She didn’t have the answer for that, and shrugged. “If it makes any difference, during our escape from the cruise ship, we got really good at not making any sounds. He paid close attention during my pantomime classes, and that’s how we initially made our connection. We kind of figured out how to communicate silently.” She demonstrated with the expressive facial movements and gestures that she’d used to tell Raul to stay hidden.
“Stay out of sight or I’ll kick your ass,” Tristan interpreted.
“More or less.” She laughed softly. “I’m sorry we invaded your boat. It must feel strange to you, not knowing what was happening on your own turf.”
“Yeah,” he said, the brief word holding layers of emotion. “I’m going to have to have a chat with the old Desperado.”
“Don’t come down too hard on her. I officially love this boat now.”
She couldn’t quite interpret the look he gave her, but for some reason, she blushed.
Sixteen
Tristan dropped anchor in the dark, still waters of Del Rey Lagoon. On all sides of the lagoon, tall cottonwoods and ancient spruce trees leaned over the shoreline, as if trying to look at their reflections. Some of them had fallen during the last windstorm, he saw. He drifted as close as he dared to the edge, mindful of the tide, and hurried onto the bow to release the anchor cable.
Glancing up at the overhanging trees, he caught the barest glimpse of starlit sky beyond the canopy. That forest would keep them safe even from an overflight, he hoped.
The downside of this spot was that if anyone found them, they could get trapped here. But he had a plan for that too. He knew this lagoon like his own backyard. Better, because he spent so little time in his backyard.
And maybe, if they made things challenging enough for Seb Antonov, he’d simply give up and leave them all alone.
After he’d dropped the anchor, he joined Lulu and Raul in the galley. She’d already made some tea and peeled potatoes to fry up. She’d also repurposed some of Tristan’s clothes for Raul. He wore an Olde Salt Saloon hoodie that hung almost to his knees, and a pair of fleece long underwear with a piece of rope as a belt.
“Thanks for the clothes, Capitán.”
Tristan sighed and gave up on training yet another young person to not call him captain. “Glad you found something. We don’t usually have kids onboard. Well, Ruby, but she’s a little younger. Ten, I think. It’s her dog Fidget that you met the other night.”
Raul brightened. “I like that dog. I asked him not to bark at me and he didn’t. Can we play with him again?”
“Sure, I’ll arrange a playdate after we stop running from the dangerous kidnapper,” Tristan said dryly.
Lulu shot him a scolding glance and dumped the potatoes in the frying pan. “There might be an opportunity to play with Fidget again, Raul. Maybe Ruby too.”
“I thought you were dead set on getting out of Lost Harbor,” he murmured to her as he pulled a salmon from a cooler filled with ice. He whipped out another pan and tossed some oil in it.
He rinsed off the filet, which he’d caught in Ninlik Cove only a couple of days ago; it seemed like another lifetime. A simpler one, in which all he had to worry about was getting a bite on the end of his line. Now he’d landed in the middle of a freaking international incident.
“That was before you discovered Raul. Things are different now,” Lulu hissed.
“I didn’t exactly discover him. He just got tired of hiding.” The fish sizzled in the olive oil in the pan.
“He’s just a kid, after all. We can’t forget that. He’s had such a rough time. Let him play with Fidget if he wants.”
Jesus. They sounded like parents arguing over their own child. Tristan shook himself back to common sense. “Fine. He can play with Fidget when we get back to the harbor. Lord, Lulu. Are you taking this seriously?”
“What do you mean?” She turned those round blue eyes at him and for a moment he was back in the wheelhouse, kissing her as if that was the most important thing in this messed-up situation.
She’d gotten under his skin. He wanted her in all kinds of ways. And that bothered him.
“Do you take anything seriously? You’re always making jokes, like it’s all a game.”
Something flashed behind her eyes, something deep and intimate. And off-limits. “You don’t know me, Tristan. You only met me two days ago.”
“It’s been an intense couple of days, but you’re right. I don’t know you. But is it wrong, what I said?”
“That I treat everything like a game?” She cocked her head, pursed her lips, then edged closer to him. “Only the fun things.”
With that, she pinched him on the rear. Then danced away, out of reach for any chance of revenge. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Raul was completely immersed in a PS2 one of his deckhands had left behind.
Saucy freaking wench.
Not that he minded her hand on his ass. He planned to return the gesture as soon as possible.
Then Lulu sobered and propped one hip against the countertop. “Here’s what I take seriously. I learned it while taking care of my mum. You have to find those moments of joy or you’ll get crushed. I’m trying to keep Raul from getting crushed.”
Now that…yes, he saw the wisdom of that. His respect for her inched up another notch.
“As for his safety, I’ve decided to put my trust in you and your Lost Harbor brigade.”
“Good. I’m glad you came to the logical conclusion.”
“You think I just do things on a whim and not because they’re logical?” She pointed her spatula at him. “Admit it. You think I’m nothing but a ditzy dancer.”
“I think…” He paused to reflect back on everything he’d learned about Lulu in the past couple of days. “I think you’re pretty phenomenal.”
Her mouth fell open, her eyes going wide with astonishment. Gracing her with a smug smile—see, he could catch her by surprise too—he brought the frying pan to the table and dished out the salmon onto three plastic plates.
Now that he’d left Lulu speechless, they both sat and watched Raul devour every bit of his fish. Hadn’t Lulu been feeding him?
He cast her a questioning look and she shrugged. “It was hard to scavenge food without you noticing.”
Damn. It irked him that she’d been afraid to tell him about Raul. Did he really come across as someone she couldn’t trust? Then again, maybe she was right. His crew had trusted him and he’d let them down. Then there was Julie. The people who trusted him ended up getting hurt. I can’t promise anything to anybody.
Shoving aside those dismal thoughts, he focused on Raul. As he devoured his meal, Tristan managed to sneak in a question or two between bites. What town did he live in? What was his mother’s name? His grandparents? Exactly how had he met Mr. Bad Guy?
By tacit agreement, they stuck to English instead of Spanish. His Spanish wasn’t as good as it should be, anyway, since their parents had mostly spoken English at home.
Raul barely had an accent and his English was impressive. His grandparents must have made sure he had a good English tutor, probably a retired professor or some such. He spoke with an almost formal cadence and mostly perfect grammar.