Wild Killer

by Tripp Ellis

  "Oh, yeah, right," JD said.

  "I know what we’ll do," Tristan said. "We'll post preliminary shots of the girls on the web and have a contest to see who will be Miss Coconut Cream, and that girl will get the extra month."

  Tristan muttered in my ear, "I didn't really have the budget for 12 months."

  I gave him an understanding nod.

  I showed the girls into the salon and gave them a tour of the boat.

  Buddy went crazy, bouncing up and down, barking at the girls. He melted their hearts instantly, and they all knelt down and petted him. The little Jack Russell loved the attention.

  Who wouldn't?

  Reagan gave me the side-eye as I paraded these gorgeous beauties around the Wild Tide.

  "I guess I'll see you later, babe?" Reagan said, marking her territory.

  "Yeah, we’ll be back this evening," I said, then looked to JD for confirmation.

  "Yeah, shouldn't take long." He tried to stifle a chuckle, knowing he had created drama.

  Reagan slipped out of the salon and into the cockpit. I heard her high heels as she marched down the dock.

  JD elbowed me in the ribs and said with a healthy dose of sarcasm, "She didn’t look jealous at all."

  I scowled at him playfully, then escorted the girls below deck and showed them to a guest compartment. It had four bunks. "You can store your belongings here and change in this compartment."

  "Thanks, Tyson," they said, almost in unison.

  They gave me flirty glances.

  "Do you have our wardrobe?" Holly asked.

  "I'll check with the make-up artist," I said. "I'm sure someone does."

  "Well, this is a calendar for sunscreen," Quinn said. "Maybe there is no wardrobe."

  "I'm fine with that," Megan said, pulling the string of her bikini top.

  The fabric went slack and fell away, exposing her buoyant breasts.

  It caught me off guard. I swallowed hard, and I couldn't help but let my eyes linger for a moment.

  The girls giggled.

  It's like they were purposely fucking with me. Reagan had marked her territory, and these girls were plotting an invasion.

  I excused myself and climbed the stairs to the salon. I pulled JD aside and muttered in his ear. "What the hell are you doing?"

  "What does it look like?"

  "Have you ever done this before?"

  JD's face crinkled dismissively. "How hard can it be? You point the lens at what you want to photograph, and you press the button. The damn thing has auto focus, focus tracking, auto exposure… Hell, it can probably wipe your ass for you. Relax. This is going to be fun." He thought about it for a moment. "Well, now that you've got a girlfriend, it might not be quite as much fun for you."

  My eyes narrowed at him.

  29

  We stayed in the marina while the make-up artist plied her craft. It was much easier to paint a woman's face when the boat wasn't rocking on the swells.

  As soon as one girl was prepped and ready for camera, JD went into action, posing the models and clicking photographs. He basically did everything he had seen the previous photographer do the last time we had models on the boat for a photo shoot.

  The girls strutted their stuff around the dock and at various locations on the boat. Skimpy fabric hugged tight curves, and the girls’ radiant skin shimmered in the sunlight.

  The models didn't need much coaching. They knew exactly how to move their bodies, and what angles were the most flattering. They arched their backs, pushed their chests out, and smoldered into the camera.

  It was hard to tell if they were selling bikinis, sunscreen, hair products, lip-gloss, or make-up. It didn't really matter. The girls were eye-catching, and that was the point.

  I had never seen JD so focused in his entire life. He was almost giddy with excitement.

  When we had gathered enough shots around the dock, we disconnected shore power and water, cast off the lines, and JD took the helm. He idled the Wild Tide out of the marina and brought the boat on plane when we hit the open water. The engines rumbled, and the boat left a frothy white wake.

  The wind whipped through the cockpit as I sat in the mezzanine. There was something so relaxing about getting out on the water. All the turmoil seemed to dissipate. Even if we were technically working, it was an escape from everything that was happening on Coconut Key.

  We cruised for a little while, then JD cut the engines and let the boat drift.

