Trawling for Trouble by Shelley Freydont Page A

took off again.
    â€œDo you even know where we’re going?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    Great. Liv was beginning to think this whole trip was a wild goose chase. That, or he was being given instructions like those blackmail drop-offs on television—or being given the run around.
    Chaz seemed to forget she was there, so she closed her eyes. And must have slept, because the next thing she knew the engine cut back. Then cut out completely. The sudden stillness brought her fully to consciousness—and total darkness.
    â€œWhere—”
    Chaz put his fingers to his lips. Liv could barely see him. He’d not only cut the engine but also the lights.
    The rectangle of his cell phone was the only illumination in the darkness. He seemed to be consulting it. Liv slid off her seat and went to look over his shoulder.
    â€œGPS?”
    He nodded. “I suggest you sit down.”
    The tone of his voice had her rushing back to her seat.
    Chaz keyed in something to the cell phone. Watched it, returned it to his pocket.
    She wanted to ask what he was doing. How he knew what to do, and who he was looking for. And how did he know these people? And about a thousand other things that flew right out of her head.
    His phone pinged. He turned to her. “Get below.”
    She did—without question, for once.
    They were close to land; she could see the trees and bushes that came almost to the shoreline. The boat seemed to be drifting toward shallow water, but Chaz just stood looking out into the night.
    Then Liv heard it, the soft sound of an engine immediately cut; then she saw a shadow emerge out of the night, coming stealthily toward them . . . and she bet they were no longer in the state of New York.
    A boat appeared out of the mists. At first Liv was afraid it was going to hit them, but Chaz suddenly took the mooring line and tossed overboard. It was caught by someone on the other boat, and he pulled the line taut until the boat stopped beside the
Truth
.
    Liv took a breath, steadying herself as the poem “A Smuggler’s Song” ran through her mind.
    Â 
    â€œThem that asks no questions isn’t told a lie.
    Watch the wall, my darling, as the Gentlemen go by!”
    Â 
    Liv would be perfectly willing to throw her face against a wall if there were one—which there wasn’t—because three of the scruffiest-looking hoods she’d ever seen boarded the
Truth
and stood in a semicircle around Chaz.
    One of them smiled. “That your woman?”
    Liv opened her mouth, shut it.
    â€œThese days.”
    â€œYou always did have good taste in women.” The hood chuckled.
    Okay, now Liv was getting creeped out. This wasn’t a Disney movie and these were no “Gentlemen.” And really, since when did Chaz have good taste in women? Besides her, of course. Not that he ever acted on any feelings he might have.
    â€œCome on out here, sugar.”
    Liv stepped on deck.
    The man moved closer, grinned at her. He wasn’t bad-looking, if you looked past the dirt, the beard, and the attitude.
    â€œThey call me Mouse,” he said, moving even closer. “As in ‘quiet as a’ . . . In every other respect I’m a colossus. If you ever wanna get rid of Chaz here, he has my number.”
    Liv stared straight ahead, trying not to offend him while trying to make herself invisible.
    Mouse swaggered back to Chaz. They were acting like old friends. But for all of Chaz’s questionable qualities, he didn’t strike Liv as someone who hung with criminals.
    â€œSo whatcha doing over here, Chaz? Not running?”
    â€œNo, looking for information about a stiff.”
    â€œWhatcha got for us?”
    â€œBesides goodwill?”
    Mouse reared back in a silent laugh.
    Chaz reached into his Windbreaker.
    The two companions stood ready to grab him, but he merely pulled out a wad of bills.
    Mouse took the bills, nodded, and pocketed them.
    â€œNone around