Terrors of the High Seas - DK6 Page 2

  “Looks like it.”

  Kerry waited for Dar on the end of the dock, then fell into step beside her as they walked up the short path. Having started out as a ramshackle old barn for a larger house that had once stood nearby, the cabin had evolved beyond recognition since they’d first purchased it. They’d ripped down most of the original building and rebuilt, using native stone for the foundation.

  In the rear, facing the water, there was a small porch. They climbed the two broad steps up to it and crossed to the door, the new planks squeaking a bit under their weight. Someday, Dar wanted a padded bench or maybe one of the swing chairs like they had at the condo out there, but at the moment the porch was just an empty space.

  Kerry pushed the door open and they entered; the strong scent of fresh wood and varnish washed over them. Inside, they’d chosen to keep the wood walls and stone floors natural, and the large room in front would eventually have comfortable chairs where they could sit and look at the wonderful view out the big picture windows.

  Behind that room, a small kitchen was tucked into one corner, and in the other, a hallway led back to the master bedroom. Two more doors extended past that, an office for each of them—

  complete with high-speed network access, printers, and everything else they’d ever need to run work operations from the cabin if they wanted to. Dar was particularly proud of the gigabit Ethernet hub and cabling she’d spent one weekend installing.

  Aren’t too many rustic cabins, Kerry acknowledged, that can claim their own Fractional T1 and Cisco router.

  They were still missing the living area furniture, some of the smaller kitchen appliances, and a lot of other trimmings like rugs and stuff for the walls, but already the place was taking on a certain personality of its own—a reflection of both of theirs. “Looking good in here,” Kerry remarked as she closed the door behind them. The air was cool and dry, evidence of the newly installed air conditioning unit.

  “Definitely.” Dar grinned. The ceiling arched up to a skylight that let even more sun into the living room and lent a sense of lightness to the rich wood interior. “I really like it.”

  Kerry glanced up at her. “Me too,” she admitted. “It’s…” She Terrors of the High Seas 9

  turned around and surveyed their little castle. “Don’t get me wrong, Dar. Only an idiot would complain about where we live, but this place is kinda special.”

  Dar nodded. “It’s ours,” she replied simply. “We designed it.

  We made it. Hell, we helped build it.” A not-quite-stifled yawn interrupted her speech. “Whoa.”

  “Teach you to chase flounder.” Kerry chuckled, slipping an arm around Dar’s waist. “I got some great pictures of you doing that, you know.”

  “Oh great, more fodder for the bathroom wall,” Dar replied drolly.

  “Hmm…” Kerry mused in mock speculation. “Yeah, that would work with the silver and blue fixtures in there.” She glanced into their bedroom, starkly empty save for a neatly folded inflatable bed in the center. It was a large room, with two polarized floor-to-ceiling dormer windows on either side of where the bed was. A door in the rear led to a bathroom that had a stall shower and a large, thoroughly decadent spa tub. Around the top of the room ran a wooden ledge, common throughout the cabin, and Dar had already threatened to install a train set that would make its way around the place on top of the rail.

  They were like a couple of kids, Kerry had to admit privately, furnishing their first tree house. She half expected to come out one day and find a tire hanging from one of the banyans outside. Of course it would be a high-technological tire, with three hanging points and a custom-molded interior ring. What was it that Dar had once referred to their place as? Microsoft Rustic.

  True. Kerry smiled. But they both liked their comforts, were used to the gadgets, and they could afford them. So, why not?

  “How about something cold for dinner, and a pot of coffee?” she suggested.

  Dar considered. “Tell you what—you start the coffee, and I’ll walk down to the corner and get the something cold.” She nibbled Kerry’s nose. “We need sugar anyway.”

  “Mm.” Kerry leaned into the kiss, her fingers trailing over Dar’s bare arm. “Boy, you’re warm.”

  Dar chuckled softly under her breath. “Gimme a minute and I’ll be even warmer.” She cupped Kerry’s chin and kissed her again, catching lingering traces of the tangerine yogurt they’d shared not long before. “You got a little burned, too.”

