Hooked (A Romance on the Edge Novel) (19 page)

“Peter made you a place on deck where you can sit and rest while I investigate.”

“This is my boat, and nothing happens on my boat without me present.” She might be hurting but she was still as determined as ever.

Nikolai laid a hand on her uninjured shoulder. “Sonya, let him do his job.”

She turned to her grandfather. “If you were in my place what would you do?”

“That’s not fair,” Nikolai said with a frown. “I’m a—”

“
Man
?” Sonya supplied for him with a raised brow. “I’m captain. I know you’re worried about me, but I’m fine.”

Nikolai pursed his lips and huffed. “I don’t like it.”

She gave him an understanding smile. “I know. How about directing the boys so that we’re ready to tender when Garrett and I are through?” Nikolai nodded, though Garrett knew it grated against the man’s character, and went to the bow of the boat where Wes and Peter hung out.

“Sonya,” Garrett tried again, “You’ll be in my way.”

“Deal with it.” She threw the same words at him he’d thrown at her, when they were at the Infirmary.

He tightened his jaw and clamped his lips shut before he said something he’d regret. Then he turned and marched his way up the stairs into the pilot house. She, of course, followed.

At the door, he slid on another pair of latex gloves before entering. He ordered her to stay. She surprised him and did. He leaned the broom and dust pan next to the door and took out the camera. He snapped a few pictures of the broken window, close-ups of the remaining shards stuck in the frame, and then the spray pattern of the glass.

“Why aren’t these windows made of tempered glass?” If they had been, she wouldn’t have been cut like she was.

“It wasn’t something I thought to ask the previous owner. After this, though, I’ll replace all of them with tempered glass.”

“Good.” He studied the broken pieces of the windowpane, trying not to focus on the amount of blood mixed in with the mess. Most of the glass centered where she would have sat and scattered over the floor. He checked the bunk, making sure no glass was present. “I want you to sit down.” Losing as much blood as she had, he was surprised she was still on her feet. Most men wouldn’t be, but then most men weren’t as stubborn as this woman. She didn’t argue with him, and took a seat, leaning her head against the wall. Wanda had given her a gray South Naknek, “Fish Capital of the World” sweatshirt to wear since her clothes had been too bloody to save. He wished she’d take one of the pain killers Wanda had given her, but he understood why she didn’t. As soon as he was finished, she’d be tendering fish. It’d be at least an hour or so until she could lie down and rest.

She quietly watched him as he continued to look for a bullet. Frustration ate at him when he didn’t immediately find one. The room wasn’t that big. The opposite window wasn’t broken so the bullet didn’t do a through and through. He clicked on the flashlight he carried on his belt, and shined it into the corners of the floor. Nothing flickered back at him, but then his light caught something peculiar. He snapped a picture, then bent and picked it up.

What was a rock doing aboard a drift boat?

It wasn’t like someone could carry a rock the size of a walnut onboard in the tread of their boots. Sand yes, small pieces of gravel maybe, but not a rock.

“Have you seen this before?” He held the rock for Sonya.

She shook her head. “No.”

“I can’t find a bullet. I think your window was shot out with this.”

“How? There wasn’t a drift boat close enough to throw that small of a rock with enough force to break a window.”

“They could if they used a slingshot.”

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

This whole situation was surreal. Sonya rubbed at her temple as her headache built.

“We’re probably reading more into this than there is,” she said. “If that rock broke my window, it was probably an accident. Someone target practicing while their net soaked.” That was easier to swallow than someone intentionally shooting at
her
.

“That’s one possibility. After the trouble you’ve already experienced, I’m inclined to think the worst. So should you.” Garrett carefully enclosed the rock in a plastic bag and put it in his pocket. He tore off the latex gloves and then took her hands in his, being careful of her cuts. “Sonya, I don’t want anything more to happen to you.”

He wasn’t the only one. She didn’t want anything to happen to her either. His eyes traveled over her face. She’d yet to look in the mirror. Wanda had reassured her that the cuts would heal without leaving scars, except for maybe the one on her cheek. The cut at her hairline was a definite, but her hair would hide it. She wasn’t vain, at least no more than the next woman, but she knew when she had a moment to look in the mirror, she’d give into the tears she’d held at bay all afternoon. The longer this day lasted the harder it was to hold them back.

Something must have shown in her eyes for Garrett’s expression changed from determined lawman to something softer, kinder, and certainly more of an emotional threat. Especially considering her current condition.

“Seeing you hurt today…” He swallowed and slowly blinked, obviously having trouble getting across what he wanted to. That alone, made her want to lean toward him. If he kept this up, she’d beg to be held and comforted, totally destroying the tough-girl image she’d cultivated. “You aren’t just another victim, Sonya. You matter to me.”

Ah, hell. Why did he have to go and say that? A sniff was the first thing to betray her. Damn it, the tears would come next if she didn’t do something fast. “Garrett—”

“Don’t say anything. You’ve had a rough day.” He smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. “When you’re feeling better we can—oh shit, don’t cry.”

“Then quit being so damn nice to me.” She swiped at the tears and winced as she hit the butterfly-stitched cut. Her head pounded and if she didn’t get these tears stopped, she’d be in real trouble.

