Making Waves

by Tawna Fenske

  “A1.”

  “Damn,” he said. “Hit.”

  “Yes! Shorts, please.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow at her. “This is your idea of fair?”

  “Fair?”

  “You’ve got a tank top, a bra, your shorts, and underwear. You started with a lot more clothing than I did.”

  “You sure about the underwear?” Juli asked, crossing her legs with a saucy smile. “Maybe I’m going commando again.”

  Alex ignored the sudden rush of blood to his head as he stood up and stripped off his cargo shorts. He kept his eyes on Juli, almost hoping to see her blush or turn away. Anything to see he was beating her at her own game. Instead, she stared openly, her gaze approving as she sat there in her thin little tank top—a garment that, honestly, left little to the imagination. Did she even have a bra under there? He couldn’t tell.

  Alex kicked his shorts aside and Juli grinned. Alex sat back down on the bed and pulled his game board close.

  “Boxer briefs,” Juli said, smirking at him over the top of her board. “You have excellent taste in underwear.”

  “Quit ogling and play. C9.”

  “Hit. It’s about time, sailor boy.”

  “And yet, you’re still wearing a top.”

  He sat back and watched her, no longer caring that it was a piggish thing to do. She’d suggested this game after all, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t expected to lose an article of clothing or two.

  You knew full well you’d both end up naked.

  He should probably feel bad about that, but he was too busy watching Juli to care at the moment.

  She stood and, with an unself-conscious grin, stripped off her top. Alex watched her arms crossing and uncrossing beneath the flimsy fabric, her ribs appearing one by one like a row of piano keys. Her belly was flat and firm, her navel the perfect dimple in the middle of it all.

  And just like that, she was standing in front of him in her bra. A bra that left nothing to the imagination.

  “Jesus,” Alex muttered, wishing he were a better man who could force himself to look away politely. “If Phyllis had worn that bra this morning, Jake would have had an aneurism and fallen overboard.”

  “You think?” she said, grinning through her mock simper. She pivoted a little, clearly enjoying the effect she was having on him.

  “I think that bra might be illegal in several states.”

  “It’s sheer.”

  “No kidding.”

  “The lace is French.”

  “God bless the French.”

  “So where were we?” Juli asked, sitting back down. “My turn, right?”

  “What?”

  “B1,” she said. “And stop staring.”

  “Miss. D9. And if you didn’t want me to stare, you wouldn’t have suggested the game.”

  “Good point,” she said, grinning. “Also, that was a hit. Now you’ve got a choice to make.”

  Alex was feeling light-headed, not sure he was up for any decision more important than what sort of preserves to have on his toast in the morning.

  He looked at her. “What choice?”

  “A choice. Shorts or bra?”

  Alex swallowed. “I get to choose?”

  “It’s the least I can do, since you’re going to be naked on the next round anyway. You may have several ships left, but you’re out of clothes. Your game is up, Pirate Alex.”

  Juli’s eyes flashed in challenge. Alex watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, her breasts moving with the weight of her breath. A gold curl drifted lightly over her shoulder, coming to rest against the sheer lace of her bra. Her nipple tightened.

  Alex made a noise in his throat. Juli smiled, her breath coming faster now. She pushed the curl back and met his gaze.

  “What’s it going to be, sailor boy?”

  “Neither.”

  Her eyes registered surprise. “Neither?”

  “Neither. I want something else.”

  Her face flushed, and he watched the column of her throat ripple as she swallowed. She rested a hand on her game board, her fingers brushing the forgotten ships along the clear surface.

  “What do you want?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

  “What do you think?”

  She bit her lip. “I thought we weren’t going to do this.”

  “You’re the one who suggested getting naked. You started it. Did you really think it wouldn’t end up like this?”

  She smiled. “My intent was to get your defenses down. Anything else was just a bonus. The stripping seemed like an easy way to win.”

  “Yeah? That mirror over my shoulder probably helped too.”

  Juli’s eyes widened in surprise. “You knew about that?”

