No Rules, Ridge King [the snowy day read aloud TXT] 📗

the casual observer, this was just another charter fishing expedition out of Tavernier. (During one such show for a curious Coast Guard cutter, Pozo had actually caught a sailfish!)

Speaking of Coast Guard cutters, thought Pozo, over the horizon he saw a white hull appear, the wake at its bow foaming up as it made toward Big Fish IV at full speed.

“Cutter bearing down on us,” Chico said as he watched the approach through binoculars.

“Everybody has papers?”

“Yes, we all have our papers, Mr. Gonzalez,” he said with a laugh. Pozo instinctively reached behind him to feel for his wallet that carried proof of his identity as Jorge Gonzalez, a Miami businessman down for a little fishing trip. He owned Gonzalez Patio Furniture, a small but profitable store in Hialeah. Pozo never came to sea with his real identity papers on him. He was always Jorge Gonzalez.

The sound of the Dolphin chopper faded in the distance, but it wasn’t much longer before USCGC Fearless hove into view.

A voice through a bullhorn announced in Spanish that a boarding party was coming over. Everyone on Fearless could see Mr. Gonzalez begin reeling in his line as Chico brought his engines back to idle.

A few minutes later a ship’s boat bobbed over the waves and an officer with two sailors behind him boarded.

“I’m Ensign Doheny,” said the officer in what Pozo thought was pretty good Spanish for an American. He then asked about the go-fast boat that had stopped briefly. And yes, this had been observed on radar.

“They wanted water,” Chico answered, pulling a half-liter plastic bottle of water from a cooler with a shrug. “We gave them water.” He held the bottle out to Doheny. “You want some?”

Doheny smirked.

“No, thanks. Were they Americans?” asked the ensign.

Another shrug from Chico.

“We didn’t ask.”

“Where were they from?”

“We didn’t ask that, either.”

“Smarter not to,” said the ensign with a smile. He checked all their IDs; one sailor went below deck to have a quick look around and came back, shaking his head.

Doheny went over to Pozo.

“How’s the fishing?”

“So-so,” said Pozo.

One of the crew threw up the lid on the well where the catch was kept and pulled out a bonito (maybe a 5-pounder) and a 3-pound chub mackerel. Doheny went over and had a look.

“Sorry to interrupt your day, guys,” Ensign Doheny said quickly as he took his escort and went back into the ship’s boat.

“No problem,” said Chico.

“Feliz Navidad,” said the ensign as he shoved off.

“Same to you,” Pozo waved.

* * *

From the bridge of Fearless, Lieutenant Rafael St. Clair watched Ensign Doheny climb back into the boat to return to the cutter.

“A waste of time,” he said to Captain Skye Billings in a conversational tone.

“Yeah,” said Billings, and Rafael was immediately sorry he’d bothered to say anything at all.

Billings turned away to speak to Chief Petty Officer Renzo and Rafael thought about the torture Billings had put him through ever since Antonia’s older sister Raven had caught them kissing in front of Il Mulino on First Street in South Beach. If it wasn’t complicated enough that he was sleeping with Antonia, while his brother Jack was sleeping with Babe, it was downright nasty that Skye was sleeping with Raven, who had taken up with Skye only after she’d jealously forced Jack out of her life a couple of years earlier. It seemed like the St. Clair and Fuentes families were destined to live in turmoil with each other, whoever was sleeping with whom.

It had been bad enough when he was posted to Fearless because Skye had it out for him as Jack’s younger brother. But at least Skye hadn’t gotten involved with Raven at that point. Now the whole damn thing was a mess. There was nothing he could do aboard Fearless to please Captain Skye Billings. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“What course should I set, sir?” he finally asked Skye.

“I’ve already told the helmsman, Lieutenant,” Skye said as tersely as he could. “Check with him if you’re curious where we’re headed.” Skye spoke just loud enough for the other crew on the bridge to hear him. The whole crew knew the situation, and Rafael knew they were all on his side, but still that didn’t make it any easier.

Rafael decided that little jab didn’t require a response. He found himself hoping his dad actually did become the next President just so there would be some counterbalance to what he was sure were consistently negative write-ups Skye put into his file every day.

He’d thought about requesting a transfer out of Fearless, but since his dad had been caught up in the Presidential campaign, he thought the best thing for him to do was lie low and not do anything that might draw attention to himself. The media would have been all over him. His dad was the sitting governor of Florida and that was already too much visibility for Rafael’s comfort level. With his dad as a Presidential contender, every move anybody in the family made was scrutinized under a microscope.

When his dad had first got the nomination, a Secret Service detail appeared at the gangway of the ship when they were docked at the Coast Guard Station adjacent to South Beach. They were there to assess the security situation surrounding Rafael.

“It’s something we do to all the candidates’ immediate family,” the agent had explained to a livid Captain Billings.

“I think my crew will be able to protect Lieutenant St. Clair from any great bodily harm,” he’d told the agent, looking daggers at Rafael at the same time. “Don’t you think, Lieutenant?”

“Oh, yes, sir—of course, sir.”

As soon as the new President was named, Rafael knew the very first thing he was going to do was get a fucking transfer out of Fearless and put an end to what