Fallen Hunter (Jesse McDermitt Series)

by Wayne Stinnett

  I surfaced pretty much where I had gone down and Tina was sitting up, with her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. “I thought you were in trouble, you were under water a long time. Did you see anything?”

  “Lots of pretty reef fish,” I said. Then, lifting the big lobster out of the water, I added, “And lunch.”

  She jumped to her feet, her mouth falling open. “You actually caught one!”

  “And he's big enough for both of us,” I said. Wading out of the water, I tossed my gear and the bug up onto the sand where it flipped its tail crazily for a minute, before resigning itself to its fate. Tina ran down the little beach and leaped into my arms, knocking us both backwards into the water. For such a tiny woman, she was surprisingly strong. We rolled in the shallow water, until she had me on my back, with her legs wrapped tightly around my waist.

  That's when she kissed me. A very passionate first kiss, her lips devouring mine, her tongue exploring my teeth and inside my mouth. She sat up, straddling me. Her hair was wet and dripping, as I reached up and pulled her back down. Her breasts pressed firmly against my chest and I kissed her again. Slower, but just as passionately.

  We broke apart from our embrace and she said, “I've been wanting to do that since you walked into Blue Heaven the first time.”

  “We'd better get out of the water,” I said. “Might get all the little fish excited.” She laughed, then got up and we walked to the blanket, holding hands.

  “Can you show me how you do that?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I said and spun her around into my arms, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her again. She kissed me back, pressing her body tightly into mine.

  Then she stepped back and slugged me in the chest, saying, “That's not what I meant.”

  “Can you swim?” I asked, as we knelt down on the blanket and shared the towel to dry our faces.

  “Yes,” she said. “I was on the swim team in college.”

  “Really?” I said. “Where'd you go to college?”

  “I'm a Cornhusker,” she said proudly. “Bachelor of Arts in Theater. Played on the tennis team, too.”

  “Wow,” I said. “When I was looking at you lying here a few minutes ago, I thought you looked like an athlete.”

  “Where'd you go to college?” she asked.

  “USMC, School of Hard Knocks,” I replied, laughing. It felt good to laugh. “Seriously, though, I took a few classes in community college, but the Corps moved me around too much to finish anything.”

  She looked at the recent scar on my chest, then the scars on my side and left thigh. She reached out and traced each one, sending shivers down my spine. “Is that where you got those?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I lied. Then changing the subject, I said, “If you want to learn to skin dive, that's easy. Scuba diving's a little harder, but for an athlete, it's a cake walk.”

  “I'd like to learn. Can you teach me?”

  “Sure,” I said. Then remembering why I was in Key West in the first place, I added, “I'll be busy during the week, but I might have next weekend free. I better get that lobster cleaned, before the crabs carry it off.” I got up from the blanket and picked up the lobster, who started slapping its tail again, but with less enthusiasm.

  “There's wine in the cooler,” I said. “Why don't you pour us a glass, to get the salt taste out of our mouth? I'll be back in a sec.”

  I walked over toward the sea grapes on Bush Key, until I found a suitable limestone rock and knelt down. Placing the lobster on the rock, I unsheathed my dive knife and quickly removed the tail. Spiny lobster have spindly little legs and no claws. There's very little edible meat in the body and the tail is really the only part that's worth the effort. I tossed the carcass into the sea grapes, where I'm sure a few lucky gulls and crabs would make short work of it.

  When I got back to the blanket, Tina handed me a glass of wine, as I put the big lobster tail in the cooler. “Beaujolais,” she said. “My favorite, whenever I can get it. You don't like to talk about your time in the service, do you? My dad was the same way.”

  “I was in Recon,” I said. “We went a lot of places and did a lot of things that aren't talked about in polite company.”

  She thought about it for a while and said, “Okay, I won't bring it up anymore.”

