Southern Comfort - Fern Michaels [49]
“I didn’t say I was an authority. Do you see that guy out there in the boat? He’s been out there a good long while. Coast Guard stopped by to check him out. Doesn’t mean he’s clean, though. What do you say to taking out the Miss Sally and scaring the shit out of him? After we cruise around a bit of course. I think I recognize that boat, Sooner or Later. It’s from that ragged marina in Key West. I’m almost sure of it.”
“Count me in,” Pete said, jamming his baseball cap more firmly on his head. “By the way, do you have anything to take to the party tonight. Mom always said you should never show up emptyhanded.”
“Yeah, Mom always did say that. Having said that, I’ll hold your hand. That should do it, don’t you think?”
Pete started to laugh. Tick joined in as he pocketed the keys to the Miss Sally.
“You want to make it look more real?” Tick asked.
“Sure. What do you want to do?”
“Pete, when was the last time you went waterskiing?”
“Never. When was the last time you went waterskiing, Tick?”
“Never. I’ll buzz us over to the marina and rent some water skis. I’ll drive, and you can pretend to ski. We can try to find out who the guy is with the rental boat at the same time. We’ve both been snow skiing, so how hard can waterskiing be?”
“You just want to see me make a fool of myself for those damn women on the beach. I know you, Tick. You are insidious. I don’t mind being your guinea pig because Mom liked me best.”
“She did not!”
“Did so.”
It was an age-old battle neither one of the twins ever won.
Chapter 10
Lawrence Tyler stared across the shimmering water, which was starting to turn choppy. A sailor all his life, he knew a storm was coming, probably within the hour by the look of the darkening sky and the chop of the water where his boat rocked a little more than gently. He checked his fishing line by tugging at it. What he knew about fishing wouldn’t fill a thimble. Not that he had any firsthand experiences with thimbles.
He was angry. No, angry was the wrong word. He was pissed. How dare that asshole Jellard go around him and bring Martin and Rush into the mix! He should have him up on charges the minute he got back to dry land. It would serve him right if that affected his pension. Jellard should know better than to pull a stunt like this.
But with the investigation into his own record going on, it was more than likely that virtually all his authority had been stripped away, and he had become strictly a figurehead, which meant Jellard could do whatever he damn well pleased. But Rush and Martin? He knew for a fact they hadn’t been reinstated. Seeing them here in work mode had to mean they were off the book. He could really get Jellard fired for that. If anyone would listen to him that is. But he didn’t have absolute, ironclad proof of anything. However slim the odds were, the pair could be on vacation.
The boat rocked wildly. Tyler looked off to the east and saw dark clouds gathering. He thought they looked ominous. It was definitely time to head back to shore. Then he looked toward the shore. He was farther out than he had intended. His stomach rumbled. He’d forgotten to take the Dramamine. Shit. If he was lucky, he’d keep the contents of his stomach intact at least until he managed to dock this piss-poor excuse of a boat.
The two unauthorized agents were watching him while he watched them, and he knew in his gut they couldn’t place him. He also knew by now that they’d placed a call to Jellard to check out the Sooner or Later. At best he had a few hours until his cover was blown. A few more hours after that, he would have to go deep, as agents were fond of saying when they wanted to disappear and still work a case anonymously. He closed the book he’d confiscated from the marina’s lending library, which consisted of tattered dogeared books people had left behind. He pulled up his unbaited line and tossed it on the floor of the boat. He turned the key in the ignition. He was about to open the throttle when his cell phone chirped to life. He flinched when he saw the Caller ID. UNKNOWN