Evening had fallen, and the orange blaze of sunset had given way to a soothing violet purple. Festive neon-lined store fronts ran up and down the shoreline, while a string of amber lights marked the end of the fishing pier. More light pulsed against the gathering dusk from a fifty-foot catamaran moored a quarter-mile or so offshore.

Jace Ancona’s multihulled sailboat threw off more than just light. The subwoofer-boosted thump of techno party music echoed across the water. Caleb didn’t mind it, to be honest.

Synthetic drumbeats muffled the soft splash of his oars as he rowed his wooden dinghy towards his target destination. He dropped anchor about twenty yards off the catamaran’s bow. Then he peeled off his tee-shirt and slipped into the water as quietly as he could.

The salt water burned Caleb’s chafed wrists so badly he expected to see the water sizzling around them. His chest and gut ached as he flexed the muscles to swim the distance between the two boats. In the last light of the day, he was just able to make out the name of Jace’s boat, which had been drawn on graffiti style on each of the two catamaran hulls: Sly Dog.

Yeah, you are that, aren’t you Jace?

Caleb climbed out onto the catamaran’s forward deck. The long, narrow interior had a breezeway design, meaning that the cabin was open at both ends. However, the cabin itself was dark, save for a few electronic readouts. Whatever action was taking place aboard ship, it was all happening on the afterdeck.

He’d been aboard the boat when Jace had purchased it in cash, from all the work done with the Nepos. He also knew that his friend rarely if ever changed things around once they were set in place. So he checked the forward compartments for what he’d seen there before.

Caleb wasn’t disappointed.

He found a spare can of gasoline in one compartment. A half-gallon plastic bottle of varnish remover in another. Yet another held a pair of air tanks for scuba gear, each fully charged. He found spare wires and clip fasteners in a fourth.

An overhead slide-out shelf yielded the best prizes of all: a disposable cigarette lighter and the compact blue-gray form of a Glock. A quick check of the magazine showed that it was fully loaded. Caleb stuck the gun into the elastic band of his swim trunks. It felt like a cold brick against his spine.

The techno music pumped away at a deafening volume. Speakers mounted at all angles on the cabin roof blasted the uncha-uncha-uncha of the beat. Caleb had no problem setting things up the way he wanted.

When he was finished, he moved to the outside of the cabin and began to slide his way forward along the starboard-mounted footholds and handrails. The Sly Dog bobbed a bit as a series of swells caught it, making him throw out his hand, seeking something to grip.

His fingers curled around the end of a fishing gaff, only three or four inches below the wicked steel hook. Caleb undid the catches holding the makeshift weapon in place and then slid far enough back to make out the afterdeck.

Jace Ancona sprawled out on the deck, his eyes glazed over in bliss. Rainbow colored disks of light slid along his lithe, naked form. The light projectors moved in sync with the music’s heavy beat.

Caseteja White crusted his upper lip. Little snowdrifts of the powder had collected on his chest as well. Two bikini-clad women were with him. One, a brunette, sniffed up a drift that clung to his skin. Then she moved up to kiss him, their tongues dancing lewdly together.

The other woman was lanky, with a massive mop of blonde hair. Jace reached out, grabbed the back of her head, and moved it to his crotch. The mop began to bob, and not in time with the ocean swells.

Caleb yanked the gaff free and then jumped down onto the afterdeck, landing with a loud thump by Jace’s feet. The women looked up and let out a startled scream as they saw him.

They scrambled to the far side of the afterdeck. Jace looked up blearily, trying to figure out what had just messed up his self-directed drug party. Caleb swung the gaff around, hard.

The butt end caught the side of Jace’s head. A crunch, and a tooth bounced off the rear transom and spun into the water. The man fell, eyes rolling back and into oblivion without a sound.

Caleb glanced inside the cabin. The blue-green glowing face of the boat’s stereo system glinted back at him. He reached around and took out the handgun. He squeezed off a shot, shorting out the sound and light system with a comical whirrrrp!

