Free The Night Charter by Sam Hawken

until the boat was free of the dock, and then she sparked the engine. A tremor ran through the length of the vessel, vibrating the deck beneath Camaro’s feet. The pulsation quickened as she gave the boat some throttle and edged them away.

Chapter Seventeen
    A FTER THEY HAD been on the blue water for four hours, the sun settled low on the horizon and bled into the sea. They were well clear of land in every direction. Camaro had the radar switched on all the way, tracking the movement of ships beyond the skyline. There was no way to tell if they were pleasure boats or commercial craft or vessels of the Coast Guard or DEA or Border Patrol. Only if they angled near enough to be spotted would Camaro be able to distinguish the difference, and once the sunlight was gone even that would be lost.
    Matt and the others passed in and out of the cabin, sometimes lounging in the fighting chair or against the sides of the boat, chatting over the continuous roar of the engine. The Annabel could cruise at forty knots, which was fast enough for what they had to do. Camaro would not push the boat further, and she was not asked to.
    She heard someone climbing up to the flybridge and saw Matt’s head appear. He stood up beside her, looking out at the purpling blackness ahead and breathed deeply. The air smelled of salt. In his hands he held bottles of beer. He pushed one in her direction. “Here,” he said. “Take the edge off.”
    “No, thanks,” Camaro said.
    “You don’t drink?”
    “I’m your designated driver.”
    Matt chuckled at that. He tucked one bottle in his armpit and twisted the cap off the other. The cap went into the sea. He drank. “I only drink when I’m already relaxed,” he told her.
    “So you don’t have any worries, huh?” Camaro asked.
    “Nope. I see this going smooth all the way down the line.”
    Camaro was quiet.
    “You know,” Matt said, “I haven’t had a chance to say so before, but you are a fine-looking woman. You have some Cuban blood?”
    Camaro stared straight ahead. “No,” she said.
    “Huh. I figured you for a little Latina fire, you know? The way you stand up for yourself. I may not look like it, but I appreciate a lady who can hold her own.”
    “That’s nice,” Camaro said.
    “You misunderstand me.”
    “No, I think I understand you just fine,” Camaro said.
    “Alls I’m saying is that once this is over with, I wouldn’t mind getting to know you a little better. I’ll have some spending money, and we can hit the clubs. Do a little dancing. Get a little freaky. You know what I’m saying?”
    Camaro favored him with a glance. He was partially lit by the instruments, the ends of his hair peeking out from beneath his cap. His thin face was turned into a smile, and for the first time she saw that one of the teeth deeper in his mouth was capped with gold. It winked out from beneath his lip like a warning light. She looked away again. “You’ve got a pretty big set of balls,” she said.
    “The biggest. So are we on or what?”
    “Or what,” Camaro said. “I’m not on the market.”
    “Wait, you’re not a lesbo or something, are you?”
    Camaro breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. She did it three times before she answered him. “I don’t have to be gay if I’m not interested,” she said.
    “So what’s the problem?”
    Now she turned to him and let him see her face to face. “I don’t date outside my species,” she said.
    A perplexed expression passed across Matt’s face, and then there was anger. His lip curled, and she glimpsed the gold tooth again. “Hey,” he said. “I’m trying to be sociable here.”
    “Be sociable somewhere else.”
    “I wouldn’t screw you with a borrowed dick!”
    Camaro sighed and turned away. The sun was gone completely, and the moon was on the rise. “You’re not screwing me with anybody’s dick. Now go drink your beers somewhere else and let me concentrate.”
    “Bitch!” Matt spat at her.
    She raised