  JD took more pictures of the girls lounging on the fore-deck, wearing sunglasses, and slathered with oil. A bottle of Coconut Cream Sunscreen was always nearby.

  JD took several photos of the girls putting lotion on each other's backs.

  Jack could barely contain himself.

  I felt like I was on the set of an adult movie. Any moment now, the bikinis could fly off, cheesy music would start, and a plumber would show up to fix a leaky pipe.

  The boat rocked gently with the swells. I watched with amusement as JD pretended to be a photographer.

  "You do a lot of these shoots?" Holly asked.

  "Here and there," I said.

  "This is a really good gig to get. Tristan is great, and I think the company is really going to take off. It could be good for all the girls. I'm sure if he likes the photos, he'll book you guys for more."

  I tried not to cringe. I had no idea how these photos would turn out. They could all be blank frames. At least, shooting digitally, I didn't have to worry about JD forgetting to put film in the camera.

  "What about you? Do you model full-time?"

  "Yeah. I do a lot of stuff for bikini brands and car magazines—hot rods, motorcycles, that kind of stuff. I’ve got my social media, and I'm building my follower count. I don't make huge money just yet, but I will," she said with a smile.

  Jack took turns photographing the models around the boat, sometimes displaying the bottle of lotion. When he'd had his fill, he got behind the helm, cranked up the engines, and throttled up. He banked around and made for Angelfish Key Island.

  There was a pristine secluded beach in a small cove. We’d taken photography clients there before. It didn't really matter where we took these girls. They were stunning, and it was almost impossible to take a bad picture.

  Like Jack said, the camera did most of the work. Point, focus, shoot. A trained monkey could do it. Jack showed me some of the photographs on the camera display, and I had to admit, I was impressed. I had gone into this thing a little skeptical, but he was taking professional shots.

  It took about an hour to get to Angelfish Key. We anchored offshore and took the tender to the beach. The 7 foot inflatable boat had an electric outboard Barracuda motor that putted along at 5 to 7 knots. We had to make a few trips to get all the girls, gear, and make-up to shore.

  I took Buddy with me on the last trip and sailed in on the surf. I hopped out of the boat and pulled the tender across the white sand to the tree line in the shade. I tied Buddy's leash to a tree branch to keep him from running off. I would take him for a run around the beach once we got situated.

  This wasn’t our first rodeo. JD and I had brought an ice chest with bottled water, soft drinks, and cold beer. We had a portable boombox, and some snacks, sandwiches, a few bananas, apples, and a handful of protein bars.

  I asked the girls what kind of music they liked, and the general consensus was pop. I was an old school rock'n roll kind of guy, but I wasn't opposed to pop if it made the ladies smile.

  Misha touched up the girls make-up, and before long, Jack was clicking away. He took photographs of the girls in the surf, and in the sand. Their hair blew with the breeze, and the sun glimmered on their skin. The make-up artist held the reflector, bouncing light into their eyes, making their skin look flawless.

  It didn't take long for bikini tops to come off. The girls covered themselves with their hands, and for the most part, Jack kept the photos suitable for publication.

  The girls slinked around in the sand, and granules clung to pert b
ottoms.

  I think Jack found his second calling in life.

  He gave me the camera and let me take a few snaps. I was pretty mechanically oriented, so it didn't take long to familiarize myself with the controls and start clicking away.

  There are a few basic things to keep in mind with photography—the way light falls on your subject, the composition of your frame, and the energy of your model. Pointing your camera lens at pretty subjects and making sure they are in focus and well exposed is half the battle.

  Not to brag, but my shots weren’t too bad. I figured, with a little practice, I might be able to get good at this. Especially if we had girls this pretty to shoot all the time.

  I got so involved in what I was doing, I didn't pay attention to what was happening out on the water.

  A group of men in a Go Fast boat pulled alongside the Wild Tide.

  Jack tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention and pointed. "Hey, look!"

