Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 01 - Wendy and the Lost Boys (18 page)

“Thank you, Granddaddy Earl!”

“Just call me Earl, blondie.” He squeezed my butt.

What the heck, he’d earned it. I slipped out of his grasp and staggered over to Mary, sitting on the deck, holding Joseph’s head in her hands. “How is he?”

Joseph opened his eyes. “I’ve been broken before. I’ll heal. Wendy, come with us. We’re going to sail this here tub back to Savannah.”

I shook my head. “My friend’s over there. I have to get him home somehow. But thanks for wanting me to go with you. Can you manage the
Mermaid?”

“Mary’s got it under control,” Joseph leaned over and kissed his wife’s hair.

I heard a creak and turned in time to see the claw lifting the van over the railing and onto the
Predator.
It disappeared below the yacht’s deck.

“Take care of your friends. We’ll take care of Charlie Hook,” Mary said. She cocked her .22 rifle and stood to meet Hook as he walked toward them.

This was turning ugly. I ran below to get Jaxbee. We needed off this old boat and onto the
Predator,
fast.

Roger was with our captain pressing a cloth to her forehead. “She’s not doing well,” he said. “What were those loud noises?”

“The van’s been transferred. Let’s get out of here, while we can.”

He lifted Jaxbee into his arms. I looked into his eyes as I tucked a blanket around her.

“She’s Hook’s daughter.”

“I know,” he said.

Another damn secret! What else were they keeping from me? I bit my tongue and calmly said, “There’s a dinghy in the water alongside the
Mermaid
. We can use it to get Jaxbee to the
Predator.”

Roger cradled Jaxbee like a baby as we dashed to the starboard side of the
Mermaid
. I grabbed a boat hook and pulled the dinghy’s rope, bringing it close enough for Roger to get in carrying our victim. I jumped in and steadied the little boat as it rocked in the choppy water. I remembered I couldn’t swim and quickly threw that worry out to sea.

I untied the line, grabbed the oars, and with three strokes moved the dinghy to the
Predator.

Pop!

“Was that a gun?” I asked.

Roger shrugged. “Who was armed?”

“Mary! Think she killed Hook?”

“No such luck. Let’s get Jax on board.”

The
Mermaid’s
engine engaged, spewing diesel fuel in our faces as it tried to make a getaway. The dinghy rocked. I figured we were going into the drink. I looked back at the old vessel. Granddaddy Earl was blowing me a kiss.

I called to the
Predator
to raise us up. No response. The waves grew in intensity. Our little boat did a loop-to-loop as I held on with a white-knuckle grip. There was a chance we could get crushed between the two ships before the
Predator
released the
Mermaid
from the tractor beam.

Chapter Forty-One

A low growl started from deep inside me. It came from being scared and wet and really angry. The sound built into a rumble until it exploded into a scream so loud the hull of the yacht vibrated.

A ladder dropped over the side of the
Predator.

“We need a rope. She’s unconscious,” Roger called to the crewmen.

Two seconds later a coil of rope came thudding down on us. Roger fashioned a harness by looping the rope around her thighs and waist and shoulders. He nodded to me when he was done.

“Pull her up slowly!” I yelled to the crewmen on the deck.

They raised her as Roger climbed the ladder guiding her body with one hand.

I followed them, ready to catch her or break her fall. My chills were so extreme I thought I’d tumble into the sea. We got her safely onto the deck. Roger carried her down the spiral staircase to the salon. He laid her on the sofa and grabbed a white fur blanket from the chaise lounge.

He stopped long enough to throw a blanket over me. Then he turned to care for Jaxbee. Loosening her clothing, he placed a pillow under her head. Her breathing seemed shallower and her skin was blue. “She should have rallied by now,” he said.

Dale strode into the room. I imagined he had a swastika tattooed on his butt. “Where’s Hook?” he snarled.

I was shivering violently and my voice quavered. “Still on the
Mermaid
. More importantly, where’s Kit?”

The tattooed jerk refused to answer. My concern for Kit overran any thoughts I had for Jaxbee.

Giving me a threatening glare, Dale stormed for the exit. I tackled him by the ankles. He fell face forward onto the marble floor, making the sound of a side of beef hitting the pavement. There wasn’t enough clearance for his entire body; he banged his casually coiffed Euro-hair on an artsy pedestal.

I stood over his body. “Where’s Kit? You toady?” I was sick with the fear of sad news. Roger stomped on Dale’s arm as he reached for his gun. He bent and took the gun from Dale.

I kicked him in the butt. “Once more, nice and polite. Where the fuck is Kit?”

Dale shook his hand free, rolled over, and rubbed his head. “He locked himself in the safe room right after you left. We haven’t been able to get him out.”

The relief washing over me was painful. It stung my eyes and burned my throat. “I’ll go get him.” I said to Roger. “You stay here with Mr. Gestapo and Jaxbee.”

Throwing the blanket aside, I ran down three decks to the safe room built into the side of the hull near the stern. The impenetrable room sported an intercom. I pressed the green button on the doorframe and heard the dearest voice in the world.

“Who’s calling?”

“It’s me, you silly goose. Open up.”

The door eased a few inches and there he was, my best friend, his mouth full of caviar.

“I thought you’d never get here,” he said. “Want some? It’s Beluga.” He passed me a plate of salmon, with a scoop of black fish eggs and a box of
Wisconsin Cheese Crackers.

We hugged and cried until I realized he was tipsy. “Have you been drinking?”

He stepped aside with a sweeping arm motion to show me the contents of the room.

“Here hold this,” he slurred passing me a bottle of Mo
ë
t & Chandon 1949 vintage champagne. It was Dom Pérignon. I knew it cost over a thousand dollars a bottle. A collection of empties was in a basket by the door.

