Betrayed in the Keys

by Matthew Rief

  Shifting my body around, I saw three dark, blurry figures standing over me. I tried to stand, but the tranquilizer’s toxins had traveled through my body and taken over. I knew that it would only be a few more moments before I was gone. I was mad as hell and struggling to stay in control, but it was over.

  As my head fell back and my consciousness faded, one of the dark figures stepped closer and crouched down beside me. He tilted his head just a few feet over mine, and his blurry image suddenly came into focus. It was Ben. I could see him clearly, his short hair and his blue eyes staring back into mine, shooting me a stern gaze.

  What the hell has he done?

  Anger swelled, and I felt a sudden surge of strength take over. I squeezed my right hand into a fist and hurled it through the air as fast as I could. My knuckles made contact with the fragile bones of Ben’s nose, causing them to crack audibly and his head to whip back. Blood flowed out, and he wailed as his hands sandwiched the sides of his nose. I tried to sit up and strike another blow, but my body was weak, and I felt a hand grab me from behind and pin me to the floor.

  Keeping my blurry gaze drawn on Ben, I watched as he spat a gob of blood onto the floor, then turned and kicked me in the side a few times. I wanted to retaliate, to fight back and beat the shit out of him, but my body was giving out. I could feel the poison moving through my veins, could feel it taking over.

  I couldn’t think about what was happening, couldn’t even try and make sense of it. As my eyes began to close, Ben leaned over and looked down at me. His lips suddenly contorted into a cocky smile. He said something, but I couldn’t hear. I saw only his lips move and saw him laugh as he looked down at me, and then everything went black.

  NINETEEN

  Key West

  Later That Afternoon

  Angelina walked out of Keys Knees Bakery, holding a plastic bag with a white Styrofoam box inside in one hand and a few shopping bags in the other. Sliding a pair of aviator sunglasses over her eyes, she glanced down at her newly painted white toenails and smiled. Any person passing by would assume she was just another rich tourist, a Southern belle daughter or wife of a wealthy businessman. None would ever suspect that she was actually one of the world’s deadliest mercenaries.

  Transferring the bag of food into her other hand momentarily, she slid her phone out and glanced at the main screen. It was almost six, and she hadn’t received anything from Logan yet.

  Maybe he knew I would take longer than expected, she thought as she walked with light steps along the waterfront back towards Conch Harbor Marina.

  Logan knew her better than anyone else. He even knew a little bit about her very secretive past. No one else alive knew that Angelina had actually been born into a wealthy family in Sweden, and that she’d been raised almost into her teens on high-class meals, piano lessons, manicures, and habitual trips to the opera. It wasn’t until after her parents had died that she’d turned rogue, run away from her old life and into a world of grunge and violence. But occasionally, her old habits ached for revival, and though she hadn’t been to a spa in over two years, she couldn’t help but smile and think about how much she’d enjoyed it.

  When her sandals hit the mahogany planks of the dock, she picked up her pace a little and tried to spot Logan lounging on the Baia at slip twenty-four. When she was close enough, she stepped onto the swim platform and moved through the cockpit. After disabling the security system with a quick entry on the digital keypad, she opened the door and headed down into the salon.

  The inside of the Baia looked exactly as it had when she’d left with Logan earlier. She removed the Styrofoam box from the plastic bag, stowed the food she’d brought for Logan in the small fridge, and moved into the main cabin. Seeing that he wasn’t there, she grabbed her phone, called his number and placed the phone against the side of her face. After just one ring, she heard his voicemail message, then hung up.

  “His phone’s dead?” she said, looking at the screen of her phone in confusion.

  She sent a few texts, but didn’t get anything back.

  That’s strange, she thought. She’d known him for years, and she rarely had difficulty getting ahold of him. In the six months they’d spent living together in the Keys, she’d never once seen him shut off his phone.

  She wondered if perhaps it had fallen in the water or if he’d forgotten to charge it, unlikely possibilities but still possible. After stowing the clothes she’d bought in town in the main cabin, she locked up the Baia, turned the security system back on and headed down the dock towards the marina office.