  We talked for an hour, then I suggested we head back to the boat, for lunch. She gathered up the blanket and towel as I grabbed the cooler and fly rod case and we walked back to the boat. I rinsed my dive gear and put it away, while she set things up in the salon. I have a small charcoal grill that mounts into one of the rod holders on the gunwale in the cockpit and took it out and set it up, lighting the charcoal.

  Tina came out and I told her she could grab a shower if she wanted, while I grilled the lobster tail. I showed her the head, then went back out to split and butter the tail. A few minutes later, she came back out, dressed in a short white skirt and black tank top. I'd added two ears of corn to the coals and everything was about ready.

  We enjoyed a great lunch and finished off the bottle of wine. The woman had a hearty appetite. We were sitting in the cockpit, watching a pair of sailboats on a broad reach, heading east about a mile south.

  She got up and came over to me, sitting on my lap and resting her head on my shoulder. She kissed my neck then and whispered in my ear, “Are you going to show me your bedroom?”

  I turned my face toward her and looked long into her dark smoky eyes. “No,” I said. “Not yet. It wouldn't be right. I want to, but it's too soon. I hope you understand.”

  There wasn't a trace of hurt on her face, as she smiled and said, “Part of me hoped you'd pick me up and carry me in there. But, another part of me hoped you'd say just what you said. I'm not usually like this, especially with a man I just met. Key West isn't the best place in the world for dating decent guys. I'll be around when you are ready.”

  “A large part of me wanted to pick you up and carry you in there,” I said. “You're not angry? We can be friends?”

  “Friends with benefits,” she said and gave me a deep soulful kiss. “I'm not going anywhere, Jesse.”

  Just then a claxon horn sounded over the exterior speakers, causing her to jump suddenly and land with a thud on the deck.

  “What the hell was that?” she said.

  Laughing, I reached down, took her hand and helped her to her feet, saying, “I've got mail. Why don't you grab a few beers from the galley and take them up to the bridge, we'll have to leave soon. I'll be right back.”

  I went into the salon, opened the laptop and saw that an email from Deuce was there. I opened it and read:

  Director says go. Make nice with Santiago. Try to

  get him to like you. I know that'll be difficult. Pretend

  to be someone he wants moving his product. Call

  or email when you can.

  I clicked the reply button and wrote one word, Roger and clicked send. I closed the laptop and unplugged the speaker jack, then went out to the cockpit.

  “We have to go,” I said to Tina, up on the bridge. “Will you start the engines for me, while I cast off?”

  She started both engines as I stepped up to the dock and untied first the bowline, then the stern. Shoving the Revenge out away from the dock, I stepped aboard and climbed up to the bridge. Tina was sitting in the second seat and I had her slide over behind the helm.

  “Stand up,” I said. “Put your back against the wheel and your hands on the throttles.”

  She did as I said and I told her to use her left hand and put the starboard engine in reverse. The Revenge started backwards, pulling the bow away from the dock and I told her to do the same with her right hand, putting the port engine in reverse. We slowly started backing straight away then and I told her to put the starboard engine in forward and use her back to nudge the wheel to her right. Slowly, the Revenge began spinning, pointing her bow toward open water.

  “Nice maneuvering,” I said. “Now have
a seat and take us home.”

  She sat down at the helm and asked, “Was it an important message?”

  “No,” I lied. “Just confirmation of what time I have to leave in the morning. Now, in a narrow channel like this, you have to go nice and slow. Use the engines and the wheel to steer. You ever drive a tracked vehicle, like a bulldozer, back on the farm?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

  “Same principle. Use the throttles like you would the track controls on a dozer.”

  I saw her face light up, as it came to her. “The propellers are like the tracks. Stop one and the other will drive forward and turn.”

  “Beautiful and intelligent,” I said with a laugh. “I think I'm in trouble.”

  She took the Revenge through the narrow channels going clockwise around the two islands, using only the throttles, like she was born to it. Then pointing the bow due south, she nudged both throttles just a little and the big boat responded. Once we cleared the outer channel marker, I turned on the radar, sonar, UHF and GPS, then punched in the saved destination for the marina.

