by Matt Lincoln
“Thanks.” I accepted the food and slurped it down as he watched with no small amount of pride. “This is really good. Who are you, and where’s Dollar Store?”
Wendell laughed. “I’m closer to the version of me you never met. Back when I did okay. I’ve been making a few dollars doing handy work. I still make trips to the Bahamas, but I’m branching out.”
With that, I returned the plate and went up to check on Holm. We still had a distant visual on the other boat. I checked the time and saw it had barely crawled.
Nine and a half hours after we took off from South Florida, land faded into view from a distant haze. We slowed as the other boat did. In the distance, we saw other boaters out enjoying the fair weather. Our course veered south, and my phone came alive with a series of vibrations and notifications. I killed the volume and skimmed the messages. As expected, Diane was not pleased. I gave in and called her.
“What the hell were you thinking?” she shouted into the phone. “I’ve had to smooth things over with the Cuban government, not to mention explain to them why you chose a known common criminal to follow that boat.”
“We had limited options.” I kept my voice calm and eyes on the prize. Our quarry now angled toward shore. “They’re almost ashore. We’ll pursue once we hit land.”
“Don’t hang up on me yet,” Diane ordered. “I have news.”
“What’s that?”
“Your vics at the scene? One of them was Manuel González. You know what that means.”
“Philippe?”
Holm’s gaze shot to me at the tone in my voice.
“Yes,” Diane reported. “There was a camera in the wheelhouse. It showed Philippe and one of the Delgado crew took out González and the boat captain. Be careful, Ethan. He isn’t who we thought he was.”
“Copy that.” I looked at my GPS and gave Diane the coordinates. “Oh and make sure they don’t arrest Dollar Store.”
“That’s on him,” she grumbled. “As long as he’s not carrying contraband, he’ll be fine. I have to go. Call me when it’s done.”
After we ended the call, I updated Holm on what happened.
“You think he’s the one who ordered Talmadge’s boat to get bombed,” Holm said. “Damn.”
“No wonder he didn’t cotton to Mike.” I watched Philippe’s boat slip into a tiny channel. While keeping to a casual distance, I steered in after him. “Wendell, we’re going to duck into the cabin as you pass that boat. We don’t want him to know we’re here.”
“Then what?” He looked between us and the other boat as I handed control back over to him.
“Park as close as you can ahead of him. We’ll play it by ear then.”
“That’s what we’ve been doing this whole time,” Holm said in a wry tone. “Any chance of a plan?”
“After our plan got blown to hell this morning?” I half grinned. “No way.”
We ducked into the cabin as promised, and Wendell found his way to an empty slip along the wall that rose above the water. When I snuck a look outside, I found that we were in front of a small fishing boat with curling paint.
“I figured you two could use a little cover,” Wendell said in a hushed voice. “That, and I don’t want my baby to get shot up if you get into a gunfight.”
“Fair enough,” I told him. “Stay here until we or someone from the government comes to see you. If you have anything to ditch, now is the time.”
Holm and I jumped onto land. We got halfway down the length of the fishing boat when the first bullets flew.
CHAPTER 46
Holm and I sprinted to a concrete building a few yards from our position. Incoming fire tore chunks out of the corner of the structure. There was no room to see what the shooters were doing, not without circling a block that was who knew how long or populated.
“Why did you have to follow, Marston?” Philippe called out from the direction of his boat. “All you had to do was take care of my family and deal with those cars.”
“That’s not justice.” I edged closer to the corner, but not close enough to eat concrete chips. “You double-crossed everyone.”
“Just let us go. I’m cleaning up the González problem. Isn’t that what you want?”
“Not like this, Philippe.”
Behind me, Holm began nosing around the walkway. It was too small to qualify as an alley, but it might have something to offer. I hoped.
“Someone has to be in charge,” Philippe insisted. “The González family had it for too long. You know what their father did to Yoani’s aunt and cousin.”
“The boat sank. It’s wrong, but it happened.”
