“It’s a date.” Judd winked, and then signed his name to the receipt. Garrett grabbed the bag, hoping to get Casanova moving.
They left the General Store and made their way to the dock, where the Calypso was moored.
Skip greeted them with a grin as he spied the brown paper bag Garrett carried. “What did you get to eat?”
“Here.” Garrett tossed the bag to him, which Skip immediately rifled through. “Judd, cast us off. Skip, take us out into the bay. We need to find the Double Dippin’.”
With her crew aboard, Sonya weighed anchor and set a course for the mouth of the Naknek River. The Fish and Game had opened the river for fishing, hoping to limit the salmon escapement. As predicted, numbers of returning salmon were huge. Drifting in the river had the benefit of calmer waters, but with all the drifters jockeying for position, the fishing area would be tight, and that brought in another added danger.
It was called combat fishing for a reason.
Upon entering the wide mouth of the river, Sonya tamped down her nerves when she saw all the boats bumping and brawling for the best spot. Everyone was waiting for the clock to tick its way to nine-thirty, the time when fishing officially began. Tension and tempers were thick in the air in anticipation of the start of what was projected to be a record season.
Wes and Peter readied the net while Gramps kept her company in the pilot house. The windows were open, and she easily heard the normal insults and crass jokes—which came with men working together—traveling over the open water. It all mixed together and made a spicy soup.
Boats churned up the gray, silt waters, and engines rumbled. Diesel fumes permeated the air, while seagulls squawked like hecklers overhead. Sonya wasn’t the only one needing to catch a lot of fish. For some fishermen, this was their only livelihood.
The juggling of constantly moving her boat, watching out for the other boats, and gauging the strong tide flooding the river took every bit of Sonya’s attention. She barely had any left to keep an eye out for the troopers. They were everywhere, like gnats. Planes and helicopters flew above. The Calypso, and high performance RHIBs—rigid-hulled inflatable boats, or what Sonya referred to as sharks—patrolled the water. Planters were stationed on shore. All were outfitted with high powered cameras and binoculars, watching and waiting for the slightest mistake.
Garrett was out there somewhere.
Sonya locked the door on that thought and mentally tossed the key overboard. She had enough to concentrate on. She didn’t need another distraction, and Garrett had already distracted her too much. It seemed in her experience that most fishermen were written up by the troopers for a loss of concentration. Something got away from them. There were the few cutthroats looking for any opportunity to bend the law to their advantage. After all, fishing was all about advantage. The best vantage point, the best fishing hole, the best boat, and the best crew.
“Heads up,” Gramps said. “We have fish cops twenty feet off the stern.”
Sonya glanced behind them. Sure enough there was the Calypso, a former drift boat the state used to “blend in” with the other fishermen. Any fisherman with any fish sense knew the Calypso for what she was.
A spy vessel.
“Looks like they want to board us,” Gramps said.
Peter pointed at the Calypso. “Do you see that?”
“Yes.” She nodded. They hadn’t done anything. Hell, they didn’t even have their net in the water. She glanced at the instrument panel and noticed the time. They didn’t have time for this. “Wes, Peter, prepare to get the net in the water.”
The Calypso angled alongside them. She heard Garrett’s voice clearly as he yelled from the deck of the trooper’s boat. “Double Dippin’, prepare to be boarded.”
Damn it all to hell. If this had something to do with last night, Garrett was out of line. With no choice, Sonya did as the law ordered. A rope flew over the side of her boat and Wes caught it, securing the boats together. Garrett leaped over, looking lethal in his dark blue uniform, trooper hat, and sunglasses. He glanced around the deck, nodded toward Wes and Peter, then zeroed in on her up in the pilot house.
“I need to talk to you.”
Oh no, he did not. “I’m busy here. You realize that we’re about to drop our net.”
He whipped off his sunglasses, his piercing eyes hard as ice. “Not before we speak. Don’t make me give you a safety inspection.”
Double hell! He could hold them up indefinitely if she didn’t cooperate. “Gramps, hold her steady.”
