“Get there?”
She nodded. “They’re giving us a ride out to the yacht. We’re going to follow them. They said they want to help save Al.”
Relief flooded my body. I threw my arms around Francesca’s shoulders and buried my face against the top of her head. “Oh, Frankie. Thank you!”
“It’s Solo and the boys you need to thank. You still owe them a boat, you know.”
I nodded. “I know, I know. I haven’t forgotten. We’ll figure something out.” Then I looked at the phone. “But what about the phone? We can’t leave. What if they really do call?”
“Danny, we don’t have time to stay. They’ll be too far away for us to catch up with if we stay.”
My eyes glanced over at Mari and Alicia. I had no other choice. Without another word to Francesca, I strode over to the counter. Both of the women pretended to suddenly be busy when they saw me coming.
“Mari, may I have a word with you, please?”
She gave me a courtesy smile. “Sure.”
I strode over to the end of the counter, leaving Francesca to watch from afar. Mari followed me to the end of the counter. “Mari, I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye about everything. But I have an emergency situation happening right now, and I could really use your help.”
Mari’s head bobbed. “I knew there was something going on. Does it have to do with Mr. Becker?”
Pursing my lips, I inhaled deeply. As I let it out, I nodded. “It does. But I need you not to say anything to his wife yet. I’m trying to help him, and telling anyone could make things worse. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
“You won’t tell anyone?”
“I swear, Drunk. You have my word.”
I had no choice but to trust her. “Thank you. I’m waiting for a very important phone call on that phone. I don’t know if it will come through or not, but I have to leave right now. If that phone rings, will you answer it?”
Her brows furrowed. “Of course.”
“If the person on the other end says anything, you have to call me immediately with the information. Okay?”
“Yeah.”
I reached across the counter and squeezed Mariposa’s hand. “Thank you, Mari.”
“You’re welcome, Drunk.”
I gave her a tight smile and started to walk away before she stopped me.
“Hey, Drunk.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really sorry I opened my mouth about your money.”
“I know, Mari. For what it’s worth, I probably deserved it. And I accept your apology.” I turned around and strode towards Francesca, hooking my arm through her elbow. “Come on. We gotta go save Al and Pam!”
* * *
Francesca and I were met at the marina by a line of five angry-looking Cruz brothers. Each of their faces were set rigidly, only softening to give their sister a nod hello.
“We’re not doing this for you,” said Solo stiffly as we joined the party.
Glancing across the angry faces, I nodded humbly. “I figured as much.”
“We’re doing it for our sister, and for the old man that you were with the other day.”
“Al,” I said, reminding them that the old man had a name.
Solo seethed in my direction, one brow lifted ever so slightly. His jaw clenched when he spoke again. “Yes, Al.”
“Right. Well, thank you. I appreciate it, and obviously, Al will appreciate knowing that you were involved in his rescue.”
All the Brothers Cruz stared at me.
I shifted in my boat shoes. Clearing my throat, I looked behind me at Francesca. “Well, I suppose we should get going, huh? We don’t wanna let them get too big of a lead on us.” I took a step towards the idling boat.
Solo put a hand on my chest to stop me.
I glanced sideways at him.
“Are you sleeping with my sister?”
“Solo!” breathed Francesca. “That’s none of your business!”
Solo closed his eyes. He could have been meditating, but I was pretty sure he was just trying to keep from ripping my head off. “Panchita!” he countered. “It is very much my business. I don’t want this joke of a man in your life.”
Joke of a man? I winced. I had to admit, that one stung a little bit. I mean, I knew I didn’t have my shit together, but joke of a man? I shook my head. I wasn’t that bad, was I? “Don’t worry, Solo. Your sister’s too good for me. I’m completely aware of that fact.”
His head bobbed seriously. “Yes, she is.”
“I have too much respect for her as a woman to subject her to someone like myself. I swear.”
“Good.” His frame relaxed slightly.
“For right now, anyway.”
Solo’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “Excuse me?”
I shrugged. “I can’t say that if I ever got around to cleaning up my act, I might not ask your sister out on a date.”
Solo peeled his squinty eyes off me and focused them on his sister. When she didn’t say anything to counter that, he looked at me again.
“Of course, at that point, if she wanted to accept my request, she wouldn’t have to ask your permission. You know that, right?”
Through gritted teeth, he growled at me. “I know Francesca. Her family’s approval means everything to her.”
“I believe that,” I said in agreement. “And if Francesca and I ever decided we wanted to date, I know that I’d be a good enough man at that point that I’d get her family’s approval. But her deciding whether or not she wants to date me will be her decision to make. And her decision alone.”
Solo’s jaw clenched tighter.
Despite my rapidly pounding heart, I patted him on the shoulder. “But don’t worry. I know I have a lot of work to do on myself before I get to that point. There’s plenty of time for me to convince you to like me.”
I strode past Solo and the rest of the Cruz brothers. Aside from Solo, the rest of the men wore expressions of surprise and almost shock on their faces. As I boarded the boat, I heard Francesca’s feet on the dock behind me. Then, slowly, the sound of her brothers’ casual chatter filled in the silence. I’d managed to stand up to Solo. And if I hadn’t known any better, I might’ve thought they all respected me just a little bit more because of it.
