A Honeybun and Coffee [Honeybun Hunks Series: Book 1]

by Sam Cheever

  He gulped again and nodded. “I certainly did. Still do, in fact."

  * * * *

  * * * *

  Percy's eyes fluttered open on a jolt of pain. He groaned as his head throbbed. Someone was bent over him and he realized that his cheek stung as if it had been slapped a few times. The figure above him was blurry. As he squinted to try to focus his vision the figure wavered and split in two.

  "He's finally coming around. Bastard's got a glass jaw apparently."

  Percy tried to push himself upright but a meaty hand on his chest shoved him back down. He landed hard on the cold floor, his head slamming painfully. “Son of a bitch,” he murmured. His vision wavered again and it was only through pure steel-headedness that he managed to pull it into focus. Finally he was looking at a short but massively built man with long, slicked back hair and a large bandage on his neck. “Who the hell are you?"

  The wide, pock-marked face split in a grin. The man had large, flat white teeth that looked like Chiclets. “I'mb your worbd nightmare, pretty boy."

  Percy snickered, “Very original."

  The man reached down and slapped Percy. Pain seared through his entire body. His head felt like a bruised tomato, like he'd been pounded several times with a baseball bat. He lay back and closed his eyes. “I think I'll just lie here a while, get some rest."

  He sensed movement from above and suddenly he was grabbed under the arms and dragged to a standing position. He sucked in a breath as his head exploded into tiny little pieces around him. As the pain receded he opened his eyes and looked around. Amazingly his head still appeared to be on his shoulders.

  Something warm and wet trickled down his face and he automatically went to wipe it. The hand he'd tried to raise jerked to a stop with a painful jolt. He looked down to find his wrists encased in thick zip strips. “Are you shitting me?"

  The thug who'd pulled him to his feet gave him a shove that almost sent him sprawling again. He lurched toward a hard, straight backed chair in the center of the room.

  "Sid down asshole!"

  Percy dropped into the chair. He breathed deeply on a wave of nausea. Sweat popped out across his forehead and his shoulders protested painfully. Apparently he'd been cuffed for a while.

  The thug bent over him, bringing his ugly face within a couple of inches of Percy's. His breath smelled like garlic and onions. Percy forced himself not to grimace and lean away. “That's some nose you got goin’ there buddy. Run into a wall?"

  The thug reached up and touched the red and swollen object in the center of his face. Purplish arcs decorated the space under both of his eyes. “Bitch broke my nobe,” he murmured, his ugly face turning angry as if he'd just then remembered he was pissed off about it. Probably he had. Percy decided the guy had the intelligence of a very small bug.

  Percy watched the guy fondling his nose for a while and bit back a few sarcastic remarks, deciding that his head could do without any more trauma right at that moment. Finally the thug turned his angry face toward Percy again.

  Percy decided he could trust himself to speak without getting into more trouble, “Why did you drag me here and truss me up?” He lifted his bound hands toward the angry, tomato nosed thug.

  "You habe the unlucky distinctionb ob being related to somebone we bneed to kill.

  Percy squinted at the battered thug. His head was killing him and he was having a hard time understanding the guy with his nasal infirmity. But he was pretty sure he'd heard the guy say he wanted to kill Alastair.

  Suddenly the fog cleared from his brain and he realized he was looking at one of the guys who'd been chasing Alastair and Angie.

  Well, well, well. “So you're one of the guys trying to kill my brother?"

  The door opened and a taller, even more broadly built man with long, blond hair, slicked back into a ponytail, entered the room. He glanced at the first thug and the smaller man nodded.

  The taller thug smiled a mean little smile and advanced on Percy. “Mr. Percival Honeybun. You are a fancy assed lawyer with a fruity name. I think you've tried your last case girly boy. It's time to teach your nosy brother a few lessons.

  "Oh oh! I need recruits ... fast!” Percy muttered, just before the man's enormous hand swung toward him.

  * * * *

  * * * *

  Brita was leaving the building when her cell rang again. With a muttered curse she looked at caller ID and flipped it open. “Talk to me, Shinks."

