Chapter 10
Conspirators
Jim woke to knocking on his cabin door, and felt a moment of disorientation when he opened his eyes. It happened whenever he slept, or woke, in a strange place. The knock came again, then a voice.
“Jim, get your lazy ass out of bed and come fishing with me.”
Ryan.
“Give me a minute,” Jim shouted, and groaned as his customary morning headache gave a nasty throb. “Shit.”
He levered his legs off the narrow bed and sat up, slipping his bare feet into the shoes he’d left beside it. He felt like a slob, meeting his publisher, a man with whom his relationship had always been very professional, unwashed, hair sticking up in every grease stiffened direction, in the pants he’d slept in.
Jim unlocked his cabin door and opened it, gasping at the cool breeze that embr
