Wild Case

by Tripp Ellis

  "If you need any assistance, let me know." Dragonfly smiled, and we shook hands. I thanked him for his assistance.

  I climbed out of the car with Frankie, and we strolled into the lobby of the hotel.

  "What business are you taking care of?" she asked, trying not to sound too curious.

  "I have an old score to settle."

  “Want to tell me about it? I mean, don’t feel obligated to share intimate details with me. It was just sex, not a relationship.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  She sneered at me, playfully.

  I filled her in on the details about my parents’ murder, and my quest to find Esteban Rivera.

  "I wasn't planning on staying here any longer than necessary, but I guess I can lend a hand.” A thin smile curled Frankie’s lips.

  "You know, it seems like we’ve got some time to kill, and I don't think we fully got to explore our potential before breakfast."

  A naughty glimmer flickered in her blue eyes. "What are you suggesting, Mr. Wild?" she asked coyly.

  We made our way up to the room and tumbled around the sheets for a good, long while. Everything that happened before breakfast was just an appetizer. This was the main entrée.

  Afterward, we lay in bed in a state of bliss, and I dozed off again. We woke up mid afternoon with the sun beaming into the hotel room. I yawned and stretched, and Frankie curled beside me. She put a hand on my chest, and her delicate fingers stroked my skin.

  "It's a beautiful day out," Frankie said. "What do you say we go explore Medellín?"

  I was perfectly happy to keep exploring her body.

  "I need to do some shopping,” she said. “If you think I'm flying back to Coconut Key wearing jungle fatigues, you're sadly mistaken." She paused. "Besides, my feet are killing me. I need comfortable shoes."

  I agreed.

  We got dressed, then took a cab to an area with several shopping boutiques. I found a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and comfortable sneakers. Frankie found a tight skimpy dress and a pair of stiletto heels. We wore the clothes out of the store.

  "I thought you were looking for comfortable shoes?" I asked.

  “Sometimes you have to sacrifice comfort for style," she said with a grin.

  We stopped at a sidewalk café and grabbed a late lunch. I got a call from Isabella.

  "It seems all’s well that ends well," Isabella said.

  "I guess you can say that."

  "Contact me when you're ready to come back, and I'll arrange transportation." She hesitated. "And, by the way… nice job. I know it was a little more than you bargained for."

  "A lot more,” I said. “Now, maybe you owe me one?"

  She chuckled. "Somehow I think you enjoyed yourself.”

  “You call getting shot at, chased across town, shot down in a helicopter, trudging through a jungle, and getting captured by rebel forces enjoyable?”

  “Did you, or did you not, hook up with the blonde?”

  I looked across the table at the gorgeous brunette. "She’s not a blonde anymore.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Isabella said.

  “You know I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “I run the most powerful clandestine intelligence agency on the planet. You don’t think I know how my operatives will react in given situations?”

  I said nothing.

  “The only question I have is how long it took?” Isabella asked.

  Frankie’s eyes narrowed at me, knowing she was the topic of discussion.

  “I’m sorry, but that information is classified,” I said.

  “Okay, slick. You can keep your secrets.”

  “You ever track down the leak?”

  “Still working on it,” she said. “But it wasn’t on my end, I can tell you that.”

  Isabella hung up, and I slid the phone back into my pocket.

  “Is she pumping you for information?” Frankie asked.

  “She’s bored and needs tawdry gossip to enliven her day,” I replied.

  “Have you ever hooked up with her?” Frankie asked with a sly grin.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t see how that is relevant to the current operation.”

  Her eyes narrowed at me. “She’s gorgeous. I would imagine she’s your type.”

  “Contrary to your assumptions, I have not gone there. I’ve kept my relationship with Isabella strictly professional. That is not a woman whose bad side you want to get on.”

  Frankie chuckled. “Agreed. You may be smarter than you look,” she teased.

  I gave her a sour glance.

  We finished lunch and did more shopping, then headed back to the hotel.

  Later that evening, Dragonfly called with an address. "That's the most recent information I could find."

  "This is Esteban’s residence?" I asked.

  "It's current as of three weeks ago. He used a shell company to rent the apartment, but my contact was able to trace it back to Rivera."

  "Thanks, I'll check it out."

  "Like I said… Let me know if you need my assistance."

  "I appreciate that. I think I can handle this one on my own."

  “A piece of advice, if I may?"

  "I'm listening."

  “You are chasing a ghost, my friend. Sometimes it's best to let the past go."

  "Kinda like you let things go back in the guerrilla camp?"

  Dragonfly chuckled. "Fair enough. Safe travels, my friend."

  "You the same," I replied, then hung up.

  I wrote the address down that Dragonfly had given me. I stared at the paper for a long moment, contemplating my next move. Would killing Esteban Rivera really make me feel better?

  33

  I staked out Esteban Rivera’s luxury high-rise. He was living in El Poblado, not far from our hotel, ironically. I sat in an outdoor café across the street, watching the building, waiting for Esteban to enter or exit.

  Frankie and I sat there for a few hours, drinking coffee, and ordering appetizers.

  "What are you gonna do if you see him?" Frankie asked.

  I shrugged.

