by Tripp Ellis
"Savannah, why are you still here?" Bree asked, disgusted.
She smiled and ran her fingers through Liam's hair. "Oh, just having a little fun."
Liam recoiled at her touch and slid out of reach.
Savannah's face crinkled up. "I'm not good enough for you now?"
Bree arched a curious eyebrow.
"Nothing happened," Liam assured.
Savanna scoffed. "I'll say. But it wasn't for lack of trying.” Then she whispered, “He had a little performance anxiety. And when I say little, I mean little."
Liam scowled at her.
“And believe me, when this body can’t do the trick, something is wrong." Savannah gave Liam a pathetic glance.
"She's lying," Liam said.
"What's the matter, worried your wife might find out?"
Bree seemed amused by the drama. "I think it's time you both left."
Savannah scoffed. "Miss Fancy Pants is too good for us."
"Nope. I'm just tired. And I don't like either one of you. So, take your skanky ass home.”
Savannah's face tensed and turned red. Her eyes went crazy, and she swung the champagne bottle, back-handing it across Bree’s face.
The bottle clanked as it hit her brow, echoing across the water.
The strike split a gash across her forehead and blood trickled down her face. The impact twisted Bree aside, and her momentum carried her over the railing. She tumbled overboard, splashing into the water.
Savanna gasped, her eyes wide, “Oh, shit!”
Bree floated facedown in the water, unconscious.
Liam stared at her, stunned.
"Do something!" Savannah growled.
There was a long pause and Liam thought about the situation. He glanced around the marina, but failed to see Bianca.
Savanna still clung onto the bottle, gripping it like a baseball bat. Liam grabbed her wrist and held it over the edge of the boat, making sure not to touch the bottle.
"What are you doing?" Savannah slurred.
"Let go!”
"What?"
"Let. Go."
Savannah complied, and the bottle splashed into the water. It bobbed a few times, turned on its side, then slowly sank.
The waves lapping against the hull of the boat kept pushing Bree against the shiny white surface, her head making a dull thump with each impact.
Liam took Savannah by the shoulders. "Listen to me. This didn't happen."
Savannah was hesitant.
"Your career will be over if this gets out. You understand me? I'm just looking out for you. This is in your best interest. Trust me."
Savannah’s eyes brimmed. Her frazzled expression gazed at Liam. "What will we say?"
"Let's get out of here. We'll talk about this later.”
Liam ushered Savannah toward the stern. That's when the video ended.
26
The video was hard to watch. My throat tightened, and my fingers balled into fists.
I couldn't believe I hadn’t heard the commotion? Then again, I hadn’t slept in 48 hours and had overindulged in some fine whiskey. Perhaps it wasn't that surprising?
A knock at the door startled all of us. "Guest services."
I breathed a little easier and exchanged a glance with JD.
"It's probably the extra pillow I ordered this morning. How's that for service?" he said with an annoyed tone.
He moved to the door and pulled it open. As he did, a heavy foot kicked it the rest of the way. The door slammed into JD, and he slammed into the wall. In a flash, two men with guns stormed into the room and secured the area.
They were big guys with broad shoulders, square jaws, and tight haircuts. They wore all black. One was blond, the other brunette. The blond was a little taller, and a little thicker with muscle. They didn't have a friendly bone in their bodies.
"Give me the phone," the blond demanded.
I tossed it to him, throwing it just out of reach. It missed his fingertips and clattered to the floor.
"Whoops," I said.
He wasn't amused.
He aimed the pistol at Bianca and fired two suppressed rounds. The bullets snapped across the room and impacted her abdomen with a thud.
A look of terror washed over her face as blood blossomed on her blouse. She clutched her stomach and fell to the ground, writhing in agony.
“Still think this is a game?" the blond asked.
I shook my head.
"Back away and keep your hands in the air where I can see them.”
I complied.
He squatted down, keeping his weapon aimed at me as he scooped the phone from the floor. He stood up and slipped it into his pocket. “Are there any other copies of the video?"
"No.” I wondered how he knew about it? Had they been monitoring Carolyn’s phone? "Who are you?"
"None of your fucking business.” He waved the barrel of the pistol toward the door, motioning me to exit. "The boss would like to speak with you."
I exchanged a wary glance with JD, then looked back at the goon. "I'm kind of busy right now. How about a rain check?"
"I thought we were done playing games," Blondie said in a disappointed voice. He aimed the barrel of his pistol at JD.
"No," I yelped. "It seems my schedule’s all cleared up."
"That's what I thought."
He put another bullet into Bianca before we left the hotel room. She had been groaning. All traces of life vanished with the third bullet.
The goons escorted us down the hall to the stairwell, and we spiraled our way down to the lobby.
"Don't try anything funny," the blond enforcer said.
I was all out of witty come-backs.
We slipped out of the back exit and were forced into a black SUV that waited in the alleyway. It smelled like stale cigarettes and the cheap cologne of the muscle-heads. It whisked us through the city, down to the harbor.
Blondie sat beside me in the backseat, along with JD. It was a large SUV, but three of us abreast made things a little too cozy. He kept his gun aimed at me the entire time.
