Intimate Stranger

by Jan Springer

  It was better than being alone with Chance. Chance who made her feel anything but normal or routine.

  Unfortunately Sweet Lies had other plans.

  She had just turned the ignition key, eased the throttle forward and inhaled a nauseating lungful of diesel fumes, which the wind blasted into her face, when the engine sputtered and promptly died. She groaned, not believing her luck, and turned the ignition key again. The boat merely coughed and began drifting away from the shoreline.

  “Uh-oh. Sounds like we’re out of diesel,” Chance shouted from where he stood beside the near-to-bursting net of seaweed he’d just winched into the air.

  “We can’t be out of fuel,” Emily called back to him. She always made sure she had enough fuel before heading out. But, dammit, since Chance had come into her life she’d been too preoccupied to bother checking.

  “I’ll go down and see what’s wrong,” Chance said, and waved as he went around to the back end of the boat, lifted the hatch to the engine room and disappeared down the hull into the belly of her boat.

  Her heart pounded as she waited impatiently for him to return. He didn’t know anything about tugboats, did he? But what if it was something serious? The engine was so old anything could go wrong at this point in its life.

  “You’re out of diesel,” Chance said as moments later he came out of hold, crossed the deck and stopped at the bottom of the bridge ladder, hands on his hips, looking up at her. His mouth twisted into a halfhearted smile.

  She opened the window and looked down at him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you staged this whole thing so you could be alone with me.”

  Oh God. Did he seriously think she would do something like that? Irritation rammed into her. She was not that desperate to have sex with him again. Was she? Okay so she did want more of what they had last night. Maybe that’s why she was getting pissed off. Because he could read her so damn well.

  Yes! She wanted sex. Red-hot sex with Chance. Any way he could throw it at her, she wanted it. Oral, finger, vaginal or anal and whatever else they could think of.

  She’d take him. And she’d love it.

  Son of a bitch. Why was she suddenly feeling so hot for him again? She’d managed to keep her mind off him all morning, but the minute work stopped she wanted to be all over him.

  “Chance, this is not funny. Just use the backup diesel drum.”

  His smile dropped into a serious frown that sent shivers up her spine.

  “What? Didn’t you check it?” Her anger flared.

  “There is no extra diesel drum.”

  Oh damn! It would be all her fault if they got stranded out here. Heck, they were already more than fifty feet off shore, and the fog seemed to be getting thicker by the minute. It would be a long, cold swim if they wanted to abandon ship and get to land. And it would be a lengthy chilly walk back to her lighthouse.

  Shit! She should have told him to weigh anchor again before going down to check on the engine. Heck, she should have done it herself!

  “It can’t be gone. I put a full one down there a few days ago and the other was still half full. We didn’t use that much diesel.”

  “I’m serious, Emily. It is gone. And the one barrel is empty.”

  Her tummy hollowed as she studied his stern face and realized he wasn’t kidding.

  “There should be a full barrel there and the other one should be at least half full. I can’t believe it! Someone siphoned my flipping fuel!”

  “Can you blame them? With the way prices are these days?”

  She sensed an underlying tenseness in his voice. Noticed his frown. He was worried.

  “You think it might have been someone from that mysterious boat we saw anchored offshore last night?” she asked.

  “Thought crossed my mind.” His frown deepened. “Where’d you put the laptop?”

  “They won’t find it.”

  “You sound confident.”

  “You’re acting too spooky, Chance. You make it sound as if someone has deliberately stranded us here so they can get a hold of that laptop.”

  “You said it, I didn’t.”

  “You’re thinking it. Why else mention it?”

  He shrugged his shoulders and turned away to look out across the mist-shrouded waters. That’s when she noticed the wind had died down and thick, white mist had rolled in.