  Bud Shinks didn't waste any time. “The DA has been a customer of the Black Knight protection agency for ten years. He's not only worked with Mr. Vittorini on several occasions, but the agency has been a very generous supporter of the DA's political aspirations ... if you know what I mean."

  Brita sighed, “I do know what you mean. It looks like our DA may be up to his fat butt in this kidnapping thing. Chances are pretty good it was all a scam. The big question is why?"

  "Follow the money, Brit. In our world it's the root of all evil."

  Brita thought about this for a moment. “You're right, Bud. Can you run that down for me? I need to go back to speak with the girl's mother. She has a lot of money, and she's the only one who got a ransom letter. She's the obvious place to start."

  Brita hung up with her partner and headed for her car. Back to the charmed world of the rich and sort of famous.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Thirteen

  The pancakes were long gone and the tiny kitchen had been cleaned up. Clovis had given Alastair a tour of the cave and the adjoining passageways, including the one they would take if they needed a back way out. They were sitting around the jar with the scorpion in it and Jeeves was entertaining them with stories of their transport from Arizona and subsequent release into the training area. The sound of another jeep in the distance brought their heads up. Alastair looked at Clovis and he stood. “Something's up. They knew I was out here so there was no need to send another jeep out for you.” He headed out of the bunker into the bright, hot sun.

  Alastair and Angie followed him. The jeep jerked to a stop in front of Clovis as they came up behind him. The marine inside jumped out as the car still rocked on its wheels from the abrupt stop. He saluted.

  Clovis returned the salute, “Stand down Marine, what have you got for me?"

  The young, fresh faced soldier cast a look toward Alastair and Angie.

  "Report, Marine!” Angie jumped as Clovis used his drill instructor voice.

  The young Marine saluted, “Sir, yes Sir! We received a call from Detective Shinks this morning, sir. It appears a man's body has been discovered in Watertown, sir."

  Clovis cocked his bristly red-blond head, “And?"

  "Sir, the detective told me to inform you that the man has a connection to his current case."

  Clovis glanced at Alastair and Angie. “In what way?"

  "I don't know, sir. He wants you to call him."

  The marine handed Clovis a small piece of paper with a number on it.

  Clovis took it and stood frowning down at it. “Why didn't detective Muldane call us?"

  The young marine shrugged “He didn't say, sir. Permission to leave."

  Clovis saluted, “Dismissed.” As the jeep rumbled back through the sand toward the front of the compound Clovis turned back to Alastair. “I don't like this, Stair. Brita's been running this operation from the very beginning. I'm not comfortable with the idea of dealing with her partner now. I don't know him and he doesn't know us."

  "I hope nothing's happened to Brita."

  Alastair put an arm around Angie and gave her a light squeeze. “I'm sure Brita's fine. She's probably just busy with the case and asked her partner to contact us."

  But Alastair shared a look with Clovis. They knew Brita wouldn't have had her partner call them unless something had gone down. The question was ... what?

  Clovis punched the number into his cell phone and waited. “It's Clovis Honeybun. I heard you have a dead body that might be connected to my brother'
s case..."

  Alastair grimaced at Angie. They really hadn't thought of their predicament as a “case” but apparently it had escalated to one.

  "Unh huh. Yeah. Are you sure? Yeah, okay. I'll be right there."

  Clovis pushed the disconnect on his phone and turned to Jeeves, who had been hovering in the door to the bunker. “Stay with them, marine. I need to leave for a while."

  Jeeves saluted, “Sir, yes sir!” and then watched as Clovis climbed into the jeep. Clovis turned back to Alastair and Angie. “You two stay buttoned up here. It sounds like things are coming to a head and I don't want you mixed up in this. It could get ugly."

  Alastair stepped up to the jeep. “What the hell's going on Clovis? We have a right to know."

  Clovis sighed, tapping thick fingers on the jeep's dusty steering wheel. “Okay, but I don't want you to go off half cocked."