So did the thug upfront.
I decided I'd take the ride and see where this was going.
At the marina, our wrists were zip-tied, and we loaded onto a Zodiac. It looked identical to the Combat Rubber Raiding Craft the Navy SEALS used. The engine roared, and we raced across the inky water, slipping into the night like we were on some type of clandestine mission. Only this time, I wasn’t dashing off to save anyone—I needed saving.
The tender bounced across the waves, and mists of salt water splashed in my face. We skimmed through the harbor, leaving the mega-yachts behind, passing a cruise ship that was docked near the entrance.
Then we hit the open water.
The glimmering lights of Monaco became specs on the horizon as we disappeared into the night. We were more than a mile out when I saw the running lights on the horizon.
I felt somewhat relieved. For a moment, I thought they were going to take us deep out to sea, shoot us, and push us overboard. There was no telling where the current would take our bodies.
We approached a massive super-yacht. It was easily close to 200 feet. It was the pinnacle of luxury. Three decks and had accommodations for 10 to 12 people, I guessed.
The Zodiac pulled to the swim platform of Stocks and Blondes, and the goons ushered us aboard the yacht. There was a massive garage that stored the tender and other watercraft. It held a variety of aquatic toys—jet skis, wake-boards, you name it.
We climbed the steps to the aft deck where there was a lounge, a table, two coolers, and a retractable sunshade that was still deployed—even though it was well after sunset.
The goons pushed us into the salon which was luxuriously appointed. They shoved us onto a sofa that faced the stern. There was a fully stocked bar to port, and a gentleman standing behind it, mixing himself a drink. I recognized him from Bree’s party.
Nails.
He looked to be mid 40s, dark hair, dark eyes and
handsome, but rugged features. He'd been in a few fights back in his day as evidenced by the scar on his left brow. He was impeccably dressed with a bespoke suit from Ungari, or Valentini, if I had to guess. The Hälfliger watch on his wrist cost upwards of $50,000. Pocket change for a man of his stature.
Liam hovered near the bar, nervously. A mist of sweat beaded on his forehead. His wide eyes glanced about, and he swallowed hard as he saw us.
I scowled at the scumbags.
Blondie handed Bianca’s cell phone to Nails. He tabbed through a few screens, launched the photos app, and began to watch the video.
A scowl twisted on his face. He turned the display to face Liam and showed him the gruesome video. "Maybe next time you can cover your tracks better. This is unacceptable.”
Liam tried to defend himself. "How was I supposed to know that would happen? This is all Savannah’s fault.”
"You had problems long before Savannah. You should never have let yourself get into that situation," Nails chastised.
"You're right. I'm sorry."
"Your incompetence has threatened my entire operation. I've had to run around cleaning up after your mess. It's been a real headache. Despite my reputation, I don't like doing this type of thing."
"I know, I'm sorry," Liam said, his voice trembling.
“Do you know what kind of damage this video could cause if it got out?”
“I know,” Liam said.
Nails returned his gaze to me. He stepped away from the bar and sauntered close, hovering over me. "And you have caused a great deal of trouble. You could have walked away at anytime, but no, you kept pushing."
"I guess I'm just stubborn."
A thin smile tugged at Nails’s lips. "And stupid."
"Why do you care what happens to Liam?" I asked. “Why get involved?”
"Liam is very good at what he does. I have many business activities. Some legitimate, some not so legitimate. Liam takes the not so legitimate proceeds and makes them usable."
"He launders your money," I said.
"He makes it squeaky clean. He does a good job, and at a price that I find reasonable. I don't want to have to find a replacement. And there is a chance that if someone starts poking into Liam's business, it might expose my own. I don't like risk. I don't like exposure. Liam has put me at risk.”
His eyes burned into Liam.
"How do you know that video hasn’t been uploaded to the Internet?" I asked.
“I don't. But I'm guessing it hasn't. If that were the case, the authorities would be looking for Liam and Savannah Skye. I haven't heard anything about it on the Entertainment Network." He smiled. "And something tells me I'm not going to."
“Is this the part where you kill us and dump us overboard?" I asked.
"No. I'm not going to kill you." He paused for a long moment. "Liam is."
Liam's eyes widened, and he swallowed hard.
Nails looked at Liam. "Your mess. You clean it up."
Nails reached in his pocket and drew a pistol from a shoulder holster. It was a 9mm. He checked to make sure the weapon was on safe, then handed it to Liam.
The financial manager was hesitant to take it.
"Go ahead. Don't make me lose faith in you."
Liam stepped away from the bar and took the pistol.
"Have you ever shot a pistol before?" Nails asked, deriving some type of perverse pleasure from the whole scenario.
"No," Liam stammered.
"Well, this should be fun. All you need to do is aim and pull the trigger."
Liam looked at Nails expecting more instructions.
"What are you waiting for?"
Liam's frantic eyes glanced back to the weapon.
"Start with the burnout. I want Mr. Wild to see his friend die before him."
JD’s face crinkled. "Who are you calling a burnout?"
Nails seemed to admire JD's defiance.
