Chapter 2
1244 Words
Two
The world was taking its sweet time putting itself in order. And to be honest, the pieces Lulu recognized so far made no sense. Why was there a dog licking her face? Why was the ground kind of rocking back and forth? And why was there a strange man scowling at her? Why did he look like a pirate, with a bandana tied around his head?
Oh my God, had the Northern Princess been taken over by pirates?
No, she’d left the Northern Princess. She remembered that much. She’d had to. She wasn’t safe on the ship anymore, and neither was…
More details came rushing back. The kitchen staff had been loading up supplies from a late-arriving semi truck—the perfect opportunity to steal away from the ship.
A gigantic pallet of liquor bottles made a great place to hide. Then a pile of buoys. Dark alleys between weathered shacks. She’d worn all of her black clothing, whether it was weather-appropriate or not. After a long tense trip from one shadowed nook to another, the Northern Princess had receded into the distance, replaced by the smaller boats of the sleepy main harbor. Here there were only a few late-partying wanderers, oblivious to the presence of strangers.
Until that dog had poked his head behind the dumpster.
Same dog that was now enthusiastically licking her face.
She spluttered and turned her face away from its fishy breath. “Can you get your dog off me?”
The pirate looked offended by that request. “He’s not my dog and you’re in no position to be making demands. What are you doing on my boat?”
Oh. Apparently she was the pirate, not him.
She glanced around the deck quickly, but didn’t see anyone else. Was that good or bad? She felt for her backpack; still there. Until she knew what was going on, she needed to be careful about what she said to this stranger.
“Sorry, I didn’t know it was your boat.”
“Whose boat did you think it was?”
She’d had no idea whose boat it was, of course. She was just looking for a good hiding spot. It had been the first boat at the foot of the ramp, and there had been a ladder. Temporary solution. Much more temporary than she’d hoped.
“John’s,” she said. “I thought it was John’s boat. My mistake.”
John was a common name. There were probably at least five Johns who owned boats in this harbor.
“John Smith or John Jones?” the pirate asked wryly.
The dog took a break from licking her face and sat back on its haunches. It lifted one drooping paw and gave a pathetic whimper.
The non-pirate stopped glaring at her and turned his attention to the dog. With a gentleness that shocked her—he was a big guy with quite the frown—he stroked the dog’s coat. “Nobody go anywhere,” he said. “I have to get my med kit.”
He rose to his feet, graceful as a giant cat. Very strong, much muscles, she thought. And also—Brilliant, this’ll give me a chance to figure out what’s going on.
Pausing, he gazed down at her. “How’s your head?”
Her hand flew to the back of her head, where a lump was rising. When the dog had knocked her over, she’d hit her head as she fell. Briefly, she’d seen stars dancing in the dark, and flashes of light exploding at the edges of her vision.
“Seems to still be attached.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t hit the fish hold or the boom.”
She had no idea which pieces of equipment he might be referring to; the boat practically bristled with gear and buoys and cables and rope.
“I have to get that glass out of his paw,” he told her. “And I’ll bring you an ice pack and a Tylenol if you want.”
“You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
Her cheeky comment made one of his eyebrow rise, but didn’t make him smile.
“Stay here,” he commanded. “And keep hold of Fidget. He might try to follow me and I don’t want him tracking blood on my deck.”
She got the feeling he cared more about the dog than his gruff statement suggested. It was his eyes, she realized. The moonlight gave them an opalescent shine. She couldn’t tell what color they were, maybe gray or blue or green, or some combination. But they held light in a way that was, well, kind of beautiful.
In her time performing on cruise ships, she’d learned to read people pretty quickly. This pirate didn’t scare her, no matter how much he scowled.
“Aye, Captain.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, almost as if he knew she meant that sarcastically and didn’t acknowledge him as an authority in her life in any sense. She wasn’t a member of his crew, after all. She was just a trespasser. Could you trespass on a boat? Was the technical term “stowaway”? Or did it have to be moving to make her a stowaway?
“Stay put,” he repeated sternly, then disappeared down some stairs.
Lulu sat up and stared at the dog, who gazed pathetically after the pirate. He made a move to follow, but she grabbed onto the scruff of his neck.
“He’s cute, I’ll give him that, but you should stay here with me. Unless I go. Should I go?”
Silly question. Of course she couldn’t go. She couldn’t go anywhere until she’d determined one very, very important piece of information.
Besides, where would she go? She glanced at the boardwalk and the motley assortment of buildings lining the walkway. None of them were open for business at this hour. And what if someone came looking for her? What if he came? Mr. Bad Guy? She needed to stay out of sight until the Northern Princess had left this little port. She couldn’t even remember its name, that was how shaken she was by everything that had happened.
All things considered, she was probably better off on this fishing boat than anywhere on land. Mr. Bad Guy wouldn’t be able to search inside all these boats. He wouldn’t dare. Boats were private property.
Soft footfalls brought her attention back to the deck of the boat. The pirate carried a white metal case with a red cross on it. He knelt next to her and the dog.
“What’s your name?” she asked him as he opened the kit.
“Tristan. What’s yours?” He drew out a silicone ice pack and cracked it to activate the cold. He handed it to her and she cradled it against her aching head.
Should she even tell him her real name? If someone did come looking for her, maybe a fake name would throw them off. But she was tired and her head hurt and she couldn’t gather her thoughts enough to think of a good name.
“Lulu.”
No last name. For either of them. Maybe that would be enough anonymity to keep her safe.
“What’s your boat’s name? Just so I know where I am.”
“Not sure why it matters, but you’re on the deck of the F/V Desperado.”
“The Desperado?” She gave a short, delighted laugh. Was there ever a more perfectly named hiding place? No one was more “desperado” than her at this particular point in time. “Must be destiny.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
But just then, a sound from the shore caught her attention. Someone was walking down the boardwalk, playing a powerful flashlight among the fishing boats.
She flattened herself on the deck and put her finger to her mouth in a shushing gesture.
Tristan frowned, then lifted his head as a voice rang out across the harbor.
“Hey. You there. Seen anyone out here that doesn’t belong?”
- Writer