Holm gave a low whistle. I looked back to see he’d found an unlocked door. He signaled that it was clear inside.
“He’s lost more people than any other coyote. I’ll do better.”
“You tell yourself that.” I listened for movement. Diane said there’d been another person with Philippe. Where was his partner?
I crouched low to risk a peek around the corner and pulled back in a sharp motion. An armed man was a few feet away from the corner. He fired at the corner.
I saw a retired coffee can full of cigarettes and ashes close to the door Holm had entered, and I ran for that. As quiet as I ran, the goon who was after me knew I’d moved. I snagged the can and ducked into the door. It opened into a pastel hall that smelled of café de leche and pork. Voices and the clanks that went along with a restaurant kitchen trailed the aromas.
As quickly as I got my bearings, my pursuer caught up to the door. I saw a reflection in a window across the walkway. Perfect. I hefted the can, stepped forward, and hurled the ashy mess into the goon’s face. He yelled and dropped his gun to wipe at his eyes. I kicked his weapon under the nearby dumpster and then ran into the restaurant. An angry staff member shouted at me in Spanish as I sprinted past the kitchen and through the dining room. Diners pointed to the door which suggested Holm had left that way.
Fortunately, the front of the restaurant had one slim window next to the heavy wood door, so Philippe wouldn’t see me coming. Well, if he was still there.
I pulled the door open and saw Philippe’s back to me. He faced his boat, and he and Holm were in an old-fashioned face-off. Holm allowed no recognition that I was there even though I was in his line of sight. Philippe seemed to have faith in his stolen goon.
“You have no idea what is going on here,” Philippe told Holm. “My grandfather’s list was only part of the puzzle. He didn’t just inherit land. He inherited power that the new regime destroyed. His people kept order.”
“Right,” Holm said. “Order over how much money they got to keep away from the poor.”
“You Americans know nothing.” Philippe spat in Holm’s direction, and Holm lifted his weapon’s muzzle, and Philippe matched the move. “Stick to your own problems.”
Philippe was so focused on Holm that he had no idea I was almost behind him. I was an arm’s width away when Holm’s expression changed. I whipped around in time to block a man who ran into me like a train. He knocked me on my ass right next to Philippe.
The movement distracted Philippe enough that Holm charged forward with his gun held out. I focused on the guy who tackled me. Ash whirled around our heads and reeked of cigarettes as he tried to force me to the ground.
I grabbed him by the shoulders and brought my knee up while Holm and Philippe scuffled inches away. My attacker yelped and pulled back. For a second, his face looked familiar, but he pulled his gun out and fired. That shot went wide, but he was too close for more chances. I rolled and grabbed my handgun from the shoulder holster. When I got to a knee, Ash Face was gone.
Holm and Philippe grunted where they traded blows. I circled behind Philippe. He knew I was there this time and made as little of a target as he could with the building facade behind him. A feral snarl took over that once-pleasant face when we both pulled on him. He seemed to have lost his weapon.
“Watch out!” Dollar Store’s shout bounced between th
e boats and buildings.
I spun in his direction and found Ash Face pointing his gun at us. Lucky for us, I had mine at the ready. More of the ash had floated away, enough that I recognized his face at last.
“González, what the hell?”
Javier shot at us, and Philippe yelled at him in Spanish. I shot back and hit González in the midsection. He grunted and hugged his middle with his free hand. His other hand wavered, but he kept his aim on me.
“Drop it, or I’ll shoot again,” I ordered.
“Go home,” he yelled. “You ruin everything.”
I fired again. One round hit him in the gun arm, and another joined the first in his belly. Blood spurted from the arm wound, yet he kept on his feet. The bastard was intent on dying.
“Oof…”
An “oof” from Holm was never good, especially followed by sharp movements behind me.
“Partner?” I asked. When he didn’t respond, I kept my aim on González and began to turn.
Chilled steel pressed against my neck, and I froze.
“Drop it, Marston,” Philippe hissed in my ear.
