Under a Smuggler's Sky: A Chase Hawkins Novel by C.J. Schnier

Author:C.J. Schnier [Schnier, C.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Nautical Adventure
Published: 2017-10-31T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“After all that, I need a drink,” I said, finally slipping into a pair of shorts, “Care to join me?”

“You’re damned right I do… Winter,” Kelly said with a smirk.

“I’m just going to pretend I didn’t hear you call me that, Ann,” I said moving past her.

She just smiled at me, ignoring my feeble comeback.

Stepping out of the heat and sunlight back into the shelter of the salon I was again taken aback by the disheveled appearance and the amount of damage wrought by the DEA. Every picture had been ripped from the walls and strewn about the room. Most of the frames were busted, the images themselves torn from the once protective covers. Even the glass panes were shattered. The couch cushions were overturned and ripped open, the chair cushions were missing altogether. One had somehow ended up on the galley counter, the rest would hopefully turn up once we began cleaning. The beautiful custom coffee table was still standing, but a large gash across the middle marred the varnished top. One of its legs was loose, making the whole table teeter ominously as the boat rocked on its mooring. Nothing had been left undisturbed.

“Thorough bunch, weren't they?” Kelly asked, stooping to inspect one of the broken picture frames.

“Those pigs better not have taken the booze,” I grumbled, being careful to avoid the piles of broken glass and refuse left by the raid.

Though no longer in any sense of order, the raid team had mercifully left the contents of the liquor locker intact. Drawing out an unopened bottle of Makers Mark, I cracked the seal on its iconic red wax top and collapsed onto the cushionless couch.

“What, no Ron Zacapa today?” Kelly asked.

“Nope,” I said, popping the cork top free and taking a swig right from the bottle.

The whiskey burned its way down my throat like a trail of fire, leaving behind a warm sensation that spread comfortingly to my stomach once the initial burn subsided. “The bitter taste of bourbon fits my mood better I think.”

“And no glass either?” came Kelly’s surprised voice.

“The bastards broke ‘em,” I said taking another swig.

“How uncivilized of them,” she joked, lowering herself onto the couch beside me.

Her humor was needed. I was typically a self-assured, confident, smart-ass when the pressure was on, but once the endorphins started to disperse, I could become morose and withdrawn. Today had been one hell of an intense rollercoaster ride, and it was not quite over yet.

Lifting the bottle for another sip, I paused and lowered my arm again. I could feel myself slipping down the rabbit hole of self-doubt. Staring straight ahead, yet unseeing, I was withdrawing into my own mind.

Had I done the right thing accepting that deal? Acosta was a son-of-a-bitch who may just as likely decide to kill me as to let me go. Not only was I turning against an extraordinarily violent and dangerous man, but I had forced his daughter to do the same. His daughter that I was developing feelings for.

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