didn’t hear the question at first. He was thinking about the way Juli’s hair ruffled in the breeze, the sleepy warmth in those big blue eyes, the way her fingers had felt stroking his stomach last night, the taste of her skin as he’d—
“Alex?”
His attention snapped back to Phyllis. “What?”
“Why did you say that our prisoner is your wife?”
“Oh. I met her at a bar last night. There was this stupid game, and we pretended we were married for a few minutes.”
Jake grinned and punched Alex in the shoulder. “Only a few minutes, huh? Well, as a man gets older, sometimes it gets a little tougher to—”
“No, really,” Alex protested, not sure how the conversation had gone so quickly from the demise of their mission to the downfall of his sexual stamina. “Nothing happened. I mean, not exactly. It was just a game in a bar. I don’t even know her last name.”
Cody looked confused. “Bradshaw, right? If she took your last name when you got married, I mean.”
Alex sighed.
“Seriously, find out her last name,” Jake said. “We can do a search online, figure out who the hell she really is. Probably a spy with the CIA or something.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “And you’re going to find this in the online public database of CIA spies?”
“I think she looks familiar,” Phyllis said. “Like maybe I’ve seen her on TV before.”
“You think she’s a celebrity?” Cody asked hopefully.
“Not a celebrity,” Jake muttered. “But Phyllis is right—there’s something familiar about her.”
“Do you think she’s a cop?” Phyllis asked.
Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “What if Portelli sent her? Like maybe she’s a spy for him?”
“What if we put her in the life raft with some food and water and then pushed her overboard?” Phyllis argued. “It wouldn’t be murder, and she wouldn’t screw up the pirate heist.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Jake argued. “We might need the life raft for ourselves later.”
Cody scratched his chin. “If she’s our prisoner, could we make her do the dishes and scrub the poop deck and stuff?”
“Do we have a poop deck?” Phyllis asked.
Alex closed his eyes, feeling his head begin to throb. He raised his hands to get their attention, feeling like a middle school gym teacher.
“No, we do not have a poop deck,” he said slowly. “No, we are not throwing this woman overboard, nor are we setting her adrift in the life raft. And we’re not turning around, either. We’ll miss our opportunity to meet up with Portelli’s ship if we deviate from our game plan.”
Phyllis threw her hands up in exasperation. “Well what are we going to do then?”
Alex stared out at the ocean, then looked back at the crew. “There’s that little island about 230 miles from here. The one we thought we could use if we had to make an emergency stop? We’ll just off-load her there, put out a distress call, and make sure someone comes to get her.”
Phyllis looked skeptical. “When will we reach the island?”
“Tomorrow afternoon, maybe early evening.”
“So we keep her,” Jake said, eyeing Alex with suspicion.
“Just until tomorrow evening.”
“What do we tell her we’re out here doing?”
“She already thinks we’re cartographers,” Alex said. “Let’s just stick with that.”
Phyllis frowned. “Cartographers? An hour ago, Cody was trying to figure out what NESW spelled on the compass.”
“Cookie,” he insisted.
“And just last week, Jake was reading the map upside down.”
“I was drunk, okay, Phyllis?” Jake retorted. “Pirates enjoy their rum from time to time.”
“Right, so we’re in agreement?” Alex said, hoping for some sign of group unity.
“We’re keeping the wench,” Jake said grudgingly.
Phyllis folded her arms over her chest. “If she thinks she’s getting my room, she can—”
“She can have my room,” Alex said. “Cody and Jake, you guys keep the bunks in the middle room. I’ll sleep on the
“Alex?”
His attention snapped back to Phyllis. “What?”
“Why did you say that our prisoner is your wife?”
“Oh. I met her at a bar last night. There was this stupid game, and we pretended we were married for a few minutes.”
Jake grinned and punched Alex in the shoulder. “Only a few minutes, huh? Well, as a man gets older, sometimes it gets a little tougher to—”
“No, really,” Alex protested, not sure how the conversation had gone so quickly from the demise of their mission to the downfall of his sexual stamina. “Nothing happened. I mean, not exactly. It was just a game in a bar. I don’t even know her last name.”
Cody looked confused. “Bradshaw, right? If she took your last name when you got married, I mean.”
Alex sighed.
“Seriously, find out her last name,” Jake said. “We can do a search online, figure out who the hell she really is. Probably a spy with the CIA or something.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “And you’re going to find this in the online public database of CIA spies?”
“I think she looks familiar,” Phyllis said. “Like maybe I’ve seen her on TV before.”
“You think she’s a celebrity?” Cody asked hopefully.
“Not a celebrity,” Jake muttered. “But Phyllis is right—there’s something familiar about her.”
“Do you think she’s a cop?” Phyllis asked.
Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “What if Portelli sent her? Like maybe she’s a spy for him?”
“What if we put her in the life raft with some food and water and then pushed her overboard?” Phyllis argued. “It wouldn’t be murder, and she wouldn’t screw up the pirate heist.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Jake argued. “We might need the life raft for ourselves later.”
Cody scratched his chin. “If she’s our prisoner, could we make her do the dishes and scrub the poop deck and stuff?”
“Do we have a poop deck?” Phyllis asked.
Alex closed his eyes, feeling his head begin to throb. He raised his hands to get their attention, feeling like a middle school gym teacher.
“No, we do not have a poop deck,” he said slowly. “No, we are not throwing this woman overboard, nor are we setting her adrift in the life raft. And we’re not turning around, either. We’ll miss our opportunity to meet up with Portelli’s ship if we deviate from our game plan.”
Phyllis threw her hands up in exasperation. “Well what are we going to do then?”
Alex stared out at the ocean, then looked back at the crew. “There’s that little island about 230 miles from here. The one we thought we could use if we had to make an emergency stop? We’ll just off-load her there, put out a distress call, and make sure someone comes to get her.”
Phyllis looked skeptical. “When will we reach the island?”
“Tomorrow afternoon, maybe early evening.”
“So we keep her,” Jake said, eyeing Alex with suspicion.
“Just until tomorrow evening.”
“What do we tell her we’re out here doing?”
“She already thinks we’re cartographers,” Alex said. “Let’s just stick with that.”
Phyllis frowned. “Cartographers? An hour ago, Cody was trying to figure out what NESW spelled on the compass.”
“Cookie,” he insisted.
“And just last week, Jake was reading the map upside down.”
“I was drunk, okay, Phyllis?” Jake retorted. “Pirates enjoy their rum from time to time.”
“Right, so we’re in agreement?” Alex said, hoping for some sign of group unity.
“We’re keeping the wench,” Jake said grudgingly.
Phyllis folded her arms over her chest. “If she thinks she’s getting my room, she can—”
“She can have my room,” Alex said. “Cody and Jake, you guys keep the bunks in the middle room. I’ll sleep on the
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