  “Oh,” Kerry murmured. “Is that why I have chills?” She felt Dar’s arms fold around her. “Funny, they’re getting worse. Maybe you should hold me tighter.”

  Dar chuckled. “Hedonist.”

  “Mmhm.” Kerry let her hands slide over Dar’s back as she continued exploring with her lips. Then she exhaled, and nuzzled 10 Melissa Good Dar’s neck, reveling in the peace, the quiet, and the fact that it was just the two of them.

  “Think you’d better blow up the bed,” Dar whispered in her ear.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Dar replied. “’Cause I need to take care of those chills.

  Don’t want you catching cold.”

  Kerry rested a hand on Dar’s hip. “Sweetie, you’re the one causing the chills.” She ducked her head and nipped at Dar’s breast.

  “And because it’s the only furniture in the place,” Dar teased.

  “I figure we can inaugurate that spa tub, then have dinner in bed.”

  “Or dinner and bed,” Kerry replied, her eyes twinkling.

  “Sounds great to me either way.” She kissed Dar again, then nudged her belly. “You go, I’ll blow.”

  Both of Dar’s eyebrows hiked up.

  “Careful, they’ll stick like that.” Kerry reached up and yanked an eyebrow down. “Wouldn’t you look silly?”

  Dar stuck out her tongue. “You’re in a mood,” she remarked. “I like it.” She gave Kerry a tickle across her ribs, then headed down the hallway to what they thought of as the back door to the cabin.

  It was, of course, the front door, but since they tended to arrive by boat, they didn’t often enter that way. Dar passed the small utility room with its unused connections for the washer and dryer that hadn’t been delivered yet, and entered the plain open space near the outer door to the cabin. She turned the lock and let herself out, then closed the door behind her.

  They had put a porch in front too, but smaller than the one that faced the water. It was surrounded by a sturdy wooden flower box that was hip high on Dar, and there was a gate flanked by two wrought iron, coach-type lights. Dar opened the gate and walked through, heading along the neat, rock-defined path up to the road.

  The yard was more sand and scrub than grass, typical of the Keys, and was bordered by a Chinese cherry hedge. Dar broke into a jog as she passed it, then ran lightly down the road towards the small, what Kerry called “charmingly rustic” market just at the next crossroads.

  She made the trip without bumping into another soul until she pushed open the door to the market and walked inside. The shop had well-stocked shelves, a respectable collection of fresh fruits and vegetables, and best of all, a very fresh seafood counter in the back.

  Dar headed for it, then examined the choices laid out on ice in the cold case.

  “Well, hello there, young lady.”

  The cheerful voice almost made her jump. Dar looked up to see the owner standing behind the fish case, wiping his hands on a Terrors of the High Seas 11

  towel. “Evening.”

  “Got some great looking crabs today.”

  Dar’s eyes twinkled. “Not today, thanks. Gimme a pound of the shrimp and two of the tails.” She watched contentedly as the man wrapped up the chilled, already cooked seafood. “Thanks.” She accepted the package and went toward the dairy case, not really paying attention when the market door opened.

  “Hey, mister.”

  Aware that the salutation didn’t include her, Dar studied her choices in milk, cocking half an ea
r behind her mostly because the rough voice that had spoken had set off her trouble sonar.

  “What can I do for you?” the market owner replied.

  “Got any shotgun shells?”

  After a moment’s pause, the owner chuckled. “Son, this is a grocery, not a Sportsman’s Paradise,” he said. “We don’t sell no guns here.”

  “Aw, man, you mean I gotta go up to the Wal-Mart? That sucks!

  Why don’t you get them stuff here? You got all kinds of other crap!”

  “Well, you gotta get a license, for one thing—”

  “So? Go get one!” The voice was getting belligerent. “You’re supposed to get what people need, right?”

  Dar set her package down and replaced the sugar she’d been considering; then she circled the row of canned goods and examined the noisy newcomer. It was, as she’d suspected, a boy in his late teens, dressed in an NRA T-shirt and jeans with patches consisting of Confederate flags. “Oh, look,” Dar muttered under her breath. “Walking stereotype. Wonder where his pickup’s parked.”

