Gale Force

109

McKenna walked Nakadate off of the Gale Force, back onto the dock, where Court Harrington waited with the rest of the crew, talking quietly and trying not to let on they were watching.

They went silent as McKenna and Nakadate appeared, watched them walk to the ramp at the foot of the pier, watched McKenna wish the man well, and waited as he climbed the ramp to his waiting Cadillac. They watched McKenna watch the SUV drive away, watched her turn around, finally, and walk back to the tug.

“So?” Harrington asked, as he approached. “That guy was the big boss, right, skipper? Are we, like, cool?”

“That was the big boss, all right,” she replied. “It was his briefcase.”

“But you gave it back to him.” This was Ridley. “What happened to turning it in to the cops?”

McKenna studied her crew. They circled around her, waiting. They were good people. Solid, dependable, competent sailors. They were exactly the team she would want if she were to tackle the Pacific Lion again.

“I didn’t give it, Nelson,” she said. “I negotiated a salvage contract. Mr. Nakadate agreed to stop sending men to shoot up our boat if I promised to give him back the contents of that case.”

The crew swapped looks. “That’s it?” Jason Parent said. “Is that the contract?”

“Well, no. There was the matter of our fee.” McKenna tried to keep her poker face. “Mr. Nakadate and I agreed that ten percent was probably fair. He’s already wired us the money.”

“Ten percent,” Stacey Jonas said. “That’s nearly five million dollars.”

“We called it five, even. And I figure we’ll split it like bonus money, between the seven of us. That’s a little over seven hundred thousand per person. Sound fair?”

“Hell,” Ridley said, “sounds fair to me.”

“I’ll take it,” Stacey said. “Those jerks tried to kill me.”

“Fine by us,” Al said. Jason nodded in agreement.

Court Harrington hadn’t said a thing. McKenna caught his eye. “You’re awfully quiet.”

Harrington studied the dock. “I could have got you guys killed,” he said finally. “You don’t have to cut me in. Keep the money.”

McKenna shook her head. Made to argue. Ridley beat her to it. “Nah, that’s bull,” the engineer said. “No one ever claimed salvage was easy. You earned this money, lad, just like the rest of us.”

“You’re crew,” Stacey said. “Like it or lump it. You gambled, we won.”

“And,” McKenna said, “I don’t want you getting a swelled head or anything, but you kind of saved our bacon up there in Alaska. Consider it a performance bonus. Donate it to charity. Chalk it up to brain damage from that fall you took. But you’re taking the money, and you’re never, ever”—she looked at him, hard—“pulling a stunt like this again, understand?”

Harrington met her stare. Those green eyes. Held it a moment. Then finally, he grinned. “Aye-aye, Captain,” he said. “Thanks.”

“Settled.” McKenna clapped her hands. “Now, shall we celebrate?”

“Hell, yes,” Harrington replied. “I could really use a beer.”

McKenna climbed back aboard the Gale Force. Locked up the wheelhouse, made sure the rest of the tug was secure. The crew had already begun making their way up the ramp by the time she’d returned to the dock. All except Court Harrington.

He was waiting for her, watching her with those eyes, his mouth set and serious. McKenna cocked her head at him. “What?”

“I wanted to apologize,” he said. Hitched a thumb up the dock to the rest of the crew. “I mean, I know I already said sorry to them, but I wanted to apologize to you.”

“For the briefcase?” McKenna said. “Yeah, well. You don’t do it again, we won’t have any problems.”

“Not just for the briefcase. For what happened in Dutch. For taking things too far when you were just trying to work.”

McKenna said nothing. Looked away.

“I know I messed this up,” Harrington said. “You won’t let me give back the money. What can I do to make this up to you, McKenna?”

She didn’t look at him. “This crew needs an architect, Court,” she said. “You’re the best guy I know. And I like you, I care about you, and—damn it—sometimes, I still miss you. But this crew needs an architect more than I need a man in my life, understand? I can’t afford to lose you just because we gambled on an old flame.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”

He was looking at her again, earnest, and she could feel something give in her, some kind of grudge. Knew the crew was watching from up on the pier, and figured he knew it, too, figured he just didn’t care.

Figured she probably didn’t care that much, either.

“Give it some time, Harrington,” she said, turning away, turning up the dock toward the rest of the crew. “I’m not saying no yet, I’m just saying stand by.”

“Stand by,” Harrington said, and she could hear the laugh in his voice. “And what should I do while I’m waiting?”

“While you’re waiting?” She turned. “You can start by buying this crew dinner, Whiz. Fending off a pirate attack really works up an appetite.”