  She spotted Gus through the window, lounging on a couch with a newspaper in front of him and watching TV. She saw no sign of Logan, Ben, or the jet skis anywhere in the marina or visible open water in the distance. Glancing back at the parking lot, she saw that Ben’s Ford F-150 was still parked in one of the visitor spots, and Logan’s Tacoma was still parked in the first row against one of the railroad ties.

  She turned back towards the office and pushed open the wooden door, causing a small bell to ring overhead.

  “Hey, Angelina,” Gus said, setting the newspaper aside and sitting up straighter. “Hey, have you seen the guys?”

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing. Have you heard anything from them?”

  “Nothing,” Gus said. “Have you tried calling them?”

  “Just Logan, but his phone’s off. I don’t have Ben’s number.”

  Gus grabbed his phone from a nearby table, searched his contacts, then pressed call and held the phone up to his ear. After a few seconds, his face transitioned to a frown and he lowered his phone.

  “Ben’s phone is off too.”

  “That’s weird,” Ange said, beginning to get noticeably concerned now. “He’s not on duty, but he’s supposed to be reachable at all times, right?”

  “That’s right,” Gus said, nodding. “I better give the sheriff a call.”

  Ten minutes later, a police interceptor pulled into the marina parking lot, and Sheriff Wilkes stepped out. Ange met him along the waterfront, and he informed her that he was unable to get ahold of either Logan or Ben.

  “Haven’t seen Kincaid since yesterday morning,” Charles said. “He used up a week of vacation time. Said he was heading up north someplace.”

  “Well, he was here earlier,” Ange said. “They took off on his jet skis.”

  “What time was this?”

  “Noon,” Ange said. “Over six hours ago now.”

  Charles’s eyes grew wide, and he thought it over for a moment. He grabbed his phone. “I’m gonna call Jack. See if he knows anything.”

  Ange stopped him and pointed over the rows of anchored boats to where the Calypso was just cruising into the marina. Charles ended the call, and the two of them headed down the dock and met with Jack, who was just returning from a dive charter. Once his patrons had cleared out, they told him what was going on.

  “Haven’t heard from him all day,” Jack said. “That’s not like him.”

  “No,” Ange replied. “It’s not.”

  “Have any of you run into anyone or anything suspicious since that guy from Black Venom escaped?” Charles said.

  Ange and Jack both shook their heads.

  “We hadn’t seen them at all,” Ange said.

  “Yeah. We kinda figured they’d left the Keys,” Jack added.

  Charles sighed. “Well, until we figure out what happened, we need to assume the worst.”

  “Let’s head out and see if we can find them out on the water,” Ange said. “I have at least a general idea of where they were heading.”

  Within minutes, Ange, Jack, and Charles were aboard the Baia and cruising out of Conch Harbor Marina. Once in open water, Ange gunned the throttles, sending them east along the Lower Keys. All three kept their eyes peeled on the horizon, looking for any sign of Logan or Ben.

  TWENTY

  Gulf of Mexico

  0200

  I woke up in a seated position in a dimly lit room. I t
ried to move my arms but heard rattling and found that they were handcuffed to a metal pipe behind my back. My mouth was dry, my head pounded, and my vision was still blurry as I scanned around the room. I couldn’t make out much in the darkness. A long hangar of lifejackets to my right, three mountain bikes, a few inflatable workout balls, and a row of fishing rods secured overhead.

  As my senses returned, I felt the ground rock slowly from side to side and heard the distant hum of an engine. I’m on a yacht, I thought as I continued to listen and look around.

  “How in the hell did this happen?” I whispered to myself as my mind played back as much as I could remember from the moments before I’d blacked out.

  A sudden and powerful rage overtook me as I remembered the image of Ben’s face hovering over mine, his lips contorted into a cocky smile as I lost consciousness. What had he done? Who had he handed me over to, and where in the hell were they taking me?