“This is the nuttiest pantry,” he said, waving a Gourmet Beef Jerky under my nose. A person could get seriously ill on this survival food. Who eats this kaka?”

“That’s Hook’s country soul food you’re mocking.”

Tinkerbelle took half a dozen steps from a blanket on the floor, stood directly over my shoes and peed. Ick. I shook my feet and picked her up gingerly. “It wasn’t my fault, you silly dog. I didn’t lock you in here.” She scrambled out of my arms and ran through the doorway.

“I thought this was supposed to be a safe room – a place where a guy could hide and not be afraid. Here’s the worst part…” Pulling back a lid from a large carton, he revealed a case of porno. “This is straight stuff. I feel sick.”

I laughed until I cried. Clinging to each other, we staggered back to the salon.

Roger was sitting beside Jaxbee. He passed an ammonia capsule under her nose. She moaned as she moved her head to escape the smell.

“Where’s Dale?” I asked.

“At the helm,” he answered without taking his eyes from Jaxbee.

“You let him go?”

“I’ll explain later. Everybody has a price,” he said.

Roger had made some sort of deal with Dale, and he was back to piloting the
Predator
. It had been six hours since we left land, and night was falling like a punch-drunk boxer.

The yacht was in motion. Kit passed me the champagne. I drank from the bottle as I sat next to him on the sofa. I caught a glimpse of myself in the infinity mirrors. I was a mess. There wasn’t a spa in the world that could reconstruct me.

“What happened to Joseph, Mary, Chick, Annie, and Granddaddy Earl? Can they get the
Mermaid
back to shore?”

“I’ll see what I can find out. You stay here with Jaxbee,” Roger said. He shot me a bossy look as he said, “Don’t follow me.”

So of course, I did.

Chapter Forty-Two

Staying in the shadows and walking barefooted, I followed Roger to the
Predator’s
cargo hold. He leaned over and fixed his eyes on the van.

What are you doing? I whispered. “I thought you were going to check on the
Mermaid
.”

“Get out of here.” He moved his hand as if to brush me away.

“I have a right to know. What’s going on?”

He pulled me back and shooed me into the corridor. “I’m trying to find Hook. He’s got to have made it to the yacht by now.”

I came at him in a burst of angry energy. “Let’s just take over the ship. We can grab the controls and use what I learned to get this thing into port and turn over the treasure to the feds. You’ll have done your job. You might even get a reward.”

“Wendy, use your head. If we try to mutiny we’ll lose to the crew. They outnumber us. I imagine they’d make us walk the plank with a bullet through our heads. I’m trying to figure out what Hook promised these kid sailors. Maybe we can outbid him. They’re not the brightest bulbs. We need to lie low and watch and wait for our opportunity.”

“You and your ‘wait and watch.’ One of these guys is a multi-murderer.”

He patted me on the head. “There’s nothing we can do until we get to land. Besides, piloting the
Mermaid
for a few minutes does not qualify you to skipper a super-yacht. Don’t go getting too cocky.”

“Okay. You stare at the van. I’m going to find Marni’s killer.”

***

I was back in the main salon scoping out the action when Hook stomped in. He was a sweaty sea-soaked mess. “That old biddy, Mary, laid a curse on me. Where’s my doctor?”

“Roger can’t remove curses. He’s not a witch doctor.”

Hook glared at me. “I need another elastic bandage.” His UpUGo was still perky.

“What happened to the
Mermaid
crew?” I asked.

“Crew? That was no crew. That was a joke.”

“Where are they?”

He put the edge of his hand over his eyebrows as if looking out to sea. “Mary’s taking her husband home. He’s a bit banged up, but he’ll live.”

“Did she shoot you?” I asked.

“With her little squirrel gun? Nobody hurts Charlie Hook.”

“How can you be so cold?”

“Do I look cold to you?” He glanced down at the flagpole protruding under his jogging pants.

“Get lost,” I said as I stomped off onto the upper deck shivering from the chill and the feeling of complete helplessness. Standing at the rail, I watched the night embrace the
Predator
like an evil accomplice.

We were bound for Nevis Island and a head-on collision between Hook and Croc. I seriously doubted James Crocowski had an anti-cloaking device. He was a born smooth-talking salesman, but no techie. And yet Hook was paranoid enough to believe Croc would give away the secret of the invisibility shield. Dumb and dumber.

My stomach did a flip-flop thinking of Hook harboring my picture. It was as if he had a nanny cam in my bedroom. I felt dirty. My promise to Marni started to feel more and more like a Hook set-up.

Nevis Island. Roger said Peter was there. After all these years I might see him again. What were the odds Hook would choose Nevis for the meeting? Or was Peter really working with the pirate of Wall Street?

I heard fish breaking the water in an even pace. The sound had a calming effect on my weary mind. I started to pick up the pieces of the puzzle. Croc must believe he’s creating his perfect final act, recovering the money he lost investing with Hook and winning me back.
I was surrounded by horny ding-a-lings.

My ex would never own up to his lying, cheating, and swindling being the reason for our divorce. Everything that went wrong in his life was the other guy’s fault and could be fixed with money or sneaky stunts. He might even be hunting Peter Payne.

A sprinkle of wistfulness fell over me as I looked out over the dark sea. Scenes from my life raced before my eyes. We were seventeen, Peter and I. He had auburn hair, chocolate brown eyes and a smile that lit up my world. I was working in a department store in New Jersey. It was my first job, and I floated on freedom from parental domination. I zipped from school to my position as “Wrapper 320” at Macy’s. I bagged and boxed purchases for customers, and when things were slow, I was sent to fold sweaters on display tables.