Bad to Be Worthy (Bad to Be Good #2) - Andrew Grey Page 0,47

second. Tucker slipped his arms around Gerome’s neck, claiming his mouth with an overwhelming amount of power, filling Gerome with heat that even the breeze off the water couldn’t cool. His heart raced, and his attention narrowed only to the places where they touched. He wanted to lower Tucker to the sand, cradle him, and take him right here and now.

He forced himself to pull away, breathing deeply, his chest expanding as though he had run a marathon. The cool sea breeze did nothing to cut the raging fire that went through him. “I think you and I should get off the beach and go home.” He looked up from over Tucker’s shoulder and paused. “Turn around,” Gerome said. Tucker did, and he nuzzled up right behind him.

“What are we looking at?”

“The boat lights,” Gerome said.

Tucker craned to look at him. “Do you think…?” He shifted his gaze back out to sea, and Gerome watched as the lights of the boats came closer. Like before, they were just offshore. “Wow, anyone can see them.”

“Yeah. But no one is going to think twice about some lights offshore. There are a ton of boats all over there, so there is nothing out of the ordinary.” Gerome listened for any sound on the wind but heard nothing but the breeze. The boats came together, and Gerome craned his head to try to make out any details.

“We should go,” Tucker said and turned, striding off the beach. “We need to get back to your car.”

“Why?” Gerome asked.

“If they came out of the bay, there’s only one bridge that they could pass under on their way out, and if they turn around, they have to pass under the same bridge. We can actually get a look at the boat to verify its name.” He walked faster, and Gerome hurried to catch up.

They raced back to the apartment, and Gerome got his keys. They headed out as quickly as he dared. He didn’t want to get a ticket and be delayed, so he kept it a little slower than he wanted. The bridge was a few miles down.

“Do you think we made it in time?” Tucker asked.

“I would think so. We can move faster on the road than they can on water. I would think we beat them unless they turned around right after we left. Who knows?” He came to the bridge, drove over it, and pulled off the side of the road. Gerome and Tucker both got out of the car and hurried onto the bridge. “Look.” Lights disappeared into the bay side, a small craft probably having passed under the bridge a few seconds before they arrived.

“We’re too late,” Tucker said, his shoulders slumping.

“Maybe not. We don’t know if that’s the same boat.” Gerome steered Tucker to the other side of the bridge. “We can wait here a few minutes to see if any other craft come in from that direction. That seemed really quick for them.” But he wasn’t sure, and as they watched, time ticked away.

Gerome was beginning to think Tucker was right when the throaty call of an engine drifted on the wind.

“Get down,” Gerome said, crouching behind the railing and one of the posts. “It’s best if they don’t know they’re being watched.”

Tucker did the same as the boat grew nearer. Gerome watched through one of the openings in the railing as the boat drew closer to the bridge and then passed under it. After checking for traffic, he hurried to the other side, trying to get a look at the back of the boat. Just as he crouched down, the lights on the boat flipped out, denying him the information he was hoping for.

“Did you get the name of the boat?” Gerome asked.

“Flying Rage,” Tucker said. “I saw it just before the lights went out. Not the same boat.”

Gerome shook his head. “Nope. This one is bigger, with a lot more storage space.” He waited until the boat was far enough away, then stood, watching the boat as long as he could to get some sort of idea on where it might be headed.

“The other side of the bay. They must dock on the mainland side.” He groaned softly. “At least we know the name of the boat.” He stood and held out his hand, Tucker’s slipping into his. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with it.” He walked toward the car, missing Tucker’s warm hand in his when he let go to get in. Gerome