  Alastair shrugged, “I promise I won't go off half cocked."

  Clovis didn't look convinced but he finally nodded, “Percy has disappeared and they've found the body of a man about his age down by the river. I need to go look at the body."

  Alastair's face went completely white. Angie's knees buckled in shock and Alastair had to grab at her to keep her from falling. “Holy shit!” Alastair mumbled as he pulled Angie against his chest. Her tears soaked his tan, military issue t-shirt. He looked at his brother over Angie's head. “I want to know everything you find out as soon as you find it out, Clovis."

  Clovis’ blue gray eyes locked on Alastair's and he gave a slight nod. “You got it, bro. In the meantime. You need to stay here where I know you're safe."

  Alastair nodded in reluctant acceptance. He watched the jeep fly away from them and wished he was in it. If Percy had been killed because of him ... well ... Alfric wasn't the only Honeybun who could be a scary SOB.

  * * * *

  * * * *

  Debra Burns flicked a piece of grass off her slim, designer slacks and grimaced at the clump of something brown and lumpy on the bottom of her expensive pumps. Gingerly, with two fingers, she plucked the pump off her slim foot and dropped it into the trash can beside the ornate, mahogany desk in her mother's study. The other pump followed with a loud crash.

  "Country life should be reserved for criminals and ugly people,” she murmured.

  The phone stopped ringing on the other end and a voice answered. “Yeah?"

  "It's me."

  "Oh,” the voice sounded relieved, “I thought it was your mother."

  Debra rolled her eyes. “After all these years you're still afraid of her aren't you?"

  "I'm not afraid of her! But she did try to cut off one of my favorite parts once when I was sleeping. She's a very frightening woman."

  "Yeah, right.” Debra shook her head. “Did Bigg agree to the plan?"

  "In principal yes, I haven't talked him into using your boyfriend for the pickup yet though. He wants to send one of his thugs."

  Debra frowned, “Well, that wouldn't be perfect, but we can work around it if he decides Brian can't be trusted."

  A small silence met this statement. “And how do you propose to do that? Have you seen these guys?"

  "I've not only seen them but I stuck a plastic knife into one of them. Don't overestimate them daddy dearest, they're just testicles with legs and ears."

  "Don't call me that ... I hate it when you call me that."

  "Whatever.” She smiled evilly, she knew full well he hated it, which was exactly why she did it. “Let me know when the pickup is set. And hurry it up will you? Being in the country gives me a rash."

  "I think you'll survive. These things can't be rushed."

  She lowered the phone from her ear and flipped it the bird. Then she hung up.

  She was surrounded by incompetents and boobs.

  * * * *

  * * * *

  Selma Burns opened the door herself. Brita had been bent over her cell phone, discovering to her dismay that the battery on it was dead, and looked up expecting the maid. It took her slightly back to see the older woman's face, red and teary eyed. “Detective Muldane."

  Brita extended her hand. “Mrs. Burns. How are you? Have you heard from your daughter?"

  The woman's response was to step back into the house. Leaving the door open for Brita to follow.

  The older woman walked into the elegantly and expensively appointed living room and motioned toward a cream colored leather chair. “Please have a seat, Detective. Can I get you something?"

  Brita sat and shook her head, stuffing her useless cell phone into the pocket of her short, leather jacket. “I'm fine, thanks."

  Selma Burns nodded and walked to the wall of windows that looked out over the city. She stood looking out, her back to Brita. After a moment, without turning around she said, “My daughter won't return my calls. I have no idea where she is. But I did receive a phone call from her kidnappers.” She finally turned and Brita could see tears glistening in her once beautiful, green eyes. “They're going to kill her, Detective. She's trying to extort money from them and they've threatened to kill her if I don't pay them back what she's extorting ... and then some."

  Brita scrunched up her face. “What?"

  Selma Burns gave a bitter laugh. “I know, it's quite a contorted mess isn't it?"

  Brita shook her head. “How much do they want?"

  "Fifteen million."

  Brita whistled.

