Don't Give A Dwarf (Dwarf Bounty Hunter Book 2)

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Don't Give A Dwarf (Dwarf Bounty Hunter Book 2) Page 16

by Martha Carr


  “Hey, anything for you.” He smacked Johnny’s shoulder with the back of his hand, completely oblivious to the disgruntled frown the dwarf darted at him in return. “Crystal hair, huh? How’d you get your hands on that?”

  “I asked real nice.”

  Wallace snorted. “Oh, yeah? Like that time the witch from Cape Coral gave you her—” He glanced at Lisa, saw her raised eyebrow, and cleared her throat. “You know what? Never mind.”

  “We’ll be back in an hour.”

  “Oh, sure.” The gnome waved them off and they turned toward the door. “We’ll have it ready for you, Johnny.” He rested both hands on his hips and surveyed his magic-converting lab. “Ah… Like a well-oiled—Jackson! Hey! How many times have I told you not to disconnect the induction lines when they’re still— Stop. Just stop, man. I’ll do it myself.”

  Johnny let the door to the back room fall shut behind him and the rumbling whir and hiss of moving mechanical parts cut off instantly. “So we have an hour to kill.”

  “Not enough time to drive home.” Lisa peered over the top of a display case filled with sapphire rings and shrugged. “So what do you do when you’re waiting for custom orders?”

  “Around here? Settle for a drink and pretend I am home.”

  “What?”

  “Come on. An hour’s long enough.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Johnny parked the Jeep in the surprisingly full lot outside a two-story tavern and grill with an upper and lower deck boasting incredible views of the water.

  “All right.” Lisa forced back a smirk as she studied the restaurant and shut the Jeep door. “Maybe you do have good taste.”

  “In what?”

  “Showing a girl from up north around Florida. Not that I have anything against Darlene and her trailer. But this is nice, Johnny.”

  “Well, it ain’t a date either.” He strode across the parking lot and past the front door of the restaurant.

  “Um…unless you use a back door and a secret password, Johnny, the front door’s right—”

  “Naw, we ain’t goin’ in there.” He shook his head and moved quickly down the sidewalk.

  “We’re not?”

  “We’re hittin’ Leroy’s joint.” He pointed up the street.

  She cast a longing glance at the clean and very appealing waterfront restaurant before she hurried to catch up with him. “You could’ve said that before I went on and on about a place we’re not going to.”

  “It ain’t ever a smart move to interrupt a passionate display like that.”

  The agent snorted. “That wasn’t passion. That was appreciation.”

  “Trust me, darlin’. You’ll appreciate this one just fine.”

  The small shack positioned lower and closer to the water didn’t seem to have a name—merely a crooked sign painted on a sun-weathered two-by-four that read, Seafood. Two rusted metal tables with two chairs each stood on the dock behind the shack, completely unoccupied.

  “This is Leroy’s?” she muttered.

  “Damn straight.”

  “Why didn’t we simply park here?”

  “Because Seafront Tavern is for tourists. Just because it’s off-season don’t mean they ain’t still arrivin’ in droves.”

  The agent closed her eyes and wrinkled her nose. “So you park in the lots of tourist establishments. That’ll show ʼem, Johnny. Keep up the good work.”

  He ignored her and trudged down the sloping drive toward the shack.

  “I don’t think it’s open,” she muttered.

  “That’s the point.” The bounty hunter stopped in front of the narrow ledge beneath the order hatch, which was closed. He knocked three times on the wooden slat serving as the window. “Leroy! I know what you’re hidin’ in there, man. Open up and give me what’s mine.”

  Lisa folded her arms and frowned warily at the weathered shack. Great. We’re not here for drinks.

  A muffled thump and shuffle issued from behind the window before the wooden slats slid aside to reveal a wrinkled old man wearing rimless glasses and a straw hat with so many holes, it was little more than a straw sieve on his bald head. “Johnny boy! Now I knew that were you knockin’. How you doin’?”

  “I’m fine, Leroy.”

  “So watcha doin’ here, eh?” The proprietor wheezed with breathless laughter.

  “I was in the area.”

