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We rode into the marina on whitecapped rollers, and Hooker cut to an idle. We found our spot, and Hooker sent me to the back of the boat with a walkie-talkie. There were two dockhands from the dockmaster’s office already in place, waiting to help us tie up.
“Watch your footing back there,” Hooker said to me. “I’ve got wind and tide pushing me, and I’m probably going to ram the pier. I don’t want to dump you into the water.”
When we were finally secure, Hooker thanked the dock hands, and then he turned and rapped his head on the control panel. Thunk, thunk, thunk.
“I need a drink,” he said. “A big one.”
“It wasn’t so bad. You only rammed the pier twice. And you didn’t do any damage when you drifted into that other boat. Well, not a lot of damage.”
“On the bright side,” Hooker said. “You did great. You didn’t even drop the talkie.”
We collected some food, grabbed our duffel bags, and walked three blocks to the Mini. Hooker drove around a little, making sure we weren’t being followed, before parking at Vana’s. We went inside and collapsed on the couch.
“I’m exhausted,” Hooker said.
“You’ve had a full day. You wrangled leeches. You got tranked. You trashed a pier.”
“I’d chase you around the house,” Hooker said, “but I don’t think I can get off the couch.”
I took the food into the kitchen and made us sandwiches. I brought the sandwiches out to the living room with a bottle of vodka and a single glass.
“Not drinking?” Hooker asked, taking a plate from me.
“Maybe later. I have seventeen messages I have to answer, and I don’t want to be drunk when I talk to my mother.”
“Yeah, mothers hate that.”
Ten minutes later, Hooker was asleep on the couch. I draped a blanket over him and tucked myself into a guest room. I slipped under the covers of Vana’s comfy guest bed, but it was a while before I fell asleep. Too many things to worry about. Too many loose ends
Hooker was showered and dressed in fresh clothes, drinking coffee in the kitchen when I shuffled past him in a guest robe and poured out a mug of coffee.
“Morning,” I said.
“Morning.” He wrapped an arm around me and dropped a friendly kiss on the top of my head, like we were an old married couple.
“Nice,” I told him.
“It’s going to get nicer. Unfortunately, not immediately. I just got off the phone with Judey. Todd called him first thing this morning. Todd said Flex moved from Miami to Key West. We didn’t see her because they’re anchored on the other side of the island. Todd said the helicopter’s been flying nonstop, and that everyone was told to take shore leave t
oday. Todd went to the marina to have breakfast with a friend and saw the Happy Hooker. He thought maybe Bill was living on the boat.”
“Good thing we’re safe in this house.”
“We’re not that safe. If someone halfway tried, they’d come up with Vana’s name and address, since the boat’s in his slip.”
“Are we scrambling to get out of town?”
“Darlin’, we’re scrambling big time.”
I took a three-minute shower and threw some clothes on. We grabbed our bags, made sure the lights were out, locked up the house, and followed the stepping-stones to the Mini. The instant we were in the car, a black Town Car pulled in behind us, blocking our exit. Two men came out of nowhere, one on either side of the Mini. They had guns drawn.
“Stay cool,” Hooker said to me.
The doors were wrenched open and we were walked back to the Town Car. One of the men got in the back with us and one got in next to the driver.
“Mr. Salzar would like to talk to you,” the guy in the back said. “He’s invited you onto Flex.”
Flex was still anchored offshore. No place big enough for it in the marina, I guess. Or maybe they wanted to be far enough away so the tourists couldn’t hear me screaming while I was being tortured. Whatever the reason, we were put in a large RIB and motored out to the boat. The RIB tied up at the stern and we were escorted to the second deck.
