CHAPTER 1
KAI
Squinting into the sun, I forced a smile and wiped a thick band of sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. My skin already burned from the long day, the salt crusting on my shoulders where the spray had dried.
“Sorry fellas, but all good things must come to an end. Time to bring in the lines.” I nodded to Marcus, my first mate today, who was already reaching for the nearest rod.
“No apologies necessary,” the sunburned leader of the pack proclaimed, his voice booming with vacation cheer. “We caught twice as many fish today as we did last year. Good job, captain! You’re upping your game.”
“Well, I’m glad we stocked your coolers. You should be eating like kings for the rest of your week.”
“You know it!” he said, smiling even wider, his cheeks already peeling. “Last year you told me your favorite place to cook the catch. Was it Lazy Days?”
It wasn’t me who’d told him, it was my twin brother, Reef, who had fished with his group last year. I didn’t bother correctinghim. Somebody had confused me for my twin brother at least three times a day for as long as I could remember. Though I was tempted to correct him this time to claim credit for outperforming my twin, I decided to keep my competitive joy to myself. “That’s the place,” I assured him. His memory was at least partially intact.
“We’ll be there as soon you get this haul filleted,” he said, patting me hard on the shoulder. His hand was heavy, damp with sunscreen and sweat. “After a shower, of course,” he added with low and rumbling chuckle.
“There’s a pretty little waitress there named Naomi that would sure appreciate that,” I said with a laugh, shaking the sting out of my shoulder. “Ask to sit in her section if you can. She’s a friend of mine.”
They perked up at the idea, just as I knew they would. They were big tippers, marked with a purple star beside their reservation in the Big Book back at the bait shop where we kept the charter calendar. Sure, Ava had transferred everything into an app now, but the Big Book was still gospel, and Mom’s hand-drawn stars still ruled the shop a year after her passing.
Purple meant ROYAL REPEAT—loyal customers with deep pockets who tipped like royalty. They always got the VIP treatment. Ava was still trying to tweak the app to add color coding, but nothing could ever really replace Mom’s system.
“Naomi, huh?” Mr. Minnesota asked, his grin turning sly. “I’ll remember that.”
“She’s great. You won’t be sorry. Tell her that Kai sent you.” I chuckled again, already imagining my best girl-friend rolling her eyes when they dropped my name. She’d owe me a beer if theyleft the tip I thought they would. “Be sure you tell her we doubled your catch over last year.” I’d enjoy telling her later that it was because I out-fished Reef, again.
“Sure thing, Captain.”
Once the lines were in, we turned back toward the marina. It was one of those magical flat-calm days when the sea looked like polished glass, every blade of grass visible in the crystal water on the way out. These were the days we lived for in the Keys. The perfect conditions deserved more credit than I did for today’s haul, but I’d take it.
I was quietly soaking in the serenity of the deep blue around me from the flybridge when Marcus’s head popped into view at the top of the ladder. His brow was furrowed, his sunglasses reflecting the endless horizon. “Looks like we got a square grouper off the starboard bow.”
I eased off the throttle, squinting through my polarized lenses. Sure enough, a black object bobbed just above the water line, unnatural against the turquoise. My gut clenched.
“I don’t see anything,” I said, pushing the throttle forward again, trying to glide past it.
Marcus climbed the rest of the way up into the flybridge. He grabbed onto the stainless-steel bar behind my seat as the boat lurched forward, leaning in to yell into my ear. “Yeah, I didn’t see it either. But Mr. Minnesota got a clear view. It’s the catch of the day as far as he’s concerned.”
I kept my eyes locked straight ahead, jaw tight. The engines rumbled beneath us, steady and familiar, but my pulse quickened anyway. “Can’t you convince Mr. Minnesota that he didn’t see what he thinks he saw?”
“I’m afraid not.” Marcus scowled, his lips pressed tight. “I tried.”
“Fuck.” I yanked the throttle back as the package slid closer, bobbing lazily like a curse we couldn’t outrun. “Alright, I’ll call it in.”
Technically, it was the right thing to do. You shouldn’t leave a bale of drugs floating in the ocean. But practically, it was a pain in the ass. Not only was it highly undesirable to be the one responsible for a drug runner losing his load, it meant paperwork, questions, time. A long, drawn-out Coast Guard report was the last thing I wanted to sign up for at the end of an already long workday.
At least it would give Mr. Minnesota a hell of a vacation story.
I pulled out my phone and thumbed the Coast Guard number from memory. It rang longer than I wanted before a clipped voice answered. I explained the situation, my tone calm, professional, the way my father had taught me. No extra details, no jokes, just the facts: latitude, longitude, description, and condition.
The Coast Guard dispatcher’s voice came sharp over the line and after I explained my unfortunate situation, their instructions were clear: stay with the package, keep it in sight, and wait for pickup.
So we did. Which meant babysitting a goddamn kilo-brick while my charter clients snapped selfies and whispered like it was treasure. I throttled back, nudging the engines in and out of gear to shadow the thing, keeping us close enough that it wouldn’t drift out of sight but not so close I had to look at it.
Every tick of the fuel gauge ratcheted my jaw tighter. Sunlight I could’ve been using to clean down the boat, gone. Clientsthought it was the best story of their vacation; for me, it was wasted hours I’d never get back.
By the time the white-and-red cutter finally broke the horizon and bore down on us, I was more than ready to be done playing babysitter.
