She stood behind him, wrapped her arms around him, rested her head against his shoulder. She still fit him nicely.
Don’t get mushy now, Bri.
“How much farther, Papa Smurf? Is it much farther?”
“Not far now.”
“We going anywhere in particular?”
He shook his head. “I just feel like being alone. Having the whole world to ourselves.”
“Just you and me and a bottle of Viagra.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She nuzzled his neck.
He felt himself stirring, pulled away. “I think it’s time for the you-know-what.”
“I’m not sure I do.”
“Watch the helm.” Not that there was much to do, cruising at this speed in open water.
He went downstairs, came back with a bottle of Dom Pérignon he’d hidden in the back of the fridge, waved her out onto the deck.
She raised her eyebrows, Really?
“Planning to sell another app?”
“Who knows when we’ll get to do something like this again. You say I don’t spend money, don’t know how to live…” She’d said this more than once during the lean years, when he’d complained about her spending.
“Just an excuse for all the junk I bought.”
He felt a little flash of something. Not guilt, but something. Funny that she’d finally admitted the truth. She never would have said that even a couple of years ago. Maybe Kira’s kidnapping had changed her more than he realized.
Too late now.
“Anyway, I wanted to go all out this week. Why not? We have good jobs, it’s not like your shop or mine is ever going to run out of cash, the almighty United States gummit—”
“Okay, okay. Open sesame.”
He twisted the cork, sent it flying into the sea. Took a swig, pure liquid joy, gold and cold and sharp. Handed her the bottle. She drank deep too.
“Oh, good stuff.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Lusty. “Shouldn’t we have glasses?”
“Why?”
“To toast.”
“Then toast. We don’t need glasses.”
“Amen.” She raised the bottle. “To our incredible children, Bri. And especially to Kira. Who got herself out of that rathole. All by herself.”
Maybe. “Nice toast. Let’s get intoxicated.”
“Big word for drunk.”
“Drunkish. Nobody’s getting seasick as long as I’m captain.”
She took another swig. “Would you still fuck me drunk?”
“I might get the spins.” He took the bottle. “Oh, if you’re drunk. If you ask nicely, maybe.” He raised it over his mouth, tilted it nearly sideways and let the liquid spill. Into his mouth and down his chin.
“Careful with that.”
“Don’t worry, we’ve got another.” Brian was enjoying himself now.
* * *
Brian’s plan: They’d finish this bottle, pop the second. He wouldn’t push too hard. He didn’t have to. He had seventy, eighty pounds on her. And Becks wasn’t much of a drinker. Rarely did she have more than a glass of wine at dinner. Even if they split the bottles evenly she’d be far drunker than he was. And he wasn’t planning to split them evenly. He’d just poured a lot of his second drink on the deck with a grin on his face. He probably wouldn’t even need the Xanax, but if he saw a chance he’d crush a couple of pills and get them into the second bottle near the end. Just to be sure. They were slightly bitter, but they were tiny too. The champagne would hide the taste. And she’d be good and lit by then. Even if she noticed she wouldn’t care.
So, good. They’d get drunk. They’d probably screw. One last roll, for old time’s sake. Should old acquaintance be forgot… He wasn’t going to force that either, but he didn’t think he’d have to. Ideally on the front deck, the sexy sun pad, under the stars, no one to see.
All this done by eight thirty. Maybe nine. Then he’d let her get sleepy for a few minutes. A postcoital cuddle. Then he’d get up, look around, make sure no boats or planes were close. And he’d pick her up and toss her overboard.
If the water had been a little cooler, he could simply have cruised off, let nature take its course. But the Caribbean was around eighty degrees, high enough that hypothermia wouldn’t kill Becks. She was in pretty good shape, too. She would last at least a day, maybe two, until exhaustion and thirst or an unlucky encounter with a shark took care of her. He couldn’t risk that, not with boats close enough for her to see them, swim for their lights.
A problem with an easy solution. He’d jump down after her, take care of business himself.