Deadly Tide. Sandy Curtis
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eyes were shadowed from lack of sleep. She had insisted on taking the wheel during every shot, until Bill had growled at her at midnight that he was taking his turn at steering, and she had acquiesced. But Chayse suspected she had not slept well in the short periods between shooting the nets away and hauling them back up. She reached over for the pepper, and he caught a trace of soap and something that reminded him of fresh flowers and citrus. He realised she must have showered while the steaks were cooking. An image of her, naked, soap sliding over her breasts and across her flat stomach to the curls below, suddenly filled his mind, and his body's response was immediate.
Minutes later he was cursing the smallness of the shower cubicle as he lurched and slithered with the rolling of the boat. Finally he learned to lean against the wall while he washed. It cut down the number of bruises.
The fan in the focsle eased some of the stuffiness, but it took Chayse a while to get to sleep. Sam woke him at four o'clock that afternoon and told him they were steaming further north to trawl. One look at Bill's face told Chayse this hadn't been a mutual decision. He guessed the change in location had something to do with Sam's call to Gerry the night before.
Half an hour later, the sight of two other trawlers proved him correct. Using binoculars, Sam checked out both boats, and smiled grimly in satisfaction.
'The Kladium?' Chayse asked softly.
Sam nodded.
'What are you going to do now you've found it?'
'Stay with him. See what he's up to. He already knows I'm curious about him, or he wouldn't have sent someone after me. If it was him,' she amended.
'Then don't you think it's risky sitting on his tail like this?'
She was about to reply when the boat's satellite phone rang. She raced into the wheelhouse and soon he heard her thanking Gerry and telling him he didn't have to stay around now. Apparently stubbornness ran in the family because the other trawler made no move to steam away.
When Sam came out of the wheelhouse, she looked subdued. 'Chayse, I'm sorry. I've just realised that I'm putting you in danger as well, and that's not fair. It's our problem, not yours. If you want to go back to Bundaberg, I'll understand.'
Her cheek had a dirt smudge where she'd pushed her hair behind her ear, and he felt an irresistible urge to wipe it off. Before he could stop himself, his hand came up, and his thumb moved gently across her cheekbone. Her skin was pleasure to touch, soft and smooth, and his fingers uncurled to follow his thumb, when her eyes blinked wide like a startled owl. He pulled his hand back quickly. 'Sorry, you had dirt ...'
'That's okay,' she interrupted, soft colour in her cheeks. 'What ... what do you want to do? Gerry's heading home tomorrow, you could go with him.'
'It's illegal for a boat over fifteen metres to work with only two crew, Sam.'
They turned to see Bill looking at them, his face darkening as he gazed at Chayse.
'That's right. We'd have to take you back and get another deckie.'
'I'm staying, so it's not a problem,' Chayse answered mildly. He wondered what Bill had against him. Was something going on here that Bill was worried he'd discover? Chayse had sensed undercurrents flowing back and forth between Sam and Bill, but they weren't the kind of vibes he was used to picking up around career criminals. There was something deeper here, something more personal.
'Just make sure you don't become a problem,' Bill spoke softly, but there was a touch of menace in his eyes that made Chayse wary.
'Thinks she's a bloodhound, does she.' Karl Folter lowered his binoculars, and took a deep drag on his cigarette.
'What are we going to do?' Grady Hanlon, his new deckhand, asked as he opened a packet of frozen vegetables to accompany the thick slabs of fish frying in the pan. 'Wait until it gets dark and move away? Or we could go over and give them a warning,' he suggested hopefully.
Folter frowned in annoyance. Chosen more for his brawn than brains, Grady made an excellent offsider. He obeyed without question, and was willing to do anything he was asked. Unfortunately, he was sometimes too eager to prove his willingness.
'We'll catch prawns,' Folter replied. 'For now.'
CHAPTER FIVE
Sam was strung out with frustration. For three days now they had trawled at night with the lights of the Kladium always in view, and by day they had anchored close enough to keep the other boat in sight without using binoculars. But Folter had done nothing to arouse their suspicions.
At least the catch had been good. When she'd argued with Bill about changing areas, she'd been torn between her need to clear her father's name and the necessity to earn enough to keep the bank happy.
Tiredness seemed to ooze from every fibre in her body. She'd been too long working daylight hours to adjust back to night work without it taking a toll. Now she gazed down at the dressing covering the knife wound. She hadn't taped the plastic tightly enough around her leg when she'd showered, and water had seeped in. The doctor had warned her to keep the wound dry, but if it did get wet, to let it air for at least an hour before applying another dressing. She ripped off the sodden dressing, patted the stitches with her towel, then pulled on her trackpants.
After breakfast, she elected to take the first watch on the Kladium. She waited until Bill and Chayse had gone to sleep, then she changed into shorts, grabbed a book and a cushion, and sat up on the bow.
'Who did it, Sam?'
She must have dozed off. The book had fallen to the deck and she was sprawled at an awkward angle against the wheelhouse. Bill was squatting down beside her. Still dopey from sleep, she didn't understand what he was asking. 'Did what?' she mumbled.
'Hurt you.' He pointed to her thigh, the stitches stark against the purple and yellow bruising.
'It was an accident.'
'You're lying. If it was an accident, you would have told me about it. But you've tried to hide it.'
It was like dealing with Tug, only Bill didn't bluster. People often assumed Tug had acquired his nickname because he'd skippered tugboats, but it was actually due to him sharing the characteristics of the stubborn little boats. Bill was quieter, but just as tenacious. Sam knew when to concede defeat.
A few minutes later, Bill swore, then shook his head. 'So now you're turning detective.'
'Yes.'
'Can't say that I blame you. The odds don't look too good for Tug. But be careful. Tug would never forgive himself if anything happened to you. And remember, I want to help too.'
They stayed silent a moment, then Bill rose. 'I owe Chayse an apology.'
'Why?'
'You've been like a wound-up spring since we left port. I thought he must have made a pass at you. Or maybe ... Sam, you're blushing.'
'I am not.' Even as she denied it, Sam felt the heat sweep her cheeks again. To her surprise, Bill smiled.
'You like him, don't you.'
'So? I like a lot of men.'
'You know what I mean, Sam, really like him.' The smile deepened. 'About time you showed some interest in someone again.'
She grabbed her book and stood up. 'I don't need anyone.'
'We all need someone.'
The sadness in his voice made Sam bite her tongue. 'I'm sorry, Bill, I didn't mean ...'
'Lenora's been gone three years this month, Sam, and I still miss her.'
She placed her hand gently on his arm, then walked back into the wheelhouse.
Two days later, Karl Folter stood in the wheelhouse of the Kladium and smiled as he put down his binoculars.
'It looks like the Sea Mistress has