  “So get off yer ass and get us some service here!” the boy demanded.

  “Now, look, son—”

  “Don’t you call me that, you old jackass!”

  Dar walked over. “Excuse me.”

  The boy turned, irritation switching to lechery in the blink of a hormone as his eyes took in Dar’s suntanned, mostly exposed body.

  “Hey, baby! What c’n I do for ya?”

  Detecting fermented malt, Dar’s nose twitched. “Stop breathing.”

  He blinked. “Huh?”

  Dar abandoned that tack. “You go to the hardware store for bread?”

  “Naw.”

  “So why come here for gun supplies?”

  The boy didn’t seem to mind the questions, his eyes busy taking in Dar’s athletic form. “’Cause it’s closer’n hauling my ass 12 Melissa Good up the road to the Wal-Mart.” He grinned suddenly. “You wanna ride in my truck?”

  “No,” Dar replied. “What are you shooting?”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re buying shotgun shells.”

  “Yeah?”

  “What are you going to shoot them at?”

  “Signs,” the boy replied amiably. “Or them little deers, or whatever.”

  Dar frowned. “For what?”

  “Fer fun,” the boy said. “You wanna come? I got me a box of shells. Just wanted some more in case I find me some ’gators or something. You up fer some fun, baby?”

  Dar stared at him for a moment, then felt the wash of adrenaline and anger sweep through her. “Sure.” She grinned. “I love fun.” She moved in a blur, drawing her right hand back and cocking it, then letting loose and cracking the now really smirking boy across the chops. He spun away from her and fell over a stack of beer cases, slamming his head against the doorpost.

  “That was fun.” Dar stalked after him intently. “C’mere, you brainless little punk.” She grabbed him and yanked him to his feet, shoving him against the wall. “You think hurting animals is funny?

  I think this is funny.” She nailed him in the groin with her knee, then tossed him against the door.

  “Hey! Hey!” The boy scrambled to his feet. “Ow! Son of a bitch!

  Ow!” He bolted for the door, a trail of blood from his nose left behind him, and got through it an instant before Dar could latch onto him. He raced for the pickup parked outside and jumped in, started the engine, and roared off while Dar glared at him from the doorway.

  She waited for the taillights to disappear around the first bend, then stepped back inside the store and dusted off her hands, shaking her head in disgust. “Another fine example of why stupid humans shouldn’t breed.”

  The grocer was laughing as Dar walked back over. “Ma’am, I think you made an impression on that kid.”

  Dar retrieved her package and her sugar, then added a few other things before she plunked it all down on the counter and dug out her wallet. “You get much of that here?”

  “Not a lot.” The owner rang up her purchases. “You new in the area…” He glanced at the credit card Dar handed him. “Ms.

  Roberts? Thought I’d seen you around once or twice.”

  Dar leaned against the counter. “Not exactly,” she allowed. “I grew up on the Navy base, but I’ve been living up in Miami for a while. Bought the old Potter place last year.”

  He looked up at her, honestly surprised. “You did?” His Terrors of the High Seas 13

  interest was kindled. “Now, I was hearing some big-shot computer executive bought that place.”

  Dar tipped her sunglasses down and cool blue eyes regarded him with some amusement. “That would be me.”

  The man gaped a moment, then burst into laughter. “Well, kick mah ass,” he managed to get out. “You sure don’t look like a Bill Gates, now do you?”

  Lucky me. Dar grinned in wry acknowledgment. Lucky Kerry, too.

  “Been talking about all the work going on up there. You pretty much just built the whole thing all over again, didn’t cha?”

  “Pretty much,” Dar agreed, signing the slip for her groceries.

  “Just getting the last stuff done.”

  “Well, then,” the man took the slip and tucked it into the drawer, then held out a hand, “welcome to the neighborhood, Ms.

  Roberts. Hope to see more of ya.”

  Dar returned the clasp. “Careful what you ask for,” she drawled, giving him a wry wink before she picked up her bag and sauntered out, content with her brief entrance on the sleepy town’s unsuspecting stage.

