Page 7 of Stone Coast (Tyson Wild Thriller)
TYSON
“ Y ou look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jack said after I ended the call.
“I think I just talked to one,” I replied.
“Who was that?”
I fumbled for a simple way to sum up who she was and what she meant to me. “Just somebody I used to know,” I said, downplaying it.
Jack knew better. “Oh, there’s more to the story than that.”
He stood behind the bar on the aft deck of the superyacht and poured a glass of whiskey. His long bottle-blond hair hung past his shoulders. Wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt, a t-shirt, and cargo shorts, Jack had perfected the casual rockstar, beach-bum vibe.
“We ran an op back in the day,” I said.
“And?”
“Things got complicated. ”
“Don’t they always.”
I was still in a daze. It didn’t seem real. I had to see for myself that Savannah was still alive.
“You’re really going to drive up there now?”
I nodded. “She sounds like she’s in trouble.”
“Could be an act.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’re going to miss a helluva party.”
The boat was about to be filled with a bevy of gorgeous women. Jack’s band had a magnetic quality.
“You’ll manage without me,” I said.
“Just make sure you get back to Coconut Key before we leave.”
“We’re 10 days out. I’m just going up and back. I want to make sure she’s okay.”
He gave me a skeptical look. “You haven’t heard from her in how long?”
“A long time.”
“Sounds like she’s a little more than someone you used to know.”
“Maybe a little.”
A hint of concern flickered in Jack’s eyes. “I know that look.”
“What look?” I said innocently.
“Stay out of trouble. ”
I looked at him like he was crazy. “When do I ever get in trouble?”
He couldn’t keep a straight face. “Just get back in time for Europe. Someone’s gotta keep the show rolling.”
“I’ll be back in time. Don’t worry.”
Jack knew an excursion with a beautiful woman in trouble could often take a detour.
I left the sky deck, hustled to my stateroom, grabbed my helmet and gloves, then jogged down the dock to the parking lot.
I straddled my bike, pulled on my helmet, and cranked up the crotch rocket.
The engine howled, and I revved the throttle a few times.
The exhaust echoed across the marina. I eased out the clutch and rolled out of the lot.
I cruised through town and took the highway north.
With an open road, I hugged the tank and let her rip.
Wind whistled through my helmet as I hit the triple digits.
Adrenaline surged. The sportbike ripped up the pavement, turning the dotted white lines into a blur.
At this pace, I’d be in Pineapple Bay in no time.
I couldn’t get there fast enough.