I pulled out of the space and tried to keep the ride smooth. There was still crazy traffic. It would be this way until 3:00 AM or so. Stop, start, stop, start.
We finally made it back to the marina, and I parked in a reserved spot by the dock. During spring break, we used orange traffic cones to block off the spaces. Sometimes they worked, sometimes they didn’t.
I helped Ariel onto the boat, and her eyes widened as she took in its majesty. “When you said boat, you failed to mention this.”
“Disappointed?” I teased.
“No. Not at all.”
We crossed the passerelle to the aft deck. Buddy waited at the salon door, bouncing and barking.
I tried to keep him from pouncing when I slid open the door.
“Who’s this?” Ariel asked in a cutesy voice.
I made introductions, and before long she was loving on the little Jack Russell.
Buddy ate it up.
She took in the appointments as we stepped into the salon. “On a cop’s salary?”
"No salary," I said. "JD and I volunteer.”
She lifted a curious eyebrow. "Volunteer? Interesting. Very interesting."
The boat was quiet. Jack was either asleep or had found some trouble to get into. My money was on the latter.
I escorted Ariel through the salon and showed her the galley. "Make yourself at home. If you get hungry in the middle of the night, feel free to raid the fridge." I walked her down to a below-deck stateroom. "This one is unoccupied, and the sheets are clean. You’ve got a fold-down TV and a private en suite. I'm on the bridge deck aft if you need anything.”
"Thank you. This is really sweet of you. I take it back. You’re not the enemy," she said with a slight smile.
I returned the smile, then left her to her own devices. I climbed the steps to the main deck, grabbed Buddy's leash, and took him out to stretch his legs before settling in for bed.
There was still a pretty good crowd at Diver Down.
We strolled around for a bit, taking in the evening. The moon glowed overhead, and the stars twinkled.
On the way back to the dock, two masked thugs emerged from the shadows ahead, wielding pistols. One on either side of me.
Muzzle flash flickered before I could draw my weapon.
Bullets crisscrossed the night.
31
Iscooped Buddy up and ducked in between parked cars.
Bullets snapped past me.
I drew my weapon, angled it over the hood, and took aim.
Glass shattered, and metal popped and pinged as bullets peppered body panels.
Most shots at close range missed. Especially when nerves take hold. These idiots didn’t have training.
My pistol hammered my palm as I squeezed the trigger in rapid succession. The deafening bangs rang my ears. My bullets drilled through the night, pelting one of the assailants with a wet thump.
Crimson spewed.