  I pulled my eye away from the viewfinder to see two men with their faces covered hop onboard the Wild Tide and dash into the salon.

  I clenched my jaw and cursed under my breath.

  30

  Buddy barked incessantly at the thugs on the water.

  I sprinted down the beach, grabbed the tender, dragged it into the surf, and hopped inside. I cranked up the electric motor and twisted the throttle. The tiny thing whined, propelling the boat forward. The bow launched into the air as it crested each swell. It wasn't the most powerful motor in the world, and fighting the surf was a challenge.

  I raced toward the Wild Tide as fast as the tiny motor would go, hoping I'd get there before the thugs hot-wired the boat. The wind whipped through my hair, and salt water sprayed my face.

  The driver of the Go Fast boat pulled a pistol and took aim. Muzzle flash flickered as he fired several shots in my direction.

  The bullets snapped around me, splashing into the water. I ducked for cover and drew my pistol from my appendix carry.

  With one hand on the throttle, and the other gripping my pistol, I fired back at the bastard.

  He decided not to stick around. The engines rattled as he throttled up, and the Go Fast boat launched across the water, spitting a rooster tail of frothy water in its wake.

  I was drawing closer to the Wild Tide.

  The engines turned over, bubbling the water behind the swim platform. Just as I was getting close, the thugs throttled up, and the Wild Tide plowed forward.

  I tried to keep up, but I was no match for the 40 knots the ship was capable of.

  Before long, they vanished amid the swells.

  A stream of obscenities flew from my mouth.

  I took a deep breath, calmed myself down, and banked around, heading back to shore. I reached the beach moments later, then pulled the tender from the surf. I stomped across the sand with a scowl on my face.

  "What just happened?" Holly asked.

  "Somebody stole the boat," I said, dryly.

  "Were those gunshots?" she asked.

  I nodded.

  "Holy shit! That's crazy."

  "Does this mean we are stuck here?" Megan asked.

  "No. I'll call the sheriff. Somebody will be here to pick us up soon."

  I pulled out my phone and looked at the display screen. I was down to 15% of the battery. Worse, there was no cell service.

  I grumbled to myself again, trying not to alarm the others.

  "Is there a problem?" Megan asked.

  "I can't get a signal."

  "I left my phone on the boat," Tristan said.

  "Me too," Megan added.

  A chorus of people chimed in.

  "I did too," Quinn said. "I didn't want to lose it in the water."

  I glanced to JD. He was the only other person with a phone.

  He checked the display. "No service either."

  "I'll take the tender away from the island, maybe I can get a signal when I get out of this cove," I said.

  I hopped back in the boat and fought my way out to sea. Once I had gotten out of the cove, I drifted with the current. I was a couple hundred yards offshore. Occasionally, a single bar of signal strength would appear on the display, then it would flicker off, back to no service. I tried a couple times to call the sheriff, but I was never able to connect.

  I twisted the throttle, turned the boat around, and headed back to the beach. The little motor whined, then cut out as I entered the cove.

  I closed my eyes and sighed, trying to remain calm. Everything was going wrong.

  I used the oars to paddle to shore, gliding in on the surf.

  The girls were starting to panic.

  "We’re you able to call for help?" Holly asked, her eyes wide.

  "No, but we’ll be okay. I'll hike up to the high ground and see if I can get a better signal there," I said. "I think we should set up camp before it gets dark."

  "Camp?" Megan asked.

  "In case we have to spend the night."

  "Spend the night?" Holly said.

  Their jaws dropped.

  "Oh, no! No way. I'm not staying out here," Quinn said.

  "Think of it as camping,” I suggested. “We're in paradise. What could be better than a night under the stars? It won't be that bad."

  "What about the bugs?" Megan asked.

  "We'll build a fire,” I said. “That will help keep them away. Plus, we packed some bug spray."

  "We don't know what kind of animals are on this island?" Megan said.

  "There's nothing to worry about," I assured. “Just a few tigers."