“Give him hell, Sonya. We need to get fishing.”
“Plan to.” Sonya slid down the rail of the stairs and stomped her way on deck toward Garrett. “What do you want?”
“You have a problem onboard.”
“Yeah, I’m looking at it.”
The Albatross puttered by, and Chuck Kendrick yelled across the open water, “Yo, Double D, better treat that trooper right. Show him your titties, and he might be kind enough to let you off with a warning.”
She sent Chuck the finger, a message the dimwit would understand, and then caught Garrett’s narrowed look.
“Not afraid of making enemies, are you?” he said, with a cocked brow.
“Just speaking to Chuck in the language he understands.” She didn’t need to explain herself to him and resented the feeling to do exactly that. She tried to hand him a copy of her permit and fishing licenses for everyone onboard.
“What’s this for?” he asked.
“Trying to speed up the process.” She flapped the papers at him again. “Come on, I’ve got fish to catch, and there has to be someone else you could be harassing.”
“I’m not here to check that your paperwork’s in order.” His eyes snapped with temper. “You’ve pissed some people off, Sonya.”
“That’s nothing new. I piss people off all the time.”
“I don’t doubt it.” He leaned into her, and she caught a whiff of that spicy mix of man and power. She didn’t like it. It took a moment to clear her head.
“Are you listening to me?” he asked, advancing a step.
“Yeah.” She waved her hands in front of her as though to scare off a pesky bug. “Say what you gotta say, and then get the hell off my boat.”
“I don’t know why I bothered trying to do you a favor. You’ll probably ignore everything I have to say on principle.”
“Probably.” She nodded. “Just spit it out, so I can get my net in the water.” His delaying her on the first day of fishing had better not be intentional.
“Check your hydraulic lines. I overheard someone say they’d sliced them.”
“What?”
“Just do it.” He turned and leaped over the side, back onto the Calypso. The man was in great shape to be able to do that so gracefully. Wonder what else he could do with such power and grace? Damn, she needed to get her mind off his body and back on the job at hand.
“What’d he want?” Peter asked, throwing the Calypso’s rope back to her. Boats all around them were throwing their buoys in the water and laying out their nets in a roar of diesel engines. Garrett had kept them from getting a prime position, and she was already behind.
“Let’s get the net in the water, and then we need to check the hydraulics.”
“Hydraulics? Why?”
“Apparently, someone’s tampered with our lines.”
“Damn ornery woman,” Garrett muttered as he made his way to the cabin on the Calypso.
“You know her?” Judd asked. “Seemed to me that was more than just informing someone of a potential problem. After all, you could have informed them over the radio.”
“Met her for the first time a few days ago.”
“Well, she obviously made an impression on you,” Skip added.
“That’s one word for it.” A few others readily came to mind. Hell, there she’d been spitting mad at him, actually wearing a t-shirt that said, “Have You Flogged Your Crew Today?” and he’d been doing her a favor. One that she’d pro
bably ignore, because she didn’t want anything from him. Anything that is, since she found out he was a trooper. Before that, she’d wanted plenty, and he’d wanted to give it to her.
He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had gotten him so worked up, emotionally and physically. He didn’t need this kind of aggravation.
“Hunt, you got your head in the game?” Judd hollered, pointing left of the bow where a drift boat had just rammed another boat.
His head was somewhere else entirely. He grabbed the binoculars and focused on the boat. A few weapons were already being aimed between captains.
Someone was going to get killed this season.
The Double Dippin’ laid out her net.
Sonya tried to keep out of the way of the other drifters, packed into the mouth of the river, while her crew went over all the hydraulic lines. She wracked her brain, wondering when someone would have had the opportunity to tamper with her boat.
“Found it!” Wes hollered.
“Where?” she asked, hanging out of the pilot house.
“Someone’s punctured one of the hoses on the rollers. We wouldn’t have noticed it until we powered it up to pull in the net.” Which would have caused them all sorts of problems.
“Can we fix it?” she asked.