  "You’re not going to walk up to him and shoot him in the street, are you?"

  "The thought had crossed my mind," I said, half joking.

  “Just give me a heads up if you're going to do something like that. But, if you want my advice, be a little more subtle about it."

  I scowled at her playfully.

  I sat there for another 20 minutes, fidgeting. I had been waiting for this moment for a long time, and I was full of nervous energy. I didn't know Esteban’s schedule. I didn't know his preferred routes of travel, or places he regularly frequented. Usually, I did a lot more homework. This was an impulse kill.

  Sure, I kept telling myself I wasn't going to take him out. I kept telling myself I would just ask him questions. Silly things like why? Why were my parents killed? Were they just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Victims of circumstance?

  It was unlikely I’d get any real answers, even if I did find the man. Perhaps Dragonfly was right? Maybe I should just walk away? Forget about it?

  The trouble was, I could hang onto a grudge for an awfully long time. This was a little more than a grudge.

  I finally threw a wad of cash on the table and stood up.

  Frankie looked at me with curious eyes. "What are you doing?"

  "Just going in for a closer look."

  "Are you sure this is such a good idea? We've made it through this entire operation without much damage. Is this really worth the risk?"

  "There are some things I have to know," I said.

  She followed me out of the restaurant, and I darted across the street. I strolled down the walkway and pushed into the lobby and found the elevator bank. My finger pressed the call button, and I waited for the lift to arrive. We stepped inside and sprang up to the 17th floor. The door slid open, and we stepped into the hallway. I turned left, looking for apartment #1721.

  My hand gripped my pistol, and I d
rew it from the holster. I pulled a suppressor from my pocket and screwed it onto the end of the barrel.

  We hovered just outside the door, and I listened intently. There was no sound inside the apartment. The only thing I heard was the dull murmur of the TV across the hall.

  I readied my weapon, stepped back, then kicked the front door. It took three solid blows to rip it from the doorframe. Wood splintered, and the door swung open. I stormed into the apartment, clearing the area.

  Frankie followed behind.

  We advanced down the foyer, and by the time I hit the living room, I knew it was a bust.

  The apartment was empty.

  No furniture. Just a few pieces of trash on the floor. The walls needed a fresh coat of paint. We cleared the bedroom and bathroom, then moved back into the living room. I gritted my teeth and grumbled under my breath.

  "Let's get out of here before we get arrested for breaking and entering,” Frankie said.

  I nodded, then gave a last glance around the apartment, looking for anything that might lead me to Esteban Rivera. There was nothing to be found. I unscrewed the suppressor and slipped it back into my pocket, and holstered my pistol.

  We slipped into the hallway and vanished into the stairwell. Spiraling our way down, our footsteps echoed against the walls. We spilled out into the lobby, made for the street, and caught a cab back to the hotel.

  “Look on the bright side," Frankie said.

  I arched a curious eyebrow. "What bright side is that?"

  34

  “In my experience, I’ve found that the chase is half the fun,” Frankie said. “The anticipation of a thing is often better than the thing itself.”

  I arched a skeptical eyebrow at her.

  “Present company excluded,” she said with a naughty glint in her eyes. “But think about it… What’s more fun? The anticipation of Christmas and tearing open the packages? Or playing with the toys the next day?”

  She had a point.

  “All I’m saying is that once you catch up with that guy, it’s not going to change anything. And do you really want to know the gory details, anyway?”

  There was a long silence.

  “It’s terrible, and it’s tragic,” she said. “But the past can’t be undone.”

  I knew she was probably right, but getting that to sink in was a different story. I still harbored a lot of anger.

  We stayed at the hotel for the night and put the mattress to the test. Frankie had a way of taking my mind off my troubles. Afterward, I slept like a baby. In the morning, we caught a cab to the airport and flew back to Coconut Key on the private jet. I earned my membership renewal, and reward points, in the mile high club.

  By the time we landed, I was more than ready to get home and chill out. No chaos. No guns. No jungles. Just drinks, and the open water—and the former blonde with a bad dye job.

  But Frankie gave me the bad news when we landed.

  I gathered my things, ready to de-plane, but Frankie wasn't leaving. She stood up and gave me a hug. "Looks like this is goodbye."

  My brow lifted, surprised. I tried not to sound too pathetic when I said, “I thought maybe you could stay a few days on the island."

  “Remember what I said about getting addicted?"

  I scowled at her playfully. "I am not addicted to you."

  She knew I was lying.

  I tried to shrug it off, but we had been through a lot together over the last few days. I had to admit, I kind of liked what she brought to the table. She was smart, beautiful, capable, and deadly. Everything I looked for in a woman.

  "I'd stay. I really would. You have some redeeming qualities," she said, arching a lustful eyebrow. "But duty calls. I have another assignment. Besides, a girl can't be too available. That's boring, and I never want to be boring."

  "I can’t imagine you'd ever be boring."

  "Good. That's just the way I want you to imagine me."

  "Maybe we should exchange numbers?"

  "That would be too easy. We’re both experts at gathering intel. I think we could both find a way to communicate with each other if necessary." She smirked.

