Unlawful Chase by C.J. Schnier (new books to read .TXT) 📗

"They are, and so is leaving port on a Friday," I said and then added, "What day is it, anyway?"

"Friday," she deadpanned. "It's all ridiculous. What is wrong with you sailors?"

"Say what you want, but it didn't work out so well for me the last time I had a woman aboard, did it?"

Jaye rolled her eyes, shook her head and went back to scanning the horizon. She was right; we had been as close to escaping last time as we were right now. But circumstances had been different then. Bardales knew about us, he knew about Paramour, and he had access to a radio to coordinate his troops and assets. Now, even if Bardales survived the horrific truck crash, Miles had destroyed his radio, and there was no way he could know that I had reclaimed Paramour from a local angler. My biggest concern was the patrol boat. Even in the general's absence, they would continue their normal patrols. But if they were the only wild card I had to worry about, that was a hand I was willing to play.

I obsessively alternated between checking the chart plotter and scanning the horizon for any sign of the patrol boat. The distance to international water ticked down steadily on the screen. Every second we inched closer to our goal and every drop that passed under our keel was one less that we had to traverse.

We crossed the imaginary line to safety as the sun peeked out from the ocean, bathing the world with its golden light. Never had it felt so good. Never had I been so happy to leave a place behind.

"That's it," I said. "We're officially out of Cuban waters."

"Finally!" She exclaimed. "Now, how long did you say it would take it get to Florida in this old tub?"

"It won't be as fast as an airplane. Probably about a week. Maybe less."

"A week?" She shrieked, "Miles was right to worry about you. I'm not sure I can handle being around you that long. I might just throw you off the boat," she replied with a smile and a wink.

"Hey now! Winking is my thing!" I said laughing. "But please don't kill me."

"Oh, you're safe for now. At least until I figure out how to sail this thing without you."

"I will keep that in mind," I said.

I checked the chart plotter again, making sure that we were well out of Cuban waters, and then turned the wheel a few degrees to port. Paramour changed direction, slowly but steadily, until I had her on a new course. We were heading more east now, but still angling away from the coast. Straying too close to territorial waters was a sure-fire way to draw unwanted attention.

After settling in to our course and tweaking a few lines, I flipped the switch on the autopilot and let it steer. When I was comfortable with our speed and direction, I shut off the engine and climbed up on the pilothouse roof. I sat down with my back against the wooden boom of the mainsail and relaxed, enjoying the sensation of the boom moving slightly with the changing wind pressure. An endless procession of water, bubbles, and spray slipped by as we continued on. The hiss of the water as it passed was more than relaxing. It was cathartic.

Jaye joined me a couple of minutes later. Neither of us said a word. We just watched the world go by, content to enjoy the early morning sunrise. She grabbed my arm and snuggled up to me, resting her head on my shoulder as she watched the water. The sudden affection caught me completely off guard, but I would be lying if I said it didn't feel good.

"Is sailing always like this?" Jaye asked, in a barely audible whisper.

"Not always. Sometimes it's a little more dramatic. Storms aren't a lot of fun to deal with. And then there are the Cuban generals chasing you, the Coast Guard trying to arrest you, and, get this, one time I had a bona fide hitman hunt me down."

She lifted her head off my shoulder, sitting straight-backed and staring out at the sea, which left me feeling strangely alone.

Thoughts raced through my head. Did I say something to put her off? She was a tough and independent woman, and we'd had our fights, but there was some sort of chemistry between us. Or at least I thought there was. Was I reading too much into it?

"Chase," she said, her voice shaky. Her nervous tenor snapped me out of my thoughts and sent me into high alert. She raised her arm, her finger pointing at something out on the horizon. "Is that what I think it is?"

I followed her finger with my eyes. There, in the distance, was the unmistakable form of a small boat powering through the waves at high speed. Mounted on the bow was a massive gun, pointed straight at us.

"So much for that easy sailing. It looks like this trip is about to get interesting," I said, hopping to my feet.

"But, I thought you said that we would be safe this far out."

"I thought we would be," I replied.

I went down into the salon and immediately regretted not taking the time to clean up the mess. I rifled through the shelves looking for my binoculars, but they were nowhere to be found. Either Carlos appropriated them, or they were lost somewhere in the detritus that covered the entire cabin.

"So much for that idea," I said out loud, returning to the cockpit where I could see the boat closing on us. Details of the speeding vessel were coming into focus now. It had the same general shape as the Cuban gunboat that had plagued my existence, but something was different.

Where the Cuban boat had been dilapidated, this boat was pristine. It practically shone in the brilliant morning sun. Absent were the streaks of brown rust flowing from the deck fittings. There