Free Origin - Season Two by Nathaniel Dean James Page B

would get in a stolen boat?”
    “Probably not very far,” Francis replied. “Which is why we’re going to commandeer one instead.”
    “We are?”
    “I suggest you get your game face on,” Francis said. “Let’s say I’m a millionaire in the market for a new toy, and you can be my ever-loyal protector.”
    “Would you consider a swap?”
    “I find stereotypes always work best when you’re dealing with the obscenely rich.”
    Tito considered. “You want me to cross my arms and look stupid?”
    “You see,” Francis said. “You do get it.”
    They set off at a leisurely stroll down the breakwater. When they reached the bend Francis pointed at a boat near the end of the second dock. “Blue and white hull.”
    “You’re joking, right?” Titov retorted.
    The boat in question was one of several with people on board, only this one had more than any other, and they appeared to be having considerably more fun.
    “Just follow my lead,” Francis said.
    Francis stopped several times on their way down the dock and made a point of inspecting some of the other yachts. When they reached the one he had singled out, he pointed to it and said, “Now that’s more like it. Look at the lines on her.”
    There were at least a dozen people on board, and it wasn’t long before one of them—a scantily clad blonde with breasts that were too round to be anything but forgeries—saw them. She approached the rail, swooned slightly, then smiled and said, “You looking for Peter?”
    “Would Peter be the owner of this fine boat?” Francis said.
    She leaned forward and put a hand to the side of her mouth as if she had a secret to tell them. For a moment it looked like she might just keep leaning until she went ass over heels into the drink, then she looked up and said, “No. But don’t tell him I told you. He likes people to think it’s his.”
    Her words were slurred, but the accent was definitely British.
    “Do you think we might have a word?” Francis said.
    She seemed to consider this with great deliberation before saying, “I think he’s downstairs with Veronica.” This was followed by a hiccup and the observation that Veronica was a bit of a bitch.
    “Perhaps we can wait for him?” Francis said.
    She pivoted on her heels, almost falling as she did, and pointed to the gangway. “Come aboard. Have a drink. Be merry.”
    “Are you sure?” Francis said.
    “It’s my father’s boat,” she said. “And that useless piece of shit downstairs is my no-good husband.”
    As they walked to the gangway Francis said, “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
    The woman met them at the top of the gangway and held out a hand. “I’m Shauna, by the way. What’s your poison?”
    “Any chance of a gin and tonic?” Francis said.
    Shauna turned and shouted the order to no one in particular, then looked at Titov. “Wow, you’re big.”
    Titov offered her a smile but didn’t say anything.
    Shauna leaned closer to Francis and whispered, “Can he speak?”
    Before Francis could respond she burst out laughing. Another woman came over and pulled her to one side. “I think you’ve had enough, don’t you?” She led Shauna away and returned a moment later. “Sorry about that. My sister’s a bit of a lightweight. Are you friends of Peter’s?”
    “Actually,” Francis said, “We were just admiring your father’s yacht. My name is Mathew Landen. I’m looking to upgrade and was particularly taken with this one. I don’t suppose you know who the builder is?”
    The expression on her face was all the answer he needed.
    “The shipyard,” Francis said.
    “Oh, I see,” she said. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. I’ll tell you what, why don’t I just go and get Peter.”
    Peter turned out to be Peter Cavendish, the second of that name and something of a complete idiot when it came to boats and just about everything else. He appeared on the deck with a very upset Shauna in tow and the two had a lively argument that