  Okay, Emily. Calm down. Your mind is whirling too much. This is not the time to panic. Not the time to argue with him. They were too far away from shore now to drop anchor. The wind was dying down. If they were lucky, they wouldn’t get blown too far out. But she wasn’t going to chance it. If the wind picked up again and changed directions the gust could push them so far out they could be in serious trouble from that hurricane out in the ocean.

  She refocused her attention on Chance. What was he looking for? she thought as he continued to stare into the fog. In this thick soup he’d be lucky to see anyone to flag down for help. His jaws were clenched so tight a muscle twitched in his cheek. Déjà vu spilled over her at the sight. When Steve had been worried, the muscles in his cheeks had jumped in a similar fashion.

  Shaking the weird idea aside, she reached for the CB.

  “Do you know how embarrassing this is? For an old pro like me to get caught without extra diesel on board? I’ll never live it down.”

  “What do you care?” Chance said as he kept squinting out into the fog. “You won’t be living here anymore. You’re selling out, remember?”

  His rude jab made Emily mad and she violently clicked her thumb on the talk button.

  “Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. This is Sweet Lies looking for some assistance off the north shore of Shipwreck Island. Anyone in the vicinity? Over?”

  “Emily! Stop!”

  His angry shout startled her and she removed her thumb from the button. “What is wrong?” she asked as she looked down to see him shaking his head in anger.

  “Don’t call for help!”

  “Why not?”

  “Just don’t,” he said tightly.

  His anger frightened her and she turned around to replace the CB on the hook. With full intention of confronting him as to why they shouldn’t be calling for help, she whirled around and cursed. Chance was nowhere in sight. Why did he do that? Here one minute. Gone the next. Just like a darn ghost.

  “Chance?”

  “Down here,” he shouted from the cabin.

  She found him there, searching the tiny kitchenette’s cabinets. His shoulders were tense, his frown now so severe her stomach did a couple of really bad flips she didn’t much care for.

  “What are you looking for?”

  He didn’t say anything but continued to search behind the stash of canned goods she kept in the cupboards for just such an emergency as they were in now.

  “Are you that hungry?” Her attempt at teasing made his shoulders tense even more.

  Not good. He was upset and it made her feel the same way.

  “No, I am not hungry,” he snapped, his face slanting in a way she could read his features. His frantic look sent a sliver of fear shooting up her spine.

  “What are you looking for? Or do I want to know?”

  He didn’t reply, but his search intensified and then suddenly his arms stopped moving and he inhaled sharply.

  “It’s happening again,” he muttered beneath his breath.

  “What’s happening again?”

  To her horror he withdrew a liter-sized clear plastic bag stuffed with a white powdery substance.

  “Please tell me that’s sugar,” she begged, knowing full well the bag was definitely not hers and it was anything but sugar.

  “It’s sugar.”

  For a split second relief splashed through her as her mind frantically clung to the fact he was telling the truth. But the relief was short-lived as his wobbly smirk told her he was only trying to humor her.

  “How’d you know you’d find something?” she as
ked, swallowing at the terrible lump of anxiety clogging up her throat.

  “Just a hunch. I was hoping I was wrong. If someone removed the diesel, they wanted us stranded for a reason.”

  Okay, he knew something and he wasn’t saying.

  “What the hell do they want us stranded for? And who are they?”

  To her irritation, he didn’t answer. Instead he grabbed a knife from a drawer, sliced a small hole in the top of the clear plastic bag, licked his finger and then touched the white powder. The powder stuck to his finger and he brought it to his tongue. His reaction was violently quick.

  He spit it out, cursed and raced toward the tiny porthole above the bed. Opening the window he carefully stuffed the bag outside. With his other hand he used the knife to slice it open. Then he dumped the contents into the ocean, dropping the bag out the porthole too. When he turned to her, she shivered at the raw fear shining in his eyes.

  “It’s heroin. Better go check the wheelhouse, engine room and the bow area, Emily. Check everything. Cans. Drums. Pails. Freezers. Look anywhere where they can hide one- or two-liter bags. I’ll check the cabin, the back deck and the roof of the wheelhouse.”

