Romance on the Edge 01 - Hooked

manifested itself because she was all he seemed to think about. When the voices lowered, and his second sense kicked in.
    “I’ll be right back,” he told Judd, who could have cared less as he flirted with the clerk. Garrett doubled back around the building in the direction of the voices he’d heard. He smelled the bitter stench of cigarettes. By the shuffling of feet and flickering of a lighter, he estimated that there were two of them. He flattened himself against the wall, and waited. Sure enough, they started gabbing like a ladies Thursday night quilt circle.
    “Seriously, the bitch never knew I was there. Sliced her hydraulic line while she slept. Easy as pie.”
    “You sure she’s not going to notice?”
    “Naw. Not until she tries to pull in her nets.”
    “Bitch thinks she can throw in with the big boys. It’s bad luck, I tell ya. A woman drifting.” The man gave a snort. “We need to get her off the water and back on the shore where she belongs.” The voices started to waft on the wind, and he knew they were on the move.
    Garrett peeked around the corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of the vandals. They’d meshed into another, louder group of fishermen dressed in hooded orange and green slickers. There was no way to tell who the perpetrators were.
    He hustled back to Judd. “We need to get a move on.”
    Judd tore his love-puppy eyes away from the clerk. “Why?” He glanced at his watch. “There’s time.”
    “Overheard a possible 10-59.”
    Judd turned back to the lady behind the counter. “Guess our fun’s over, Davida.”
    “Only if you want it to be,” Davida purred. “If you’re free later, come by, and we’ll see what kind of fun we can find.” Her smile didn’t leave much to the imagination.
    “It’s a date.” Judd winked, and then signed his name to the receipt. Garrett grabbed the bag, hoping to get Casanova moving.
    They left the General Store and made their way to the dock, where the Calypso was moored.
    Skip greeted them with a grin as he spied the brown paper bag Garrett carried. “What did you get to eat?”
    “Here.” Garrett tossed the bag to him, which Skip immediately rifled through. “Judd, cast us off. Skip, take us out into the bay. We need to find the Double Dippin’ .”

    With her crew aboard, Sonya weighed anchor and set a course for the mouth of the Naknek River. The Fish and Game had opened the river for fishing, hoping to limit the salmon escapement. As predicted, numbers of returning salmon were huge. Drifting in the river had the benefit of calmer waters, but with all the drifters jockeying for position, the fishing area would be tight, and that brought in another added danger.
    It was called combat fishing for a reason.
    Upon entering the wide mouth of the river, Sonya tamped down her nerves when she saw all the boats bumping and brawling for the best spot. Everyone was waiting for the clock to tick its way to nine-thirty, the time when fishing officially began. Tension and tempers were thick in the air in anticipation of the start of what was projected to be a record season.
    Wes and Peter readied the net while Gramps kept her company in the pilot house. The windows were open, and she easily heard the normal insults and crass jokes—which came with men working together—traveling over the open water. It all mixed together and made a spicy soup.
    Boats churned up the gray, silt waters, and engines rumbled. Diesel fumes permeated the air, while seagulls squawked like hecklers overhead. Sonya wasn’t the only one needing to catch a lot of fish. For some fishermen, this was their only livelihood.
    The juggling of constantly moving her boat, watching out for the other boats, and gauging the strong tide flooding the river took every bit of Sonya’s attention. She barely had any left to keep an eye out for the troopers. They were everywhere, like gnats. Planes and helicopters flew above. The Calypso, and high performance RHIBs—rigid-hulled inflatable boats, or what Sonya referred to as sharks—patrolled the water. Planters were stationed on shore. All were outfitted with high powered cameras and binoculars, watching and waiting for the slightest mistake.
    Garrett was out there somewhere.
    Sonya locked the door on that thought and mentally tossed the key overboard. She had enough to concentrate on. She didn’t need another distraction, and Garrett had already distracted her too much. It seemed in her experience that most fishermen were