* * *
It wasn’t until five o’clock that afternoon that Rico, standing at the bow on the foredeck, finally pointed out at the horizon. “There she is!”
Sure enough, a yacht dotted the distant horizon.
“You’re sure it’s them?”
“It’s them alright,” said Solo, sitting next to Miguel at the helm. “We’ve had multiple sightings reporting back to us.”
Eager anticipation bubbled up inside of me. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on Dexter and make him pay for what he’d done to Al and Pam, and to find out what role Mack had played in the whole duplicitous scheme.
Francesca turned to me then. “We need a plan.”
“The plan is to save Al and Pam!” I said, my hands flaring out in front of me. “What more of a plan do we need?”
She shook her head. “Danny, it’s not just about grabbing those two and throwing them onto our boat. They could have a small army up there. We need to be prepared.”
“We won’t let you go up there alone,” said Diego. Reaching down to a bag lying on the deck behind him, he pulled out a rifle. “We’re going with you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—” I began, my head shaking determinedly. This was my fight, not his. I couldn’t have any more people getting hurt because of me.
Francesca held a hand up to my mouth to silence me. “Thank you, D., We’ll gratefully accept your help.”
I stared at her in surprise.
“Any idea how many guys we gotta worry about on that boat?” asked Solo.
“Five men for sure. One woman,” I said. “Smitty’s a big guy. Fists the size of cantaloupes. He’s the one that laid into my face. There’s another guy wi
th a ponytail. I’m pretty sure he’s the one that laid into Pam.”
Beto’s jaw tightened. “Any man that lays hands on a woman needs to have his ass whooped.”
“You’re certainly welcome to whoop any of their asses,” I said with a smirk. “Although I’d like to be the one to wipe the smug smile off their boss’s face.”
“You can have the boss,” promised Beto. “I’ll be watching for anyone with a ponytail.”
“Deal.”
Miguel pointed at the yacht. “It’s going to be hard to get close without being spotted. And I don’t think we’re going to be able to get anyone on board while they’re moving.”
“You can’t just cruise up behind them and throw a grappling hook over the swim platform and walk on or something?” I asked.
Miguel chuckled. “Maybe in a James Bond movie they do some crazy shit like that, but no, man. They’re going pretty fast, and the prop wash on a yacht of that size could swamp us.”
“So what do we do?” I asked, feeling the excitement I’d just felt slowly draining from my body.
Rico pointed up ahead at the sky. “I think we’re about to get some weather tonight.”
“Even more reason to catch up to the yacht and board it now before a storm hits!”
Miguel glanced ahead at Rico. “Hey, Rico. What would you do if you were the captain of that yacht and a big storm is about to hit and it’s nightfall?”
Rico shrugged. “Well, in their case, they’re trying to sneak out of the area. So if I was sure I wasn’t being followed, I might find a nice little isolated island cove and hunker down until morning. How ’bout you?”
Miguel nodded. “Same.”
I stared at Miguel, wide-eyed. “You want us to hang back until dark?”
“Would make it a heck of a lot safer climbing aboard if the ship’s sitting still,” said Solo. “It’d be what I’d do.”
“I get that,” I said, nodding in agreement, “but Al and Pam could be dead by then!”
“Listen, Drunk, if your friends are still alive right now, they’ll still be alive by nighttime. If they’re dead, they’ll still be dead by nighttime. I don’t think waiting them out is going to make a difference.”
“If they’re dead?” My mouth gagged on the words. I let out a sputter. “They can’t be dead.”
Solo shrugged. “There’s no way of knowing. But the one thing I do know is, if we catch up to that yacht while the sun’s out, there’s a very high probability that they’re gonna see us following them. That doesn’t make for a very good surprise entrance.”
I couldn’t disagree with him there. “But what about a storm? Then we’re dealing with the storm too.”
“We’ll be fine,” said Miguel.
“Yeah, my brothers and I have been through all sorts of storms. We’re pros,” said Diego proudly.
I glanced over at Francesca. “Well. According to you, you’re running this operation. What do you think?”
“I think it’s best to trust the experts,” she said, looking up at me. Her big brown eyes sparkled in the sun.
The big breath I’d been holding exploded out of my mouth in a loud puh sound. “Alright. Fine. I’ll trust the experts. Just tell me you know what you’re talking about.”
Miguel chuckled. “No worries there. We know what we’re talking about.”
45
True to their prediction, a storm hit the Caribbean Sea just after dark that evening. Lightning flared brightly in the distance, and the air around us erupted with a rolling baritone of thunder. The dark clouds drowned out the moonlight. And as the wind whipped up, the waters became choppier and choppier.
Rico pointed up ahead at the yacht we’d been tailing from afar. “I was right!” he hollered over the wind and the ocean spray. “They’re mooring up in that little cove off Starfish Island.”
Miguel smiled. “What’d we tell you?”
I threw my hands out. “What can I say? You were right.”
“Damn straight I was right. I’m always right where the water’s concerned.”
“So, what do we do? Motor over there and climb aboard?”