  “Oh, sure. You come all the way here to be in the area for me and mine, don’tcha? Hee-hee. You want the usual, then?”

  “Only reason I’m here.” Johnny folded his arms and smirked.

  “Yar. Hold yer pants up, boy.” The old man grunted and hefted something behind the narrow window. The inside of the tiny building was completely dark, and he stared at the dwarf the whole time as a yellow light flashed behind him and the sound of pouring liquid trickled out of the shack. “There. Take it. No one else touches it. You know that.”

  “Thanks. And a beer.”

  “Ha!” Leroy snapped his fingers with another flash of yellow light and an unmarked bottle appeared in his hands. “Fer the lady. Hee-hee.” He cracked the bottlecap with a hiss and handed him the beer as well. “And the chips?”

  “You ever heard me say no?”

  “Never! Ye’re as predictable as the tide, Johnny boy. Get on and put yer pups up. Speakin’ of…where them hounds at?”

  “It’s only me and the lady.” He took a sip of his Johnny Walker Black he knew Leroy kept in the stocked bar behind the window.

  “She ain’t no dog, Johnny. That’s fer damn sure. Hee-hee.” The old man slid the wooden slat closed with a bang, then shuffled and thumped around in his shack.

  The dwarf turned with the whiskey and beer bottle in hand and offered Lisa her drink. “You heard the man. Best get on and put our pups up.”

  She frowned at the shack and took the beer absently. “I think I know how the concierge in Manhattan felt.”

  He snorted a laugh and headed past the shack toward the dock and the two empty tables. “You get used to it. Or at least good at pickin’ out what you can understand and screw the rest.”

  “This is your place in Marco Island, huh?” The agent followed him and took a long swig of beer. “A crumbling seafood shack run by a wizard no one can understand?”

  “Not no one, darlin’. Only those of us who know where to find a good view and the best damn pickle chips three towns over.”

  She stopped in front of a metal chair that didn’t look like it could support its weight much longer, let alone hers. “Pick what?”

  Johnny chuckled. “Yankees. Have a seat.”

  He pulled a chair from the other table toward him with his boot, thumped both legs on top of it, and leaned back.

  Her chair groaned when she sat but fortunately didn’t collapse. “Well, at least it’s not a bad view.”

  “Yeah, except for those damn tourists yuckin’ it up next door.” The dwarf shook his head and sipped his whiskey. “Folks like that should stick to Miami and the Keys. Leave the Everglades to those who know what to do with ʼem.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that, so she lifted the bottle to her lips and stared out at the water that stretched seemingly forever in front of them. “I bet the sunsets here are amazing.”

  “You bet right.” He sighed with contentment. “I could stay here until then. But by the time that sun glows red on the water, I’ll be back home fixin that Crystal magic to half a dozen crossbow bolts, at least.”

  “Another time, then. Maybe.”

  “That’d be fine.”

  Another window banged open at the back of the shack, followed by Leroy’s high-pitched cackle and another burst of yellow light. A tin plate lined with white paper streaked out of the window and dropped onto the center of their table. “I don’t wanna see no fish food in that trough, Johnny boy. Don’t make me move my boots more’n I like, ya hear?”

  The window banged shut again before he could even consider giving the old wizard a reply.

  H
e chuckled and pointed at the basket. “Pickle chips.”

  “Oh. Fried pickles. Yeah, I’ve had those.”

  “Naw, you ain’t. These’re Leroy’s.”

  “There can’t be much variety with fried pickles, Johnny. Pickle, breading, fryer.” She shrugged.

  “You go on and try ʼem, darlin’. See how quickly you eat your words.”

  Lisa scoffed and reached for a handful of the sliced and fried pickles, then dropped them and shook her hand. “Dammit. Those are hot.”

  “Yep.”

  “Don’t laugh.” She leaned back in her chair and frowned teasingly at him. “Why did you order pickles from a seafood shack anyway?”

  “The seafood part’s for the tourists. It ain’t real.”

  “The food?”

  “Leroy makes a fine livin’ off sellin’ imitation crab and…I don’t know. Tofu clams or some shit.”