“Already on it,” Gramps said, holding up a roll of duct tape. “This will patch it up until we can replace the hose.”
Sonya laughed with relief. There wasn’t anything Gramps believed couldn’t be fixed with a bit of duct tape. She sure hoped he was right in this case. If they lost the use of the hydraulic roller, the chance of catching a reasonable amount of fish, dwindled considerably. They’d have to round-haul the net in by hand. Having it full of fish, and fighting the pull of the tide, would make reeling it in tough, quickly exhausting the crew.
Garrett had saved them lots of time and back-breaking work, not to mention, money.
Now she’d have to find him and apologize for her snotty attitude. Worst of all, she’d have to thank him. Shit.
They pulled in their first net, yielding a respectable catch. Sonya turned over the wheel to Gramps under the pretense of wanting to be on deck when the net came over the rollers. When in fact, she didn’t want Gramps overdoing it. The man wasn’t as young as he used to be.
Everything seemed to be running smoothly after finding the sliced hydraulic line. Sonya promised herself she’d find the bastard responsible. Just because she was a woman didn’t mean she was easy pickings. Then a member of her crew turned mutiny when she informed them that, as captain, she was upholding the long standing tradition of everyone kissing the first caught fish of the season for luck.
Peter screwed up his face. “That is gross on so many levels. Besides, I’m almost eighteen. It should be my choice what I kiss. It’s a stupid ritual, anyway.”
“No, it’s not. As captain, I’m ordering you to do it.” Fishermen tended to be a bit superstitious. She was no different. Every year she’d fished, Gramps had upheld this very ritual. It was Sonya’s year, and they were fishing a new way, but a ritual was a ritual.
“Kiss the fish, Peter,” Wes said with a dare in his eye. “You need all the practice you can get, especially if you want to try your luck with Lana.”
“Lana? You want to kiss Lana Harte?” Sonya remembered the way Peter had acted at the campfire the other night. He’d paid more attention to Lana than he had his food. In the past, he’d picked on Lana. Pulled her hair, teased—kid stuff—but there had been a difference in the way he’d treated her last night. Taking food to her, offering her a seat, standing when she stood. A lot the way Garrett had treated her.
Scratch that.
She refused to think about Garrett.
Peter’s blush rivaled the flesh of a spawning salmon. “So what if I wouldn’t mind kissing her. She’s hot.”
Lana had grown into a beautiful young woman. “She’s older than you, by what…two years?” Sonya pointed out. The Hartes could be trouble. Look at what had happened between her and Aidan. Sonya didn’t think Lana handled problems with her fists, though being raised in that family, the girl could be seriously messed up.
“So what. Aidan’s older than you. That didn’t stop you from having a thing last year.”
“You’re only seventeen. That’s a big difference and you know it.” Sonya hammered home.
“All right, don’t nag. I’ll kiss the fish.”
She so did not nag and was ready to tell Peter just that when she mentally took a step back. She had to remember that their relationship was changing. For so long, she’d spent all her time mothering him. Worrying about him. His friends, his choices, his future. It was time to back off and let him do some of his own choosing. The boy was becoming a man.
“Pucker up, lover boy.” Wes held the fish by the tail and underbelly. Peter scrunched up his face and kissed the fish, spitting over the side of the boat afterward. Sonya laughed. Wes turned the sockeye around, making kissy noises, and planted one on its nose. “All right, Sonya, you’re up.”
Sonya rubbed her hands and sang, “Here, fishy fishy.” She gave it a smooch. The fish was cold and slimy. Like Peter had said, it was a stupid ritual, but fun and who knew if it really worked or not. She wasn’t going to be the one Savonski who threw caution to the wind and put a stop to it. Not when she needed every bit of luck she could get this summer.
The Mary Jane drifted next to them and her captain, Ringo hollered over from his crow’s nest, “Sonya, you ever want a real man, look me up.” He pursed his lips and blew her a kiss. “I’ll promise you a party, sweetheart.”
No doubt. “Thanks, Mary Jane, but this is all I want.” She figured anyone seeing her crew kissing fish would do a double take.