Blessed silence reigned for a moment.

“Please, don’t kill us!” the blonde begged. “We’re just here for the party favors!”

It’s damn funny, Caleb mused. No one just says drugs anymore. It all has to be things like party favors or candy treats nowadays. A way of avoiding guilt, perhaps?

“I’m going to kill both of you,” Caleb said flatly. “Unless you’re off this boat by the time I count to five.”

The brunette looked back out to shore, where the lights still glowed neon against the now-dark sky.

“But...but,” she stammered. “We’ll drown!”

Caleb shrugged. “It’s a quarter mile to the pier. You’re both in decent shape. And neither of you are so high that you can’t make it. If not...I guess the sharks won’t be going hungry tonight.”

“That’s so far, though! Please, just...”

“One,” Caleb said. He held the gun down by his side. “Two.”

The blonde let out a squeak as the barrel started to come up.

“Three. Four.”

Together, the two women turned and jumped overboard. Caleb watched them for a bit as they swam towards the pier. Then he tucked the gun away and sat back on the transom.

He waited.

The stars had come out by the time Jace groaned and sat up.

“Damn it,” he muttered, as he felt his jaw. His tongue poked into the gap where Caleb had knocked out the tooth. “Damn it! What the hell, bro?”

Caleb had burned through his anger as he’d made his way out to Matagorda Bay. Right now, he felt a hollowness, a coldness. Somehow, he’d known that Jace Ancona’s friendship was one of convenience.

That someday, for the right price, for the right fix, he’d betray anyone.

“I think you know why,” Caleb said. “You and Mateo. The missing thirty kilos of Caseteja White.”

In reflex, Jace’s hand went to his rapidly swelling upper lip.

“Hey. Hey, bro, it’s not what you think,” he said quickly, with a shaky wave of his hand. “Not at all. I was coming back for you, I swear. There were...there were reasons, man. Let me show you!”

“Okay,” Caleb said. “You were my friend, after all. I suppose I should trust you, see if my faith in you is justified. Go ahead and show me. For old time’s sake.”

“That’s right, I’ll show you! You’re the best, man!”

With that, Jace scrambled to his feet and dashed for the cabin. Caleb followed a few steps behind. He watched as his friend scrambled through the darkness, heading towards the compartments at the forward deck.

“I’ll show you, I’ll show you,” he said over and over.

Jace Ancona reached the overhead slide-out shelf. Fingers trembling with anticipation, he yanked it opened and searched inside. His breaths began to come out, hot and panting, as he searched it twice, three times.

“This is what you’re looking for,” Caleb said, as he held up the Glock.

Jace let out a panicked squeal. He turned and ran for the forward deck. He took no more than two running steps before his ankle caught the line that Caleb had stretched out across the cabin’s forward exit.

A twang! as the cord went tight. Then a metallic, dragon-like hiss. It was followed by a flat KA-BAM as a perfectly round, red-rimmed hole was punched through the Sly Dog’s upper cabin.

Jace landed on the forward deck. He let out a horrific shriek of pain as he scrabbled forward for a moment, leaving a trail of red-black gore in his wake. Then, as both blood and energy rushed out of him, he collapsed.

“What did...what did...” he gasped, as Caleb came around to look at him.

“I thought you might make a run for it,” Caleb said quietly. “I needed a backup plan. Just in case I couldn’t bring myself to shoot you. I rigged one of your scuba tanks to vent explosively if the tripwire was triggered. Fully charged compressed air in a steel tank...it’ll smash through wood, fiberglass, flesh, bone...”

Jace tried to look back at his torso. The unleashed metal air canister had caught him in the thigh. A circular chunk of his pelvis had vanished. The rest of his groin had been turned into red paste. The iron-rich smell of blood rolled off Jace’s body, pooling in the wells and recesses of the forward deck.

