(with thanks to:  @NightElflady )

Adam closed his eyes and lowered his chin to his chest. His lips were clamped in a tight line. Ava could see his knuckles whitening. The wind plastered his shirt against his torso. Hard-angled rain began shooting out of the low clouds; it came at them like lead pellets. Ava hardly noticed their sting as she waited in prickly apprehension for Adam's response.

But the instant Adam opened his eyes, Ava saw his ire shockingly ousted by distress. In a trice, he opened his mouth to speak and his left arm flew off the wheel to point ahead.

Whether or not he said anything, Ava heard nothing. Because she was violently ejected from her seat.

A wave had broken over the starboard side with malicious intent, slamming into Ava, engulfing her in a seething, churning maelstrom of white water.

She was disoriented and helpless as a slipper shaken by a puppy; her body tossed and buffeted against the cockpit coaming.

The backwash swept her across the floor grating, slammed her hip against the unforgiving wheel pedestal. White pain coursed down her leg.

Most of the flash flood quickly drained out the scuppers, leaving Ava scrambled in a soggy heap on the floor of the cockpit amid their scattered breakfast.

Adam locked the wheel and knelt beside her. He said, "Ava... Ava, are you hurt?"

She managed to look up at Adam and shake her head. He stuffed a life-jacket into her arms and yelled, "Here, put this on, attach it to this safety line. I've got to get the companionway washboard in place or we'll be swamped."

Adam grabbed the board and rammed it into the track, secured it just as another wave broke over starboard and flooded down the deck. He hurried back to Ava, chest-deep in the swirling wash. He grabbed her by the shoulders, said, "Come on, you'll be safe in the back of the cockpit." He helped her to her feet, zipped-up her life-jacket, and then snugged her into the corner seat. "Hang tight to the guardrail. You good?"

Ava nodded dizzily.

Adam hustled to the winch and reefed-in to quarter-sail. He returned to the helm and released the big wheel. He spun it rapidly, turned the bow into the face of the storm.

Vendetta had been reeling like a skid row denizen but was now under reasonable control.

Once she'd steadied, Adam eased the bow off the wind a touch, and Vendetta responded like a purebred. She took on the monster waves like a bull terrier, biting cleanly into them, splitting them into huge wings of spray. They flew along in the violence of the squall.

Adam checked their heading then locked the wheel and went to sit beside Ava.

He said, "How ya doin', Slim?"

Her hip was aching brutally and the rest of her leg had gone numb, but it wasn't sympathy she wanted from Adam right now. Ava said, "I'm sorry. I didn't expect a wave to come over the side like that. And I should've replaced the washboard when you said. D'you think much water went below?"

"Aw, forget about it. We'll clean it up later. Are you sure you didn't get hurt?" He pushed her drenched hair back from her face.

"I'm okay. A few bruises maybe. Are we gonna be okay?"

He smiled and kissed her nose then returned to the helm. He grabbed the wheel and when he took up the pressure, hard knots of muscle showed through his soaked shirt. He turned his head and winked at her, "My fault, Slim. It's a micro burst. I should've seen it coming. I wasn't paying proper attention. Mother Nature and Vendetta don't like that. We're fine now."

Ava had no fear of this storm and she reckoned she would fear nothing as long as Adam was with her... and on her side.

Thirty minutes later, Adam pointed at the south-east horizon. A seam had ripped through the anvil-topped wall of cloud, vigorous blue sky shone through. He said, "In a few minutes it'll be clear as a Polar Bear diamond."

The cloud cover swept north-west and they were left in a picture-perfect sea. The squall had rushed past as quickly as it had rushed in. The wind was still strong but now it blew solid and predictable: no gusts, no holes. Adam was able to set the self-steering.

The hot sun was a comfort, and Ava peeled the life-jacket off her cramped, aching body. She stretched out her leg gingerly.

Adam was opening up the companionway. Ava gathered up the dishes then limped to stand beside him and peer down the steps. He said, "Doesn't look too bad down there. Most of the water drained into the bilge. I'll pump that out and let evaporation do the rest. But for now maybe it would be best for you to go below and rest in your cabin."

"I will, Adam. But first I want you to be straight with me. We're out here to meet criminals again, aren't we?"

Adam sighed deeply then returned to his place at the helm. Ava stubbornly held her ground, steadying herself as best she could on shaky legs. She fought back the painful ache pulsing from her hip to her knee and stared at Adam accusingly. "Well?"

"It's no big deal, Ava." He shook his head in denial. "I'm simply making a delivery. It'll take no more than five minutes then we'll head back."

"What are we delivering this time? Opium from Afghanistan? Blood diamonds from Sierra Leone? Ransom payout? What?"

Adam could not look her in the eye. He turned his head, sighed again. He said, "Don't get your friggin' knickers in a knot. It's one gold ingot, okay? That's it. One of those from the last meet. I'm delivering it to help some poor fishermen from Somalia. It's nothin'."

"Nothing? Don't even pretend you aren't aware of the seriousness and consequences of your actions, mister. That one gold bar is worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. You know very well it's not 'fishermen' we're meeting; that gold will not be used to buy worms. It'll be used to finance piracy. That's exactly the story I'm working on. It was likely crime proceeds out of the West that paid for those duffel bags full of drugs. And now it'll be used to finance terrorism." Ava's laser glare burned into Adam.

"Aw, peddle your sermons to the Pope," he shot back. "I don't care what the hell the gold's used for. My job's to deliver it."

His venomous words stung her open heart. Though she knew their source was Adam's own damaged soul, Ava spat back at him, "Fine! I know why you're involved in this crap, Adam. But it doesn't matter. You've now become nothing more than a postscript in my news story... a posthumous one in all likelihood."

With that, Ava turned on her good leg and stomped down below with as much authority as her bad leg would allow.

Ava did not see Adam raise the red signal flag. And she did not see the ominous, one-hundred-ten-foot, lateen-rigged Arab dhow approaching from the south.