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I went back to looking at the guys in the RIB. They were just sitting there, letting the RIB drift. Not far enough away for me to feel safe. I fired off a shot that I knew would go far right of them. They looked at me like I was Demon Woman. Gimpy cranked the outboard over and headed for shore.
Hooker was beside me, holding on to the fighting chair. “They’ve got the RIB?”
“Yeah, they were going to drown.”
“Isn’t that a good thing? Dead bad guys?”
“I’ve never killed anyone.”
“This would have been a great place to start.”
Hooker leaned over the rail and threw up. When he was done throwing up he flopped back onto the deck and lay spread-eagle, eyes closed. “What happened?”
“They tranked you.”
“Tranked me?”
“I know all about it because I watch Wild Kingdom reruns on television. I thought you were shot, but you aren’t bleeding, and there’s a dart stuck in your chest. Don’t move.”
I pulled the dart out and looked at it. I was having a hard time seeing it because my hands were still shaking, and the dart was surprisingly small.
“Lucky for you they weren’t using the big-game dart gun,” I said. “This must be the dart they use to tranquilize rabbits.”
“How’d you get them off the boat?”
“I asked them nicely.”
Hooker smiled and rubbed his chest where the dart had gone in. “It stings,” he said. “Want to kiss it and make it better?”
I bent and kissed him just to the side of the puncture.
“I’d kiss you back, but I just threw up,” he said.
NASCAR Guy’s sensitive side.
I stood and checked on the bad guys. They were pulling the RIB onto the shore. They looked okay.
“We should get out of here,” I said to Hooker. “Can you help me get the anchor up?”
“No problemo.” He crawled to the dive platform, leaned over, and stuck his head in the water. He dragged his head out of the water, crawled to the fighting chair, and pulled himself to his feet. “You really should have killed them,” he said.
We hauled the anchor up, and we got under way with Slick and Gimpy watching us. They didn’t wave good-bye.
Hooker inched his way over to the Sea Ray. “Throw out a couple fenders on the port side. Let’s see if we can tie up to their boat and get you on board so you can fix their engines.”
Ten minutes later I was climbing off the Sea Ray, back onto the Happy Hooker, bringing in the fenders. I’d sliced through fuel lines and sabotaged the electrical system. If Slick and Gimpy got back to the States, it wasn’t going to be in the Sea Ray.
“Next stop, Florida,” Hooker said. And he took the Happy Hooker up to cruising speed.
I played the binoculars across the water for a while, but there wasn’t anything else to see. Just azure sky and gently undulating ocean.
Hooker stayed in the chair, at the helm, and I stretched out on the banquette behind him. It was Monday, and I supposed I was unemployed. It didn’t seem especially important anymore. I fell asleep, and when I woke up we were plowing through heavy seas.
“We’re going into Key West,” Hooker said. “The weather’s changed, and I’m not feeling comfortable with waves this size. I need to refuel anyway. If I can use Vana’s slip I’ll stay in Key West. If I can’t, I’ll try to get a captain to take her to Miami with me.”
Ten minutes later, Key West was in sight and Hooker was on the radio, calling the Key West dockmaster, arranging to use Vana’s slip.
“I got the slip,” Hooker said to me, “but this is going to be messy. This is way too much boat for me to dock by myself in these conditions.”