  She nodded numbly.

  “Take this knife.” He handed her the knife he’d just used. “If you find something, get rid of it. Do it the same way I did. Pour it overboard. Don’t get any of it on the side of the boat. Don’t get anything on you. When you’ve covered everything then wipe the knife clean of your fingerprints and throw it over too. Go!”

  She whirled around and headed for the stairs.

  “Emily!” His sharp voice made her halt halfway up.

  “Move fast. We’re probably going to have company soon and they’ll be looking for these drugs.”

  Shit! A drug setup? But why her? It had to have something to do with that boat they’d seen anchored off shore last night. The bastards planted drugs on Sweet Lies for some reason and she had the feeling Chance knew why.

  She nodded again and her limbs trembled as she frantically scrambled topside.

  Damp air greeted her and she quickly scanned the white mist hovering around the boat. She saw nothing. Heard nothing but the howling wind and the waves slapping against the sides. That didn’t mean someone wasn’t lurking nearby.

  Move fast. Chance’s words echoed through her brain, prompting her into action. She searched everywhere. Cans, pails, drums, coils of rope, ice chests. Everywhere she could think where someone might hide illegal drugs. When she finished with the obvious places around the deck, she climbed up the bridge ladder to the wheelhouse and checked any cubbyholes. Thankfully she found nothing.

  Climbing back down from the wheelhouse, she headed toward the gunwale and the hatch that led to the engine room. Raising the lid, she descended the steep metal ladder into the dark and oily smelling hole. Flipping on the light, she did a thorough inspection of the room. Just when she thought she’d covered the whole area, she spied something white and out of place peeking from behind the propeller motor. Blood curdled in her veins and with shaky hands she picked up the evidence and headed topside. Leaning over the portside, she sliced open the bag and dumped the contents into the ocean. The plastic bag quickly followed.

  She began to search the bow area of Sweet Lies, checking behind the life buoys and wondering if maybe someone had tossed a bag or two into the tires of the tire fender around her boat when she suddenly heard the low hum of a finely tuned engine.

  As she listened she swore it was getting closer to them by the second.

  “Chance!” she yelled.

  “I hear them,” he said from behind her.

  Whirling around she spotted Chance holding another liter plastic bag filled with the white powdery substance.

  “Found it stuffed behind the main mast,” he explained.

  “Dear God! Get rid of it!” she screeched at him as a round of panic slammed into her.

  He moved quickly. Grabbing the knife from her hand he threw it and the entire bag overboard.

  “Shit! It’s the Coast Guard,” he groaned.

  To her surprise he pulled her against his body. Without warning he crushed his lips over her mouth. Unfortunately, she was so terrified she could only hang on to his hard, muscular arms until he decided to come up for air.

  Suddenly a flash of bright light slashed through the fog and slammed against them, blinding her. She clamped down on the overwhelming urge to dive into the ocean.

  “This is the Canadian Coast Guard!” A mechanical voice erupted from a large gray boat that emerged from the mist and gently nudged the starboard side of Sweet Lies.

  Chance drew away from her and lifted his arm to shield his eyes against the light.

  “We are boarding your vessel,” the mechanical voice blared.

  Chance smiled and threw a friendly wave.

  “Did you cover everything?” he asked from the corner of his mouth.

  “Not the entire bow.”

  He cursed under his breath then said, “Stick close to me.”

  She nodded and followed him as he strolled toward the starboard side where two uniformed officers were climbing down a rope ladder onto her boat. The first one was tall and seemed friendly as he smiled at them. The second man, Emily instantly disliked. There was something wrong with his eyes, she noted. He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach eyes that were a cold blue.

  “Hi!” Chance greeted the first officer as he stepped onto the deck. “You must have heard our mayday.”

  “Yes, we heard your call for help over the radio but couldn’t get a response.”

  “That was me, sir,” Emily said. “The radio is old and it’s on the blitz half the time.”

