Motor Mouth
ass.”
“I thought you didn’t care about my ass anymore.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t push it.”
Hooker pulled me to him and kissed me. It wasn’t a sexy, passionate kiss. It was a smiling kiss. I’d made him happy. Hooker wasn’t a guy who hid thoughts and emotions. You always pretty much knew what was in Hooker’s head. And, I knew from experience, if I let the kiss linger it would turn sexy. What Hooker lacked in guile he made up for in testosterone.
“Stop that,” I said, breaking from the kiss and jumping away.
“You liked it.”
“I didn’t!”
“Okay,” Hooker said. “Let me try again. I can do better.”
“No!” I turned and shaded my eyes with my hand, searching the harbor. “Which boat belongs to Huevo?”
“It’s the big one at the end of the pier, one pier past the dockmaster’s office.”
“The one with the triple deck?”
“Yep.”
“No helicopter,” I said. “Huevo cheaped out.”
“It’s probably just not on deck. Huevo has a fleet of planes and helicopters.”
“He also has security. Are you sure you don’t want to phone this in?”
Hooker took my hand and pulled me forward. “Sweetie, I
never
phone it in.”
I don’t know a lot about boats, so my opinion of Huevo’s yacht was that it was big and it was pretty. It was three decks of pristine white fiberglass with a single blue stripe running the length of the first deck, the windows all black glass. A ramp led from the boat to the dock and there was a uniformed crew member standing watch at the top of the ramp.
I followed Hooker up the ramp and tried to look calm when he told the crew member we were there to see Ray Huevo. At the very least, I feared this would be mortally embarrassing. And at the most, I worried it would be fatally final.
This morning, wearing the same clothes I’d slept in, I’d jumped out of bed and rushed to the car. I’d clamped a hat on my head and never given makeup a second thought. I don’t think I’m any more shallow than the next person, but I suspected I’d be feeling a lot braver right now if I was fresh out of the shower and wearing clean jeans.
Ray had an office on the second deck. He was at his desk and glanced up when we entered. Didn’t seem surprised. Annoyed, maybe. Like Ricky Ricardo when Lucy did something stupid. In fact, he looked a
lot
like Ricky Ricardo. Same coloring. Thick, dark hair. Stocky build. Hard to judge his height. He motioned for us to sit, but Hooker and I remained standing.
“I’m looking for my dog,” Hooker said. “Have you seen him?”
“I’m looking for something, too,” Huevo said. “Perhaps it would be best if the young lady waited outside for a moment.”
Hooker looked around at me and smiled. Pleasantly calm. No problemos. “Would you mind?”
I left the office, shutting the door behind me, and I stood close on the other side, trying to listen but not hearing much. After a couple minutes, four large crew members marched past me and into the office. A moment later the crew members escorted Hooker out, lifted him off his feet, and pitched him over the side of the boat, into the water. He hit with a splash and disappeared below the surface.
A hand clamped on to the back of my neck and squeezed. I yelped and was brought face-to-face with Horse. His eyes were narrowed, and his mouth was twisted into a scary, gap-toothed smile. He was in his late forties and he looked like he shopped in the Big and Tall store. He was thick-lipped and had close-set eyes. His dark hair was cut short. Because I’d seen him through binoculars at the track, I knew he had a tattoo on the back of his neck. It had looked like a snake, but it was hard to tell for sure at that distance.
“Well, look who we have here,” he said. “I was supposed to go out and find you, but you came onboard with your boyfriend. The pretty little fly walked right into the spider’s web.”
I tried backing away, and his hand tightened.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Thinking about leaving? Don’t you like me? Maybe you just have to get to know me. Maybe we should go belowdecks and get acquainted.”
I heard Hooker surface and flounder beside the boat. I turned my head to see him, and Horse fisted his hand in my hair and yanked my head back.
“Pay attention when I’m talking to you,” he said. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you manners?”
“Let go of me.”
“Maybe I should be the one to teach you manners. It wouldn’t be the
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