One of the Mary Jane’s crew shot off a question to Ringo, “Shouldn’t we be kissing our fish? It’s kinda like a blessing, right?”
“You want to kiss a fish, dude, knock yourself out,” Ringo said. “Me, I’d rather kiss me a fine looking woman.” He gave Sonya a “call me” signal that she wisely chose to ignore.
“Hey, I need a chance to kiss that beauty,” Gramps yelled from the pilot house as he leaned out the window. “I’m ready to be relieved, captain.”
“Be right up.” She turned to Peter and Wes, who were already pulling the rest of the net into the boat. “Don’t let him overdo.”
“Got it, Captain,” Wes said, picking fish out of the net as the duct-taped hydraulics pulled it in over the rollers.
“Don’t worry, Sonya. We’ve got ‘Operation Gramps’ under control.” Peter gave her a conspiring wink. She smiled at both of them, and then headed for the pilot house.
She’d talked with Wes and Peter yesterday about limiting the amount of work Gramps did. They’d all agreed that they’d have to be sneaky about it so he didn’t catch on. The man was clever and had a lot of pride. The last thing they wanted to do was damage either.
The thought was quickly forgotten as they were rammed on the starboard side.
“Howdy, Double D,” captain of the Miss Julie II, hollered. “Sorry for the nudge.”
“Nudge me like that again, Treat, and I’m going to take it the wrong way.”
“A sweet young thing like you wouldn’t play hardball now, would ya?”
“There’s nothing sweet about me. I have no qualms about busting your balls.”
“Hear that boys? The Double D’s a feisty one.”
CHAPTER SIX
Aidan reached the bluff that overlooked the mouth of the river. He hated that he felt like he had to get a look at what Sonya was up to. He lay down on his stomach in the tall grass and raised the binoculars. Deep down he knew what she was doing was wrong. It was a big waste of money, and time, and unnecessary risk. Or was it that he wished he had the guts to try and accomplish what she was doing?
In a sense, they’d grown up together, spending every summer fishing out here with their families. He focused the binoculars on the Double Dippin’. He was older and had a choice in where
he spent the summer. Yet he still returned to put up with the same old shit. He was only biding his time. It couldn’t be long now. The smoking, the drinking, and the cranky attitude had to be wearing on the old man. Earl would kick the bucket soon.
If someone didn’t help him into a grave first.
Lana dropped onto the grass next to him. “Spying on her isn’t going to help your cause.” His cousin’s breezy attitude, all smile and teeth, rubbed at his already nasty mood.
Aidan refocused the binoculars back to the deck of the Double Dippin’, catching Sonya throwing her head back with a laugh he wished he could hear. He felt a pang in his chest.
“Go away, brat,” he said to Lana. He thought he’d lost her down at the docks. Guess she was more observant than he’d given her credit for. She’d been shadowing him all morning, and had just proved she was damn hard to lose.
“No wonder Sonya gave you the boot. Do you talk to all women that way?”
“You’re not a woman.”
“Last I looked I was.”
“What are you doing here, Lana? I’m sure you could’ve found something better to do than bug me.” He’d come here to be alone and chart his next course while he did a little reconnaissance work. At least, that sounded better than wasting his afternoon playing Peeping Tom.
“Nope. Been looking forward to bugging you all year.” She picked a long blade of grass and twirled it between her thumb and forefinger.
He bit back a mean retort. He shouldn’t take his anger and frustration out on Lana. She was a sweet kid. What had he learned in his anger management class? Think before you react. “How’s your mom?”
Lana scrunched up her pretty face. “Same. Off to Brazil looking for her next affair.”
“We sure got the bottom of the barrel when it came to parents, didn’t we?”
When Lana’s parents divorced, the courts had given Roland summer visitation, and Lana’s mother had happily shipped her off to Alaska every summer after she’d turned thirteen. Aidan had lost his mother to the bottle, followed by the grave, when he was ten.
Hooked (A Romance on the Edge Novel) Page 5