  “Always check the radar and sonar before lifting the boat up on plane,” I said. “Remember, we're as tall as a house and speed is deceiving. You want to make sure you have at least ten feet of water under the keel and nothing out in front of you for a ways.”

  She looked over the digital display and said, “It says we only have two feet of water under us.”

  “The sonar reads in fathoms,” I said. “One fathom is six feet, so we have plenty of depth.”

  “Oh geez,” she said. “Port, starboard, helm, fathom. Why do you have to speak a foreign language?”

  I opened a beer and nearly doubled over, laughing so hard. When I got control, I said, “It'll all come to you. In time.”

  “What's that red thing on the radar?” she asked.

  “It's big, so it's probably a container ship. Looks to be heading toward the Mississippi River and it's about ten miles away.”

  “So, we're good to go?”

  “Saturday night, rock and roll,” I said.

  “Well, it's Sunday afternoon,” she said, smiling. “But I'm guessing that's more Marine talk and it means something like 'hammer down'?”

  “Hammer down, babe!”

  She shoved the throttles about half way and the Revenge dropped down at the stern, the bow rising and the bridge tilting back. Then as she gathered speed, the bow came back down and she lifted up on plane.

  “Holy shit!” she said. “Can I do that again?”

  “Sure, why not,” I replied. “Just ease the throttles back, you don't want to come down off plane too fast, or the wake will swamp the cockpit.”

  She eased the throttles back and the boat settled back into the water. Then she pushed them forward again, lifting the eighteen ton boat back up on plane.

  “That's such a cool feeling,” she said, with an ear-to-ear grin on her face.

  She looked over at me and I said, “I do believe the worm has turned.”

  She piloted the Revenge all the way back to the marina, but asked me to 'park it', when we got to the docks.

  “I don't want to hit anything,” she said.

  I backed the boat into the slip and had her sit at the helm, in case it needed a slight move, while I climbed down and made her fast. She shut down the engines and I joined her on the bridge, to watch the sun go down. We talked for nearly an hour, as the moon started to peek above the horizon to the east. I'd really enjoyed her company and I felt she had enjoyed being with me, too.

  As if reading my mind, she said, “I'm glad you asked me out, today. All these years, I never realized what I was missing, out there. I can't wait until next weekend.”

  She left a little while later, kissing me deeply on the dock, before getting on her bike and riding away toward town. I went into the salon to call Doc. I had a feeling he wasn't going to like playing pirate. And I was right.

  9

  Pirates on the Bay

  As usual, I was up before dawn, the sound of the coffee maker and the fresh smell of Columbia's finest product filling the salon, just beyond the stateroom hatch. I turned on the light in the salon and poured a cup. I took it up to the bridge and sat down, watching the stars.

  Last night, I'd called Doc and gave him the news that we were going to join Santiago in smuggling pot into Key West. At first, he thought I'd lost my mind and wanted no part of it. I explained that the problem went far beyond Trent and his crew. Santiago had his claws in dozens of people all over town. I said that rather than get Trent off the hook, I was planning to get Santiago out of everyone's hair. When he asked how I planned to do that, I just told him he'd have to trust me.

  Doc had said that they planned to get underway about 0900, to make it out to the New Ground by mid-afternoon. That would allow the crew to get some sleep before starting the trawl, just after dark. He gave me the name of the boat and I told him that I'd arrive there about 0830. I said that he should act pissed because Trent was late, then concerned when I tell him about his 'accident'. After I finished talking to him, I called Lawrence and asked if he could pick me up at 0800 at the marina. That gave me two hours.

  My phone chirped, sitting inside the small storage cabinet next to the helm. I looked at it, but didn't recognize the number. I usually don't, but I answered it anyway, saying, “McDermitt.”

  “You're sitting on the bridge in your skivvies,” I heard a woman's voice say. Then I realized it was Tina.

  “Hi, Tina,” I said, looking out toward the gate. “You're up early.”

  “I like to run early on the mornings after a night off,” she said. “I just wanted to call and thank you again for letting me drive your boat.”

