Page 54 of The Witness

“Nice driving.” Michael smiled at me, and my heart flipped. Excitement, adrenaline, escaping death. Shit, this was living. I left the helm and threw myself at him. He crushed me into his chest. The kiss was fast and sloppy. It tasted like salt water and danger. Hot, fast, and so memorable.

“Enough, you two. Time is of the essence. This isn’t the only go-fast boat in Havana.” Gunter shouldered between us to take my place at the controls.

“But it was the only one fully fueled and idling near the Jabberwocky,” Michael said.

“Always have a Plan B.” The smile that curved Gunter's lips was so James Bond I almost laughed.

“If I had champagne, I’d pop a bottle.” I was giddy, beside myself, euphoric. We did it.

“I’m sure Kira can have a bottle ready for us when we arrive,” Michael said.

“Kira is a goddess. Smith is one lucky bastard.” Gunter poked at the satellite navigation system to lay a course to Miami.

Michael wrapped a makeshift bandage around Acosta’s arm while the boat bobbed in the rolling swells. The officer hadn’t said much, answering Michael’s questions about his arm in a zombie-like monotone. Triage done, we all strapped in for the ride.

Go-fast boats aren’t made for comfort. They are basically ocean-going rockets. The creature comforts on board werelimited to padding on the shoulder harnesses that kept us from flying overboard when the boat crashed over the waves.

Conversation and relaxation weren’t an option when going full throttle.

Gunter might have set some nautical speed record for crossing the Florida Straits that day. It was intense. Poor Acosta, every thump and bump had to hurt like hell. Other than an occasional hand signal or shouted question, we were trapped in our own thoughts for the ride, nothing but wind noise and the purr of the motor for company.

About thirty minutes into the jarring ride, Michael took my hand. He kept it until we approached Miami. The skyline filled the horizon like a man-made mountain range. Gunter eased back on the throttle and angled the boat toward an entrance to Biscayne Bay. Michael had moved to stand next to him, helping to navigate the busy waterway. Both had their cell phones in hand, typing out texts.

Our heading would take us past Fisher Island and within a stone’s throw of Star Island, where we’d set out from only a few days ago. Huge cruise ships lined up at the port made our go-fast look insignificant. We slipped past them and into the mouth of the Miami river.

In my ears, the relentless pounding of water and motor that had been our constant companion over the last three-plus hours slowly faded. The sounds of the city and the urban river took their place. Overhead, the hum of traffic on the I-95 bridge brought a smile to my face. It was good to be home.

I exhaled tension and breathed in stinky river water and exhaust fumes. Delicious.

Michael turned to look at me, holding up his phone. “Everyone’s waiting for us at the office.”

“My mom’s okay?”

“Quinn’s text said your mom was threatening to jump in the river and swim out to meet us if we didn’t hurry.”

I laughed at the thought. Mom in an old lady skirted bathing suit, taking a swan dive off the seawall into the less than crystal clear water of the Miami River to get to me. The joy and lightness of the silly thought hit me like a ray of Florida sunshine. The fear and guilt that had clouded everything since this began was lifting.

I joined Gunter and Michael at the helm, my hand on Michael's shoulder. “Am I free and clear now?” I hoped so. I wanted it so much. This had to be over. I’d done everything Smith asked and more.

Michael shrugged and looked to Gunter.

“I need to check with my colleagues in Havana and find out what the hell happened at the marina after we left. Then we will know for sure.” Gunter’s words briefly put a damper on my excitement. Until I realized the same seawall I’d climbed up a few nights ago was just ahead.

Mom, Quinn, and the rest of the Smith Agency were lined up waiting for us.

I ran a hand through my tangled hair. It came back sticky with salt spray. I tugged at my gray tee shirt. It wasn’t any better. Fuck it, we were back.

“Wow, talk about a full circle moment. As it begins, so it ends.” I bumped Michael’s shoulder with mine and pointed to the exact spot where I’d collapsed on the seawall.

He looked at me, his expression so serious it concerned me. I wrinkled my forehead in confusion, not sure what I said to worry him.

“No, it’s nothing. You're right—a full circle.” He forced a smile and eased away from me.

Chapter 25

Michael

As soon as Sabrina hopped off the boat onto the seawall behind the Smith Agency, her mother descended on her.

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