  “It was pretty obvious. You could see my board the whole time.”

  She laughed “But you didn’t say anything.”

  “We’re both mostly naked now. At this point, is there really a winner or a loser?”

  Juli stared, words obviously failing her. Alex stared right back, cooler than he actually felt.

  “So now what?” Juli asked, her voice almost a whisper.

  “Well, the way I see it, we’ve got a couple choices.”

  “Only two?”

  “Option one—”

  There was a sudden knock at the door. Before either of them could grab for their clothes, Phyllis burst through the entrance. Alex threw himself in front of Juli in a vain attempt to cover her up. He grabbed for his T-shirt and started to protest the intrusion.

  But one look at Phyllis’s face stopped him short. He froze, shirt in hand, and stared at her.

  “What is it?” he asked, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with his lack of clothing. “What’s wrong?”

  “We have a problem,” Phyllis said, her knuckles white as she clutched the doorknob. “A big, big problem.”

  Chapter 11

  “Okay, Phyllis, explain it again slowly,” Alex said.

  They were all fully dressed now, and everyone was clustered around the table in the pilothouse looking faintly green. Jake was steering the boat, but his eyes were on the group, and his expression was grim.

  Juli folded her hands in her lap, uncertain what was happening but certain she didn’t want to miss a word of it.

  “I started getting some funny readings on the GPS tracker,” Phyllis said, taking a swallow of the water Cody handed her. “I thought it was a glitch at first, but then the alert went off for the ShipSafe system.”

  “Jesus,” Jake hissed.

  “Is something wrong with our boat?” Juli asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “Are we sinking?”

  Alex shook his head. “Our boat is just fine.”

  Juli stared, trying to understand. “The boat you’re hijacking?” she guessed, still lost in the conversation.

  Cody set a tray of cookies down beside a milk pitcher on the table. “Isn’t ShipSafe designed to alert the authorities?”

  “Normally, yes,” Alex said, glancing warily at Juli. “That’s what the system is supposed to do. But obviously they would have disarmed that part of the software for an off-the-books operation like this.”

  “I don’t understand,” Juli said. “What’s ShipSafe? What are you talking about?”

  Jake sighed and broke a cookie in half, then ignored the two pieces. “It’s an alert system used in the shipping industry,” he said. “It uses a hidden computer to monitor the ship’s position. If anyone breaches a fiber-optic network around the perimeter of the vessel, it sends a signal to the ship’s crew and to the authorities on shore.”

  Juli stared at the faces around the table, each more grim than the other. She frowned, trying to put the pieces together. “So something’s wrong on the ship you’re planning to rob. How do you know about it?”

  Alex took a piece of cookie from Jake and began breaking it into smaller bits. “Let’s just say we’ve got a connection to the company operating the ship. We know the systems, the technology.”<
br />
  “So you’re monitoring the ship,” Juli said. “And now something happened.”

  “Which way is it headed, Phyllis?” Alex said, moving around her to check the controls.

  “Southwest, last I checked,” she said.

  “It’ll go right past us at that rate,” Jake said.

  “It’s heading back the way we’ve just come?” Cody asked, clearly confused.

  “Someone else must be controlling the ship,” Alex said. “Not our guys anymore. That has to be it.”

  “Maybe that’s not it,” Jake argued. “Maybe the system malfunctioned or something.”

  Phyllis folded her arms over her chest and glared at Jake. “I designed that system. It didn’t malfunction. No way.”

  Cody frowned. “Maybe they’re rerouting for some reason? Bad weather? Just a change of plans?”

  “We’ve been monitoring all their communication,” Alex pointed out. “We’d know about any foul weather or changes in plans.”

  “Well, they’re sure as hell not going to be at the refueling station tomorrow afternoon,” Phyllis said. “That much we know.”

  Alex stared at the controls, a frown etched on his face.

  “So let me get this straight,” Juli said, grabbing a small stack of cookies and biting into one. “You’re out here on your pirate mission to rob this ship. Only now, it looks like, for some reason, the boat isn’t going to be where you thought it was.”