I clenched my jaw but did as instructed. He shoved me to my knees, and I got a look at what happened to Holm. Another two men had appeared, and one towered over Holm, where he lay on his side. They carried semi-automatic rifles of decades’-old Soviet design, and both were aimed at Holm’s head.
“When did you and Javier start working together?” I asked through clenched teeth.
Philippe laughed at me, and Javier wiped grime from his cheeks.
“We’ve worked together since we were at that shop,” Philippe told me. “He came to me when his brother got the list.”
I groaned. “I should’ve seen this coming.”
Philippe kicked me in the ribs. “You should have stayed in Miami to take care of my niece and aunt. You could have had your cars and girl, too.”
Javier shoved Philippe in the shoulder. “Stop talking.”
“Why?” Philippe rounded on him. “We’re going to shoot and dump. Nobody will care over here if a couple of Americans disappear.”
Philippe glared in the direction of the restaurant where a few intrepid diners had come out to gape at the excitement. Javier barked at them in Spanish, and then we were alone with Philippe’s little contingent.
I looked over to Holm. He met my eyes and made a small hand motion to let me know he was fine. All we had to do was find a way to make sure we stayed fine. It wasn’t often we faced an enemy who’d had time to study us, not to mention no chance of backup.
“Philippe, you do not want to kill us,” I told him.
“Why do—”
Four or five canisters rolled into the middle of our little party. Each hissed a different color of smoke. I held my breath a second and then realized it was simply colored smoke. It was perfect.
I launched into Philippe and grappled his gun arm to the ground. He stiffened, but I drove my knee into his face. His gun came loose, and I snatched it up and stuffed it into my waistband. He swung and missed as I got to my feet.
A breeze cleared the smoke enough that I saw Holm taking on two guys, one of which was Javier. Philippe scrambled to his feet next to me.
“Stay down, you little pissant,” I warned him.
Philippe didn’t care for my opinion. He raised a fist, but I moved faster and clocked him on the face where I’d smashed with my knee. He screamed and curled into a ball of pain. I knew that little shit couldn’t fight without a weapon. His buddies, however, were a different story. Javier was the street fighter, and he left Holm to the two goons who’d shown up late.
“You like to dance, huh?” I pulled Philippe’s gun from my waistband and pointed it at Javier.
Javier flipped out a switchblade. At least he spared me the bad movie routine where they wasted time juggling their blades around. Instead, he drove right for me. I pulled the trigger, but Philippe’s cheap-assed gun jammed. I dropped a foot back, and Javier’s knife grazed my side as I deflected his hand.
He pushed past, and I spun a roundhouse kick into the back of his knee. Javier stumbled and growled. He turned on the uninjured knee as slammed into him. We scuffled with the knife flicking in all directions. He kept me so occupied with the blade that it took me far too long to realize he was pushing me toward the canal in the space between his speedboat and the fishing boat.
At the first opening, I rammed my shoulder into his chest. His knife clattered to the ground as he absorbed the impact. He dropped to his back and used his legs to flip me over his head. I rolled with it and bounced up on my toes. His switchblade was within reach, but next to the fishing boat. We both lunged for the knife.
I got the knife by the handle, and Javier got it by the blade. He threw a punch that connected with my chin, and I yanked the knife away from his hand. It wasn’t my Ka-Bar, but it bit deep into Javier’s palm. Blood spurted and then flowed down his forearm. He squeezed his fist and planted his feet. Guess he got tired of rushing in and wanted me to give it a go. Or maybe he was afraid what a retired SEAL would do with one little knife.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Holm had planted one of the lackeys face-first into the ground and had a handle on the other. I turned my full attention on Javier and flashed him a wicked grin. He straightened and took a half-step back.
“Last chance to surrender,” I informed him. “You’re getting your ass kicked, buddy.”
Javier looked around and narrowed his eyes. He shifted his weight and broke into a run down the dock past the fishing boat. I sped after him. That son of a bitch was fast. He pulled ahead quicker than I cared to admit.
