by Sandra Cox
“So do you want me to watch for exits or Craven?”
“Both.” My nerves are stretched tighter than a rubber band. “Please.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll make it.” She pats my arm. Her hand is only trembling a little.
Five miles. Ten. Fifteen. We’re on a back road winding in and out toward the ocean. Night falls and I feel a little better. We’ll make it by morning. I’m sure of it.
Chapter 22
The sun breaks as we near the ocean. I can’t see it but the taste of it on my tongue is overpowering. “Ames.” I gently nudge her awake.
“Hmm?”
“We’re almost there.”
She jerks upright. “Oh my gosh, we are. We’ve made it.”
“Yeah, we’re almost there,” I repeat, my insides warm. We’re going to do it.
Her stomach rumbles.
“Hungry?”
She nods.
“We just passed a sign for a burger place. We’ll go through the drive-up then head for the ocean.”
“Works for me.”
“Less than an hour and we’ll be heading for the Bahamas.”
We pull through the drive-up, place our order, and head out. I’m biting into my breakfast sandwich when I see a familiar SUV. “Shit. I should have known better.” I rub at the tight muscles in the back of my neck.
“We’ve made it this far. We’re going all the way.”
Her calmness settles me. “Damn right we are.” I wink at her and hit the gas. “There’s going to be no hiding now.” We’re back on a four-lane and I’m demanding everything out of the truck I can get. It starts to shake. I don’t let up.
I glance in the rearview mirror and see Craven’s SUV. He’s spotted us. I hear a siren and groan. Highway patrol. Neither Craven nor I slow.
Amy twists around, her eyes glued on the approaching vehicles. “Isn’t Leif’s sports car red?”
I glance in the rearview mirror. Sure enough, behind the patrol car is Leif’s Jaguar. I say a word I normally don’t say in my sister’s hearing. “I was really hoping he wasn’t involved.”
“Maybe he’s not.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences.”
The truck is starting to stutter. The ocean is in sight. The sky, which should have lightened, hasn’t. It takes me a moment to realize a storm is brewing. Will it work in our favor or against us?
“Come on. Come on.” I can see the ocean and the choppy waves rising above it as the engine sputters. Craven’s gaining on us. Leif passes the police and bears down on Craven. The trooper probably doesn’t know who to go after now.
To my right is a steep embankment. “Hold on, Amy,” I yell and yank the wheel. The truck screams down the side. When it hits the bottom, the truck is out of control. I slam all my weight on the brake and it’s still moving when we hit the water. It’s up to the running board before Piper’s pride and joy finally stops.
We jump out.
Craven’s brakes squeal and he follows us down the embankment.
I unhook the boat and heave myself over the side, grab Amy’s arms, and haul her up.
We collapse against each other, panting.
“Looks like he was on our side after all.”
“What?” I glance over Amy’s shoulder. My knees weaken at the sight. Leif has followed Craven over the embankment and the state trooper has followed Leif. Leif’s car is pulled sideways in front of Craven’s SUV, and Leif has pulled Craven out of the car and is beating the crap out of him, while the trooper tries to pull him off.
“Yeah.” I gently nudge Amy over and throttle up the boat. “We’ve got to get out of here.” Tense, we watch the shoreline disappear. I look for other boats but see nothing. My muscles loosen. “I don’t see anything behind us.”
“I don’t either. I can’t believe we made it. Oh my God, what a rush.” She’s positively euphoric. “And Leif. I knew he wasn’t in on it.”
“No need to gloat. Though I have to admit, I’m relieved.” I turn the wheel as the boat bounces on a particularly choppy wave. “What am I going to tell Piper about Beulah?”
“Beulah?”
“Her truck. She was particularly attached to it.”
“Tell her it died and we buried it at sea.” She giggles.
A laugh bubbles in my throat. “I’m not sure she’d see the humor in it.”
“I’m sure Piper would rather lose the truck than us.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“So to the Bahamas?”
