Page 50 of Fire on the Moon

Francesca turned around as he came up the stairs, trying to look like he was steady on his feet and fit to pilot a cabin cruiser.

“You see anything?” he asked.

“A pickup truck stopped on the access road. Do you think they’re looking for us?”

“I hope not.”

He wished he could ask someone else to cast off. Or do it himself. But in his current condition, he lacked the agility to get off, untie the boat, and scramble back on. He’d probably fall into the gap between the boat and the dock.

Giving Francesca a direct look, he said, “You’ll have to get off and undo the lines. Do the one at the bow first and toss it onto the front decking. Then do the stern, and hold the rope while you climb back aboard—quickly. The lines are secured to cleats. There’s a loop at the end. Undo it and then unwind the rest of the rope.

She looked uncertain but said, “Now?”

“Yes. When you’re aboard, toss the lines onto the decks. And also unplug the electrical connection to the marina. Leave the cord on the deck.”

His heart raced as he watched her climb off and felt the boat rock while she fumbled with the electric line and then the cleat and the rope at the bow. Then came the harder part. From the pilot’s seat, he couldn’t see her detaching the aft rope. But he felt the cruiser dip to the side as she plopped onto the rear deck. Thank God she’d made it.

“Okay, he called out?”

“Yes.”

He swivelled around to see her hurrying into the main cabin, limping slightly.

His breath caught when he saw her. “What happened?”

“I banged my shin getting back on.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry. I should have done it.”

“Not when you were shot yesterday.”

He sighed. “Right. Keep a lookout while I get us out of here.”

It was years since he’d actually piloted a boat. And in truth, the one he’d lived on while going after the smugglers was a lot smaller than the Lady Slipper. But he got the craft out of the slip and started down the river, heading away from the Gulf.

Francesca was in the cabin in back of him.

“You see anymore activity up on the road?” he called.

“No. Just the one pickup.

That was something, anyway. And there was more good news. The cops were looking for a couple. Nobody had seen him at the grocery store. And nobody had seen her at the marina office. Plus, she’d made up a story about being here with their kids. If they were lucky, nobody would realize they were the man and woman involved in last night’s armed robbery and murder. He winced as he put it that way, but that was the way the cops would see it—until he could prove otherwise. And while he was trying to do it, Francesca would be in danger. There were too many cases where bad guys had used a jail inmate to murder a fellow prisoner.

There was one more fact he couldn’t work his way around. The car with the telltale license plate was in the marina lot. Probably it was only a matter of time before someone discovered it. But all he could do about that was put as much distance as he could between themselves and the car.

The river was maybe seventy-five yards wide, with tropical vegetation on either side. Ordinarily he would have appreciated the greenery and the water birds roosting in the trees. Now it was all he could do to stay on the right side of the waterway and not hit the bank or any of the docks sticking into the water. Many had boats moored to the pilings or to cleats like the ones which had kept the Lady Slipper tied up at the marina. Houses peeked from the greenery beyond the docks. None looked like a luxury residence—just the homes of ordinary people who’d bought property on the river when it was affordable.

Occasionally they passed another craft on the water, most of them small speedboats.

After a few hours, Zane could feel the amphetamine wearing off, but he knew he’d be crazy to take another one. He gritted his teeth, wondering how long he could sit here piloting the boat. When Francesca came up behind him and rubbed his shoulders, he leaned into the caress.

“What can I do? Can I take your place at the wheel?”

He considered the offer. “Have you ever steered a boat?”

“No.”

“Better let me do it.”

---