by Tripp Ellis
“Okay. This is so awesome. I’ll be back.” Scarlett flitted away on cloud nine.
“You gotta stick to your word. You can’t get her hopes up like that and not follow through.”
Aria feigned offense. “Do I look like someone who wouldn’t follow through? I meant what I said. I’ll help her out. Once she gets her profile ready, all I have to do is to shout out to my followers about my hot new friend, and boom, overnight sensation.”
I took an uncertain breath. “JD is going to kill me.”
“Why?”
“He can barely keep her in line as it is. What do you think’s going to happen when she’s InstaFamous?”
“Give her a little credit. She’ll keep it together. I’ll give her tips on more than just social media. We’ll talk about finances, investments, Roth IRAs.”
I raised an impressed eyebrow.
Off my surprised reaction, she said, “What? Do you think I’m blowing through my cash like a fool? I’m well aware that these looks and this body aren’t going to last forever. I plan to have enough cash socked away to retire by 30 and keep living the lifestyle I’m accustomed to. If I can parlay my celebrity into something after that, great. If not, I’ll continue to travel, maybe write a book, who knows? Perhaps I’ll fall in love and start a family?”
She batted her eyelashes at me.
“Glad to see you have a plan.”
“I’m not as shallow and as ditzy as you thought, am I?”
“I never thought that,” I said, putting on my best poker face.
She coughed the word, “Liar.”
We downed a few daiquiris, talked, laughed, and enjoyed each other’s company. For a moment, I forgot all about my troubles. I ordered the jerked chicken, and she got the softshell crab.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown caller.
I knew exactly who it was. I didn’t want to answer. “Will you excuse me while I take this?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
I cringed as I answered the phone. “Isabella. So nice to hear from you.”
I smiled through gritted teeth.
28
Aria’s eyes narrowed at me. I could see the flame of jealousy burning in them.
“Are you staying out of trouble, Tyson?” Isabella asked.
“Sort of. What do you want?”
“I thought you’d like to know that we still haven’t found Cartwright. Though he did take a significant cash payout from a rival cartel to put the hit on Ruiz.”
“Told you.”
“It looks like you’re off the hook. Say thank you.”
“Thank you.”
“As such, you’re back on active status. It took a lot of convincing on my part, but I assured everyone that you are still reliable and at the top of your game.”
“That is extremely kind of you, Isabella,” I said dryly. “But I’m retiring.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I’m done. I’m out.”
There was a long silence.
“Tyson, there is no out.”
“Yes, there is.”
“You know old spies don’t retire. They die.”
“Who are you calling old?”
“Exactly. You’ve got plenty of ops left in you.”
“I’m done. I’m telling you.”
“We’ll see about that. I can be very persuasive.” Isabella hung up the phone. Her version of gentle persuasion was putting a gun to your head. Sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively. I didn’t like the sound of that.
“Girlfriend?” Aria asked, trying to conceal her jealousy. “I mean, it’s cool if you’ve got a girlfriend. I know we’re just…”
“Not my girlfriend.”
“Ex?” she asked. “Sorry, it’s not my business.”
“Not my ex. Former business associate. She doesn’t want me to leave the company. But I’ve decided to make a life change.”
“Working for JD?”
“Something like that.”
Aria smiled, relieved. We liked each other more than either one of us were letting on.
Scarlett brought us another round of daiquiris just as our current drinks bottomed out, and the last bit of the sweet liquid rattled through our straws.
Scarlett checked on the neighboring table of bikers who had grown even more rowdy. Their comments grew more vulgar. One of them grabbed Scarlett and pulled her a little too close for comfort. His hand found its way from the small of her back to her ass, grabbing an unwelcome handful.
She extricated herself from the situation and gave him an earful before storming off to tell her manager she refused to wait on them anymore.
By that time, I had put my napkin down. “Excuse me for a moment. I need to take care of this.”
“What are you going to do?”
Aria watched with concerned eyes. To the average person, it looked like a suicide mission. There were four bikers at the table—all barrel chested men with thick forearms and tattoos. Some of them prison tats. These weren’t your weekend warrior Wall Street guys who had plunked down $25,000 for a Harley. These were criminals. No doubt about it.
“I think it’s time for you boys to pay your tab and leave,” I said. “And apologize to the lady.”
The table laughed.
“Who’s going to make us? You?” the red-haired man said. He was clearly the leader of the gang and spoke for his companions.
“It’s going to be real embarrassing when I kick your ass.”
Red laughed again. “You got balls. I’ll give you that.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Chairs screeched against the concrete as the four of them pushed away from the table and stood up. These guys towered over me.
“Last chance,” I warned.
“You sure are a mouthy little fart.”
“Do you boys have health insurance? I mean, I’ll try to go easy on you, but ER visits are expensive. And I’m pretty sure all of you will need to be admitted for serious injuries.”
“Can you believe this guy?” Red said, chuckling. “You know, I almost like you. I mean, hell, anybody willing to stand up to us deserves a little respect. Why don’t you join us for a beer?”
