Maria drew back from him.
He suddenly realized that somewhere, very close by, a phone was ringing.
“Don’t look at me,” Frank said. He hadn’t even brought his agency cell on this trip.
But Maria wasn’t looking at him at all. She was reaching into her pocket and pulling out her own cell. She studied the caller ID, and frowned.
“Oh, shoot. It’s the damn real estate lady.”
Castle held out his hand.
“Here. I need to talk to her.”
Maria nodded, and handed him the phone.
He spun around and threw it into the ocean.
“Frank!”
“I’ll buy you a new one when we get to London. One that vibrates.”
Her frown turned into a smile then as Frank Castle drew her into his arms, and then down onto the sand.
Dawn found them there, lying still and sated, asleep in each other’s embrace.
TWELVE
“I would fuckin’ kill,” John Saint said, out of nowhere, “for a good cup of coffee.”
Quentin Glass turned to the young man, and smiled what he hoped was an understanding smile.
“Not likely to happen, John. Not in the next few hours, at least. But we’ll get your blood flowing soon enough, not to worry.”
“It’s not my blood I’m worried about,” Saint said. “It’s my headache. I don’t drink enough coffee, I get a fucking caffeine headache. Like right now.”
“You want a Coke, boss?” Spoon turned, concern on his face. “We got some Cokes in the cooler.”
“Yes.” John Saint nodded. “Yes, a Coke would be good.”
“Comin’ right up,” Spoon said, and squeezed past Quentin, heading for the back of the boat.
Jesus Christ. It’s
He expected that getting John sufficiently caffeinated would be about the biggest challenge they would face in the next few hours.
“Hey. Is that it?” Dante, at the wheel of the boat, was pointing off the starboard bow, toward a smudge of black jutting out from the oncoming coastline.
Glass raised his binoculars and squinted through them. The sun was just high enough now that he could make out details—the smudge resolved into a long wooden pier, with a refueling dock at the end of it.
“Yes,” he nodded. “That’s it. That’s De Soto Pier.”
Dante smiled and turned the wheel. They shot forward. A second later, another cigarette boat—identical to theirs, long, low, and wickedly fast—came up alongside them.
There were four men in that ship as well. Eight altogether, to handle the unpleasantness before them. They’d started from the Keys the day before yesterday, stopped in the Dominican Republic to refuel, and now they were here.
The coast came into sharper focus. Ahead of them, and slightly to the right, barely visible behind a stand of palms, Glass made out a series of bungalows. Vacation houses. He saw diving gear outside one, tennis rackets on the ground by another. Bathing suits—men’s, women’s, children’s— hung everywhere.
Glass lowered his binoculars and smiled.
A shame, but vacation time was over.
Frank and Maria made their way quietly back to the bungalows, just in time to run into his aunt Louise—his father’s sister—who was coming out of the single outdoor shower they all shared, a towel wrapped around her, bleary-eyed with exhaustion.
She glared at the two of them.
“I hate you young people that can drink all night long, and still look fresh as daisies.”
Frank smiled. “If it’s any consolation, we didn’t drink all night long.”
“Hmmpphh,” his aunt said, and walked off toward the far group of bungalows.
“I think it’s going to be a late morning,” Frank said, watching her go. “For everyone.”
Maria put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll put on some coffee.”
“Sounds great. I’ll check on Will.”
She headed toward the hut that served as their kitchen. Frank walked to his parents’ bungalow, where he found Will curled up on the daybed in the room that had been set aside as his father’s office.
He watched his son sleep until Maria came in with two mugs of coffee. She handed him one, her hand lingering on his an extra few seconds.
Castle smiled.
“We should have another,” he whispered, his eyes on Will.
“I’m ready,” his wife whispered back.
“Another what?” Will asked, sitting bolt upright in the bed.
“Another beautiful day,” Frank shot back. “Good morning, Will.”
“Morning.” His son smiled. “Morning, Mom.”
Maria leaned forward and rustled his hair.
“All set for the dive?” Frank asked.
“Can’t we have breakfast first? I’m starving.”
“After last night? You’re starving?” Maria asked.
“Yeah. I’m a growing boy.”
“That you are.” Castle smiled. “How about I whip up some pancakes?”
“Sounds great.”
“All right. Just let me go get changed and—”
“Ah.” Will snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot.”
His son reached under the daybed then, and came up with a ball of wrapping paper. He handed it to Frank.
“What’s this?” Castle asked, turning the ball over in his hands.
“It’s a present. For your retirement. Grandpa and I picked it up in town last night.”
“You went to town last night?” Maria asked.
“Sure. We all did, for dessert.” Will frowned. “Grandma said you probably wanted some time alone, so we didn’t look for you. Hope you’re not mad or anything.”
“No.” Maria shook her head. “Not mad.”
Neither was Frank—but he certainly hoped there’d been a designated driver in the group when they’d gone into Boqueron. The roads around here were terrible.
“Come on, Dad,” Will said. “Open it.”
“All right.” Castle sat down on the bed next to his son, and tore at the paper. There was indeed something hidden inside. Fabric. Black fabric.
He unfolded it and held it up.
It was a black T-shirt, with a white skull—a stylized skull and crossbones, actually—stenciled on the front.
Buccaneer Bay, Frank thought, and looked over at his wife. An expression of concern, mixed with puzzlement, crossed her face.
He felt exactly the same way.
“This is . . . interesting,” he said.
“Do you like it?” Will asked.
“I love it.” He hesitated a second. “I’m not sure what it means, though.”
Will smiled. “It means you’re a badass, Dad. Not to be messed with. Even if you are retired. Come on, put it
