Jenny stood amidships on her craft as she drifted closer to Big Bobby, looking him straight in the eyes.
In a low voice, trying to talk to the crew without moving her lips enough for him to see, she asked, “Any suggestions you may have, now’s the time.”
“What do we need, like a miracle?” Tomo asked.
“I’d take a really good distraction right now, anything to get us the hell outta here.”
As they drew closer, Jenny could make out the rest of Big Bobby’s crew; seven other people well-armed with automatic weapons, back up pistols tucked in their waistbands, and other convenient places to holster weapons. She noted how narrow the guidelines were as far as who could serve: They had to trace their families back to Africa the way Bobby did, have their upper bodies built up the way their captain did, and appear to grimace the same way he did. Other than that, Big Bobby’s crew was somewhat eclectic, though she had to wonder if the airs of menace were prerequisites or reactions to serving with him…
“Did I ever tell you,” Big Bobby taunted, “that I imagined us doing it a couple of times?”
“The pleasure must have been all yours,” Jenny said loud enough for him to hear her as their vessels closed on each other.
“Hell, what you think don’t matter to me, girl.”
“Remind me to shake after I decide to never give a flying fu-”
Jenny’s taunt got cut off by the sudden burst of automatic fire that sprayed across the dark surface of Lake Erie.
Big Bobby and his New Haradhere drew their weapons and took positions in a hurry.
Jenny had all of half a second to grasp the situation before she grasped the igniter wires and slammed the tiller to take her hard to port.
She didn’t look back at the wake she caused as she took her crew out of there, but a small piece of her prayed that she splashed Big Bobby right up his inseam.
She kept her head down and chose not to look back, despite the follow-up fire coming from Big Bobby’s boat from what sounded like all directions.
“Georgie, give me casualties!” Jenny screamed as she concentrated on getting the craft on a southern heading, back to Hamburg.
A few desperate seconds went by before Georgie reported, “None. No one got hit by the first barrage, and no one in his new crew can hit worth nothing.”
“Well, that’s worth something at least. Any idea who started shooting like an idiot?”
“I’d love to kiss her if I find out.”
“Knowing you,” said Jenny, “you’d be willing to do a lot more.”
“For the woman who saved my life, hell yeah!”
All content Copyright © 2011 James Ryan