That brought a smile to Connie's face, and she glanced at Paul, seeing her own amusement reflected in his features. "Everything okay?" she asked.
"Yes. He and Monica are more shaken up by this than I am. I think adults have more trouble with not being in control than kids do."
"Makes sense," Paul said.
"Well, it does," Julia agreed. "At least from what I can piece together, nothing really bad happened to me, even though it could have. I was lucky; I can accept that and go on. Plus, I learned from my time with my mother after they divorced that there are a few bad people everywhere, and bad things can happen anywhere, even in your own home. The idea of bad things happening in unfamiliar surroundings seems scarier, but it's really just different. When they happen in your home, it feels like nowhere is safe. That's a different kind of scary. Dad and Monica haven't had either kind of experience, I guess. At least, not before this."
"That shows amazing insight, Julia," Paul said.
"I didn't come up with it all by myself; Dr. McRae's been helping me work through all of that for a couple of years now. She's the amazing one. A lot of people want to explain things to you, but she just sets the stage for you to figure it out on your own. I'm hoping that she picked up on the signals I was sending, so she can help Dad figure out what I'd like to do next."
"Maybe she will," Connie said. "Sounds like that's her strength."
"I don't have to have my way. If it's just too hard for Dad, we can go home early. I understand why he might want that, but I'd like to go — "
"Hey, thanks for waiting, everybody," Luke said, stepping into the cockpit. Monica was right behind him. "That champagne would probably be good about now, Paul, but first, there's one other thing."
"What's that?" Connie asked.
"We've got five more days before our flight home. If it's okay with Julia, Monica and I would like to take Sharktooth up on his offer. How long would it take us to get to Dominica?"
"Sorry, Julia," Monica said. "You interrupted her, Luke."
"It's okay," Julia said. "I'm glad you're excited again, Dad."
"What were you about to say?" Monica persisted. "You'd like to go to ... "
"Dominica," Julia said. "Who is Sharktooth, anyway?"
Epilogue
Ten days later…
"You know," Paul said, "in spite of everything that happened, I enjoyed having the Regans aboard."
Connie thought about that as she ran the comb through her hair, still damp from the shower. "I did, too," she agreed, adjusting the tuck that held a bath towel around her chest as she put the comb down and moved to the drawer to get her underwear. They'd had a bracing sail back from Union Island today, having stopped there for a night's rest on their way back from Dominica. They were dressing for a dinner ashore to celebrate their return to Grenada. "They're nice people. I hope they were serious about coming back next year."
"Me, too. I think they were serious," Paul said, opening his own underwear drawer. "What I hope is that this next charter is a little less exciting."
"Amen. I hope the Andrews are as interesting as the Regans, though. I really miss Julia."
"I'm sure," Paul said, feeling around in the drawer. "You two really bonded."
"We did. I haven't been around teenagers since I grew up. I was expecting a bratty, spoiled — "
"What the hell is this?" Paul interrupted, holding up the orange thong.
"Looks like Karen Gilbert's thong," Connie blurted, surprised and annoyed with herself for speaking so impulsively. She'd meant to get rid of that cursed thing.
"No," Paul said, in a matter-of-fact tone, turning toward her, thong in hand.
"No?" Connie asked, a bit of irritation creeping in at his denial, in spite of all her intentions. "It sure looks like it to me. How'd it get in your underwear drawer, anyway?" As she watched his face, she saw that Paul was genuinely puzzled. That didn't make sense to her.
"No, hers had lime-green trim around the edges. Remember? She had a lime-green top that matched it, until she 'lost' it and had to go without."
Damn it, Connie thought, he's right. She remembered that now.
"And besides," he said, "there's more to this one. Hers was all string, except for the, um, whatever you call the little triangle."
"It must have been mixed up with our laundry," Connie said. "We'll drop it off with Helen in the office tomorrow. Maybe somebody's looking for it."
"Damn," Paul said, looking disappointed.
"Damn, what?"
"I thought maybe you were trying to seduce me, putting stuff like that in my drawer."
"And since when do I need an orange thong to seduce you?" she asked, shaking out her long, wavy black hair and letting the towel drop from around her chest as she stepped toward him.
The End
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A Note to the Reader
Thank you for reading Sailor’s Delight, the second book in the Connie Barrera Thrillers series. I hope you enjoyed it. If so, please leave a brief review on Amazon. Reviews are of great benefit to independent authors like me; they help me more than you can imagine. They are a primary means to help new readers find my work. A few words from you can help others find the pleasure that I hope you found in this book, as well as keeping my spirits up as I work on the next one. If you would like to be notified by email when I release a new book or have a sale or giveaway, please visit http://eepurl.com/bKujyv to subscribe to my email list. I promise not to use the list for anything else; I dislike spam as much as you do.
If you haven't read the other Connie Barrera Thrillers, please take a look at them. If you enjoyed this book, you'll enjoy them as well. I also write another series of sailing thrillers set in the Caribbean. The Bluewater Thrillers feature two young women, Dani Berger and Liz Chirac. They sail a luxury charter yacht of their own. They are friends of Connie’s; they met her when she chartered with them in Bluewater Ice.
