Toad in the Hole by Paisley Ray

Author:Paisley Ray [Ray, Paisley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: The Rachael O'Brien Chronicles
Amazon: B00HFGMS20
Goodreads: 20262055
Published: 2013-12-18T16:00:00+00:00

NOTE TO SELF

The brooch is a goner and it’s my fault.

CHAPTER 19

Unexpected Cargo

Tucked against Travis’s bare chest, I ignored the blunt object that thumped my shoulder. A seasoned boater, I was now accustomed to rocking and the noises that pinged and creaked. Even from the docks, London street traffic bustled late into the night, and I’d lain awake next to a slumbering Travis while reeling through the day’s events in my head. At this point, I actually had more questions than answers, and it was near dawn when a frustrated exhaustion eventually lulled me to sleep.

A window in the cabin had been left open and above the quilt, the temperature hovered low enough to keep a slab of meat chilled. Under the covers our body heat had calibrated at that perfect not-too-hot, not-too-cold temperature. It was as though I was sleeping on clouds, and I didn’t dare move even an eyelid.

“Lass, you decent under there?”

Sleep deprivation and funky food consumption had me delirious. That had to be it. It was the tinned Heinz baked beans and bangers we’d cooked on the makeshift stove last night. Brown food after ten p.m. can’t be digestively healthy. That and the half pack of cigarettes I managed to puff through on deck.

“We had visitors, but don’t worry, I unmoored us,” the voice said.

Wrenching an eye open, I caught a close up of Sonny’s cane. He held it backward, and kept tapping me with the curved bit, which helped my mind rewind. The throb in my bad shoulder prodded an image to appear of Travis and I hauling a scotch-soaked Sonny on and off the underground. Not knowing what to do with him, we’d brought him back to Her Grace and plunked his ass onto the cushioned galley bench for the night.

“I’ve been steering Her Grace, but it’s not working.”

My tee shirt had bunched against my ribs and as Travis’s warm hand slid forward—off my hip toward my stomach,—I had to concentrate to focus.

“Sonny, quit talking gibberish. It’s still dark outside.”

“Just. It’s nearly six.”

“A.M?” I whined.

“What visitors?” Travis asked.

“Not sure. They pulled up in a big black paddy wagon. My guess is police. I didn’t like the look of them.”

GG hadn’t been keen to meet the authorities either, but maybe they could stop Ahmed and his goons. “Where are they now?” I asked.

A wry smile cracked the corners of Sonny’s thin lips. I had a front row view of his beard stubble, a mix of ginger and gray. His teeth, the color of a meadow of golden rod at summer’s end, zigzagged across his gums.

“They’re gone now. We slipped away.”

“We’re on a boat. How did we slip away?”

“I told you. I unmoored us.”

Travis stirred and let a cold draft creep under the covers. “I don’t hear the motor. Who’s captaining?”

A nearby horn blared. Throwing the covers off, Travis bolted off the foot of the bed. Shirtless, in his new Egyptian cotton boxers he lunged to the cockpit. “We’re adrift on the Thames,” he shouted.

Serenity under

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