Dreamboat Ch. 07

"That knife in his leg, and he still fuck up them?"

Wren nodded. "He saved my life."

"I think he save mine too," the brunette said. "I am sorry to bring this shit onto your head. Your boat was first to be available."

"I understand. You saw an opportunity and you took it. Although I have an odd feeling you were meant to be here."

"Explain."

"You're an engineer..."

"Mechanic."

"Sorry, you're a mechanic, and a fugitive. We're fugitives as well. The man I stole from will never forgive that and will chase us to the ends of the earth just to throw out a lesson to his clients and rivals. And before you were here, we were sitting ducks. We had engines and couldn't use them. But you know about them and got us going. You got us into trouble but you also got us out of it."

"I am so sorry," Sasha said and burst into tears. "Now the Captain is wounded because of me and might be dead and Serge finds me and takes me and kills my Mama ..."

Wren took her into her arms and held the sobbing girl. The outburst and tears had taken her by surprise. Sasha seemed so strong and tough and capable, it was easy to forget she had just turned nineteen and hadn't spent years on the street being beaten into old leather.

"Shh, shh," she said. "Don't cry. This'll all turn out for the best. I'm sure of it."

"But we have no control. We don't know where to go. Captain is knocked out."

Despite feeling the same sense of despair, Wren forced a smile. "His name is Lachlan, honey. Although I don't suppose he'll mind whatever you call him. He's a really nice man."

"You have known him long time?" Sasha asked with a sniff, deeply embarrassed at her tears. She was normally tough enough to throw off any shit that life threw at her, but the last few days had tested that strength to the limit. And when Wren had been so nice to her, talking to her when the Captain had collapsed in the engine room, and then comforting and reassuring her while he lay wounded and possibly dying right next to her, she hadn't been able to cope with the sudden wave of emotion that swept through her. The sorrow in her at her father's death; the fear of Serge and his confident promise of what would amount to her rape; the relief that she had got clear of him; the guilt of leaving her mother behind to face Serge's wrath; and the sudden relaxation of pressure on her when the chasing boat had disappeared behind them, had all combined to throw her completely off her axis.

The little spark of desire she had felt when Reid had kissed her was also contributing to her turbulent mood. She had learned early on that all boys only wanted one thing, and that all girls were mean. Consequently she had no friends that weren't friends of her parents, and had never been kissed. Until that day.

She remembered the feel of his lips on hers, and the sudden shock and electric thrill of his tongue touching hers so lightly as his lips had pressed so sweetly to hers. Of course, guilt came with that as well, as Reid belonged to Wren, and here the blond was being so nice to her even after she had kissed him.

"I've known him for about two years. We've been together less than a week."

Wren saw Sasha's eyes widen.

"I know," the blond said. "I've never loved a man my whole life, and now this. I don't really know if I love him, how would I? It doesn't make any sense to me. But I do worry that Lachlan will suddenly realise how crazy it is and try and get all noble on me. He's that type of guy."

"But his wife..." Sasha cut herself short as she saw a shadow drift across Wren's face.

"I don't know what went down then, and neither does Lachlan. But I'd bet your virginity that some sort of tricky shit got pulled. We'll sort all that out one of these days. You know anything about computers?"

The brunette shook her head. "No, sorry. That experience is not mine. I have not good computer... B'lyad! My English is not good."

Wren gave her a wan smile and patted her hand. "How long have you lived here?"

"Five year. I am home-schooled. I don't speak to many people, so I am not learning the language good."

"Oh don't worry about that. We'll probably drive you crazy with all our talk. Your English will improve in leaps and bounds."

"Leaps and bounds," muttered Sasha. It was a good phrase and she stored it carefully away in her brain to use later.

"Shame about the computer skills though," Wren continued. "There's a portable one on that desk in your cabin. Unless you want to sleep in here with us."

Sasha blushed.

"So, how was your first kiss?" the blond asked with a sly smile.

The Russian girl went crimson, a red curtain seemingly pulled down over her face to cover her shoulders and chest. How did Wren know it was her first kiss?

"I... I... " She gave up. "I'm sorry."