Garrett grabbed a paper towel off the roll she kept near the small sink, and carefully wiped at the tears that wouldn’t stop. “Everything will be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

She cracked a laugh, though it caused her head to ache further. “You can’t promise that.”

“I’m good at my job, Sonya. I’ll find this asshole.” His steady stare told her he believed every word he said.

“When you do, I want a few minutes alone with him.” She’d take pleasure in getting her hands on the man who thought he could mess with her and hers.

Garrett chuckled. “Until then, let’s get you in bed with some pain pills.”

“Sounds like heaven.” She shut her eyes, just thinking of the bliss checking out would be.

“Who do you want me to call to pilot the boat to tender your fish?”

Crap, she couldn’t totally check out until they’d finished tendering. “Wes, he’s had the most time at the wheel.” Tendering took a bit of finesse, but in her condition she was smart enough to realize that Wes would be the better man for the job.

“All right. I need to leave, but I’ll check in with you later.” He seemed reluctant to go, but he needed to.

Already Sonya knew the gossip mill had to be buzzing with the
Calypso
tied to her boat. Hell, right now anyone could see inside the
Double Dippin’
, and Garrett stood too close to her.

Word had gotten out about her connection to Garrett. She didn’t know how, but she’d felt ostracized from the small community of fishermen fishing with them today.

She had a feeling her troubles were just beginning.

Garrett boarded the
Calypso
, where Judd and Skip waited for him. He quickly filled them in on what he’d found aboard the
Double Dippin’.

“Sonya could be right,” Judd said. “This could be an accident. Some kid having fun with a slingshot.”

“The other boats were too far away. No kid would have enough power to shoot that distance and break a window,” Garrett said. “Besides, with the other troubles the Savonskis have had, I don’t buy that this latest one is a random accident. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“Garrett’s correct,” Skip said. “We need to follow this up. I’ll give a holler over the radio to see where the other boats are that fished around her today. It might take a while to find them now that the fishing period is over.”

“Damn, I was looking forward to some land time,” Judd said, his tone wistful.

“Don’t you mean some Davida time,” Skip said with a knowing look.

“Got that right. If I don’t keep showing up at the cannery every now and then to remind her what a great catch I am, she’s going to go fishing for another man.”

Garrett didn’t bother telling him that he was better off losing a woman who wouldn’t wait for him. If he did, Judd would probably follow it up with some advice of his own regarding Sonya. Judd had picked up the vibes sweltering between him and Sonya this afternoon. Since Garrett was already confused over his feelings for the woman, he didn’t want to invite more opinions. Pushing thoughts of Sonya aside, he focused on the job.

They located the
Mary Jane
first. She was anchored just south of the cannery. The crew was on deck cooking salmon on a Hibachi grill. The sweet, tangy smell caused his stomach to rumble. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten well.

The crew groaned as Judd informed them they were coming aboard. Some days it was tough doing a job when nobody wanted you around.

“We ain’t doing nothin’,” hollered one of the men, dressed in sweats, short boots, and a stained sweatshirt. The man badly needed a shower. The stench overpowered the salmon sizzling on the grill and had the added benefit of silencing Garrett’s stomach.

“Hell, we aren’t even fishing,” added another crewman, similarly dressed and also hygiene-handicapped.

“We’re just here to ask a few questions concerning the
Double Dippin’
,” Garrett said, taking a step back. How did these guys stand their own stink?

“Heard Sonya had some trouble,” Stained Sweatshirt said. “Was she hurt bad?”

“Bad enough,” Garrett replied.

“Pretty girl like that should be home making babies, you know what I mean?” He made an insulting hip thrust that had the two other guys hooting

Garrett clenched his fists. Judd took a step forward, grabbing the guy’s attention. “Any information you can give us would be helpful.”

“Don’t have much to tell ya. We were fishing. Heard the news after it had all gone down.”

“Who informed you?”

Stained Sweatshirt turned to the third crewman aboard, who was keeping an eye on the smoking salmon. “Ringo, where’d you hear the news about the
Double
D
?”

“Davida at the General Store.”

Judd turned to Garrett, and his raised brow seemed to say they should have started their questioning there. They finished their interrogation, getting names, times, and places. Garrett knew in his gut that these guys didn’t know anything. It was a relief to get off their boat and take a deep breath of clean air.

They tracked down the
Intrepid
next with pretty much the same results. Treat, the Captain of the
Miss Julie II,
pointed them in the direction that Garrett had wanted to start with.

Chuck Kendrick.

Treat was the first fisherman to regard them as less than fish slime. He was a fit, observant man, around Garrett’s age with a shrewdness about him Garrett immediately connected with.

“Sonya’s a fine fisherman,” Treat said, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. “I hated hearing that she was hurt today. She going to be okay?”

“Sore for a while,” Garrett answered steering the subject back to Kendrick. Recalling images of Sonya hurting and bleeding impaired his ability to do his job. “Tell me why you think Kendrick had a hand in this?”

“It’s something sneaky the asshole would get off on. Saw Sonya cork off the
Albatross
the first day of fishing. That woman has balls.” He chuckled, the sound full of admiration. “It was only a matter of time before Kendrick got back at her for it.”