Bought His Life

by Aleka Nakis Tia Fanning

  Lawson sighed and sat back in his chair, watching through the window as Kimber got in her car. She started the vehicle and zoomed back out of the space, then slammed on her brakes to avoid colliding with a passing truck. She looked forward, and her eyes fixed on him. Their gazes locked.

  A jolt of electricity went through Lawson’s body. His chest pounded, drowning out the noise in the restaurant. He felt connected to her on some intangible level that he did not understand, as if they were tied together by an invisible link that made him feel as if she was a part of him, and he of her. Did she feel it, too?

  Kimber blinked and glanced down, breaking their connection. She looked up again and, with tires squealing, finished backing out and drove away.

  Damn woman, you’re more trouble than you’re worth.

  Actually, she was worth it, he decided, and his reward for his patience would come soon enough. Not only would he get his key, but he’d get her in his bed, too. He wasn’t that much of a gentleman.

  He turned back and found Jack standing behind him. “I’m going to follow her.”

  “I guess selling property is a cut-throat business in this century,” the pilot commented.

  “She’s not selling property. She’s lying through her teeth.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She’s packing. When she turned to leave, her jacket opened. I saw her holster.” Damn, she wasn’t bluffing when she said she had the means to kill him. Dread filled Lawson’s gut, and it wasn’t for his personal safety. His concern was for Kimber and any trouble she was in.

  “What do you think she’s doing with a gun?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. I’ll catch up with you at the hotel.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Michiel!” Lawson hollered through the lobby. “Michiel! Get your ass out here!”

  Michiel came running from the back room with a drink in his hand. “What’s wrong? Is there a fire?”

  “No. I need a vehicle. Give me your keys.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I have to get to the Bearded Cockle.”

  “Why would you want to go there? If you want a drink, just come in the back. We’re getting ready for tonight’s party, but as you can see, I’ve already started—”

  Lawson was on him in an instant, Michiel’s shirt fabric gathered tight in his fists. “It’s important that I get to the Bearded Cockle. Now.”

  “Okay, okay! Let go of me!”

  Lawson released him. Running his fingers through his hair, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. It’s just… I need to get there.”

  Michiel smothered his wrinkled shirt. “You don’t have to go all alpha male on me. I mean, I like to be roughed up and all, but we hardly know each other.” He winked. “Maybe we’ll get to rectify that. Oh, and I must say, I love the outfit, especially the hat.”

  “So, you’ll let me borrow your car?”

  “No way, dear. No one drives mein schatze but me. However, I’ll give you a ride.” Upon Lawson’s nod, he grabbed his keys from behind the desk. “Follow me.”

  Michiel’s sweetheart was in the back of the motel covered by a tarp. With a big smile on his face, he unveiled her with dramatic flair. “Ta-da!”

  If Lawson wasn’t so distraught about Kimber, he might have beaten Michiel for ruining such a beautiful piece of motor ingenuity. “That’s a 1941 Cadillac Series 62 Convertible Coupe with a 346 cubic inch V8 engine.”

  “So you know your classic cars, Mr. Grey. That’s very sexy.”

  Lawson raised his eyebrows. He could let the sexy comment go, but not what Michiel did to that poor automobile. “You painted her pink.”

  The hotel owner opened the driver’s door and got in. “Yes, I love pink. Pink is so bright and cheery, yet soothing at the same time. I think there’d be a lot less war in the world if soldiers wore pink uniforms.”

  Or it might have the opposite effect. Lawson was feeling pretty violent at the moment.

  “Well, get in, honey,” Michiel said. “My guests start arriving in the next ten minutes.”

  Lawson climbed into the passenger seat. “Who’ll man the front desk?”

  “Oh, Alejandro will. He’s such a darling. Keeps up with the books and manages the place when I’m not around. He’s watching the band tune up their instruments. And Jared is there, too. I think he’s more excited about tonight than I am.” Michiel started the Cadillac and put the automobile into reverse. “But can I give you some advice?”

