pad—a pair of recliners between windshield and prow—didn’t exactly scream North Atlantic in January.
Still, the boat was more than capable of handling the Caribbean, especially on a sunny April afternoon, the biggest obstacle a light westerly breeze. The cruiser had a kitchen too, so they could boil the lobsters Becks had picked up in Gustavia. And a small stateroom. In case they decided to stay out overnight.
Brian was sure he would. Becks, not so much.
Maybe when she was gone he’d come back here and give the Chris-Craft another spin. Maybe Irlov would even give him another weekend with Eve if he was a good boy.
Eve wouldn’t mind. Eve did what Irlov said. So did Brian.
When Becks was gone.
Funny. He was in such a good mood. He already missed his wife, though she wasn’t even gone. The last few days had reminded him what he liked about her. Her confidence. Her appetites, sexual and otherwise. For the first time in years, maybe since Charlottesville, work wasn’t consuming her.
He realized now, maybe Becks should never have had kids. Maybe she’d never been able to balance being a mom with being an FBI agent. Maybe she’d been jealous of the time he spent with Kira and Tony when they were little. Anyway, she’d taken her frustration out on him.
But being here had freed her, at least for a few days.
Good for her. Her last memories would be happy ones. He’d make sure to tell the kids how much fun she’d had.
The kids were really the only reason he’d considered hesitating. But they were old enough now to know their parents wouldn’t live forever. He’d always been more important to them than Becks anyway. They’d bounce back. Plus, after what Kira had gone through last year…
No. This was the right choice, he was sure.
* * *
Three p.m. and they were thirty miles east of St. Barts, heading east at about nine knots. Nice and easy. With GPS, radar, sonar, and electronic depth charts, these high-end cruisers could practically steer themselves. In fact, drop the practically. They could. When Brian decided to take the boat back to Gustavia, he could simply find it on the nav. The Chris-Craft would do the rest, directing him where to go and how to get there. He could even put the boat on autopilot and let it steer.
The calm spring water and the security the cruiser’s automated systems offered were the real reason he’d been able to rent it so easily, after taking only a four-hour training class the day before. Basically, he promised he wouldn’t take it into the Atlantic and that he’d let the autopilot handle the harbor water, the only dangerous part. Like cars, ships these days only pretended the human beings at their helms were in charge. The fact he was paying three thousand dollars to rent it for a day, and another twenty-five hundred if he kept it overnight, probably helped too.
Naturally he hadn’t told Becks how much he’d paid. She would have wondered why he was spending so much. She might even have insisted on a smaller cruiser. And he wanted the biggest one he could find, the one that would handle the chop the best.
The rougher the waves, the browner the water, the better.
They’d seen plenty of other boats around St. Barts. But in the last hour the waters around them had emptied out. No surprise. Cruisers here hopped island to island, heading southeast from St. Barts to Antigua, avoiding these rougher seas. The big cargo ships ran well to the north, in the deep waters of the Atlantic. Now they could see only a couple of other ships. The closest was a massive yacht maybe a mile south. But it was moving fast, twenty-five knots, running west, away from them. Brian had hoped they’d achieve complete solitude, no other boats in sight, just them and the fish. He saw now that he wouldn’t necessarily be able to count on that level of privacy. No matter. As long as no other ships were within a couple of miles, he’d be fine.
* * *
Becks had gone downstairs to change. She came back wearing a simple black one-piece whose high-cut waist flattered her. Her legs were long and lean and strong. She looked pretty good for a woman well into her forties. She looked pretty good period. At the mall, wherever, he sometimes caught guys his age checking her out. He could almost read their minds, How come my wife can’t keep it together