  “Pilot,” I said, grinning. “You drive a car, you pilot a boat. And you're welcome. I had a good time, too.”

  “I'll never get the lingo down,” she said laughing.

  “You will if you hang around boat bums a lot,” I said.

  “I think I'd like that a lot,” she said.

  “Where do you run?” I asked. “I can't run much, living on a tiny island, but I try to swim at least two miles every other day.”

  “That's a long swim. I run through Old Town, a long loop that takes me to the south side of the island, along the water. About four or five miles.”

  “Do you always have Sunday's off?” I asked.

  “Sunday's and Monday's,” she said. “Sometimes, I change shifts with one of the other bartenders, to get a weekend night off.”

  “Think you could do that and have Friday off?”

  “Probably,” she replied. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I have to make a run to the Content Keys Friday evening, to take some groceries to a friend. You're welcome to come along. Should be back by noon on Saturday.”

  “Hmmm,” she said, teasing me.

  “My boat has two staterooms,” I said.

  “Okay, if you're sure.”

  “Yeah, I want you to meet my dog.” Not my smoothest line, I thought. But, she laughed.

  “Be careful out there today,” she said.

  “I'll see you in a few days,” I said and ended the call.

  I went below and filled a thermos, then put on a pair of work jeans and a long sleeve denim shirt. I grabbed my sea bag, with the fly rod case strapped to it and my thermos, then headed out to the gate, after locking the hatch.

  I didn't have long to wait. Lawrence pulled up and checking my Submariner watch, he was right on time. I liked people that were punctual. It says something about a person.

  He popped the release on the trunk, before he even stopped and the lid flew up. He was out the driver’s door and around the back of the cab, before I'd even taken a step.

  “Mornin' sar,” he said.

  “Lawrence, calling me sir is like a fishing pole, with no hook. It don't work. Would you please just call me Jesse?”

  He grinned and said, “Ya mon, Mister Jesse, sar.”

&n
bsp; Oh well, I thought. Some people you just can't change. “You know where Miss Charlie's docked?” I asked.

  “Cap'n Trent's boat? Ya mon, I tek him der most mornin's. He usually der ver early, bout six.”

  We got in and Lawrence pulled away from the marina, heading west on US-1, over the bridge and into Key West. He turned onto Palm and crossed over the causeway to Old Town, then a series of quick lefts and rights and stopped at the north end of Front Street, just past White Tarpon Liquor, again popping the trunk before coming to a complete stop.

  Lawrence was at the back of the car and lifted my heavy sea bag and handed it to me. I gave him a twenty and asked if Santiago was still on the island.

  “Ya mon,” he said. “He was at di Blue Parrot till ver late. A fren took he an two gulls to his hotel.”

  “Thanks, Lawrence,” I said. “I'll see you in a few days.”

  “Be careful, Cap'n.”

  I threw the sea bag over my shoulder and walked the half block to the dock. A motorcycle roared by and I noticed it was Nikki, Doc’s girlfriend, driving it. Nice looking bike, I thought.

  Several shrimp boats were active with men working, loading food, drinks, and ice aboard. I found the Charlie and saw Doc on the deck, directing the crew and seeming to be in a foul mood. A slight, dark haired man was leaning against a pier post, not far away. I caught Doc's eye as I reached the foot of the gangway.

  “Permission to board?” I called up.

  “Who the hell are you?” He yelled, causing the crew to stop what they were doing and look down.

  “Captain McDermitt,” I said. “Captain Trent sent me. He's had an accident.”

  The man leaning against the post turned suddenly from looking down to the end of the street and looked at me. Doc came down the gangway and I handed him my Master's papers, which he looked over.

  Looking up, he said loud enough for the man at the post to hear, “What happened to the Captain?”

  “His wife called me late last night,” I replied. “He was scuba diving and suffered an embolism yesterday. He's in the hyperbaric chamber in Key Largo. She said that he asked her to call me and see if I could fill in, so you guys don't have to miss any trawling time.”