  AFTER DAR LEFT, Kerry spent a few moments wandering around the cabin. She walked over to the wall and laid her hands flat on its surface, basking in a sense of ownership she found almost intoxicating.

  Ours.

  Kerry turned and leaned against the wall, letting her eyes roam around the room. When she had put her name on the title next to Dar’s, this cabin had become the very first real thing she could call her own, and she felt very differently about it than she did about the condo.

  She turned and peeked into the kitchen, at the sleek, well-fitted appliances she’d picked herself, and the pretty marble countertop that provided a place to sit and have breakfast. It was cute and cozy.

  Kerry smiled as she walked over to the bedroom, rubbing her fingers against the wooden doorjamb as she entered. It was her favorite room in the cabin, and not just because of the obvious. She knelt and started the small motor that would inflate the Aerobed, then walked over and inspected the bathroom, approving the neat work around the sunken spa tub. One corner of the space was a glassed-in shower, the other was the tub, and between lay a large vanity flanked by not one, but two toilets.

  Kerry liked that. She and Dar had pondered over the notion for quite a while before they’d decided to have it done. The vanity had 14 Melissa Good a three-quarter mirror around it, providing just enough privacy.

  She opened the cabinet, idly looking at the few supplies they’d left there.

  This would be only the third night they’d spent at the cabin, and she found herself looking forward to the time when all the furniture would be there, and the place gained a sense of…home.

  She left the bed to inflate and walked back to their dual offices, now just empty spaces waiting for the delivery of the custom-made desks they’d ordered. Both rooms had big windows and skylights.

  Once the furniture was in, they could plug into the company network as easily as if they were at the condo. Or at the office. She was looking forward to spending more time there.

  The pump cut off and she returned to the bedroom, picked up the sheet set, and shook it out over the queen-size, double-height air mattress. She tucked in the fabric, then unfolded the comforter she’d brought with her from Michigan and settled it over the bed, tossing their pillows up to the head of the bed when she finished.

  Kerry walked back into the living room and retrieved the overnight bag they’d brought in from the boat. She zipped it open, s
miling as familiar scents were released from the clothing and other sundries inside. Two towels were on top. She removed them and put them in the bathroom, then took out the shirts they both liked to wear before bed.

  It had taken her a little while to get used to sleeping in the nude, but once she had, she’d become almost addicted to the primal comfort of snuggling under the covers with Dar, and she found she slept like an absolute rock once she’d tucked herself around her partner’s body.

  Her ears perked up as she heard the back door to the cabin open, and Dar’s rhythmic footsteps approached.

  “Ker?”

  “In here,” Kerry replied, turning as a dark head poked into the bedroom. “Just getting stuff out.”

  Dar held up a brown paper wrapped package invitingly.

  “Dinner?”

  Kerry held up her shirt. “Shower first?”

  One of Dar’s eyebrows quirked. “I’ll stick this in the fridge,”

  she remarked with a knowing smirk before disappearing in the direction of the kitchen.

  Kerry chuckled softly to herself. “Heh.” She dropped the shirts onto the bed and eased her light cotton blouse off her shoulders, wincing slightly at the sting of a mild sunburn. “Ouch.”

  “Uh huh.” Dar had returned, bearing a small blue jar. “Figured we both could use this.” She held up the cold cream. “With aloe.”

  “You rock.” Kerry held out a hand and led Dar to the bathroom, opened the shower door, and reached in to start the Terrors of the High Seas 15

  water running. The first time they’d stayed in the cabin, the electricity hadn’t even been on, and after bravely bearing the oppressive heat inside the half-finished building, they finally admitted defeat and curled up together out on the beach, hoping against hope they’d escape both crabs and foul weather.

  They had, but Kerry had found tiny, suspicious red marks on her neck that had worried her a lot until Dar rather sheepishly admitted to having made them with some overenthusiastic nibbling.

  Ah, love. Kerry turned to see Dar with her disintegrating shorts unbuttoned and her tank top half over her head. She reached over and tickled her belly button, watching Dar’s abdominals contract as she chuckled in reaction. Blue eyes emerged a moment later as Dar got her shirt off, and shook a finger at Kerry in mock remonstrance.