"Oh hell no! Don't be sorry. I just wish my first had been with as great a guy as Lachlan. He'll be so sweet and gentle with you, I just know it. And you'll be throwing your panties at him in no time. You're already part way there."

Sasha hadn't thought she could blush any harder, but discovered that apparently she could.

"I would not cheat you!" she protested.

Wren looked surprised. "How would you be cheating me? Hey, I suppose this feeling I have means I do love him dearly - to the point that it takes my breath away - despite the suddenness of it all, or maybe because of it, I don't know. And I think he loves me back. But he is so going to love you too, honey. I just know it! And we are going to be so good for him, you hear? Together, we are going to bring him back from the brink he's walking right now - as long as he survives what your fucking step-dad did to him tonight."

Sasha found herself breathless. Just when she thought these last days couldn't get any stranger, life just turned itself upside down on her all over again. Now her crew-mate was telling her she was going to become the captain's lover. She couldn't help glancing over at Reid. Yes, there was that little spark that shot up from her belly into her chest - a spark that she had felt a couple of times since she had sat with a sleeping Reid after he had attacked her. Every time she looked at him, actually.

Angrily, she shook her head, denying to herself that she felt any emotion at all for the man. That was so silly! So girlish!

She walked out of the cabin onto the rear deck, the sea illuminated by the moon, and looking dark and ominous. She didn't really see it, caught up in her own thoughts. It was just not true that she felt anything for the man. Sure, he was good-looking in his own way, and even with a bandage and the scars she had seen, she could tell he had an attractive... no, desirable... no, downright sexy body... Okay, so she desired him but that meant nothing!

He had attacked her! She thought furiously. Sure he did, agreed a little treacherous part of her brain, while he had considered her a dangerous intruder on his boat. And then he had accepted her as part of his crew when he could have thrown her to the wolf in human skin that was her step-father. And he had taken a bullet for her.

B'lyad! she thought gloomily. Fuck! Wren was right. She was going to give up her virginity to him just as soon as they could arrange it.

She perked up as that thought crossed her mind. She couldn't wait!

Back in the cabin, Wren saw the younger woman pacing back and forth and smiled tiredly, recognising the girl's tension and then seeing it suddenly disappear. So, she had accepted what she hadn't even realised she wanted.

She felt tears prick her eyes at the memory of her own loss of virginity, but then wiped them away. That didn't matter anymore. She was here with Lachlan and Sasha and that was better.

As she realised that in her mind she had reorganised them into a trio - a troika as Sasha would put it - she wondered why she simply accepted that this was how it was meant to happen. She had thrown away dreams of little rose covered cottages with picket fences and 2.4 children years before, but this simple act of acquiescence was a surprise even to her. It didn't make any sense.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the smooth hum of the engines lowered down through the scale to a low grumble, and then stopped. She saw Sasha stare at her with those huge eyes and then the girl was darting away.

"You stay with Captain," called Sasha as she headed for the bridge.

Muttering to herself worriedly, the brunette turned the helm seat as she had seen Reid do, plumped herself down in it and waited until it turned forward once again - glad she had taken an hour to clean up Lachlan's blood trail from the seat to the rear deck.

The instruments were all fairly passive and she studied them carefully. The first thing she instinctively checked was the fuel gauge, which showed full. Not almost full, but completely full. She tapped the gauge, making the needle quiver although it remained stubbornly in one position.

That didn't make a lot of sense. She thought about the fuel that an engine pumping out 50 knots for three hours should consume, and wrinkled her nose. Unless the tanks were so massive that that much fuel loss didn't make any appreciable difference, the gauge was broken - stuck in position. She would have to physically check the fuel using a dipstick.

She fiddled with the joysticks on the seat arms on the off-chance that they had been stuck in some sort of feedback loop which had only cleared now, but wasn't too surprised when there was no response.

There was a soft clunking sound and she saw one light change from green to red. She checked the symbol below it, but didn't understand what a broken triangle - separated into two halves at the top point and the centre of the base - might indicate. But she felt the effect of whatever had occurred, as the boat began to pitch and roll - not badly, but enough to be noticeable. She had a sudden thought and was about to check it when she saw something on the radar. The symbol in the centre representing their boat, NN48662 according to the small digits above it on the AIS, was stationary. To check, she looked out at the moonlit sea and realised that they had indeed almost come to a complete halt.