“What now?” Jace whispered, his eyes fluttering, fighting to stay open. “Gimme...Gimme the deets.”

Caleb let out a breath. As stone cold as he felt, he remembered how Jace had always been the one person who’d always been happy to see him. He remembered the shared buzz of sneaking a hit of pot behind the school gym. Sunsets spent with a cold brew and a couple lines in the water.

He found a last, tiny spot of mercy within him.

“Now you go to sleep, Jace. That’s all. The pain ends here.”

Jace coughed, once. “Thanks, bro. Did me a solid there.”

Another couple of moments, and Jace’s eyes closed. Caleb waited until his chest stopped moving, then touched his fingers to his friend’s neck. He didn’t find a pulse.

Caleb turned and threw the Glock out into the sea. It landed with a splash and sank without a trace. Then he pulled out the canisters he’d found earlier.

He opened the can of gasoline and splashed it all over the interior of the cabin and on Jace’s body. He followed that up with the bottle of acetone. Finally, Caleb pulled out the disposable lighter, flicked it, and threw it over his shoulder.

The Sly Dog went up with a whoomph! as he dove back into the water.

For some reason, the salt didn’t bother his wrists as much this time. He focused on swimming, eyes locked on the small, low outline of his dinghy. Wearily, he finally pulled himself out of the water before looking back.

Jace’s boat had turned into a blazing torch, its mast directing the flames skyward into the night.

Caleb pulled up the anchor. Instead of unshipping the oars, he lowered a gasoline-powered outboard motor into the water at the stern and started it. The wasp-like whine echoed across the water as he sped off.

He spotted the red-and-blue flashes of a Coast Guard cutter in the distance. It was headed for the flaming catamaran. He ignored the cutter as he disappeared into the darkness offshore. He kept his course due south, avoiding all boat traffic until he motored back to his starting point.

Alejandra Vega stood waiting for him, still dressed in her dark, body-hugging outfit. Caleb moored the boat and made his way up to meet her. He was still wearing little more than a tee shirt and dripping wet swim trunks, but she didn’t so much as acknowledge it.

“Well?” he asked brusquely. “You’re the eyes and ears of the Nepos from here to the D.R. Have I proven myself?”

“Oh, and then some,” she said, with a hint of a smile. “I’ve had my eye on you for some time, Mister Ledger. Some of my friends think you have great potential.”

“That’s all well and good,” he replied. “But the only thing I want is to get back on board my boat, Miss Vega. And to put some ice on these bruises that Sorrel put on me.”

“No, I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

He froze. “What the hell do–”

“I’m stopping you right there, before you embarrass yourself,” she said, before gesturing for him to follow her. She set off at a fast walk, forcing him to keep up. “Come along. Your belongings have already been moved. Your next cargo will be loaded in three days.”

Dumbfounded, Caleb followed in her wake. “All right, you have my attention. Where are we going?”

“Not far. You see, until Jace Ancona decided to play ‘little bird’ for Mateo, you had the best record of any of our couriers. You were already in line to be rewarded with a better ship. Now that you’ve taken care of our problem, you deserve the best. And I can’t think of a better name for her.”

They turned the corner around the dock house at the base of the pier. Vega pointed across the way to where one section blazed with light. A ninety-foot long sailing yacht sat majestically at her slip. Her sharp bow ended in a razor-like point. Her lines was sleek and taut, her sails neatly stowed and ready for her next voyage.

Alejandra Vega turned and stood before the vessel. She met his eyes and spread her arms.

“It’s all yours, Caleb. All yours.”

Does she mean the ship, or herself? Caleb wondered. I’d really like to find out, once I’m in good enough shape to handle either one.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Absolutely beautiful.”

Vega's cheeks colored a tiny bit. Caleb might’ve commented on that, but he spotted the vessel’s identification on the stern. He blinked, and then shook his head.

Given the day I just had, I can’t think of anything better to call a ship under my command.

The name on the stern read: Second Chance.