Twenty minutes later, Killian, along with a large muscular thug and a Cuban officer, they were racing across the water toward Florida. A muscle-bound man piloted the craft, while the Cuban officer sat next to him reading. Killian took a seat near the rear of the long sleek speeding boat. He marveled at how fast and smoothly it traveled across the water.
Of course, over the years, he’d been fishing in small boats of all sizes, but none of them were fast. Killian began daydreaming about the time he’d spent on the Isle of Capri. He closed his eyes and visualized when he had rented a small boat and traveled between the Marina Piccola and the Marina Grande by circling the Faraglioni stacks. He remembered looking back from the water at the small town square, which overlooked the port and admiri