There was a small blip nearby to the nor'-nor'-west, which pulsed slightly at one second intervals. Neither symbol was moving in relation to the other. Perhaps this was why the boat had come to a standstill, she wondered. Perhaps its computer brain had picked up the proximity of a radar reflection that didn't appear on the AIS, not received any command to slow or stop and pulled an emergency brake manoeuvre of its own accord. She really didn't understand much about computers, apart from the smart till at the workshop, but knew they were smart - smart enough to figure out from the invoices it printed out when to order more consumables automatically before she and her father used them all up. And all she had to do to order parts was type in the engine model and then touch the diagram screen until it zoomed into the part she wanted. One more press and it was ordered as well. Her father had loved that till.

So if computers could do that, then perhaps they could run this boat as well. From Wren, she knew that it was what she and the Captain believed. It was either that or someone was running them around the ocean at his or her bidding, like puppets on a string. And that seemed a whole lot worse.

There was no other information on the console of much interest, and she decided to do the physical check on the fuel tanks. Running out of fuel with no land in sight was not a happy prospect. Carrying a torch, she made her way along the port side to the front and was about to open the hatch to the lower deck when she saw the smallest blue flash in the sea ahead and to the left - just where the radar reflection would be.

As she watched, the blue flash came again and again in a slightly irregular rhythm. She returned to fetch the binoculars and climbed onto the roof of the bridge.

Feet spread wide and holding onto the mast with one hand to stabilise herself, she peered through them. She pulled them away from her face, puzzled and then looked through them again. The light gathering ability of the binoculars made a small difference to what she could see, and now she could make out the blue flash more clearly. She realised that there was a splash and then a flash in an almost rhythmic pattern. She closed her eyes for a second to try and make them more sensitive to light and looked again.

At the point of the flash, there was something bulky, something which bobbed...

Shit, she thought. There was a boat out there!

For a moment, panic squeezed her as she thought that Serge had somehow snuck up on them. Then she pushed that thought aside. Apart from the fact that they had outraced the bastard for some three hours, this was not a red and white speedboat.

Again and again she peered, trying to make out the shape, and then it suddenly struck her. The blue flash that appeared at every splash was bioluminescence. She didn't know the word for it, but she had seen it before on a Blue Planet programme on TV. Tiny creatures that floated in shoals over patches of ocean surface, which flashed blue when disturbed.

And the splashes were coming from someone in the boat, trying to draw closer using only one hand.

And then, a dark shape lifted in the boat and she saw a face clearly, just for a moment.

Sasha leapt off the roof of the bridge to the stern deck with the inexperienced confidence of youth and dashed into the cabin.

"Is boat out there, maybe broken down. Someone trying to signal. A woman."

"Can we use the engines to get to her?" asked Wren. She had drawn Reid's head onto her lap.

"Nyet. No. No engines working. Maybe fuel."

"What do you think we should do?" Wren asked.

Sasha looked surprised. "I don't know. Is your decision."

Wren looked cross for a moment. "You're a member of this crew, Sasha. And I'm asking you."

The Russian girl thought for a moment. "I don't think we wait till the boat come to us. I take little boat to her. I check her carefully before getting close. If anything bad, I come back here. If not I tow her back with rope. Then I check careful. If any shit I can push her into the sea."

The smile at the end of her little speech showed Wren she was joking, although the blond wasn't completely convinced.

"What little boat?" she asked.

"Big boats have little boats. Like chicken and duck."

Wren gaped at her. It didn't make sense, but she understood the meaning.

Sasha disappeared out of the cabin and within a minute was examining the tiny space at the back of the engine room. There was a watertight door, and as she had guessed, when she opened it there was a small RIB - a rigid inflatable boat - parked neatly against the stern hull. She stepped in, closed the door and looked around.

She had never been to sea, not really. But she had worked on boats in the harbour and she knew how this worked. In the end, it was simply a matter of finding the right button.