  Selma Burns nodded. “I'm a wealthy woman, Detective but I can't come up with that kind of money at the drop of a hat. It will take some time. I don't think they'll wait. I'm afraid my daughter is as good as dead."

  "When did you receive this call, Mrs. Burns?"

  "Last night."

  "On your home line?"

  "Yes."

  Brita nodded. “I'd like your permission to go through your phone records, Mrs. Burns. Maybe the kidnappers were careless and we'll be able to trace the call back."

  The older woman shrugged, “Of course."

  Brita sat watching Mrs. Burns for a long moment, thoughts swirling in her mind. She'd always prided herself on being a good judge of people. That was one of the reasons she'd become a cop. And her gut was telling her that Selma Burns was an innocent in this mess. For the moment she decided to go with her gut. “Have you had any other communication with the kidnappers, Mrs. Burns?"

  The woman shook her graying blond head and sat down as if her knees had given out on her. “No."

  Brita decided to do something she'd been wanting to do since she'd first met the woman. “Mrs. Burns, I'd like to speak honestly with you about your husband. May I?"

  The tear-filled green gaze swung to her, filled with surprise. “Of course."

  "I've been ... confused ... about his attitude throughout all this. And the fact that he didn't hear from the kidnappers. Do you think it's possible he orchestrated the kidnapping?"

  The woman looked genuinely shocked. “Detective Muldane, that's an outrageous accusation!"

  Brita shook her head, “It's not an accusation, Mrs. Burns, it's simply a question of capability. Would you say that, under the right circumstances, your husband would be capable of this type of thing?

  "Absolutely not, Detective. I know he's a difficult man. I lived with him for twenty years. He can be a consummate ass, but he would never put his daughter in this kind of danger for money. He's just not wired that way."

  Brita tried to ignore the pang of disappointment. She'd been building a pretty strong case in her mind against the DA. “What if it wasn't for money?"

  "What other reason could they possibly have had?"

  Brita shrugged, “What if he was being threatened, or was at risk of losing his position as DA?"

  She looked down at her hands, which were twisting in her lap. Obviously this was a different matter. Finally she said, “I still don't think he'd do it. He's a very selfish man, Detective Muldane, but he loves our daughter, despite their differences. He wouldn't willingly put her into danger."

  Brita
nodded and stood. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Burns. If you hear from the kidnappers again will you contact me immediately?"

  Selma Burns stood too. “Of course."

  Brita turned toward the door.

  "Detective?"

  She turned back. “Yes?"

  "My husband wouldn't be capable of orchestrating our daughter's kidnapping, but I'd bet my eyes on the fact that his sleazy little wife would."

  It was Brita's turn to be shocked. She tried to cover it but was pretty sure she didn't succeed. “Why do you say that?"

  The older woman shrugged, “Just call it woman's intuition."

  Or jealousy, Brita concluded silently. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Burns."

  "Good bye, Detective Muldane."

  Brita could feel her probing gaze as she walked toward the door and left.

  * * * *

  * * * *

  Alfric met him at the site as he arrived. Clovis stopped the jeep and hopped out, greeting his brother with a nod. Alfric placed a hand on Clovis’ shoulder and led him away from the assemblage of cops and forensics people who were milling around.

  "It's not Percy."

  Clovis sagged in relief. “Thank God."

  Alfric nodded. “The body has been identified as someone from a work crew that does special landscaping projects."

  Clovis frowned, “Landscaping? So it has nothing to do with the Burns kidnapping?"

  "Actually, I think it has a lot to do with it. He was on the crew that developed the training desert at the base."

  Clovis swore. “Okay, that's not good."

  Alfric shook his head. “No, it isn't. I suspect they pumped the poor guy for information about access to the base and then killed him."

  Clovis’ probing blue-gray gaze shot to Alfric's and he swore again, turning away.

  Alfric grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?"

  "Back to the base. Stair and Angie aren't safe there anymore."

  Alfric shook his head. “I sent some of my men there already. They should be arriving shortly. Whoever killed this guy won't try anything until after dark anyway. They're safe enough for now."