A rush of longing to see my child and her mother punches me in the gut. My muscles quiver. Soon. We’ll be with them soon. “We’ll head straight for the Bahamas unless they spot us. Then we’ll have to change the route and lead them away from Angel.”
“Whatever it takes, we’ll do it.”
We understand each other, this little sister and I. We are united. No matter the cost, Stranger must never get Angel.
“Do you think Stranger has figured out that the money is counterfeit by now?”
“Yeah. I don’t see how he could not.” The thought isn’t a pleasant one.
“And the credit card number? Do you think it was worth sixty thousand?”
I shift uneasily. “I don’t know. I have no idea what people with that amount of money have as a credit limit.”
“Tyler really went out on a limb.”
“I know, Ames. It’s a debt I’ll never be able to repay. I owe him big time.”
She shifts toward me. For a moment I see pity that is quickly masked in her eyes. “What are you going to do?”
I’d like to dance around the question, pretend I don’t understand what she’s asking. But what’s the point?
“I plan on staying with them to take care of them and protect them. I’ll be a father to Angel and a friend to Piper.”
She slips her arm around my waist and lays her head on my shoulder. “Life isn’t easy, is it?”
“Not one damn bit. But we play the hand we’re dealt.”
She offers the only comfort she can. “Let’s go for a swim.” I give her a squeeze. “Great idea. Let’s see how far we can get by sunset then treat ourselves to a frolic in the sea.”
Having the ocean to look forward to lightens my mood, and later that evening, the promised romp does the rest.
In spite of the restless gray waves hitting against the boat, we make good time, finding our way to shore occasionally for supplies and fuel, always keeping a wary eye out for Stranger or Craven. As the afternoon of the third day wears on, the sky darkens. The air turns sullen and thick. A storm is brewing. It won’t hit for a while, but it’s coming. My bones are aching with hemispheric pressure. It’s going to be a bad one.
I drop anchor and we swim.
We cavort in the water, swimming farther and farther from the boat. Finally, the sound I’ve been expecting and dreading sounds from the sky. Whip. Whip. Whip.
A helicopter hovers over the boat.
“Look.” Amy points toward the chopper. “How do you think they keep finding us? Some sort of tracking device on the boat?”
“Frack. Who knows?” The nerves between my shoulder blades jump and quiver as two men dressed in scuba gear climb down a rope ladder and drop onto the boat.
I point down. We dive and swim away.
Amy is a dolphin magnet. There’s bees and honey and then there’s Amy and dolphins. A big male swims up to us and stays by Amy’s side. She rests her hand on his fin and kicks out with her feet. I’m on her other side. We start to swim, needing to get as far away from the divers as we can.
We surface to look around. I hear a shout and glance back. They’ve made short order of searching the boat and are now in the water. They spot us and try to follow but the waves are growing choppier. The storm is closer. Thunder roars. A long jagged spear of lightning hits in the distance and lights up the sky. “It’s going to be a doozy,” I mouth to Amy and point toward the streaky bolt
of lightning.
We keep swimming. The divers do too. We aren’t making much headway, but neither are they. The distance between us and our craft grows.
For a brief moment, I see a circle of light from the chopper above us. As it rises and moves away, the storm hits. Sheets of rain make visibility zero. I hope they took the men following us with them, but as rough as the water is, I have no way of knowing.
I lose track of time. We could have been swimming ten minutes or an hour. It feels like an hour but probably because I’m exhausted. My body hurts from the punishing waves and Amy lags behind. The squall intensifies. The ocean peaks and swells.
The waves rise straight up and slam back down. Bless the dolphin for sticking by Amy. We’re all trying to stay on the surface. We’re burning too much oxygen fighting the waves to stay under and no one can see us in this downpour, anyway. If we could just find the boat, it would give us shelter from the storm. My navigational skills are top notch, but in this gale they’re zero. I’m completely turned around.
Amy’s face is as gray as the waves. I put my mouth to her ear. “Hang on.”
She nods.
