“What sort of boat is this?” she asked.
“It’s an M46 Interceptor, one of the fastest in the world. Hold on.”
The outer door slid aside. A cold swirling wind swept in. The boat roared and powered out into a dusky evening of white-topped waves. They bounced and flew through a wild sea. She clung on, begging for the ride to end before she was sick. Slowly shoreline lights grew brighter ahead of them in the gathering darkness. She could make out the red and green lamps of a harbor entrance.
“Is that where we’re going?” she yelled.
“Harbors are for tourists. We’re going to hit the beach.”
“I’m not a marine.”
“Everyone’s got to start somewhere. Can you swim?”
“No.”
“That’s a lie.”
He was right. The boat cut the motor and nudged up to a long sandy beach. An open Jeep Cherokee was waiting
