Risky Business

wasn’t a complete fool, she’d see to it that he had a trophy to take back to wherever he’d come from.
    Just where was that? she wondered as she checked the gauges on the bridge. She’d never thought to ask Jerry. It hadn’t seemed important. Yet now she found herself wondering where Jonas came from, what kind of life he led there. Was he the type who frequented elegant restaurants with an equally elegant woman on his arm? Did he watch foreign films and play bridge? Or did he prefer noisy clubs and hot jazz? She hadn’t been able to find his slot as easily as she did with most people she met, so she wondered, perhaps too much. Not my business, she reminded herself and turned to call to Luis.
    “I’ll take care of everything here. Go ahead and open the shop. The glass bottom should be ready to leave in half an hour.”
    But he wasn’t listening. Standing on the deck, he stared back at the narrow dock. She saw him raise a shaky hand to cross himself. “Madre de Dios.”
    “Luis?” She came down the short flight of stairs to join him. “What—”
    Then she saw Jonas, a straw hat covering his head, sunglassesshading his eyes. He hadn’t bothered to shave, so that the light growth of beard gave him a lazy, vagrant look accented by a faded T-shirt and brief black trunks. He didn’t, she realized, look like a man who’d play bridge. Knowing what was going through Luis’s mind, Liz shook his arm and spoke quickly.
    “It’s his brother, Luis. I told you they were twins.”
    “Back from the dead,” Luis whispered.
    “Don’t be ridiculous.” She shook off the shudder his words brought her. “His name is Jonas and he’s nothing like Jerry at all, really. You’ll see when you talk to him. You’re prompt, Mr. Sharpe,” she called out, hoping to jolt Luis out of his shock. “Need help coming aboard?”
    “I can manage.” Hefting a small cooler, Jonas stepped lightly on deck. “The Expatriate. ” He referred to the careful lettering on the side of the boat. “Is that what you are?”
    “Apparently.” It was something she was neither proud nor ashamed of. “This is Luis—he works for me. You gave him a jolt just now.”
    “Sorry.” Jonas glanced at the slim man hovering by Liz’s side. There was sweat beading on his lip. “You knew my brother?”
    “We worked together,” Luis answered in his slow, precise English. “With the divers. Jerry, he liked best to take out the dive boat. I’ll cast off.” Giving Jonas a wide berth, Luis jumped onto the dock.
    “I seem to affect everyone the same way,” Jonas observed. “How about you?” He turned dark, direct eyes to her. Though he no longer made her think of Jerry, he unnerved her just the same. “Still want to keep me at arm’s length?”
    “We pride ourselves in being friendly to all our clients. You’ve hired the Expatriate for the day, Mr. Sharpe. Make yourself comfortable.” She gestured toward a deck chair before climbing the steps to the bridge and calling out to Luis. “TellMiguel he gets paid only if he finishes out the day.” With a final wave to Luis, she started the engine, then cruised sedately toward the open sea.
    The wind was calm, barely stirring the water. Liz could see the dark patches that meant reefs and kept the speed easy. Once they were in deeper water, she’d open it up a bit. By midday the sun would be stunningly hot. She wanted Jonas strapped in his chair and fighting two hundred pounds of fish by then.
    “You handle a wheel as smoothly as you do a customer.”
    A shadow of annoyance moved in her eyes, but she kept them straight ahead. “It’s my business. You’d be more comfortable on the deck in a chair, Mr. Sharpe.”
    “Jonas. And I’m perfectly comfortable here.” He gave her a casual study as he stood beside her. She wore a fielder’s cap over her hair with white lettering promoting her shop. On her T-shirt, the same lettering was faded from the sun and frequent washings. He wondered, idly, what she wore under it. “How long have you had this boat?”
    “Almost eight years. She’s sound.” Liz pushed the throttle forward. “The waters are warm, so you’ll find tuna, marlin, swordfish. Once we’re out you can start chumming.”
    “Chumming?”
    She sent him a quick look. So she’d been right—he didn’t know a line from a pole. “Bait the water,” she began. “I’ll keep the speed slow and you bait the water, attract the fish.”
    “Seems like taking unfair advantage.