I cup my hands over my eyes to look for the boat. It’s no use. The rain is driving straight down, turning everything to liquid.
“Look out.” Amy’s words are a whisper on the wind. I flip around just in time to see one of the biggest damn waves I’ve ever seen coming straight for us. She drops her hand from the dolphin’s fin and pats him.
We wrap our arms around each other. “I have you, Amy, I won’t let go.” Then it’s on us.
Chapter 23
There must be twenty feet of water rising over us. It beats and pounds trying to pull us apart. Amy’s grasp slips. Just as she’s about to slide away, my watch catches on hers. For a minute, I fear one of them will come undone but we get untangled. I get my arms around her again and manage to lock my fingers together.
After what seems like years but in reality is minutes, the surge subsides. I’m knocked up against— “The boat!” Rain chokes me as I try to speak. I grab the side. It rocks like crazy in the choppy swells. My hand slips and I grab for it again. This time, I manage to hold on. I push Amy upward. “Pull up,” I yell at Amy and grab the rim with both hands.
“Okay.” The shout sounds like a whisper.
We pull ourselves to the top of the boat. I wrap one arm around Amy, afraid she’ll slip back into the sea. I’d never find her in nature’s madness.
“Amy, straight down,” I shout. Like seals, we let our bodies slide over. Amy splashes into several inches of water on the floor of the boat. My head hits the deck and my legs slide off the seat. The ship is rocking like crazy.
“Look.” Riding out the storm on the hull of the boat is a bedraggled pelican. He’s huddled down and makes no attempt to fly off at our unexpected entrance, just hangs on.
“Come on.” I pull, against the wind and rain, at the door to the tiny one-man cabin. We stumble in and put our backs against it to shut it.
Amy stands with shoulders stooped, water running off her in rivulets. She gives me a weak grin. I give her a thumbs-up.
“Do you think the dolphin is okay?” She shakes her head and water sprays around her.
“I sure do. He’s a tough guy.”
She nods. “Yeah he is. Like my brother. Thanks for holding on.”
“Always.”
The boat rises and plunges, throwing her against the cabin wall. “I hope we don’t capsize.” She grabs her sore arm and winces.
“What’s the worst that can happen, we have to swim again?” I tease.
She tries to smile, but her lips quiver. “I’m not sure I could.”
She’s trembling. “Lie down on the bunk.”
She sinks onto the small single bed built into the wall. I pull her legs up and help her lie down. Her skin is ice cold.
“Well, at least you know the cabin is waterproof,” she whispers. The words are strung out, as if she’s too tired to talk.
“Yeah, this boat is worth every penny Stranger or Craven paid for it,” I joke.
There’s no response. Amy’s asleep. The boat rises and twists with the waves, heaving to the side. I catch Amy before she rolls off.
Wondering if I can lure the pelican inside, I fight open the door. “Bird.” Even with a perch to hold on to, I’m afraid he’ll drown. Then I give a low dolphin whistle. I don’t know if he can sense the dolphin DNA or if he regards me as a lesser danger than the storm. Whatever the reason, he flaps awkwardly through the pouring rain toward the door.
The wind changes direction, the boat tilts, and he lands in an ungainly heap on the deck. I reach out, grab his leg, and drag him inside. He flaps his wings and with a whooshing sound flutters to the top of the small cabinet, his head nearly touching the ceiling.
I towel Amy down as best as I can, throw a blanket over her then change into dry clothes. I roll her over till she’s smashed against the side of the boat and lie down beside her. I push my feet against the edge to keep from taking a tumble while the boat rises and thumps back into the water. Moments later, I’m asleep.
* * * *
A harsh squawk wakes me. The pelican is sitting on top of the small galley counter flapping its wings. I sit up. “Argh.” Every bone in my body protests. The only thing holding me together is skin and even it feels abused.
“All right. All right.” A grin escapes. “It’s not every day one sees a pelican in one’s galley.” Groaning, I push myself up and throw open the door. Water from the deck trickles in along with sunshine. A wing brushes my face as the pelican rushes by me. He flaps his huge wings and flies away.
