Amber Beach (8 page)

“Postcards don’t jig around beneath your feet”, she said.

“Jig? It’s dead calm.”

She licked her lips
again
and said nothing.

Jake had noticed Honor’s increasing restlessness. He was pretty certain of its source: she was
afraid.
He had been in enough tight places to recognize fear when he saw it. His employer was thin-lipped, pale, vibrating like a high-voltage line.

It took a strong motivation for someone to confront such a deeply rooted fear. He wished he knew whether love for her brother or greed for the fairy dust known as the Amber Room drove her out onto the water.

As Jake looked back at the smooth surface of the sea, he
wondered what Honor would do when it got rough. He hoped she wouldn’t come unglued. The thought of smacking sanity back into her didn’t appeal to him. Instead of testing the
Tomorrow’s
seaworthiness the first time out as he had planned, maybe they should do something nice and calm and easy, like trolling for salmon. The local grapevine said fish were biting
in Secret Harbor.

Normally the idea of salmon fishing would have made Jake eager, but at the moment things weren’t exactly normal. He decided to head for more open water, where he could find out if Kyle’s SeaSport performed the way it should.

Besides, if his employer was going to fall apart, they both should know it now, when everything else was calm.

Jake changed the course forty-five degrees and simultaneously kicked up the throttle.

“What are you doing?” Honor asked. She knew her voice was sharper than it should have been, but she couldn’t do anything about it. She was feeling as edgy as broken glass. Going for a ride in a small boat was turning out to be much harder on her nerves than she had expected. She was thirty, but the overwhelming fear she had felt as a child was scraping her emotions raw.

“I was thinking about fishing”, he said mildly, “but…”

“Good.”

Surprised at what could have been mistaken for enthusiasm, Jake glanced across the narrow aisle to the pilot seat.

“Good, huh?”

“Yeah. Thinking about fishing beats actually doing it.”

He shook his head. “You’ve got to work on your attitude.”

“Believe me, I have.”

“Scary thought.”

She didn’t respond. Her hands gripped the bench seat as though she expected it to be yanked out from under her.

He said something under his breath. Using Honor was one thing; tormenting her was another. He was discovering that
he simply didn’t have the stomach for it. That was one of the reasons he had left Ellen to her spider games and never looked back. He hadn’t enjoyed watching living things flutter in his sticky web.

With a muttered curse, Jake spun the wheel hard, turning the boat back toward the distant dock.

“What are you doing?” Honor asked quickly.

“Going back.”

“Why? Is something wrong?” Her voice was as thin as the line of her mouth.

“Yeah.”

“What?”

“You.”

Her head snapped toward him.

“What are you talking about?” she asked through clenched teeth. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“And I’m the Easter Bunny.”

“Wrong fairy tale. You appeared with the girl in the red coat.”

Smiling slightly, he shook his head. Even scared white, she kept the keen edge to her mind. And tongue.

“Turn the boat around”, she said. “We’re going fishing.”

He kept heading toward the dock, which was now about five minutes away. She gave him a sideways look.

“I mean it”, Honor said. “Turn around.”

“A little bit of fear is a healthy thing”, Jake said matter-of-factly. “It keeps you alert. Too much fear is no good at all. It gets in the way of doing what has to be done.”

“Such as fishing?” she retorted.

“Such as surviving.”

Honor looked at his eyes. “What does a man like you know about fear and survival?”

“More than I ever wanted to.” The flatness of his voice didn’t invite questions.

She didn’t even hesitate. “What happened?”

He gave her a sideways look. “The usual random violence.”

“Oh. Six o’clock news stuff.”

“Bar brawls don’t make headlines.”

“Bar, huh? Did you…”

“No”, he interrupted.

“How do you know what I was going to ask?”

“I don’t.”

“Oh. None of my business, is that it?”

“That’s it. Turn loose of the seat cushion before your
hands go numb.”

Very carefully she unlocked her fingers. Blood returned, changing the skin from white to pink. She sighed, swallowed, and licked her lips nervously.

“How did you know my fingers were aching?” she asked.

“Been there.”

Afraid to take her attention off the water for long, Honor gave Jake a quick sideways look. He didn’t look a bit scared. His left hand was curled over the top of the wheel. His right hand rested near the control levers and something baffling that he called trim tab switches. Every line of his body was relaxed, confident, utterly at home on the unpredictable surface of the sea.

“You, afraid?” she asked. “Pull my other leg.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I wouldn’t know how.”

He gave her a disbelieving look. Without warning he moved the gas lever back to idle.

The boat stopped rushing through the water. Honor made a startled sound and braced herself on the bulkhead. After
a
few moments, swell from the wake surged beneath the boat, making it roll a bit. If Jake noticed what the boat was doing, it didn’t bother him.

It bothered her.

“What are you doing?” she asked frantically.

“Laying out a few ground rules. Number one. You’re
damned attractive and you know it, so unless you’re planning to follow up on all the lip-licking and sideways looks, save them for a boy who cares.”

Her eyes widened. “What are you talking…”

“Rule number two”, he continued without pause. “Refer back to rule number one. Got that, honey?”

“The problem exists in your mind”, she shot back. “If I lick my lips it’s because I’m nervous. Ditto for sideways looks. Got that,
honey?”