A scraggly head poked out from Dollar Store’s boat as Javier flew past the fishing boat. Wendell popped up and hurled a pail onto the dock ahead of Javier. Metal balls spilled and pinged in front of him. The fabulous salsa dancer hot-footed halfway across the mess, but even he couldn’t defeat the might of Dollar Store. Javier sprawled and hit his ash-covered face on a couple of dozen balls. He tried to get up but landed back on his face with a groan.
“Need handcuffs?” Wendell called out. “Zip-ties, maybe? I have rope, too.”
“Do I want to know why you have handcuffs?” I huffed as I shoved the bearing balls aside to get through without falling on my ass.
“Probably not.” He rummaged around the seats and then tossed me a pair of scratched but usable cuffs. “Looks like your partner could use a few pairs himself.”
I squinted at the guy. “You wouldn’t know anything about a few smoke bombs, would you?”
“Not at all.”
Wendell looked up and whistled as I snapped the cuffs around Javier’s wrists and dragged him clear of the balls. Wendell hopped off of his boat and helped me haul Javier to his feet. In his other hand, Wendell held two pairs of regular cuffs… and one set padded with pink fluff.
“Yeah, I definitely don’t wanna know,” I grumbled.
We returned to where Holm, a gun in each hand, had Philippe and the two grunts subdued. All three lay prone with their hands behind their heads, and I sat Javier next to Philippe. Holm smirked at me.
“Looks like I win the headcount,” he said. “Thanks for the backup.”
“You had it under control.” I nudged Philippe with my toe, and he snarled up at me through a busted nose and black eyes. “Besides, I rearranged this one’s face. Those other two were no match for you.”
Holm handed me my gun from his off-hand and took the cuffs from Wendell. He restrained the grunts and then grinned from ear to ear as he put the fuzzy cuffs on Philippe.
“These things are solid, man,” he told Wendell. “Ah, we’re about to have an official escort.”
National Revolutionary Police Force officers arrived in their tiny Peugeots at the ends of the docking area. A black Nissan SUV pulled up to where we had our suspects.
“Marston. Holm.”
Uh oh.
“Oh, hey, boss,” I called out. “How was the flight?”
Dia
ne stalked over to the prisoners and glared at them. Then us.
“Turbulence,” she snapped. “Lots of turbulence.”
Yoani exited the Nissan, albeit slower than Diane. She stared at Philippe.
“Can he stand?” she asked.
“Sure.” I snagged his arm and got him to his feet. “He got tired of having a pretty face.”
Yoani spat in said face, and Philippe winced.
“You are not family,” she growled. “I never want to see you again.” She turned away but stopped and spun back to face him. “I hate you!”
She pulled her arm back and delivered a wicked blow to his stomach. Philippe doubled over, and I felt not one whit of sympathy for him.
“Ethan, I will see you tonight.”
Yoani went back to the Nissan with Diane, and they left us to our mess.
CHAPTER 47
“I can’t believe that bastard had the nerve to look me in the eye, knowing he killed my buddy.” Mike took an angry swipe at the bar counter. “After all that effort, he sang like the stool pigeon he is, huh?”
“Yeah.” I looked over to Yoani. “And I can’t believe they let you take your vacation in Miami.”
She ran her fingers over mine and smiled. I gave her hand a squeeze, and we looked over to the booth where her mother and cousin chatted and pointed at Mike’s garish decorations.
“After all that we went through and brought to light, they felt I deserved it.” She bit at her lower lip and blinked a few times. “Mami never got to travel. This is a wonderful experience. When I got to the hotel this morning, Rosa said Mami was able to move more than she has in years.”
I grinned both at the news and at the rush of feelings from the long night we had at my boathouse. No guards, no agents, just us. Alone.
“That’s great.” Everything was great for that moment. “I’m glad they worked out the medical stuff so she could come with you.”
“We’re going to meet Tia Felicia tonight and learn more about my father’s side of the family.”
“Then the rest of the week exploring Florida with me,” I said with a bigger grin.