  Michiel waited until they were on the motorway before glancing at Lawson and raising a finger from the steering wheel. “I know you’re not from around here, so I just thought… Well, the Bearded Cockle isn’t for the likes of us. I know it would be hard to tell from such a name because of the whole ‘cock’ thing and all, but the men there are kind of rough, and, well, how should I put this… straight as an arrow.”

  “Michiel, I’m not—”

  “I know you don’t exhibit your sexual orientation the way I do, but still, if the men there should find out, you might end up hurt. I just hope whoever you’re going to see is worth it. You look the type that likes to play on the dangerous side, but—”

  “She is,” Lawson offered with a smile.

  “What?”

  He gazed out the window, his mind picturing the beautiful woman that somehow, in only one day, had managed to consume his every thought. “I said she is.”

  “Please tell me you’re talking about your sister,” Michiel whined.

  He laughed. “No, I’m afraid not.”

  “All the good ones are straight.” Michiel shook his head. “Wait a second. Then why are you staying at the Flamingo?”

  A mischievous answer leapt into Lawson’s mind. He knew he should repress it, but he couldn’t help himself. He just hoped it never got back to his captain—but how good would it be if they returned with John, too?

  “Well, don’t tell him that I told you, but my friend… he’s a little shy about it. Where we come from, you don’t broadcast your orientation. He’s military.”

  “I fully understand,” Michiel replied, nodding. “Even though the law has changed, don’t ask, don’t tell is still very much in effect.”

  “Yes,” Lawson agreed.

  “It was hard for me to come out as well. My parents were quite ashamed when I told them I was gay. They said they still loved me, but their society friends would never understand. So they shipped me off to Florida, gave me my substantial trust fund and said, ‘Good luck. You can come back when you’re ready to settle down with a good woman and give us some grandkids.’ I took the money and bought myself a little motel. Here I am.”

  Michiel turned into a shoddy area down by some rotted fishing docks, then pulled into a lot in front of a shack of a tavern. The place was virtually empty except for a couple of rusted trucks and some motorcycles. His heart dropped into his stomach at the sight of Kimber’s car.

  “How will you get back to the hotel?” Michiel asked.

  “I’ll find a way. Thanks for the ride.”

  “You watch yourself. This place is nothing but a haven for pirates, bikers and hardened criminals.”

  “I will. See you later.” He shut the door, waving as Michiel pulled off.

  Lawson stood in front of the Bearded Cockle, debating on whether or not he should go in. He told himself that he didn’t care for Kimber, that what he felt for her was simple lust, and that really, his only concern was getting his key back.

  He circled her car and spotted the envelope that held his key. It was hidden on the floor behind the driver’s seat.

  Why should he care at all what happened to her? She hardly even acknowledged his existence. Just because he wanted to make that shower scene a reality didn’t mean he had to follow his dick’s desires. If anything, he should break the window, get his key and get the hell out of town.

  But then what would happen to Kimber? What if she got hurt because
he wasn’t there to help her?

  A picture of her mangled body, broken and bloody in a ditch sprang into his mind, and his stomach lurched at the thought.

  Damn. He cared. It shouldn’t be that way, but it was.

  His feelings for her didn’t make any sense. He’d only spoken to the woman twice, but they had a connection that was stronger than anything he’d ever experience. Like fate had intervened and brought them together.

  Lawson walked into the bar, a dark, dingy place filled with smoke along with the foul odor of stale beer and unwashed bodies.

  He spotted Kimber immediately—easy since she was the only woman in the place. And he wasn’t the only one to notice her female presence, either. Nothing but brutal-looking men—some at tables drinking, others playing billiards or darts, all of them casting lecherous gazes her way—occupied the joint.

  Kimber sat at the bar, smoking a cigarette while some boisterous old man talked her ear off. With her back turned, she was completely oblivious to the attention she drew.

