“Boston Mutual has accepted an offer of one point five million to settle the matter and release you from any civil or criminal liability.”

“Oh, Stone,” she gushed. “I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to hear that.”

“Now listen,” he said. “It’s three-thirty. I want you to call or fax your bank right this minute and instruct them to wire-transfer the funds to my firm’s trust account in New York. It’s too late for them to do it today, but instruct them to wire the funds immediately upon opening on Monday morning. That way, I can have the funds wired to Boston the same day, and this transaction will be complete.”

“Then I’m a free woman?”

“I’ve no doubt that you’re a very expensive woman, but you’ll be free when that money hits their bank account. I have a copy of the release being faxed to me, and I’ll give it to you tomorrow night, when I pick you up. And I want you to fax a copy of the instructions to your bank to me aboard the yacht.” He gave her the fax number. “Now get moving.”

“Okay!”

Half an hour later, he had both faxes in hand. He took a long swig of his drink and reflected on a good day’s work. There was some small doubt tickling the back of his brain, but before he could summon it up, the rum flushed it away.

Chapter 9

9

STONE WAS TAKING A NAP IN HIS CABIN WHEN THERE WAS a knock on his door.

“Come in,” he called out.

The door opened and Callie Hodges stuck her head in. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Stone sat up on his elbows. “It’s all right. How are you?”

“I’m good. You free for dinner?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll cook for you, then.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“Find the galley when you’re awake,” she said. “I’ll be the one in the apron.”

“Be there shortly,” he said. “I’d like to grab a shower.”

“Half an hour is fine,” she said, then closed the door.

Stone went into the bathroom, a little groggy, and inspected his face. The shave was okay. He stripped and got into the shower, and by the time he emerged, he was awake again. He dried his hair, slipped into a polo shirt and chinos and made his way forward. He found the galley a deck below the bridge, off the dining room. Callie was, indeed, wearing an apron, and, it appeared, nothing else.

“Hi,” she said. “Make us a drink?” She pointed to the butler’s pantry, and when she turned back to the stove he was a little disappointed to see that she was wearing a strapless top and shorts under her apron.

“What would you like?” Stone asked.

“You were drinking vodka gimlets last night, weren’t you?”

“That’s right. Would you like to try one?”

“Love to.”