  Her eyes rounded like saucers, and her face went pale. "Tigers?"

  JD and I burst into laughter.

  "I'm kidding. There are no tigers on this island."

  JD and I gathered wood and brought it back to the beach and dug out a fire pit. Within a few minutes, we had a nice blaze going. The amber flames crackled high, and glowing embers floated on the breeze. We built a lean-to with fallen branches and large leaves. It wasn't much, but it would provide a little shelter.

  Needless to say, the photo shoot was over. Our clients had gone into survival mode. Their flirty, sexy gazes turned into worried faces. Once we had camp set up, I headed into the forest to find high ground.

  JD stayed with the girls and Tristan.

  The sun dipped below the horizon, and the sky turned the purplish gray of dusk. There wasn't much elevation on this island, but I trekked up a hill that was maybe 40 to 50 feet above sea level. I climbed atop a tree and held my cell phone in the air.

  Two bars of service.

  Yay!

  A confident grin curled on my lips. Then the notification flashed on my phone that I was below 5% battery.

  I dialed Sheriff Daniels. It took a minute to connect to the network, then the phone rang a few times.

  Just as Daniels answered, the call dropped.

  I called again.

  Dropped.

  I dialed a third time, and the phone went dead.

  My jaw tightened, and I wanted to throw the phone against a nearby rock.

  Could anything else go wrong?"

  I knew better than to ask.

  31

  I climbed down the tree, hiked back to the beach, and borrowed JD’s cell phone. I made the trek back up to high ground, climbed the tree again, and attempted to dial the sheriff’s number. Jack had a different service provider, and I couldn't get a signal.

  Now I was starting to get concerned.

  I didn't mind sleeping on the beach. That would be like a five star hotel compared to some places I’d had to bed down in the past. But I was concerned about our guests. They weren’t used to this kind of thing. We had plenty of food and water to get us through the next 24 hours. But after that, things could get dicey.

  There was enough vegetation on the island that I was sure we could sustain ourselves, but it wouldn’t be pretty.

  I figured when Reagan didn't hear from me, she’d either be worried sick, or mad as hell. Spending the night on a de
serted island with five gorgeous bikini models would take a lot of explaining, no matter what the circumstances. Even if she wasn’t technically my girlfriend.

  We all huddled around the fire in silence—the amber glow flickering across our faces.

  "What happens now?" Holly asked.

  "We wait until someone comes by the island," Jack said.

  "How long will that take?"

  He shrugged. "I'm sure it won't take long."

  "What about the inflatable?" Megan asked.

  "The battery is dead,” Jack said. “It's a long way to row back to Coconut Key."

  "But that's an option, right?" Megan asked.

  "It's 30 miles back to Coconut Key," JD said. "That's about 10 straight hours of rowing, in good conditions."

  “I was planning on paddling out until I got a signal,” I said.

  “You’re going to paddle out there at night?” Holly asked, concerned.

  “It’s no big deal.”

  "I'd be scared to death out there. What if you get lost?"

  I chuckled. "I'm not going to get lost."

  "The current could take you out to sea.”

  "Don't worry," Jack said. “Tyson is a professional."

  “What's that supposed to mean?"

  "We were both in the Navy. This wouldn't be the first time he's taken an inflatable boat out to sea at night.”

  Holly’s eyes brightened in the fire light. She looked curious and excited. “Were you like, a Navy SEAL, or something?”

  A slight grin curled on my lips. “Something like that.”

  A seductive glimmer filled her eyes. "So, how serious is this girlfriend of yours?"

  She did an unconscious flip of the hair and arched her cleavage ever so slightly.

  I chuckled, nervously, and headed to the tender without answering. She would be hard to resist.

  I grabbed a bottle of water, a protein bar, and a flash light. Before dragging the boat into the surf, I said to JD, “Look after Buddy.”

  32

  The fire on the beach was a speck on the horizon. My shoulders burned, and my chest heaved for breath as I rowed farther away.