Hot Sauce (Suncoast Society #26)(57)

He arched an eyebrow at her. “What was that, missy?” he said in a low tone.

She blushed. “Please get it done, Sir,” she whispered.

He smiled, blowing her a kiss. “That’s better.”

But then Reed wasn’t better, unfortunately. In fact, an hour later, he suddenly doubled over in pain, sending her heart racing.

Moe, Larry, and Curly reeled in their lines while she tried to help Reed down to the deck where he writhed in pain.

“Chest…hurts…”

“Shit,” one of the guys said. “That sounds like a heart attack.”

Her own first-aid training from work kicked in, barely holding her growing panic at bay. He did seem to have all the classic signs people were told to look for with a heart attack.

“There’s aspirin in the first-aid kit. Hand it to me,” she ordered, snatching her bottle of water from the cup holder on the console.

One of the guys fumbled the box open and dug the bottle out. She gave Reed two of them and held his head up so he could chase them down with water. Then she reached for his phone, swearing when it wasn’t getting a signal.

“Do any of you have service?”

One guy pulled his phone out. “No, sorry.”

The other two shook their heads. “We left ours in the car. Sorry.”

“Shit!”

“Hail the Coast Guard,” Reed said. “Use the radio. VHF. Channel 16.”

She scanned the console and found it. She’d never seen him use it, other than to check weather reports, and keep it turned down low so it didn’t squawk all the time. She found the volume button to turn it up, and saw it was already on channel 16, then grabbed the mic.

“What do I do?” she asked him.

He started to reply, then turned and puked all over the stern deck. She dropped the mic and rolled him onto his side while one of the guys grabbed a bucket to rinse the deck off and the other two sympathetically puked over the side.

Dammit. Just great, Reed’s f*cking dying, and I’m stuck in the goddamned Gulf with three puking drunks!

She helped Reed rinse his mouth out, holding his head up for him again while she held the bottle.

“Hail the Coast Guard,” he gasped. “The Clearwater air station. Declare a mayday. They’ll tell you what to do. They’ll have you change channels and give them coordinates from the GPS.” He pointed to where the unit sat mounted on the dash.

That she knew how to work. He’d shown her how to plug coordinates into it, how to pull up past trips, saved numbers, everything.

She grabbed the mic again and keyed it. “Mayday! Calling the Clearwater Coast Guard! Please, I need medical assistance, I have a man having a heart attack on a boat!”

She released the mic key and nearly burst into tears when a woman responded seconds later.

“This is Coast Guard Air Station Clearwater. All traffic hold and clear channel one-six immediately. Vessel with medical emergency, please respond. Over.”

“Yes, that’s me. We’re off Sarasota. Please, you’ve got to help him!”

“Vessel needing medical assistance, this is Coast Guard Air Station Clearwater. Please switch to channel two-two and hail, acknowledge. Over.”

“Okay. I’ll change channels. Um, over.”

She switched the channel, her hands shaking, and tried again. “Mayday, Clearwater Coast Guard, are you there?”

The all-too-calm sounding operator responded and walked her through getting her GPS coordinates, the boat’s description—which Vanessa was embarrassed to realize that she needed the passengers’ input because they knew better than she did what kind of boat they were on and its size—and the nature of their medical emergency.

“Vessel stand by channel two-two. We have dispatched a rescue chopper to your location. They will contact you on this channel. Please acknowledge. Over.”

She looked at Reed, who had one hand clenched over his chest, his face contorted in pain. “Please, hurry! How long will they take? He’s in a lot of pain!” She shoved daymares of him dying in her arms out of her brain.

“Ma’am, they are en route to your location now, ETA twenty minutes. Vessel stand by and continue monitor this channel for contact. Coast Guard Air Station Clearwater, clear channel two-two for channel one-six. Out.”

She dropped the mic again and knelt next to Reed, pulling him into her arms. “Don’t you dare f*cking die on me,” she said. “You’re not allowed to goddamned die on me!”

He winced with pain. “Trying not to, babe. Believe me, it’s not on my to-do list.”





Chapter Twenty-One


Vanessa still knelt on the deck with Reed when she heard the radio sound off again, this time a man’s voice.

“Vessel twenty-eight-foot Mako needing medical assistance, this is Coast Guard Air Rescue 6014. Please verify your current coordinates. Over.”

The guy not puking his guts up grabbed the swinging mic and handed it to her. She read the numbers off the GPS unit again and finished with, “Over.”

“Captain, are you currently underway? Over.”

“No, we’re anchored.” She fought the urge to correct him that she wasn’t a captain, much less the captain.

The captain was currently fighting for his life.