  Jake scowled. “Fuck.”

  “Who else knew what was on that boat?” Phyllis asked. “Really, could it just be a random hijacking, or is something else going on?”

  Juli frowned. “So if the boat is headed our way, can’t you just attack when it comes by?”

  She couldn’t believe she was sitting here calmly suggesting a pirate attack the same way she might suggest a trip to the mall, but no one blinked.

  Alex rubbed his eyes, all traces of playful lust gone for now. “You can’t board a moving cargo ship at sea from a fifty-three-foot powerboat. Even if it were physically possible, we’re not equipped to do that.”

  “What was the plan originally?”

  Everyone frowned, clearly uncertain how much to reveal.

  Phyllis glanced at the men, then sighed. “We knew the ship was stopping to refuel at a private island that belongs to the owner. We planned to sneak aboard and take what we needed while the ship was docked for the night.”

  “No violence,” Cody said.

  “A good plan,” Jake growled. “An easy plan.”

  Juli shoved a cookie in her mouth and chewed. “So you need a new plan.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Alex muttered.

  “You know which direction the boat is headed, right?”

  “We don’t know who’s on it,” Alex said. “We don’t know where they’re going, how heavily armed they are, whether they’ve killed anyone on board, or whether they even know the particulars of the cargo onboard. We didn’t come out here prepared for a heist like this. It was supposed to be peaceful.”

  “Mostly,” Jake added.

  “It could be a random thing,” Phyllis said. “Maybe they’re ransoming the crew or something.”

  “It could even be a mutiny,” Jake said. “Maybe a few members of the crew overthrew the others and now they’re headed to some pre-planned rendezvous or something.”

  “But why wouldn’t they still stop for fuel like they planned?” Cody asked. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Alex was fiddling with the radio, a scowl etched on his handsome features. Juli watched him, wondering what she could do to help.

  “You’ve had the VHF on channel 16?” he asked Phyllis.

  “I started listening for distress calls right away,” she said, looking pale. “Nothing.”

  “More milk, anyone?” Cody asked, obviously feeling the same desperation to be useful.

  No one answered, so Juli smiled at him and raised her glass. “The cookies are really good.”

  “Amaretto and chocolate pecan,” Cody said. “My mother’s recipe.”

  Alex continued fiddling with the radio. A hiss of static came over the airwaves, followed by a string of voices. Someone was chattering about weather conditions. Another voice with a German accent rattled on about his difficulty obtaining a Marine Identification Number. A third voice came crackling through, reporting something about floating debris.

  “Try channel 68,” Phyllis said. “They were using that frequency earlier.”

  Alex glanced at the radio. “Yeah, but if the ship really is being controlled by someone else now, they probably wouldn’t use the same channel.”

  “It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” Phyllis shot back, not bothering to hide the agitation in her voice. “Maybe they forgot and just left it switched on or something.”

  Alex shrugged and began fiddling with the controls. Another clatter of static sounded in the small cabin and Cody winced at the burst of noise. More voices, these ones raised in anger.

  Everyone was silent, listening. Juli reached for another cookie and began to nibble.

  “What the hell is that?” Alex muttered. “Spanish?”

  “Sounds like it,” Jake said, standing up to listen.

  “They sound angry,” Cody said.

  “Try another channel,” Phyllis said. “Maybe 72.”

  “It’s not Spanish,” Juli said, taking another bite of cookie. “It’s Bajan.”

  Four pairs of eyes swung toward her. Alex’s hand froze on the radio dial, his stare boring into her.

  Juli picked up her milk glass and took a swallow before biting into another cookie. She chewed quietly, listening to the voices over the radio as all four of her shipmates stared at her. Alex was the first to speak, in a voice that was anything but pleasant.

  “What did you say?”

  Juli finished chewing and swallowed. “That language. It’s Bajan. It’s an English-based Creole that uses a combination of British dialect with African syntax.”

