Free King's Crusade (Seventeen) by AD Starrling Page A

the Harvard professor had fallen asleep seconds after she turned off the lights, she had lain awake for a good few hours, conscious of his every breath and the movements of his body on the bed next to hers. She had never been so aware of another being’s presence, be they immortal or human, in her entire life. It maddened her.
    The Italian man nodded lazily, unfazed by her demeanor. ‘The money has been wired to my account?’
    ‘It’s being done as we speak,’ said Alexa.
    ‘Great. I’ll pick up the boat in two days.’ He handed her a set of keys, stepped onto the pier, and untied the vessel.
    She caught the dock lines he threw at her and stored them on the deck.
    Jackson stuck his head through the open hatch to the cabin. ‘Hey, there’s a galley kitchen and all sorts of stuff down here.’
    Alexa turned on the engines and guided the powerboat out of the marina. The Italian waved from the pier before walking off. Jackson eventually returned from his explorations and took the bolster seat next to her.
    ‘By the way, did I happen to mention that I get sea sick?’ he said with a grimace.
    She glanced at him. ‘You were fine on the plane.’
    ‘Yeah, well, planes and trains are okay. Boats are a problem.’
    She waited until they were out at sea before pushing the twin throttles. The boat leapt forward and gathered speed.
    ‘How fast does this thing go, anyway?’ Jackson watched the choppy waters at the side with a queasy expression as the powerboat bounced over the wash of a fishing vessel.
    ‘It can do seventy knots.’
    ‘That’s almost eighty miles an hour,’ he said after a second. She looked at him impassively. ‘Oh boy,’ he murmured.
    They passed several islands on their way up the Red Sea and entered the mouth of the Gulf of Suez at the Strait of Jubal less than an hour later. The mountains of the Eastern Desert appeared on their left and tapered off toward the Nile Delta to the north. In the east, bridging the African and Asian continents, rose the Sinai Peninsula; its highest peak, Mount Sinai, was soon visible through a haze of yellow desert dust.
    The wind picked up and the waves doubled in size. Jackson grew pale and threw up over the side twice. Alexa ignored him and held the wheel firmly in her grip. Fishing vessels, oil platforms, and reefs dotted the waters around them as they headed toward the southern end of the Suez Canal and Port Tawfik.
    The Hunton’s owner had already filed the paperwork for his transit through the waterway. A hefty, undeclared fee to personal contacts on either side of the canal also ensured that the powerboat would make the normal twelve-hour trip in less than half a day.
    After notifying port control of their approach on the Hunton’s radio, Alexa slowed the vessel and joined the northbound shipping convoy.
    The transit up the waterway was smoother than their passage through the Gulf of Suez, even with the powerboat doing three times the canal’s recommended top speed, a fact that was blatantly overlooked by the Egyptian soldiers posted at regular intervals along the banks. The fields lining the west of the canal were a vivid green under the harsh winter sun. On the eastern side, the yellow dunes of the Sinai Peninsula occasionally disappeared behind episodic sandstorms.
    They went through the Great Bitter Lake before Ismailia, passed under the Suez Canal Bridge at El Qantara, and reached Port Said shortly after midday. Alexa guided the boat into the marina on the eastern bank of the canal and docked it in the empty berth assigned to the Hunton’s owner.
    A sigh left Jackson’s lips when he stepped onto the jetty. ‘Man, I’m glad that’s over,’ he muttered under his breath.
    She finished securing the powerboat and took her bag off him wordlessly. They turned and headed down the road to the ferry terminal, where they caught the next service to Port Said.
    As she leaned against the port bulwark of the ship and examined the looming western bank of the