Liam staggered toward the sofa and stood in front of JD. He had bad form and worse trigger control. His finger was wrapped around the trigger before he even took aim. Liam held the gun out, pointing it at JD's chest. The pistol rattled in his hand. The safety was still on, but Liam seemed oblivious. He shied away, anticipating the loud bang and recoil of the weapon.
It would have been funny if we weren’t on the business end of the barrel.
27
"Not in the salon!" Nails shouted.
Liam swallowed again, then glanced across the salon at his boss. "Sorry."
"I prefer not to have bloodstains on my sofa, or my deck."
"Where should I do it?" Liam stammered.
Nails rolled his eyes.
He explained like he was speaking to a child. “Take him aft and position him against the gunwale. Then, when you blow his head off, hopefully he falls overboard. When you're done, swab the deck with bleach to get rid of the stains."
Blondie grabbed JD by the collar and dragged him out of the salon, into the cockpit.
Liam followed.
I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled against the zip-tie, then I remembered the lighter in my pocket. I dug my fingers into my back pocket and fished out the gold lighter that belonged to Katya.
Liam put the pistol to JD's head. "Are you sure you want to do this? You’re gonna have to live with this the rest of your life."
Liam hesitated.
"Do it!" Nails shouted.
Liam took aim, steadied his resolve, and squeezed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
The safety was still on.
"Take off the safety, you idiot!” Nails growled.
Liam flipped the safety selector switch, swallowed again, then took aim.
I managed to strike the flint and spark a flame which quickly melted through the plastic zip-tie—and some of my skin, unfortunately.
Blondie hovered behind the sofa, to my left. I grabbed Blondie’s gun, jammed an elbow into his groin, and stripped the weapon from him as he doubled over.
I double tapped two shots into Liam before he could pull the trigger. Muzzle flash flickered, and smoke wafted from the barrel. Brass shell casings spiraled from the ejection port, and the recoil hammered against my palm.
I won’t lie, it felt good.
The bullets raced through the salon and drilled into Liam’s chest. Geysers of blood spewed from the wounds. His face filled with a look of utter disbelief as he tumbled back and fell on top of the garage and slid down to the swim platform.
I heard his body splash into the water.
I spun the weapon around and blasted several shots at Nails as he reached for a shotgun behind the bar.
My first shot missed.
The other tagged him in the shoulder, spinning him around.
Glass shattered, and bottles of whiskey broke, filling the compartment with the smell of single malt scotch, mixed with the sharp scent of gunpowder.
Nails groaned in agony as he writhed on the floor.
Blondie leapt over the couch and tackled me. We crashed into the glass coffee table, showering razor-like shards across the deck.
The gun clattered away, sliding onto the aft deck.
The big bastard was on top of me. He cocked his fist back and hammered it into my face.
His meaty fist felt like a wrecking ball.
The impact twisted my head to the side, mashing my cheek into the deck. Several shards of glass embedded into my skin. He kept pummeling me, tenderizing my cheek, grinding the soft flesh against my teeth.
The tinny metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
I finally managed to buck the behemoth off me. I rolled aside and staggered to my feet, and we squared off against each other.
The ogre charged me.
I tried to sidestep, but the bastard was quick for a big guy.
He grabbed me with one arm and slung me to the deck like I was nothing.
More shards of glass embedded into my skin.
I coughed as the wind was kno
cked out of my lungs.
The big ogre planted a knee on my chest and went full tilt on my face. His fist kept hammering down like a giant cinderblock.
Things got worse when he reached for a long shard of glass that resembled a kitchen knife. He grabbed it and stabbed down, the point of the shard angling toward my throat.
I managed to grab his wrist, blocking the blow.
The veins in my neck bulged as I struggled against his strong forearm. The glass blade quivered as he drove it closer and closer toward my jugular.
This was a losing battle.
The point drew precariously close to my skin.
JD squirmed on the deck near the stern with his wrists tied behind his back. He fumbled for the gun.
He managed to grasp it and twist around just as the shard was about to pierce my flesh. He angled the gun behind his back and squeezed the trigger.
BAM!
Muzzle flash lit up the night air, and smoke wafted from the barrel.
The bullet rocketed across the salon and smacked into the goon’s rib cage.
It knocked him off me, and the shard shattered as it fell to the deck beside my face.
I spun free and sprang to my feet.
Blondie tried to get up, but fell back down. His labored breaths gurgled as blood filled his lungs. He looked at me with horrified eyes, and his massive hands clutched the sucking wound in his chest.
He couldn't stop the flow of blood seeping between his fingers. Blondie died like a fish flopping on the deck, gasping for air.
I sprinted to the aft deck and used my lucky lighter to burn through the zip-ties that bound JD's wrists. "Holy shit, dude! Did you even aim that thing?"
"I hit the target, didn’t I?”
"You could have missed and shot me!”
"Ungrateful little prick. You’d have been dead in another second."
I helped JD to his feet. "Thanks."
"You could sound a little more excited about it.”
"I'm excited. This is my excited face,” I said, staring at him flatly.
JD sneered at me.
We moved back into the salon. Nails groaned behind the bar as he writhed on the deck in agony.
JD fired two shots into the dirtbag. "Whoops. Accidental discharge."