Chapter Seven
Saturday morning, Mustang wondered what the hell he was doing. On one of the very few days of the week he had to sleep in, he was up at the ass-crack of dawn meeting his friends, people he saw every damn day, to spend an entire day in a boat on the ocean, something else he spent quite a bit of his life doing. He’d been looking forward to this fishing trip at first, but now he was having second thoughts.
But Midas seemed super excited about the prospect of catching a huge marlin, and Mustang couldn’t deny that sitting around shooting the shit about things that didn’t involve national security or some evil terrorist was appealing. So he hauled himself out of bed and got ready to meet Aleck when he arrived to pick him up.
Aleck was there right at seven o’clock, and they headed down to the harbor, where they’d meet the guy Aleck knew. The man’s boat was large and comfortable. After the rest of the team showed up, they headed out.
It was a beautiful day, sunny with a nice breeze. The guys laughed, drank a few beers, and generally had a good time.
Pid caught a huge marlin, which had taken all of them to help reel in. Aleck’s friend, the guy who owned the boat, was going to filet it when they got back to shore so each of them could have some. They all agreed to donate the rest of the fish to the man, in thanks for taking them out for the day.
It was still early afternoon when they arrived back at the harbor. Mustang was sitting near the front, enjoying the sun and wind on his face. There were a good number of tourist boats entering and exiting the mooring area. Mustang smiled at the little kids who enthusiastically waved at him from boats as they headed out for an afternoon of whale watching, snorkeling, or parasailing.
Despite his reluctance that morning, he’d needed this. A day to completely relax. To not worry about what was going on in the world…or whether or not his phone rang. Today, he was simply Scott Webber, average Joe, not Mustang the Navy SEAL.
His teammates were shooting the shit behind him, and Mustang wasn’t really paying attention when something onshore caught his eye. A boat was tied up to the dock not far from where they were headed to tie up themselves, and two couples, obviously tourists, had just exited the craft. They were shaking hands and thanking the guides when something about the smallest one made him look twice.
Her dark hair was up in a ponytail, and she had on a long-sleeve white shirt and a pair of black board shorts. It wasn’t until she smiled at the couples that Mustang realized who he was seeing.
Standing up abruptly, he yelled, “Rachel!”
But the woman didn’t turn her head or otherwise act as if she’d heard him.
“Rachel!” Mustang called out again.
“What the fuck, Mustang?” Aleck asked, coming up beside him.
“It’s her!” Mustang said impatiently.
“Who?”
“Rachel! The girl from the Asaka Express.”
“You know that’s pretty unlikely, right?” Pid asked, coming up to the front of the boat to see what the commotion was about.
“It’s not. I’m almost positive it’s her!” Mustang insisted. He turned to stare back at the pilot. “Pull this boat over!” he exclaimed.
“Our berth is just up there,” the pilot said, indicating a spot in front of them with his chin.
“Shit!” Mustang swore, turning back around and craning his neck to keep his eyes on the woman he was almost positive was the one he’d met a couple months ago on that hijacked cargo ship.
“Where is she?” Midas asked, also crowding into the front of the boat.
“There,” Mustang said, pointing to the boat that was behind them now. “On the Fish Tales.”
Midas squinted his eyes and watched as the woman climbed back onboard the smaller fishing boat with two other men. “I don’t know, man,” he said after a moment.
“I’m telling you, it’s her,” Mustang insisted.
“How could she be here?” Jag asked.
“And if it is her, how come she hasn’t called you?” Slate added.
“I told her if she ever needed anything that I was stationed here, and I’d help her,” Mustang explained to his friends. The only person who knew he’d offered his assistance had been Midas. The others knew he’d given her his phone number, but not that he’d given her a direct invitation to come to Honolulu. “And I don’t know why she hasn’t called me,” Mustang admitted.
“Dude, she’s hanging out on a charter fishing boat. I can’t imagine she’d come all this way and take a job like that. Isn’t she a chef?” Aleck asked.
“Yeah,” Mustang said. He craned his neck again as the other boat fell out of view. His heart pounded in his chest. If that was his Rachel, he needed to talk to her, make sure she was all right. Find out why she was here and why she hadn’t contacted him.
“Jeez, I’m usually the impatient one,” Slate joked as Mustang anxiously waited for the boat to get close to the dock.
Usually Mustang would help to get the boat tied down and clean up their trash, but all he wanted to do was get onshore and find out if the woman he’d seen was Rachel. It took several minutes, but finally the pilot had gotten the boat close enough to the dock that Mustang could jump onshore. He took off at a run, knowing his friends would gather his shit.
He could see the boat named the Fish Tales ahead of him, but he panicked for a moment when he saw no movement onboard.
Looking behind him, toward the parking lot, Mustang spotted the woman he’d seen earlier walking with a taller man. He sprinted toward them and couldn’t stop himself from calling out once more.
“Rachel!”
The couple didn’t slow down or look around.
“Fuck,” he muttered. Mustang knew he probably looked like a crazy man, running and yelling like he was, but he was desperate to get to the woman before she disappeared. If it wasn’t Rachel, it was her doppelgänger.
“Rachel!” he tried again.
This time, the man turned around and looked at him, then glanced down at the woman next to him and said something. When she turned around to see who was yelling, and why, she looked shocked as he ran toward them.
“Rachel?” he said in a more normal tone as he got closer.
The woman’s face had paled, and she stared at him with wide eyes…but she still wasn’t saying anything.
He stopped a few feet away and drank her in. He had no idea why she wasn’t saying anything.
“Why is he calling you Rachel?” the man next to her asked.
Mustang ignored him. All in all, she looked good. She had a pair of flip-flops on her feet and the shorts she wore showed off toned legs. The white top clung to her curves, and Mustang couldn’t deny that he liked what he saw. Back on the Asaka Express, he hadn’t been able to get a good gauge of her size, not only because they’d been in the middle of a dangerous op, but also because she’d worn an oversized shirt and baggy cargo pants that hid every inch of her body.
Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail and the tip of her nose was pink, but it was obvious she’d gotten some sun since she’d been in Hawaii, as her skin was a shade darker than he remembered it being out in the Middle East. Her brown eyes were staring at him in disbelief, and he could see various emotions churning in their depths.