“Sorry. I don’t drink with scumbags.”
I guess Red had enough of my smart mouth because he took a swing.
I ducked, jabbed a fist in his belly, then spun around and put an elbow into his nose. Blood spewed, and bones crumpled. He fell back and crashed against the cocktail table. Drinks scattered, and bottles smashed against the floor.
His companions looked stunned.
One of them charged toward me. He swung a hard right.
I blocked his forearm, slammed my fist into his rib cage, then finished with a knee to the groin and an elbow to the back of the neck.
Another goon attacked. He jabbed twice, then swung a left hook.
I bobbed and weaved.
His wide swing left him vulnerable, and I clocked him in the jaw, then jammed my foot into the side of his knee. His ligaments snapped, and the ogre dropped to the ground, screaming in agony.
The last goon raised his hands in surrender, backing away. He scampered out of the bar, leaving his friends to fend for themselves.
Bar patrons cheered.
Scarlett watched, both stunned and elated.
“Call the cops,” I said. “And you better call an ambulance.”
Scarlett ran to me and gave me a hug. “Thank you. Those guys were jerks. You could have gotten hurt!”
“Nonsense. I just needed to teach them a lesson in respect,” I said.
I went back to my table to finish the meal.
Aria was impressed—and a little bit turned on. “What was your old job? UFC fighter?”
I laughed. “No. Way more dangerous.”
Her eyes sparkled. “I have to say, you are probably the most interesting man I’ve ever dated.”
“So, we’re dating?” I asked, playfully.
“It sounds better than hooking
up, doesn’t it?” She smiled. “And speaking of hooking up… There’s nothing more romantic than fighting for a woman’s honor. What do you say we find someplace a little more private, and you can show me what other moves you’ve got?”
“That sounds reasonable to me.”
“Unless you like the public thing? I’m sure we could find someplace dangerous.” She had a deliciously naughty glimmer in her eyes.
29
The manager comped our meal, and I left Scarlett a healthy tip.
Sheriff Daniels showed up and took one look at me and shook his head. “Do you just go out looking for trouble?”
“It has a way of finding me.”
“Want to tell me what happened?”
I gave him the short version of the story.
“By the way, the divers found a crowbar in the channel near the Heartbreaker. The ME says it could be the murder weapon, but it’s likely no trace evidence will be recovered. We probably won’t be able to tie it to Troy.”
“Do you still have him locked up?”
The sheriff smiled. “Those darn computers. He won’t be out before morning.”
He and Deputy Perkins arrested the bikers after the EMTs treated their wounds.
“So, you’re helping the police with a murder investigation?” Aria asked.
“I’m… consulting here and there.”
Her eyes sparkled again. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more interesting…”
I knew a great spot to catch the sunset that might fulfill Aria’s experimental desires. I said goodbye to Scarlett, and we left Reefers. We strolled down Oyster Avenue, heading toward the beach.
Tours of the Coconut Key lighthouse ended at 4:30pm. No one lived on the property, and it was easy to pick the lock to the lighthouse itself. It was a cast-iron tower built in the 1840s. It had undergone several renovations over the years and now was a museum and gift shop.
I can neither confirm, nor deny, what happened on the steps inside the tower, or the catwalk around the giant Fresnel light that once warned sailors of the rocky shore. But if something naughty did occur, it was a lot of fun.
Afterward, we watched the sun disappear over the horizon from the top of the tower. The ocean breeze blew our hair, and the last rays of amber light bounced off our retinas. The sky was alive with glorious shades of pink, purple, blue, and orange. Aria wrapped her arms around me with her head against my chest. It was a nice, quiet moment.
JD called. “I heard you went medieval on some jackasses at Reefers.”
“Just had to put some people in their place.”
“Scarlett told me all about it. Thanks for looking out for her. I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I’ve always got your back. You know that.”
“I know.”
“Scarlett tells me you were with that little honey from the boat. I thought she skipped town?”
“She delayed her return trip. What can I say, I have a magnetic personality,” I said with a smile.
Aria knew I was talking about her.
“Careful now,” JD said. “She might be habit-forming.”
“That she is.”
Aria and I snuck out of the lighthouse and made our way back to Oyster Avenue. We hit a few bars, then called it an early night and took an Uber back to the boat. We tumbled around the sheets, making waves, doing our best to wear each other out. She was insatiable, and I felt like I was back in college again.
The sheriff called the next day to give me a heads up that he was about to release Troy Larson. “Just thought you might want to know. We couldn’t pull any evidence that connects Troy to the tire iron. Hell, we don’t even know if it was the same tire iron used to kill Dan Baker. The water degraded any evidence that may have existed. The DA doesn’t think we have enough to get an indictment. And the judge won’t issue a search warrant. Looks like the guys going to walk.”
“He’s not going to walk,” I assured him. “I can’t tell you how it got there, but in the marina behind Troy Larson’s apartment, you’ll find a rolling suitcase with his name on it. Inside is $4 million worth of cocaine.”