  They all gaped at her, no one speaking. No one except the voices on the radio, raised in angry urgency. Juli scrunched up her forehead and listened.

  Alex glanced at the radio, his brows knitted together in concentration. He looked back at Juli.

  “What is Bajan, Juli?” he said slowly. “Where do they speak it?”

  “Barbados.”

  Alex stared at her. “Would it be unreasonable to ask if this is one of the four million languages you just happen to speak?”

  “No.”

  Alex frowned.

  “No, it wouldn’t be unreasonable,” she said, grabbing another cookie. “And yes, I speak Bajan.”

  Alex gripped the edge of the counter. The voices began chattering again, this time more urgent. Alex gritted his teeth. “Any chance you can translate what they’re saying?”

  Juli stood up and grabbed her milk glass, along with another stack of cookies. She walked over to stand beside Alex, setting her glass on the counter and leaning in close to the radio so she could hear better. She listened, cocking her head to one side as the others watched her with rapt expressions.

  Another crackle of static, more voices. Juli turned toward Alex.

  “I might be able to translate,” she said, taking a drink of milk. “You still planning to leave me out of your pirate mission?”

  Jake threw his arms up in the air, exasperated. “Jesus, Juli, tell us what they’re saying,” he barked.

  Phyllis waved a hand at him and scowled. “We don’t even know this has anything to do with the cargo boat,” Phyllis pointed out. “It could be anyone on the radio.”

  Juli ignored them both and looked at Alex. She said nothing, waiting for his response. He closed his eyes and muttered a curse.

  “Whatever you want,” he growled. “Just tell us what they’re saying. If it’s even relevant.”

  “Well, earlier, that first guy—the one with the raspy voice? He was saying they got it. Whatever that means. And then the other guy asked how big, and the first gu
y just laughed. Then they made a bunch of penis jokes.”

  More voices, more static. Juli listened, picking out words.

  “The raspy-voiced guy is on a boat at sea, but the second guy is talking as though he’s on land somewhere. At a harbor, maybe? Is that possible?”

  “Boat to shore,” Alex answered. “Sure, very common.”

  Juli nodded and went back to listening to the voices. “The second guy says the space at the Arawak Cement plant is too small—that they should try coming in somewhere else. Something about Oistins Bay?”

  “It could be anyone,” Jake pointed out.

  Juli held up a hand to silence him, listening hard. “He’s giving a bunch of numbers. Eight-seven-four-eight-one-two-five-nine-seven-nine.”

  Jake scribbled the digits on a piece of paper as she said them. He looked up, his face white. “Oh, shit. It’s their MIN number. That’s the boat.”

  “It is them,” Phyllis groaned, dropping into a chair.

  “Phyllis, quick—look up ports in Barbados,” Alex said. “Look for Oistins, Arawak, any of those things Juli just said. Anything that sounds close.”

  Jake grabbed a chart off the table, frantically scanning the configuration of islands and water.

  “The first guy—the one on the boat—his accent isn’t native,” Juli said, cocking her head again. “He speaks Bajan well, but I don’t think he’s from Barbados.”

  “What does that mean?” Jake asked.

  Juli shrugged. “Just an observation. The guy on the boat may be headed to Barbados, but I don’t think it’s where he’s from. The guy he’s talking to—the one on land? He sounds native.”

  Jake was frowning, trailing a finger over the map. “Son of a bitch.”

  “If they’re headed to Barbados, they’re going to pass right by us,” Cody said, staring over his shoulder.

  “Not if we beat them there,” Alex said.

  Jake and Cody stared at him. Phyllis kept clicking keys on her laptop.

  “Oistins and Arawak Cement plant are both places to dock large boats in Barbados,” she said, nodding at the screen.

  “Phyllis, can you find out all the specs on docking there—visas, entrance requirements, permits, that sort of thing?” Alex asked.

  She pulled the laptop closer and punched a few more keys. “Sure, no problem. What are you thinking, Alex?”