  The agent burst out laughing. “No way.”

  “It’s true. The man’s allergic to shellfish. And anything that swims, to be honest. We take care of our own down here, darlin’, and the rest of the world can piss off.”

  “Hmm.” She picked a pickle chip up carefully and blew on it. “It makes me rethink every trip I took to Miami as a kid.”

  “Naw. Miami’s a whole different beast.”

  She bit into the fried pickle and froze. “Holy shit.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “This is amazing.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What does he do to these things?”

  “He ain’t gonna tell you even if you asked.” Johnny chuckled and leaned forward to help himself to a handful.

  An airboat with the driver seated on a high chair at the stern and a group of six women in their forties with drinks in hand hummed down the shoreline toward Leroy’s dock. The passengers shrieked with laughter until the boat reached it. Then, their voices fell into hushed murmurs and giggles as they all stared at Johnny Walker and his whiskey.

  A redhead grinned flirtingly at him and raised a hand to wiggle her fingers in greeting. “Hey, there.”

  The others laughed and the woman seated beside her slapped her friend’s hand down. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re on vacation, Emily. I can do whatever I want.”

  “She means whoever she wants,” the brunette behind her whispered way too loudly. The group burst into girlish giggles and turned in their chairs to continue to stare at him as the airboat skimmed past.

  Lisa chuckled and sipped her beer. “I’d ask if they were friends of yours but they kind of threw themselves under the bus.”

  “Well, there’s your answer, then.” He scowled at the back of the airboat.

  “Honestly, I’m amazed you don’t know every woman in Florida.”

  Johnny snorted. “Interestin’ idea. Come on, that’d be impossible.”

  “Would it, though?” With a smirk, she turned toward him. “You live far longer than most of them. It keeps a fresh cycle turning through every…what? Fifteen years?”

  “Now you’re simply lookin’ to pick a fight.” He took a handful of pickle chips and crammed them in his mouth. Flecks of fried breading and juice dropped into his beard.

  “I’m messing with you, Johnny. Not fighting. That’s what partners do.”

  “Uh-huh.” He wiped his mouth and the top of his beard with the back of a hand. “Well, I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “No, the women do all that for you.” She hid her smile with another sip of beer.

  “Listen, darlin’. I ain’t givin’ specifics ʼcause there ain’t nothin’ worth bringin’ up.”

  “Even that gaggle of winos who left their husbands and teenage kids for a week to tour the Everglades?”

  He lowered his head toward her and fixed her with a bland glance over the tops of his sunglasses. “Let’s say I don’t discriminate. Unless they’re tourists.”

  “Ha! So you’ve been with your fair share of Light Elves too, then?”

  Johnny chuckled and shifted into a more comfortable position to stare out across the glimmering water. “Not yet.”

  Lisa gaped at him for a moment but looked away quickly toward the swamp. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a come-on. But Johnny Walker doesn’t hit on women. It’s the other way around. Unless it’s not, sometimes.

  She darted him another sidelong glance and folded her arms before she took another sip of whatever unlabeled beer Leroy the wizard had given her. “Well good luck with that.”

  “Thanks.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  When their hour on Leroy’s dock was up, they returned to Sheila in the Seafront Tavern parking lot—but not before Johnny took two twenties from his wallet and slid them in the small tin pail hanging from the side of Leroy’s shack.

  Wallace’s jewelry store was already closed for the evening when they pulled up out front, although the marquee was still lit as well as the display cases inside.

  “We’re not too late, are we?”

  “Naw. He’s expectin’ us now.” A security camera blinked at them under the awning, and he removed his sunglasses to stare into it.

  The gnome bustled into the lobby from the back room with an eager grin to unlock the door quickly. “You are one punctual bastard, Johnny.”

  “Grover said an hour and we both know you run a tight ship.”

  “Ha! If you ever see me steppin’ on a real ship, you’ll know I’ve lost my mind and my days are numbered.” Wallace nodded toward the back of the lobby and they followed him through the rear door into the lab.