Wren jumped when she heard a loud creak from the stern and then realised, by the sound of a small motor working hard, that Sasha had found something and got it working. There was a short silence, then a splash followed by the sound of an outboard.

The blond relaxed. Damn, that girl was a genius.

As she waited quietly for the brunette's return, she sang softly to Lachlan, hoping that he could somehow hear her words through his unconsciousness. The last time he had been wounded, she had still been able to please him with oral sex. This time, that was out of the question.

And so she stroked his hair - and she sang.

*****

Paulo Moran, who in his office was known as Mr Smith, waited in his car for the salesman in charge of this small outlet. Rain was bucketing down as the clouds drawn up from the sea during the day, deposited their load on the people and boats of the harbour.

Man, he had had more than enough of these pissant little places, he decided. If he never saw one of these fish-stinking little backwaters ever again, he could die happy.

He pulled the big coat closer around him and wished he had a driver, like the directors at the upper echelons of the company. At least he would have someone to talk to, instead of spending his days interrogating punks from all walks of life on this fucking 'asset hunt'. Ass-hunt more like it, he thought. He had met the asset several times, even fucked her once, and ass was about all the little junkie had going for her.

But that ass was obviously drooled over by someone high up. He shook his head. There was just no accounting for peoples' tastes. There he was with two fine foxes, and was forced into po' boy scrimping, saving and skimming for all his worth in order to keep them happy, while some rich-ass fuck spent company money on finding some skinny, coked-up whore. The other way around would make much more sense, but he was happy to keep it just the way it was. Angie and Marilyn had the finest pussies he had ever had the privilege to meet, and with them it was fine dining all the way. He sniggered. Just as long as they never found out about each other.

The car door opened and Moran jumped. A dark figure dressed in a hoodie slid into the car, only to freeze as a gun pointed out his rudeness.

"Fucking knock or something next time, because next time you do that I'm going to lose control of this trigger finger." He shook his head. "Come at me like that? You ain't got shit fer brains, you know that?"

"Sorry Paulo," the figure smirked.

"Fuck off, Fade." Moran sniggered to himself. What sort of idiot called themselves Fade? A fuckin' idiot, that's who! He looked at the thin man alongside him, with his thinning hair, scarred cheeks and watery eyes. Jeez, where had all the tough, cool guys gone? Annoyed at Fade for being alive and in his face, and with himself for unwanted nostalgia, Moran shoved a picture at the small-time dealer.

"You seen her?"

"Yeah."

"You need to keep an eye out for... Wait, you've seen her?"

"Sure."

"The fuck didn't you report it, numbnuts?"

"The word was out to look for a boat - not a girl."

"So where did you see her?"

"On a boat."

Fade found himself dangling out of the car window, held by his coat front. Moran's face was so close to his he could feel the breath on his eyeballs.

"What boat? And you give me any mealy mouth double talk and I'm going to go drag racing around this shit hole town, with you as the drag part!"

Fade blinked as drops of spittle spattered on his eyeballs.

"She was with some tall dude, but the boat wasn't no cabin cruiser, man. This was a serious pussy magnet vehicle, if you know what I mean."

He was pulled back in through the window.

"Ow! Ouch dude! What the fuck?"

"You and I are going to get my laptop and then we are going to find a picture of that boat. In the meantime, talk! Details! I want details. Every single fucking detail you can remember, and then we'll work on reminding you of what you forgot."

An hour later, Maron was back in Mr Smith persona.

"Sir, we have a description and a picture of the boat they're on. I've emailed it to you and circulated it to everyone else within two hundred miles..."

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir. It left late yesterday before we had assets in place to recover the ... other asset. Yes sir, of course. But we do have one small problem. Apparently the boat was chased down by another interested party. The chase boat was stolen, and later found with a shell casing stuck underneath the mats. Our analysis seems to indicate that the third party was not so much interested in recovering our asset as having it written off.

"The third party was arrested and jailed overnight, but was simply fined for joyriding and released. He has no previous ... uh, ah... accounting history?" Maron finished weakly. Business speak was exhausting, even if it did mean that any tapped conversations wouldn't lead to prosecution.