“No way,” shouted Diego. “If they’re keeping an eye on their radar, they’ll see us coming in this boat. No, we’ll moor up far enough away that we won’t be detected. We’ve got a little inflatable dinghy I can take us over there in.”
“I’ll stay here,” said Miguel from the helm, “and man the boat while you all go looking for Al and Pam. Then if you get into any trouble, I can race up there and get you back into the boat quicker.”
A streak of lightning cracked open the dark sky, and a kaboom followed it. Then the rain started.
“We better hurry!” shouted Solo. “This storm could get really bad.”
“Diego and I will go get the dinghy ready. Gather whatever supplies we’re bringing along,” shouted Rico.
“Supplies?” I asked.
Solo strode over to the bag that his brother had extracted a rifle from earlier and took out a second one. “We came prepared.” He looked at me and then his sister. “You two just worry about finding your friends. Rico, Beto, Diego, and I will handle whoever gets in your way.”
Francesca reached out and squeezed her brother’s arm. “Thanks, Solo.”
Twenty minutes later, the group of us sat in the small inflatable dinghy in the water. Trees shrouded our view of the Better Late Than Never, but we could see the lights shining from the vessel from between the branches. The rain pelted us all, soaking us down to our underwear. My hair was matted to my face as we motored away towards the yacht using only the dinghy’s small outboard motor against the rocky waves.
Each of the men sat stoically in the little skiff, their rifles in hand. Rico was the only one who carried a speargun instead of a rifle. Francesca quietly pulled her Glock 19 from her appendix holster and checked the magazine before reholstering it. I fingered the Ruger LC9 she’d let me borrow. I had no holster, and I refused to blow off one or both of my testicles by shoving it down my pants, so I just had to keep ahold of it.
Proper gun handling was one of the few things I’d actually paid attention to in the academy, as my instructor had been a well-regarded “gun guy” and had been able to recount many instances where a lack of proper training had resulted in one of two things. A, the owners forever walked with a limp; or B, they were unable to procreate. And that was just not something that I wanted to see happen.
The waves made the journey more difficult, but we were close enough that it didn’t take long to get to the back end of the yacht. The sheer size of the larger vessel provided a bit of cover from the raging storm. Rico and Beto worked quickly to lash the two boats together and to make sure that they were secured enough that they weren’t going anywhere.
Solo’s feet touched down on the yacht’s swim platform first. He leaned forward and reached a hand out for Francesca to take. Rico and Beto didn’t even give me time to help her onto the ship, as they both pushed and Solo pulled. When she was securely on the back end of the yacht, the rest of us followed, stepping from the dinghy to the swim platform. Solo opened the cockpit’s knee-high transom door, and the group of us rushed to take cover against the cockpit’s fiberglass hull.
The whole process of getting on board happened in complete silence. Only the sound of the storm booming around us could be heard. At the bottom of the stairs up to the aft deck, with his back to the wall, Solo held his rifle at the ready and motioned his brothers to hold steady. He wanted to take the lead.
I grimaced. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. This was my battle. I needed to take the lead. I slid from the back of the line to the front. Solo put a hand on my shoulder to stop me from going up the stairs. I gave him a look of appreciation but climbed the handful of steps to the aft deck anyway. I had to find Pam and Al.
Stealthily, I slid across the fiberglass sole, to the stainless-steel-framed sliding glass doors facing out over the stern of the ship. Solo followed behind me, both of ou
r backs now pressed against the cabin’s shell. Inside, it was brightly lit, and the heavy beat of music trickled out through the doors. I held the Ruger in my leading hand and slid forward so my back was now against the glass. In time with the thunder booming around me, I slid the door open. When I heard no objections, I began to move.
Swallowing hard and leading with my gun, I stepped around the corner so that I was now in full view of the saloon. A large U-shaped sofa took up much of the space on the port side and a shorter three-person sofa on the starboard side. There were built-in counters and a wooden entertainment center with a flat-screen TV. On it, a news reporter in a navy suit relayed stock prices.
Forward of the saloon was a round glass dining table with a buffet and a china cabinet. Bottles of liquor, glass tumblers, and plates of partially eaten food were scattered around the table. Across from the table on the starboard side was a set of stairs that led down to the staterooms below. I remembered being led up those same stairs with a gun to my back only a few days prior. I’d seen enough of the dining room and saloon to know that there was a galley straight ahead of us, and there we’d find stairs that led up to the top deck. The same top deck where, days earlier, Dexter had had his goons toss me overboard and then leave me to sink or swim.
Though the lights and television were on and music played from somewhere, the long room was empty. But when a break in the storm silenced the thunder, we heard the sound of feet pounding on the sole above us. I had a strong feeling the party was up there.
I turned to look at Solo and Francesca, who were right behind me. I jerked my head towards the ceiling. They both nodded. They’d heard it too. Though I knew Dexter and his goons were likely celebrating their victory on the top deck, the people I really wanted to see were more likely being held in the lower deck’s staterooms. With my gun at the ready, I padded across the polished teak flooring, leaving water dripping in my wake, being careful not to make any noise to alert anyone of our presence.
Drunk on a Boat Page 24