“You feed them, you clothe them, you raise them and they just leave without a backward glance,” I joke.
“Joel?”
“Be right there.”
I shelter my eyes from the sun with my hand and watch his departure, a comrade, a survivor of the storm.
Amy stumbles out. “The storm is over.”
“Yeah. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful as sunshine on water?” The waves lap lazily, sparkling in the warm light.
“We survived.” A huge grin spreads across her face.
“We sure did.” An answering one is on mine.
“Have you seen the dolphin?” She runs to the side of the boat and peers over.
“Not yet, but he’s a survivor, too.”
“Yes he is. Was there a bird in the cabin?”
“Yeah. He was taking shelter from the storm.”
She walks over and gives me a one-armed hug. “My brother, guardian of all creatures great and small. They should canonize you. Saint Joel. It has a certain ring, doesn’t it?”
Heat rises in my cheeks. I gently disentangle myself and say lightly, “Hate to break it to you, but I think you have to be dead to make sainthood. I’m not ready for that yet and I certainly don’t qualify for saint status.”
The sky is clear. No choppers or other boats are in sight. “I’m going to start the engine. We need to move out of this area. Why don’t you fix us some breakfast?” As if in response to the suggestion, my stomach growls loudly.
“I’m on my way.” She trots to the tiny galley.
I start the motor. It comes to life with a rumble. “Whew. No ill effects from the storm.” I pull the compass out of my pocket and head inland. We should only be a few hours from the Bahamas.
A few minutes later, Amy trots back, a paper cup in each hand and two granola bars in her teeth.
I take a cup and a granola bar.
“Breakfast is served,” she sings out.
“Works for me.” I hide my dismay. I’m starving.
I turn up the throttle. White tips of foam speed by.
“What’s wrong?”
“What makes you think anything is wrong?”
She touches the taut muscles in my neck and shoulders. “This and this.”
“They’ll be back. We’re too far
out and there’s no hope of blending.”
She sips her coffee, hand trembling. She covers it with the other and glances at me to see if I’ve noticed. “You think they’ll be back?”
“I know they will. I should have gotten this bucket of bolts moving the moment the storm abated.”
“You were exhausted, Joel. And this is hardly a bucket of bolts.”
I pat the helm. “You’re right. A bucket of bolts wouldn’t have stayed afloat in that storm last night.”
Movement flashes to my left. A dolphin jumps out of the water. “Look, Amy.” I whistle. He responds.
“Is it him?” The sunlight catches her hair as she leans far over the side. The dolphin chatters and gets as close to her as he can.
“It must be.” Her face lights up.
“Yup, it’s our friend from last night. He survived the storm.”
I take a long gulp of the steaming liquid before taking a bite of granola that nearly finishes the bar. The sun warms my face and shoulders. Sparkles flash on the water. The dolphin continues to jump and play. For this brief moment, all is right with my world, or as close as it can be away from Piper and Angel.
I finish my coffee, crumple the cup and the granola wrapper, and toss them in the trash. Amy does the same.
She points to the sky and laughs. Zeroing in is a pelican with a fish flopping frantically in its mouth. Its wings flapping awkwardly, the pelican lands on the bow. “He came back.” She throws her arms wide and turns in a circle.
“Yeah.”
Something in my voice alerts her. “What’s wrong, bro?”
“Just a bad feeling.” My skin is too tight for the bones it covers. Icy fingers skitter up and down my spine. They’re coming.
She cocks her head and lays a finger to her lips. Her hearing is definitely better than mine. Then I hear it too, coming from two different directions, behind us and above us, another boat and the familiar whip-whip-whip of helicopter blades. I’d recognize that chopper anywhere. It has a distinctive whine as if a blade needs oiling. “We’ve run out of time. Grab the water and knives, Amy. Hurry.” Adrenaline surges through my system. There’s only one thing I can think of to get them off our backs and it’s going to be tricky.
