“Fish on,” Becca called out.
Kip and Ronni let the sheets out, taking wind out of the sails, and the Dios drifted to a stop. Becca steadied her feet and held the rod tip up, relishing fighting the fish.
In the water, mahi-mahi were a saturated, iridescent green-and-yellow color.
Becca brought the fish closer to the boat, and fifteen minutes later, the leader hit the rod tip. Kip used a gaff to haul a good-size bull on board. “This guy will feed all three of us the entire day,” Becca said.
After their meal, Becca sat in the fighting chair on the stern and thought about Ventura. She worried about her home. She turned and looked at her father on the bridge and knew what he was thinking at that moment. She visualized his thoughts like watching a movie. He was thinking about the similar nat