Connie had a key role in Deception in Savannah, my first book. I enjoyed writing about her so much that I wrote her into the Bluewater Thrillers. She plays prominent parts in both Bluewater Ice and Bluewater Betrayal. The Connie Barrera Thrillers are a spin-off from the Bluewater Thrillers, and feature some of the same characters. Dani and Liz taught Connie to sail, and they introduced her to Paul Russo, her first mate and husband.
In June of 2017, I released Bluewater Enigma, the thirteenth novel in that series. Now I've turned my attention back to Connie and Paul for their eighth adventure. You'll find progress reports and more information on my web page at www.clrdougherty.com. Be sure to click on the link to my blog posts; it's in the column on the right side of the web page. Dani Berger has begun to blog about what's on her mind, and Liz and Connie are demanding equal time, so you can see what they're up to while I'm writing.
A list of my other books is on the last page; just click on a title or go to my website for more information. If you’d like to know when my next book is released, visit my Amazon Author's Page at www.amazon.com/author/clrdougherty and click the "Follow" link near the upper left-hand corner, or sign up for my email list at the link in the opening paragraph above.
I welcome email correspondence about books, boats and sailing. My address is [email protected]. If you'd like personal updates, drop me a line at that address and let me know. Thanks again for your support.
About C.L.R. Dougherty
Welcome aboard!
Charles Dougherty is a lifelong sailor; he's lived what he writes. He and his wife have spent over 30 years sailing together. For 15 years, they lived aboard their boat full-time, cruising the East Coast and the islands. They spent most of that time exploring the Eastern Caribbean. Dougherty is well acquainted with the islands a
nd their people. The characters and locations in his novels reflect his experience.
A storyteller before all else, Dougherty lets his characters speak for themselves. Pick up one of his thrillers and listen to the sound of adventure as you smell the salt air. Enjoy the views of distant horizons and meet some people you won't forget.
Dougherty has written over 25 books. His Bluewater Thrillers are set in the yachting world of the Caribbean and chronicle the adventures of two young women running a luxury charter yacht in a rough-and-tumble environment. The Connie Barrera Thrillers are also set in the Caribbean and feature some of the same characters from a slightly more romantic perspective. Besides the Bluewater Thrillers and the Connie Barrera Thrillers, he wrote The Redemption of Becky Jones, a psycho-thriller, and The Lost Tourist Franchise, a short story about one of the characters from Deception in Savannah.
He has also written two non-fiction books. Life's a Ditch is the story of how he and his wife moved aboard their sailboat, Play Actor, and their adventures along the east coast of the U.S. Dungda de Islan' relates their experiences while cruising the Caribbean.
www.clrdougherty.com
[email protected]
OTHER BOOKS BY C.L.R. DOUGHERTY
Bluewater Thrillers
Bluewater Killer
Bluewater Vengeance
Bluewater Voodoo
Bluewater Ice
Bluewater Betrayal
Bluewater Stalker
Bluewater Bullion
Bluewater Rendezvous
Bluewater Ganja
Bluewater Jailbird
Bluewater Drone
Bluewater Revolution
Bluewater Enigma
Bluewater Thrillers Boxed Set: Books 1-3
Connie Barrera Thrillers
From Deception to Betrayal - An Introduction to Connie Barrera
Love for Sail - A Connie Barrera Thriller
Sailor's Delight - A Connie Barrera Thriller
A Blast to Sail - A Connie Barrera Thriller
Storm Sail - A Connie Barrera Thriller
Running Under Sail - A Connie Barrera Thriller
Sails Job - A Connie Barrera Thriller
Under Full Sail - A Connie Barrera Thriller
Other Fiction
Deception in Savannah
The Redemption of Becky Jones
The Lost Tourist Franchise
Books for Sailors and Dreamers
Life's a Ditch
Dungda de Islan'
For more information please visit www.clrdougherty.com
Or visit www.amazon.com/author/clrdougherty
Read a preview from A Blast to Sail
Read a preview from A Blast to Sail - A Connie Barrera Thriller, book 3 of the series
Prologue
A person unaccustomed to the environment would have gagged on the heavy smoke in the dark, low-ceilinged room. Two men stared at one another through the haze with the febrile eyes of zealots as they sipped their glasses of steaming tea.
"It is in place," the younger one said, after he put his glass down on the rough table.
"And the yacht?" the older man asked, scratching his chin as he looked at a photograph.
"Yes, as we planned." The younger man nodded, watching his companion stroking his long, black beard.
"The battery?"
"What about the battery?" The younger man frowned and lifted his glass, taking a sip. He was annoyed by the questions.
"It will last how long?"
"Years, until the device is armed. After that, at least seven days, perhaps longer, depending on the ambient temperature."
"And this arming mechanism, it is well hidden?"
"It is embedded in the structure, completely sealed. No one will know it is there."
"And how will it be armed, if it is inaccessible?"
