Romance on the Edge 01 - Hooked

the bow and fished the painter’s line, where it hung off the side into the water, and held it up for everyone to see.
    The line had been cut.

C HAPTER T EN
    “That’s two acts of criminal mischief,” Peter said, sliding his empty plate forward and planting his elbows on the table. “First the hydraulic lines and now the skiff.”
    They’d just finished the warmed-up breakfast Grams had kept for them and were sitting around the table trying to come up with a game plan.
    “‘Criminal mischief?’” Sonya parroted. “You’ve been watching too many cop shows.”
    “What would you call it, Sonya?” Peter nailed her with his idealistic stare. Peter never saw gray. Everything fell neatly into black and white slots for him. “Be in denial all you want, but we have a problem.”
    She frowned. “I’m not in denial.”
    “Yeah, you’d just like to lay the blame on me.”
    “That’s not fair. I apologized for thinking you’d been lax.”
    “All right, enough,” Gramps said, bringing the bickering to a stop. Peter sat back and folded his arms. “Arguing isn’t getting us anywhere. It’s obvious that we’ve made some enemies—”
    “I wonder how we did that.” Peter looked at Sonya. It was clear he laid blame for this situation right at Sonya’s door. She considered it her due as she’d been so quick to accuse Peter for the runaway skiff. “Corking off Kendrick might not have been the best of moves, in hindsight. Ya think?”
    “Not helping, Peter.” Grams settled her hand on his shoulder. Peter instantly seemed to calm. Sonya wished she had that ability. She’d raised Peter from the age of two and yet Grams was the mothering force.
    “The way I see it, we’re going to have to be extra vigilant,” Wes added, his level tone soothing the ruffled feathers in the room. “If this continues, and I don’t see why it won’t, we should take turns keeping watch.”
    Sonya added, “Someone will need to stay on the Double Dippin’ at all times. Since I’m her captain, that will fall to me.”
    “We’ll take turns when you get stir-crazy.” Gramps nodded. “I agree that we need to keep watch, but we don’t need to be paranoid.” He narrowed his look on Peter. “No need to be armed or camping out at the sites.”
    Peter held up his hand. “I want it on record that I voted for arms.”
    “We got it.” Sonya rubbed at the headache brewing in her temples. She needed some sleep and a half dozen Tylenols.
    “There’s one other thing I suggest we do.” Everyone turned to Wes and he continued, “We should contact Garrett and inform him of what’s going on.”
    “I don’t think we need to go that far,” Sonya was quick to interject. The last confrontation she’d had with Garrett had almost landed the two of them horizontal. She didn’t trust herself enough to guarantee their next meeting wouldn’t actually end up that way.
    “We’ll need a paper trail if this continues,” Wes said. “It’s the smart thing and the right thing.”
    “I agree with him, Sonya.” Gramps leveled his concerned eyes on her.
    “Me too,” Grams added. “Informing Garrett will add another person to help keep watch.”
    Sonya stared at Peter. “You have an opinion?”
    Peter unfolded his arms and leaned on the table. “If we can’t be armed, we might as well have someone watching our backs who is.”

    The last thing Sonya wanted to do was call Garrett.
    She sat on a rock having walked down to the beach after their late breakfast. The Double Dippin’, and both skiffs, sat dry with the tide out. Cliffs towered above her, and there was just enough of a breeze to keep the mosquitoes and noseeums from feasting on her. Wisps of hair worked free from her ponytail and she tried to secure them under her ball cap. Not that it did any good. The sun played a losing game of keep away with the ever present storm clouds. It was quiet. Most of the fishermen were probably taking advantage of the minus tide and catching up on sleep, which was exactly what she should be doing.
    An eagle screeched overhead. She raised her face to the sky and watched, mesmerized, as the majestic bird soared high above her.
    Had the eagle seen who’d cut the painter’s line to the skiff? What else had it seen?
    She picked at the tear in the knee of her jeans. Why had someone decided to mess with her? So what if she was drifting and set netting. In the scheme of things, who really cared? Okay, someone did. Who?
    Chuck Kendrick? He loved