She showed Jack the text.
“We should stop at the the Bailey Island marina while we’re still on the mainland.”
“Sure. But it’s a long drive to the end of that peninsula. We’ll be better off taking a water taxi from Harbortown.”
She groaned, dreading the thought of that much water travel. But Jack was right. The time savings would be worth it.
“I’ll call Captain Sparrow.”
He laughed, then stopped when he saw she was serious. “For real?”
“So he says. Who am I to doubt?”
Captain Sparrow met them at the Harbortown public landing in the Salty Gal. “Back for round two, huh?” he said as he stashed their bags under the canopy on the bow.
“Maybe I’m back for revenge,” she deadpanned.
“Ah crap.”
Tina laughed. “It’s none of the above. We need a good pilot and I didn’t die last time, so here we are. How do you feel about a good old-fashioned boat chase?”
“Depends. Are you paying by the minute or by the distance?” He cast off the line and cruised away from the landing. As soon as they passed the breakwater that marked the boundary of the harbor, he picked up speed.
Her stomach roiled. “That’s negotiable.”
“Do we need to break any laws?”
“I’ll take full responsibility if we do. You know I’m a Harbortown police officer. You’ll be following my orders in pursuit of a witness, if it comes to that.”
“And…uh…” He eyed her suspiciously. “You planning to lose your lunch all over my boat?”
“I skipped lunch, because what’s the point when I knew I was getting on a boat. But point taken. I will aim over the side. Deal?”
“You got it. Who am I chasing? Where are we headed?”
“Bailey’s Marina. We’re looking for the Swan Song, a hundred-foot, three-story ultra-luxury superyacht with a helipad on the deck. Can’t miss it.”
He nodded and cranked the throttle. The Salty Gal’s bow lifted into the air and hydroplaned across the surface of the choppy waves. Tina retreated back to the open deck, where the rushing wind kept her nausea at bay, and where she could vomit her guts into the ocean if need be.
And need there was. She spent the next ten minutes bent over the side, with Jack’s arm clamped to her hip to keep her onboard. He also kept her hair from flying into her face and getting messy.
It was humiliating, letting him witness this, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. So she let him take care of her and decided it wasn’t so bad to have a man tending to her. She could get used to that, but she wouldn’t. She and Jack were like two ships passing in the night—if one of them kept getting seasick.
Her nausea didn’t subside until the Salty Gal slowed down during their approach to the marina, with its throngs of bristling masts and gleaming hulls. “There.” She pointed to the biggest craft, all sharp lines and white fiberglass reflecting the sun. It had several levels to it, not just two, and it took up the entire length of the fueling dock. “That’s got to be it. We got lucky, they haven’t left yet.”
“Not luck,” said Captain Sparrow as he emerged from the cabin. “That’s pure skill, right there. What now? Want me to pull up alongside?”
Tina scanned the marina, looking for any sign of Celine. She might be onboard, but then again, she might have stepped off to get lunch at the Pelican, the country-club-style restaurant a short walk up the pier.
“I’m going to do some reconnaissance,” she murmured to Jack. “You stay here and keep an eye on that boat. Ping me the second it moves, or if Celine shows up. I’ll come running.”
“You got it, but are you sure you’re okay?” The concern in his gray eyes both touched and irritated her.
“I’m fine now. And thanks for all that.” She waved her hand, indicating everything that had happened over the past ten minutes. “You.” She pointed at the captain. “Jack’s in charge while I’m gone.”
“Technically, I’m the captain and I’m in charge—” he began, but she waved that off as she climbed off the boat and hopped onto the float ramp. He knew perfectly well that she was in charge, no need to rub it in.
It felt so good to be back on dry land that she jogged up the path to the Pelican. It was constructed like a ship, with its prow—a glassed-in view deck—jutting from the top of a small rise. Boat people were funny, she thought. Why get off your boat just to eat at something pretending to be a boat? Wouldn’t they want a break from being at sea?