  She lifted on her tiptoes, and her lips pressed against mine. I pulled her close and held onto her one last time, memorizing the feel of her soft lips. Maybe I'd taste them again someday?

  We said our goodbyes, and I climbed down the steps to the tarmac. I pushed through the FBO and caught a cab back to Diver Down and strolled inside to the bar.

  Alejandro greeted me with a smile as he served beverages. "I thought you were only going to be gone for a day?"

  I shrugged. "Things were a little more complicated than I anticipated."

  "Happens. Can I get you anything?"

  "You know what sounds good? A cheeseburger and a beer."

  Alejandro grinned. "Coming right up."

  "Where's Madison?"

  "She left."

  "Like, she left to go run an errand? Or she left to go on vacation?"

  "Vacation. She says you're the boss while she's gone."

  "Great. Just what I always wanted," I said dryly.

  I ate lunch, then strolled down the dock to the Vivere. I crossed the gangway and pushed into the salon. A frustrated breath escaped my lips. The place was still a wreck from the party! JD never cleaned it up. The place smelled like stale beer and vomit.

  I clenched my jaw, and my cheeks flushed. This was the downside of having a pseudo-roommate.

  I descended the stairs and trotted down the companionway to the master stateroom. I tossed my backpack on the bed and found my phone. I had ditched the burner back in Medellín. When I powered up the device, dozens of text messages and voicemails came through. I scrolled through the notifications. There were several excited messages from JD's daughter, Scarlett.

  [I got the part!!!]

  [I can't believe it!!!]

  [Oh, my God!!!]

  [Call me. I need to talk to you about something.]

  I grinned. I was looking forward to hearing all about it.

  There were several messages from JD. Most of them wondering where the hell I was, and when I’d be back? There were a few telling me about all the hotties he was scoring. I figured about half the stories he told were true.

  There were a few text messages from Madison, letting me know she was leaving, and she’d be in touch soon. I wasn't her favorite person at the moment, so I decided I would let her enjoy her vacation without hearing from her annoying brother.

  It was a little after noon. There was a three-hour time difference between Coconut Key and Los Angeles. I decided to call Scarlett.

  She answered the phone in a groggy voice. "What do you want?"

  "Is that any way to answer your phone?" I asked. "I could be a powerful Hollywood producer."

  "Why don't you hurry up and get on that. Then you can cast me in your movies."

  "Movie," I corrected. "And it hasn't really happened yet."

  "Joel said they’re talking about doing the TV show?"

  "You know, talk is cheap. It takes money to buy whiskey."

  "I wouldn't know about that. I've been staying on the straight and narrow, I'll have you know."

  I smiled. "I'm proud of you."

  "It's not easy here, let me tell you. I get offers to go out and party every night. It's insane. There is always something to do here." She paused. "I'm so glad I'm not drinking or doing other things. You could get lost really quick in a place like this."

  "I'm glad you realize that. So, tell me about this part?"

  "It's not a huge role," she said, preparing me. "But it's important."

  "Do you have lines?"

  She scoffed. "Yes, of course I have lines. I'm not an extra. Do you think I would do extra work?"

  “No.”

  "I am star material, just so we’re on the same page."

  "I have no doubt that you are," I said.

  "So, I play a cheerleader in a horror movie. Her name is Britney. And I get to die a gory death on came
ra. How cool is that?"

  "Sounds like fun."

  "I'll be covered in fake blood. And they are developing these prosthetics and latex appliances for when the chainsaw cuts through me. It's really cool."

  "Sounds like the pinnacle of cinema,” I said, thick with sarcasm.

  "And the script is really good,” she continued. “Once I started reading, I couldn't stop. It kept me up all night. It freaked me out, too."

  "I'm excited for you."

  "There's one small issue, and you have to promise you won’t tell Jack," she demanded.

  I groaned. "What is this one small issue?"

  "It's really not a big deal. "

  "Something tells me it's a big deal."

  "You're not going to be judgmental, are you?"

  "I'm not the one you need to worry about."

  "I know. That's why you are going to keep your mouth shut."

  "Out with it."

  "Well, in the scene in which I'm killed, I'm going to be topless. Just briefly."

  I sighed. "You realize that there is no such thing as just briefly with the Internet. Someone will screen-grab that and post it online, and you will be naked forever."

  "You promised not to be judgmental."

  "I'm not being judgmental, I'm merely stating the facts."

  "All the big-name celebrities have gone topless at some point in their career. Bree Taylor went topless."

  I bit my tongue.

  "Do you want me to go down the list? Because there's a lot of them." She sighed. "This is a steppingstone to my career."

  "You're an adult. You can do whatever you want to do. I'm not going to tell you one way or another. But if I encourage this, JD will have my ass. So you can't tell him I told you to do this."

  She hesitated for a moment. "Well, technically, you did hook me up with your agent out here, and therefore this is really all your fault."

  I groaned again. "Great. Blame me."

  “I don't have a problem with it,” Scarlett said. “I’m going to do it. I want to do it. I'm young, I'm hot, and I have a great set of tits. And those puppies aren’t going to last forever. One day, I'll be 80 years old, and I'll be able to point back to this movie and say to my grandkids, hey, your grandma was once hot."