Metro Girl (Alex Barnaby 1)

I grabbed the water and granola bars and ran to the RIB. And in the dark, I crashed into the canister.

“What the heck is this?” I said. “They didn’t take the canister!”

Hooker came up behind me. “Shit, we were rushing to get the gold on board and forgot about this thing back here on the dive platform.”

“What should we do with it?”

“We’re going to have to take it with us. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t want to chance leaving it here.”

We struggled to get the canister into the RIB, Hooker climbed in with a backpack, and we set off for the island interior. We were about fifty feet upstream when we saw the flash of a penlight on the double H deck.

“Fuck,” Hooker said.

That pretty much summed up my feelings, too.

Hooker pulled the outboard up and went the rest of the way using oars. Not especially easy but quieter and safer, and we were able to get farther upstream, poling most of the way. It was so dark under the canopy I couldn’t see the hand in front of my face. When we ran aground we got out and dragged the boat above the waterline. Then we got back into the boat and searched for a comfortable position to spend the night.

I was stumbling around, and I felt Hooker’s hand grab hold of my leg.

“You’re like a hound dog looking for the perfect spot,” Hooker said. “Just sit down.”

“I can’t see anything. I don’t know what I’m sitting on.”

“You have no spirit of adventure,” Hooker said. “Take a chance.” He yanked me down and pulled me back against him. “Now you’re sitting on me. Relax.”

“You’ve got your hand on my breast.”

“Oh. Sorry. It’s dark. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know you had your hand on my breast?”

“Okay, so I knew. Did you like it?”

“Good grief.”

“I was hoping you liked it.”

I was sitting between his legs with his arms around me and his chin against my temple.

“I liked it,” he said. And he kissed me just in front of my ear.

I liked it too. And I liked the kiss. And I couldn’t believe I was sitting between Hooker’s legs, feeling randy when there were scuba guys combing the Happy Hooker, looking for the gold, probably hoping they’d get to kill someone.

“This isn’t a good time,” I told him.

“I know. No condoms. I don’t suppose you picked up any of Bill’s?”

“I was talking about the frogmen and the fact that they might want to kill us.”

“I’d forgotten about the frogmen. Hell, if we’re going to die, we don’t have to worry about condoms.”

“What time is it?”

“Three-thirty.”

I closed my eyes, and I was instantly asleep. When I woke up the sun was shining through tiny pinpoints in the tree cover, and Hooker’s hand was back on my breast.

“I can’t believe this,” I said. “You’ve got your hand back on my breast.”