at her before making the universal hand gesture for being on the phone. I hoped she got the message that it was her call.