  Stupid chit. She didn’t even bring her friend along—Bertha—like she said she would. Not that having another woman around would have made the situation any better.

  He found a booth in a dark corner by the door. From there, he could keep an eye on her, and everyone else for that matter.

  The bartender came around and took his order.

  “Just a beer.”

  Grunting a response, the overweight man left.

  Moments later, the heavy front door creaked open, and two men entered. These men were different than the rest of the riffraff in the place. Dark hair with tanned skin, they were well dressed and carried themselves like Cosa Nostra.

  The smaller one pulled a phone out and pressed a button. “La encontramos.” We found her.

  Since Kimber was the only female in the bar, there was no question who the thug was speaking about.

  Shorty put the phone away and looked at his large friend, then nodded toward the door. “La esperamos afuera.” We wait for her outside.

  As they turned to leave, they spotted Lawson in the booth. The smaller one stopped and held his arm out to halt his partner. He looked Lawson up and down.

  “¿Habla español?” Do you speak Spanish?

  Lawson was fluent, but he wasn’t going to let them know that. He stared at them questioningly.

  “Hey. Pendejo. Do you know Spanish or not?” the man demanded again in English.

  Lawson let the asshole remark go. “No. I don’t. Sorry.”

  The huge guy in black gestured toward Lawson’s hat. “Te parece como un idiota con ese sombrero en la cabeza.” You look like an idiot with that hat on your head.

  Lawson acted as if he didn’t understand the taunt. The two gangsters started laughing.

  “My friend here, he says he likes your hat,” the smaller guy translated incorrectly.

  “Thank you.”

  His reply made them laugh all the harder. They left, still chuckling over what they believed was his ignorance.

  When the front door closed, Lawson looked to Kimber. She was the one the gangster’s were waiting for, and they probably didn’t want her autograph.

  What had she gotten herself into?

  He took off his hat and settled deeper into his seat. Trouble was brewing, and it was only a matter of time before the pot bubbled over.

  Chapter Eight

  Kimber stubbed her cigarette in the ashtray and stared into her untouched glass of beer, wondering if her life was simply some huge cosmic joke. The whole day had been a bust.

  First, she’d spent too much time at the Coast Guard Station for nothing. Seven interviews and not one person could verify that it was a plane that had appeared on the radar and not some space debris or something.

  Then she’d run into that Lawson guy again. He had pissed her off royally, at least enough to make her want to kick his chauvinistic ass. Yet she couldn’t shake the small hope that she’d see him again. Why, she had no idea.

  And to top off her crappy day, she was sitting on a creaky stool in some rundown hole-in-the-wall dockside bar, listening to Popeye go on and on about the latest big one that got away.

  “Big as a Buick, I tell you. If I hadn’t cut the line, she’da pulled me whole boat under. Yep, wouldn’t be here now. But that was nuthin. No, dearie, there was this one time…”

  Oh God. Not another story.

  She held up her hand. “Mr. Murphy, please, I want to ask you some questions about—”

  The old fisherman clucked his tongue, “Now, young lady, what did I tell you?”

  “Call you Captain?”

  “Yep, that’s what everyone calls me. Been captaining my own boat, Muirgen, for over sixty years. Yep. My father, God rest his soul, was a fisherman, too, as was his father and his father’s father and so back many generations. The Muirgen came to me when my father died, yep, killed by those Nazi bastards in the Great War.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been hard,” she offered as she lit another cigarette, grateful that the shitty ass bar had obviously never heard of the Florida Clean Air Act. Otherwise, she might not have made it through the last half hour without losing her mind.

  The old man nodded. “Yep, it was. Those were difficult times. I was only twelve back then and the eldest son. Still remember the day like yesterday. It was a sunny afternoon when the postman brought my momma the letter tellin’ us Papa was dead. Now my momma, being the strong woman she was, read the letter, but she didn’t shed a tear.”

  Captain Murphy took a hefty swig of whiskey. Kimber moved to speak, but he shook his finger in front of her face.

