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babble some excuse that Mac only half listened to as he watched the water to see if the marine patrol or sheriff had seen Trufante entering the inlet at that speed. They had been together too long for Mac to even wonder how the Cajun got into so much trouble. Usually it was harmless and good for a few laughs or a good ribbing, but once in a while his antics had consequences. 
    He went to the helm and started to steer toward Boot Key harbor, where he turned and headed for his dock. The boat was turning into the canal when Mac saw several figures standing on the seawall by the dock. 
    As the boat closed the last hundred yards, he saw that they were in uniform.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 5
     
    Mac thought about turning the boat and running, but that wasn’t going to get him anywhere but deeper into whatever it was that Trufante had gotten him mixed up in this time. If they were on his dock, they knew who he was and what the boat looked like. He looked over at the lanky Cajun as he slowed to approach the dock.
    “Spit it out now—and fast,” he said.
    Trufante started to mumble, and Mac was about to confront him again when he reached over and opened the fish box.
    “Oh, man. I don’t guess those are from our traps.” He looked over at the woman sitting on the opposite gunwale. “She got something to do with this?”
    “Shit, it don’t matter where we got them. It’s not too far over the limit. I’ll just tell them I miscounted or something. I can play dumb.”
    Mac let that one pass with a look. “Well, let’s get this settled with the law and then I’ll deal with you. Does she at least have a name?”
    “Tell him your name, sweetheart,” Trufante called over to her. 
    Cayenne went toward Mac with her hand extended. “Cayenne Cannady. Pleased to meet you.”
    Mac looked at the figure in front of him—almost falling out of her bathing suit—and wasn’t sure what to make of her. “Maybe you can tell me what’s going on. Old Tru here seems to have lost his tongue.”
    Cayenne looked to Trufante for support, but he remained mute. “These were in abandoned traps off my coral farm. The lobster would have just died if we didn’t take them.”
    Mac looked up at the sky in disbelief. If her appearance didn’t give it away with her fake boobs, died red hair, and whiter-than-normal smile, she’d just summed it up with the coral farm. He didn’t care for politics, not trusting either party, but conservation was important to him. Coral farms were one of those green ideas that looked better on paper than they panned out to be in real life. In many cases, they fronted illegal harvesting. There was no way to tell if a hunk of corral came from a farm or the reef. 
    “You care to explain that to the Federales ?” Mac asked her as he coasted up to the dock. Two officers came toward the boat to help with the lines. Once it was tied off, Mac went to disembark.
    “Hold on there.” One of the men stepped forward, hand on his holster.
    “You can take your hand off the gun. No reason for that,” Mac said. 
    “The three of you go stand against the port side there.” The officer hopped onto the deck and signaled for one of the other men to watch them. “I need to search this vessel. Who’s the captain?”
    Mac stepped forward and stopped when the officer nearest to them drew his weapon. “I told you that’s not necessary. My name’s Mac Travis. It’s my boat, and I have a commercial license. I’m guessing you have some kind of just cause or something to come onto my property.”
    “Holster that weapon, deputy,” another man said. “Fish and Game has the authority to search any vessel in our jurisdiction at any time. If you’re a commercial fisherman, you ought to know that.” He went toward the cabin. “Now let’s have a look at your papers.”
    Mac moved toward the man while the other two officers boarded the boat. The deck was crowded now, as the men started their search. He went into the