  “What’s the problem?” the friendly man asked as he began surveying the area around her deck. He didn’t seem to be looking for drugs, merely inspecting her boat. Probably making sure it was safe since it looked rusty and beaten from years of use.

  “We ran out of diesel and it’s all my fault, Officer,” Chance said. He acted as if they hadn’t just found a bunch of drugs on her boat.

  “She told me to put an extra drum of diesel onboard this morning, but I forgot. Too many other things going on. Too much work as you can see by all this seaweed we need to get into town. It never ends, I tell you. It never ends.” Chance shook his head slowly and heaved a sigh.

  “Do you mind if I get a drink of water?” The second officer, the one who gave her the creeps, suddenly stepped forward. He stared at her with those beady blue eyes and she found herself shivering with revulsion.

  She felt Chance stiffen at the man’s request and sensed Chance’s hostility.

  “Sure. I can get you a glass,” he replied. He sounded so cool and confident that for a split second Emily thought she might have actually dreamed they’d found a stash of drugs moments earlier on her boat.

  “Oh no. I can get it myself.” The officer began walking past them toward the cabin.

  “It’s this way, right?”

  Emily nodded, not believing the audacity of this fellow to invite himself into her cabin.

  “I’ll show you,” Chance said coldly, and stepped in beside him.

  “Oh, no need.”

  “I insist.”

  An icy sliver of fear crawled across Emily’s back at Chance’s cold command. His jaw was tense, his eyes dangerous slits as he passed her and followed the officer into the cabin.

  “Ma’am, how much diesel do you need?” the remaining officer asked. He didn’t seem the least bit disturbed at Chance’s insistence at following the other officer.

  “About five miles’ worth. It’ll be enough to get us home.”

  “I’ll get it for you. Back in a minute.”

  When the officer turned and hopped onto the rope ladder that led up to his much higher craft, Emily sighed with relief. After he was out of sight, she held her breath and listened for any sounds from Sweet Lies’ cabin. From where she stood she couldn’t see into the salt crusted cabin windows but she did hear a couple
of creaks indicating someone was opening the cabinet doors where they’d just found one of the bags of drugs.

  Had the second officer used the excuse he was thirsty so he could execute a search? Her breath caught at that thought. Oh God, please don’t let him find anything.

  When a shadow appeared in the open cabin doorway, she jumped. The creepy officer walked out onto the deck. Thankfully his hands were empty, but the scowl he threw her way made her cringe. When Chance, toting an equally fierce look on his face, came through the cabin doorway, Emily breathed a sigh of relief.

  A clatter of footsteps behind them captured Emily’s attention and she turned to find the other officer jumping off the transom onto the deck with a small plastic jerry can of diesel fuel.

  “Ma’am, here’s the diesel. Where can I put it?”

  “I’ll take it,” the officer who’d gone down into the cabin with Chance said quickly. He made a move forward to take the jerry can, but Chance was quicker and accepted the can.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Chance said.

  The officer who’d given the drum to Chance suddenly frowned at his companion’s behavior.

  “You can go back to the ship, Northam. You’re not needed here any longer,” the friendly officer snapped at the nasty one, obviously not liking the guy’s attitude.

  “Yes, Sir.” As Northam departed, he threw another dark scowl over his shoulder at Chance and Emily.

  “How much do we owe you?” Chance asked.

  “Since this is your first time, it’s on the Canadian Coast Guard. Next time there will be a hefty price for the diesel as well as a fine. Best be careful and keep extra fuel onboard.”

  “We will. Thank you for coming to our rescue. We sure do appreciate your help,” Chance said.

  “Glad to be of assistance. I also need to warn you about the storm brewing. Should hit by tomorrow. It’s been upgraded this morning to a category one hurricane and once it hits Nova Scotia it’ll be downgraded again. But it will hit your area here with fierce winds, so you’ll do good to stay on land over the next couple of days.”