“I’m not even going to ask. I’ll have some divers pull it out of the water. But that’s not going to stick. He’s going to say the suitcase was stolen.”
“I don’t care if it sticks or not. He’s got a lot of explaining to do to his supplier. The fireworks should be starting soon. I’ll touch base shortly.”
“I don’t know what kind of crazy scheme you and JD cooked up, but watch your back. You might be getting in over your head.”
“I’m used to that kind of thing.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
It was a few hours later when I got a call from JD. “I’m on my way over. It’s showtime.”
JD was at the boat within minutes, and we watched a live feed on his cell phone.
Troy had returned to his apartment and discovered his merchandise was missing. He flew into a rampage, cussing and screaming and breaking things.
Troy looked like a wild animal, punching holes in the sheet rock, turning over furniture, rummaging through the apartment.
“I’m telling you, it was those goddamn cops,” his girlfriend shouted.
“Cops don’t break into your apartment and steal your stash,” Troy said.
“Dirty ones do. You know that fat fuck is on the take.”
“No. It’s Garrett. That bastard is trying to double-cross me. He’s the only one that knew it was here.”
“What about Luke?” she asked.
“No. He just got out of jail.”
“What are you going to do?”
It seemed that all three of them were in on it. I was starting to get a better picture of their operation.
Troy snatched his cell phone from his pocket and called Garrett. He tried to play it cool And not sound upset. Troy told Garrett he needed to see him ASAP.
Aria watched the video with wide eyes. “Is this for real?”
“Afraid so,” JD said.
“This is better than reality TV.”
There was a half-hour of bickering between Troy and his girlfriend, then Garrett arrived. As soon as he stepped into the apartment, Troy put a gun to his head. “Where is it?”
“Where is what, man?” Garrett’s face twisted with confusion.
30
Garrett was tall, well-built, with short red hair and freckles. He wore a trimmed beard and was probably about 6’2”.
Troy was practically frothing at the mouth. His finger was wrapped tight around the trigger of his 9mm.
It was a precarious situation.
The slightest twitch, and the weapon would go off. To say that Troy was unstable would be an understatement.
“Where is it?” Troy asked.
“What are you talking about?” Garrett replied.
“The coke, you piece of shit,” Troy’s girlfriend shouted. “It’s gone! What did you do with it?”
“I didn’t do anything with it. You told me it was in your freezer.”
“It was,” Troy said.
“Wait! Are you saying it’s gone?” Garrett asked.
“Don’t play stupid with me,” Troy shouted.
“You don’t really think I took it?”
“I want answers. Now. I swear to God, I’ll blow your head off!” Troy shoved the shaky gun in Garrett’s face.
“Look, man. Just calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Troy shouted. “I’m going to count to three, and if you don’t tell me where it is, I’m pulling the trigger.”
Garrett’s eyes welled as he pleaded for his life. “I didn’t take it, man.”
“1…”
“Come on, bro!”
“2…”
“Dude, please!” Tears streamed down Garrett’s cheeks. He was about to have a nervous breakdown, and Troy was about to go mental.
“3…”
A knock on the door was the only thin
g that saved Garrett.
Troy grimaced and paused for a moment.
“I didn’t take the stuff, I swear,” Garrett whispered.
Another series of knocks interrupted the tense moment.
“Go see who it is,” Troy commanded.
Troy’s girlfriend scampered down the foyer to the door. “What do you want?”
A man’s muffled voice filtered through the door. “Can you keep it down? I gotta work the graveyard shift.”
The girlfriend was offscreen. I couldn’t see her, but it sounded like she pulled open the door. She talked with a neighbor for a moment, then she moved back into the living room. “Carl said he saw two guys on the patio, leaving with a suitcase.”
Troy took a moment to process the information, then pulled the gun away from Garrett’s head. “When?”
“Yesterday. Shortly after you were arrested. Said one guy looked like a rock star from the 80s. It was those two guys that were with the sheriff.”
“They broke into the house and stole my stash?” Troy said, coming to the realization.
“It sure as hell wasn’t me,” Garrett said.
Troy’s whole body tensed. “We’re all dead if we don’t find that stash, or come up with the money.”
“This is all because you killed Jeremy,” Garrett said.
Troy snarled at him. “I had to.”
“You brought the heat down on all of us,” Garrett said. “I can’t believe you thought I’d fuck you over. We’ve been best friends since grade school.”
“Just shut up. I’m the only one who had the balls to do what needed to be done. Jeremy stole from us, and I had to lay down the law. You cannot show weakness in this business.”
“Jeremy didn’t steal from us, man. He got ripped off.”
“Either way. Not my problem,” Troy said. “Just like it’s not going to be Enrique’s problem that we don’t have his cash. The Colombians are going to take us all out, and everyone we know. We’ve got to get that coke back.”
“How are we going to do that?”
The video feed dropped out. The screen filled with digital static.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
JD shrugged. “Shitty Internet? I don’t know.”
“So, let me get this straight… Did you guys steal some dude’s cocaine?” Aria asked.