  I asked the questions in my mind, but I already knew a few of the answers. Even before a big, muscular dark-skinned guy came inside and told me to stand my ass up, I knew exactly who I was dealing with. But the tattoo of two snakes around his left wrist solidified it.

  Two more guys entered, then held me down as they removed one of the handcuffs, then clicked it back on, freeing me from the pipe. One of the guys had long jet-black hair that he kept braided. He was overweight and looked at me like I was scum he’d just found stuck under his boot.

  The big guy who’d first entered just looked tired. He had a completely shaved head and a tattoo around his left eye. I didn’t get a good look at the third guy, but he looked big as well. The first guy’s muscles bulged out of his tee shirt as he led the way, holding a pistol in one hand as he told me to move it.

  They led me down a well-lit hallway, and as we passed the first door, I heard the faint sound of two women talking on the other side. The fat guy pushed me hard.

  “Keep moving!” he barked, and we continued down to the end of the hallway, up a set of stairs, and into a dark room.

  They grabbed a second pair of handcuffs, cuffed me to the metal support of a table and sat me down onto a leather office chair. The three men stood beside me, and we waited a few minutes before another group entered and shut the door behind them. They said a few muffled words to each other that I couldn’t understand, then turned on a massive flat-screen on the other side of the room.

  The sudden burst of brightness caught me off guard, and I had to look down and squint for a few seconds before being able to look at it. Blank at first, the screen soon showed the image of an old man sitting on a couch and staring back at me. He had patches of thinning white hair, olive skin, and dark eyes. He was wearing a black business suit and was sitting on a fancy white leather couch. In the lower right corner of the screen, I could see myself, plopped down in the leather chair, wearing my gray Born to Beach tee shirt and looking like hell.

  The man on the screen looked me over for a few seconds, then smiled and leaned back into the couch.

  “You see?” a man’s voice said in the darkness beside me. It was a low and raspy voice with a strong Spanish accent. “We have captured Logan Dodge, as I told you we would, Jefe.”

  The old man on the screen gave a slight nod of approval, then said, “I must say, Felix, I certainly had my doubts.”

  The old man’s voice was smooth and articulate, but beyond his posh exterior, I sensed a different man within. He was hardened and evil but did his best to hide his true self beneath a façade of artificial class.

  “I will be flying to Tampico tomorrow,” the old man added. “You will bring this man to me, and we will deal with him properly.”

  The evil smile returned as the man’s words trailed off. He looked right into my eyes, but I didn’t blink or look worried in the slightest. No, I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Besides, I’d dealt with evil men many times before and wasn’t easily intimidated.

  “We will be there as soon as we can,” Felix replied. “This piece of crap is having engine trouble, so our max speed right now is fifteen knots. We will arrive Thursday evening at the earliest.”

  The old man was visibly displeased.

  “Well, then, fix the issue and be here by Thursday morning,” he replied. “I’m eager to avenge Marco’s death, and to make an example of this imbecile. The world will see what happens when someone crosses us.”

  “Yes, Jefe,” Felix said. “Is there anything else?”

  The old man grabbed a half-filled glass from the table in front of him and took a drink.

  “Yes,” the old man said. “Remember to watch out for his pissant friends. I have no doubt they will try and save him.”

  The man standing beside me laughed arrogantly.

  “By the time they realize what has happened,” he said, “we will be a thousand miles away.”

  The old man showed no emotion. Instead, he said something I couldn’t hear to a few men out of view.

  “That’s very comforting, Felix,” he said sarcastically. “But it’s not enough.” He paused for a moment, took another swig, then added, “I’ve sent some of my own men to take care of her. I’ve heard about her, and the last thing I want is her getting in the way. Also, if what I hear is true, Logan here has strong feelings for her.”

  Anger swelled deep within me, and it was becoming harder and harder for me to keep from showing it.

  The old man smiled. “It will be good revenge for Marco’s death when we kill her.” He leaned in close, staring towards Felix. “I want Logan delivered to me Thursday. Understood?”