"It is beneath a thick layer of glass-fibre. Two wires connect to a magnetic reed switch that is a few millimeters beneath the surface of the glass-fibre. Passing a common magnet over the surface will close the switch. The arming circuitry will transmit a radio signal which will arm the device. It only needs to be within several hundred meters." The younger man smirked; he knew this was incomprehensible to the older man.
"And to disarm it, should we need to do so?"
"Another pass with the magnet, at least one minute after it is armed. That will disarm it."
"What about triggering it after it is armed?"
"Also done by short-range radio waves, but on a different frequency."
The older man nodded. He picked up his tea and sipped it, thinking. "The device —20 kilotons? Like the evil ones dropped on the Japanese?"
"Yes. That is correct."
"They will think September 11 was like nothing. It is too bad that we could not make this happen on May 2," the older man said.
"The infidels don't know May 2. Sheik Osama would have been happy to have it happen on their Independence Day," the young man said. "The death toll will be much greater."
"Insha’Allah," the older man said. He finished his tea and waited, saying nothing.
After a while, the younger man nodded and stood up. He stooped as he stepped through the low doorway and went out into the clammy night.
Chapter 1 - A Blast to Sail
"That'll be 15 bucks, skipper," the cabbie said, interrupting Paul's thoughts.
He looked up and realized they were parked in the gravel area just inside the gates of the boatyard.
"Sorry," Paul said, as he reached in his pocket. "I wasn't very good company; I'm a little stressed."
He handed the man a twenty. "Keep it," he said, waving away the change the man offered him.
"Thanks, cap'n. Hope things get better for you."
"Thanks," Paul said, as he climbed out and closed the door.
He noticed that there was no activity among the boats as he wove his way around and under them, walking to the back row where Diamantista II was stored. His frustration had been building since he and Connie had arrived at the boatyard this morning; the yard's work on Diamantista II was behind schedule. He had been ready for a set-to with the yard manager, but Connie had pulled rank on him.
"You go turn in the rental car; I'll handle this," she had said, shooing him away.
Paul and Connie had planned to cruise from Maine down to the Chesapeake to be sure everything was as it should be before they set off for the islands with the new boat. They had hoped to pick up a few charters while they were at it.
The optimum departure window from the northern U.S. for the Caribbean was in early November, after hurricane season wound down and before the winter storms in the North Atlantic set in. Four months had seemed like plenty of time, but that was before they had gotten a look at the boat this morning.
He heard the distinctive voice of Stan Rogers played at top volume from cheap speakers. Several live male voices joined in the chorus of Barrett's Privateers. As he stepped out of the forest of jack stands supporting the sailboats, he was surprised at the frenzied activity that centered on Diamantista II.
The music came from a big, paint-spattered boom box on her foredeck, and several men were hard at work, re-bedding the chainplates. There were several more men engaged in rigging the mainmast and the mizzenmast, which were resting on sawhorses in the shadow of Diamantista II's hull. Another crew in hazmat suits was sanding the bottom of the boat in preparation for applying a fresh coat of antifouling paint.
As he stood wondering what happened, Connie appeared on deck, clad in her skimpiest day-glow orange bikini — the one that she wouldn't wear when anyone but Paul was aboard. She balanced a tray of canned soft drinks in one hand and sashayed around the deck. Work stopped as the men noticed her.
When she had served the crew working on deck, she swung a lithe, tanned leg over the lifelines and stepped onto the ladder that was lashed to the rail, making her way to the ground. The men's appreciation was palpable as they watched her negotiate the ladder, still balancing the tray on her r
ight hand. After the men working on the masts had cold drinks in hand, she set the tray down and stood chatting with them.
Paul forced himself to relax his clenched jaws and willed his blood pressure to return to normal. She hadn't seen him yet, so he stepped back into the shadows, not wanting to confront her until his anger was in check. He leaned back against the keel of one of the boats, out of sight, as he fought to control his emotions. He wasn't a jealous man, and he knew that he was conservative in his views. They had talked about all that; part of it was the age difference, and part of it was the difference in their backgrounds. Still, he was stunned at Connie's behavior; he knew how she felt about men's unwelcome glances.
He felt a light touch on his shoulder and jumped, hitting his head on the bottom of the boat.
"Sorry," Connie said. "I didn't mean to startle you."
He rubbed his head and fought for composure. "I feel like a voyeur, or something. Should I go away and come back later?"
"Later?"
"Like, after the floor show?"
"Don't be that way, Paul," she said. "A girl's got to use what works."
"I'm trying not to. Could you maybe put on some clothes? I feel like, I don't know ... "
"Come on out. Grab a soda and let me introduce you to the guys. I'm sorry if I've upset you, but if you make a big deal out of my being in the bikini, you'll make things worse."
"How, Connie? I don't under — "
"I know, but trust me. Right now, I'm just a girl who was getting some sun and enjoying the unseasonably warm day while I got to work on re-bedding my chainplates. If I start acting like I'm guilty of something, it'll send all the wrong signals."
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