  “Johnny!” Grover waved from a raised mesh platform on wheels he’d rolled beside one of the pumping machines. “Perfect timing.”

  “No problems, I’m guessin’?”

  Wallace’s assistant stepped backward down the steps and pushed his goggles onto his forehead again. “Piece of cake. Exactly like everything else you send us.”

  “That’s why I take it to the professionals.”

  Grover snatched a silver metal case up from the floor and hurried toward them with a broad grin. “Exactly like you wanted. It’s all—”

  “I’ll take that, thank you.” His boss whisked the case out of his hand and nodded toward the machine. “Don’t leave that boiler unattended, man. Come on.”

  “Right, right.” Grover trudged toward the rolling stairs up to the platform and tossed a hand in the air. “Good to see ya, Johnny.”

  “You too.”

  Wallace winked at the dwarf and clicked the latches on the case before he opened it to display a dozen small vials filled with glowing white-blue liquid. “There you are, Johnny. Melted, replicated, stabilized. Shootable.”

  The bounty hunter peered into the open case and nodded. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

  “See, that’s why I love it when you come around.” The gnome chuckled and shut the case before he handed it to him. “You’re an easy customer to satisfy, Johnny.”

  “Only when the services are worth my time and money. And you still know how to deliver.”

  “Damn right I do.” Wallace jerked quickly on the hem of his sports jacket and nodded. “I’ll send you the bill. Same place?”

  “Yep.”

  “Great. It’s good to see you working again. Not like you asked for an opinion, but I’ll give it anyway.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He nodded at Lisa. “And with a partner this time. You make sure he stays outta trouble.”

  She smirked at the bounty hunter and shook her head. “It’s more like getting into trouble with him and helping to clean up afterward.”

  “Ha!” The gnome clapped and howled with laughter. “Oh, man! You found a good one, Johnny. Yessir. Don’t let this one get away.”

  “It’s harder than it looks,” the dwarf muttered. He held the silver case of Crystal-magic fluid carefully at his side.

  Lisa grinned at him. “Yeah, you can’t seem to get rid of me, can you?”

  Wallace glanced from one to the
other with a knowing smile. “Well, I won’t hold you up any longer. And we have a few more—”

  Something clanked loudly and violently in the back, followed by an explosion of purple gas, sparks, and bolts. Two other gnomes spun from their work at the machines in the front and darted toward the smoking contraption as they waved their hands frantically and shouted.

  “Turn it off, Billy!”

  “Pressure valve, man! How do you not know where the goddamn pressure valve is?”

  “Shut the centrifuge down!”

  “Fuck.” Wallace gritted his teeth and waved dismissively at Johnny as his employees darted around the lab to crank levers and gears to protect the rest of the equipment. “You…you go on. I’ll send you the bill. It might be the only funds I have coming in if that damn zipperhead breaks something expensive.”

  “Like that machine?” the dwarf asked.

  “It’s all expensive. Good luck, Johnny. Lisa, nice to meet—Jesus, Billy! What the hell were you—”

  Another explosion wracked the lab from a second machine. Two gnomes were thrown back by the blast and bellowed in anger before they impacted with the wall.

  “That’s our cue, darlin’.” Johnny turned to the door into the lobby.

  “Do they need help?” The agent followed him but peered constantly over her shoulder to watch the chaos.

  “Naw. If a gnome don’t ask for help, the last thing you wanna do is step in where you ain’t wanted.”

  “Okay…” She ducked a damaged bar of metal that hurtled toward her from a smaller explosion near the front. It clanged against the wall beside the door as he opened it. “Yeah, we should go.”

  When the door swung closed behind them, the sound of shouting gnomes and angrily hissing machines cut off immediately. The lobby wasn’t entirely silent, however.

  The crunch and tinkle of something moving on broken glass issued from their right beside the display of men and women’s watches. Lisa drew her firearm from her shoulder holster and held it down in front of her with both hands as she scanned the trail of shattered glass and spilled jewelry.

  Johnny dropped the metal case with a thud, jerked his knife off his belt, and flicked it open in one swift movement. The rustling along the wall stopped. “Bad idea.”

 

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