  “Yes, Jefe,” Felix replied.

  A second later, the screen turned dark again and the muscular guy walked into view, grabbed a remote, and turned off the flat-screen. The dark room suddenly turned bright as someone switched on one of the overhead lights.

  Felix ordered the others to take me into his office, which was just down the hall. Once I was there, the three guys cuffed me to a chair and left the room. Felix, who’d been only a dark figure while talking to the old guy on the monitor, moved into view and sat on a large chair across a wooden desk from me.

  The first thing I noticed was a grotesque scar that stretched from his left cheek down to his neck. He had dark skin, a lean build, and piercing green eyes. He looked maybe a few years older than my thirty-two and was wearing a fancy black button-up shirt.

  “Now that that bullshit’s over,” the man said, leaning back in his chair, “I need to talk to you, Logan Dodge.”

  I looked back at him, confused, as he paused for a few seconds. After clearing his throat, he reached for something behind the desk.

  He smiled as he set my dagger on the desk between us. “I need to talk to you about this pirate ship you found, and this treasure.”

  We sat in silence for a moment. For a second, I wondered how he’d managed to learn about the treasure, then I thought about the member of Black Venom whom they’d broken out of jail and the fact that they’d had guys following us for a few days.

  He leaned forward and clasped his hands together on the desk in front of him.

  “I have a proposition for you,” he said. “That guy on the monitor,” he added, pointing in the direction of the dark room we’d just came from, “he’s the big boss. The Jefe of Black Venom. And… he wants your head on a plate.” He grabbed a bottle off the desk, filled a glass, and took a few long pulls before continuing. “Well, actually he wants to torture you and then put your head on a plate. But either way, it doesn’t end well for you, understand?”

  I gave a slight nod and stared back into his eyes, unblinking.

  “So,” he said, “I could hand you over to him, and the truth is I wouldn’t lose a second of sleep over it. But, I would like to offer you a means of salvation from this predicament.” He poured another glass, held it in his hands for a few seconds, then stood up and began to pace around me. “You tell me where I can find this treasure and help me recover it, and in exchange, I will let you go.”

  He dow
ned the glass, and again the room returned to silence for a few seconds. I had a hard time believing what I was hearing. Not only was this guy not looking to kill me, but he was offering an exchange for my release? I knew I couldn’t trust him, that they were all a bunch of murdering, lying criminals. But I also knew that if I didn’t play along, I’d have a much slimmer chance of escaping before being killed.

  “How can I trust you to keep your word?” I said. “Even if I keep my end of the bargain, what’s to stop you from still handing me over?”

  The man laughed and looked off to the side.

  “Nothing,” he said. “But right now it’s the only chance you’ve got, Mr. Dodge. You either take me to this treasure, or you die.”

  I thought it over again. Whether or not I could find the treasure, or whether it even existed at all, I needed time. The longer I was gone, the better chance I’d be giving someone to find me. Then I thought about Ange and the men the old guy had said he was sending after her.

  “Okay,” I said. “But on two conditions.”

  The man grinned and chuckled again.

  “Everything I’ve heard about you is true,” he said. “You’ve got balls of steel to be making demands in your current state.”

  “Angelina Fox,” I said. “Call off the guys sent to kill her.”

  “I can’t do that. They were sent by Jefe, and only he can call them off.”

  Shit, I thought as I glanced down at the floor.

  “What is the second condition?”

  My anger at not being able to help Ange shifted to anger of a different variety. I pictured him standing over me and smiling as the world went dark. My second condition related to him, a man I trusted, a man who would soon regret betraying me.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Angelina couldn’t sleep. Her mind was far too busy as she thought about Logan, wondering what had happened and where he could be. She’d cruised all around the Lower Keys with Jack and Charles, but they hadn’t found any sign of him or Ben. They’d both simply vanished without a word. She was sure that something serious had happened, and she was also sure that with every second that passed by, her chances of finding him were getting smaller and smaller.