  “No, little lady, she didn’t. She crumpled the letter up, threw it down, looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘Son, you’re the man of the house now. It’s up to you to see to your family. Take your papa’s boat and do like he taught you’. And that’s what I did, and have so ever since.”

  He finished his drink and slammed the glass on the bar, signaling the burly barkeep. “Another, Frank. Oh, and another beer for the lady.”

  “Oh no, that’s okay. I haven’t even finished the first one you insisted on buying—”

  The bartender placed another beer in front of her and refilled the captain’s whiskey glass.

  “Now the Muirgen has changed much from the fishing boat I inherited when I was only fifteen.”

  Didn’t he say he was twelve?

  “Through the years, I added to it, refurbished it, and—”

  “Captain, were you on the Muirgen when you saw the plane go down this morning?”

  He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Matter of fact, I was. But it wasn’t an airplane. Now that’s an interesting story. I didn’t tell everyone, you know. Don’t want people to think I belong in the loony bin.”

  Kimber put her smoke out and picked up her pen and pad. “Please, Captain, tell me all about it.”

  “Well, it was the wee hours of the morning—”

  “What time?”

  “Oh, I’d say around four. I was on the Muirgen trying to get me some snapper. Now snapper, whether it be yellow-tail or mutton, it’s always best caught—”

  “Captain, please, the plane.”

  “I was getting there, young lady. So I was out fishing me some snapper when the sky, which was clear and dark when I left the dock, began to spit fire. Lightning speared the heavens, but not white lightning, nope, it was red and purple.”

  Kimber put her pen down and sighed heavily. “Really?”

  “Yep, the very air sizzled with them bolts. Then the wind kicked up, and my boat began a’rockin. I lost my footing and fell.” The old salt raised his hand in the air and gazed at the ceiling, staring as if reliving the moment in his mind.

  Shaking her head, Kimber picked up her first beer and held it up in a silent toast. To the stoic Mrs. Murphy, wherever you might be. You raised an imaginative son. Though you’ve made my life more difficult by doing so, may you rest in peace. Amen. She took a deep gulp of the te
pid liquid.

  Captain Murphy lowered his arm and continued, “Now I was on my back, gazing straight up when I saw the sky rip open, torn asunder as if someone decided to gut the heavens. Then there was a flash of bright light and a small spaceship popped out!”

  Kimber choked. Beer spewed from her lips and sloshed back into her glass. Some dribbled onto her lap. Shit.

  “Yep, popped out like the sky gave birth to it. Then the gash closed. Moments later, the spaceship exploded.”

  She put down her glass and grabbed a napkin off the bar, using it to dab the wet spots on her shirt and jacket.

  “Damn aliens didn’t get in alive this time, but I thought it right to let you know the truth, since you’re a fed and all, and probably have experience with this stuff. I would have told the cops, too, but I knew they wouldn’t believe, nope, so I said it was a plane. But you government types know about them invaders. That’s why you were sent to question me, right?”

  Captain Murphy downed his glass of whiskey. She leaned over and inspected the old fisherman’s head.

  “What you looking at, lass?”

  “I just wanted to see if you cracked your skull open when you fell.”

  There was a moment of tense silence.

  The fisherman exploded with laughter. “I like your sass, young lady. Reminds me of my late wife, Katie, except for the hair. Her hair was as red as flame. But I tell you what, her eyes were like yours, all emerald and gold and a’burning. Make a man crazy.”

  Kimber smiled. It had been a long time since someone had complimented her eyes.

  “But I have to leave now. The sun will be setting soon, and I gots to be on me boat before that happens. Great fishing to be done when the sun is setting.”

  Captain Murphy placed two twenties on the bar. “Here you go, Frank. Get the lady a last drink and keep the change.”

  The bartender, a man of few words, nodded.

  “It’s been a real pleasure talking to you.” Murphy tipped his dirty white captain’s hat and walked off.