Jake admired her brilliant, narrowed eyes. Anger had flushed her cheeks, taking away the pallor of fear. He smiled slowly.

“That’s more like it”, he said.

Her jaw dropped open. “Hello? Are we having the same argument?”

“Discussion.”

Honor realized her mouth was still open. She closed it.

“Discussion?” she asked cautiously.

“Right. We were discussing how to get your mind off being afraid of the water. Simple. We give you something else to think about.”

A dizzying combination of anger, laughter, and disappointment swept through Honor. The first two emotions she understood. The third she ignored.

“Ready?” he asked.

“To strangle you? Any time.”

He laughed quietly. “You’ll do, Honor Donovan.”

“Promises, promises.”

She let out a shaky breath, started to lick her lips, and forced herself not to.

“Okay?” he asked.

She nodded, surprised to realize that she meant it. “Your methods are crude but effective.”

His smile turned down at the corners. “That’s me. All the finesse of a neutron bomb and twice the fun.”

“I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

“I’m used to it. Charm never was one of my virtues. I leave that for the con men of the world.”

Like Kyle Donovan, Jake thought grimly. And his family. Don’t forget them. They’re the folks who gave orders that shut every door in your face that might have led to the truth. And when all was said and done, Honor was a Donovan. He had to remember that.

He applied power, turned the boat, and accelerated. Very quickly he brought the SeaSport up on plane so that it skimmed over the water, balanced between speed and fuel efficiency. He adjusted the trims tabs the same way he did the throttle, unconsciously. The controls were as familiar to him as breathing.

That left him plenty of time to look around. He saw pretty much what he had expected to see, but had hoped he wouldn’t: as the
Tomorrow
raced back out into the strait, three other boats changed course and poured on the power to follow him. Two of the boats had appeared shortly after the
Tomorrow
left its little dock. The third one was new, a big Coast Guard Zodiac in high-visibility orange. It was on an interception course with the
Tomorrow. As
the Zodiac got closer, one of the four men aboard began signaling for the SeaSport to stop.

“So much for fishing the tide change”, Jake said.

“Did we miss it?”

“Not yet, but we will.”

“Why?”

“See that orange Zodiac?”

There was only one orange craft on the water, so identifying it wasn’t hard.

“It’s more a raft than a real boat”, Honor said.

“It can go ashore without a dock and catch anything on the water it’s likely to chase.”

Jake brought down the power to idle, but he did it slowly enough not to alarm Honor.

“Is something wrong with our boat?” she asked warily.

“I hope not. We’re about to have a ‘random’ Coast Guard inspection.”

The brightly colored Zodiac was closing rapidly with them now that the
Tomorrow
was floating dead in the water.

“Do they inspect every boat?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“Most boats?”

“Nope.”

“A quarter of the boats?”

“Nope.”

“One in ten?”

“I doubt if they stop one in a hundred.”

“Then why are they bothering us?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

The cynical tone of his voice was echoed in her answering smile.

“Cops on land and cops at sea”, Honor said. “Gosh, am I ever protected.”

“Yeah. Makes you feel all warm and squishy, doesn’t it?”

“So would a full diaper.”

Jake was still laughing when he grabbed the
Tomorrow’s
papers from the drawer and went out to the stern to give the Coast Guard “permission” to board.

They didn’t even go through the motions of asking about a previous Coast Guard inspection. Likely they knew exactly what Jake did; according to the papers in the galley drawer, Kyle had voluntarily taken the
Tomorrow
in for inspection less than six months ago. It had passed without a hitch. Normally, the boat wouldn’t be up for inspection again for another six months.

The first of two Coast Guardsmen came over the
Tomorrow’s
stern by way of the swim step at the stern.

“Afternoon, gentlemen”, Jake said. “What can I do for you?”

“Standard safety inspection, sir”, the younger man said.

“Then we’ll still have time to fish the tide change”, Jake said. “This boat was inspected within the past six months. No violations. I have the ticket right here. If that’s not good enough, call home base and check your own records.”

The young man hesitated and looked over his shoulder
toward the stern.

So did Jake. He stifled a curse and tried not to give the second official the kind of smile that made people nervous.

“Hello, Bill”, Jake said. “Who did you piss off enough to be put on pleasure craft inspection?”

The second man winced. “Jake? What are you doing here? This boat is registered to Kyle Donovan.”

“I’m teaching Honor Donovan how to use it.”

“Oh. Well, uh, I’m sure she won’t mind if we look around.”

Jake turned and glanced back into the cabin. Honor was standing in the open doorway.

“How about it?” he asked. “Do you mind?”

“Should I?”

“You’re within your rights to tell Captain Conroy to go
spit in his mess kit.”

“Is that your recommendation?”

Jake shrugged. “An inspection now should save us getting stopped at a more inconvenient time.” He looked back at Conroy. “Right, Captain?”

“If I have anything to say about it, yes.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Message received. Hell of a job they handed you.”

“There are worse.” Conroy jerked his head at the other guardsman. “Check the usual.”

“Yessir!” The young man turned briskly toward the cabin.

“Show him that the blower works”, Jake drawled to Honor.

She went ahead of the young man into the cabin. The blower came on. Thirty seconds later it shut off.