by Mark Stone
The man whimpered. He was playing right into this.
“I know you’re afraid of Coin and whoever the hell he’s working for, but think about it this way. None of those people can kill you right now.”
Nat moved the knife and I saw a trickle of blood run down the man’s neck.
“Oh God!” the man screamed.
My eyes widened and I looked up at Natasha. She was intent.
“Listen to me!” I yelled. “Where is she, dude? Did they take her out of state? Did they take her across the border? You need to talk while I can still save you!”
She moved the knife a little more. That was it. I wouldn’t let it get any further than this, regardless of whether this man talked or not.
I opened my mouth to speak. Luckily, the man cut me off.
“They’re on the pier!” he shouted. “They take them to the east pier, the last slot!” He closed his tear filled eyes. “Anytime we have a shipment, a boat meets us there at 4 AM. That’s what happens! I swear! Now please let me—”
Natasha pulled the knife away quickly, bringing the hilt of the thing hard across the back of his head. The man crumpled to the ground.
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered. “Put him with the others. We’ll wait for backup and—”
“I’ll put him there, tie him up with the rest,” I answered. “But we can’t wait for backup. He said the boat shows up at 4 AM. Look at the time, Natasha. We’ve got ten minutes.”
Chapter 31
The wind whipped through my hair as I sped through the streets of Vero Beach. We only had ten minutes to get to the last pier down. Otherwise, we'd risk losing Tanya- and our chance to take down the Scorpions and the trafficking ring they worked for- forever.
With one of the bikes the Scorpions tried to attack us on too busted up to drive, Natasha and I were both riding on the same hog, her arms wrapped around my chest with her face on my shoulder.
My mind was a mix of things. Obviously, chief among my concerns was the job at hand. Getting Tanya back and setting right what was made wrong was by far the most important thing tonight. Hell, it was the only thing. Still, I couldn't help but feel strange having Natasha so close. With her arms wrapped around me, with her lips close to mine, it felt wrong. I felt as though I was betraying, not only Rebecca, but the me I used to be, the person who swore to never forgive, and certainly never forget, all that Natasha did to me.
I took a hard right, following my rudimentary knowledge of the city to where I knew the pier to be.
"Cross and Anchor?" Natasha asked, yelling over the sound of the wind. It was a good thing she was so close to my ear. Otherwise, I would have never heard her.
"They're on their way," I answered, nodding as the jerk of the turn caused us to sway. "They were further away than us though. As sad as it is, I think we're going to be the first ones on the scene."
"That's not sad, Stormy," Natasha answered, tightening her grip around my chest. "That's exactly the way I want it." She stopped for a beat and I imagined she was smiling the same exhilarated smile she wore during the ruckus. "If you want something done right—”
"I know the rest," I said, turning hard again.
"Good. Then do the rest," she answered. I felt her inch even closer somehow. "You did good back there, Stormy. We make a good team, you and me."
"We're not a team," I shot back, perhaps too angrily. "Look," I said, "I know you're one of the good guys now. I get that you've turned your life around and that you're on the side of the angels or whatever."
"But it doesn't change what I did to you," she said as I made one last turn, the pier coming into view. "I understand that, Stormy. Really, I do. The thing is, I never expected it to. When you do the things that I've done in my life, when you've been the kind of person I've been, there's never really any getting away from it." I felt her head shake against my shoulder. "I might be working toward fixing the problems of the world, but I could never do enough to make up for what I did. That's not the way it works. It stays with you. It colors everything you do, say, or think. All I can do is apologize though. All I can do is tell you that you changed me for the better, and hope that I haven't changed you too much for the worse."
She sighed.
"You're right. We're not a team. We're not anything, but don't let us not being anything stop you from having something else, okay?" I heard her sniffle and wondered if the impossible had happened. Was Natasha Rayne actually crying? "If we make it through this, I promise you'll never see me again. Tell me you'll forget me okay. Tell me you'll be okay, and I can dream you're off somewhere, living some picket fence life on the beach, drinking amber beers and eating fresh fish."
I pulled to a stop near the pier. Off near the end, I saw the boat had docked. It was already there, which meant we were late. It hadn't left yet though, which meant we weren't too late.
"Come on," I said, pulling her arms from around me and standing from the bike. I pulled down the kickstand, looking over at the woman. "We don't have time for this."
She blinked at me. "Right," she said. "Let's get this over with." She stayed on the bike, pushing up the kickstand. "I'll take the lead."
Before I could stop her, she roared toward the pier, making enough noise to alert every one of them of her presence.
"Wait!" I yelled, realizing this wouldn't end well for Natasha.
Pulling out my gun, I ran toward the pier, watching Natasha race toward the area and what I now saw was a group of people milling around in it. They were mostly men, expect for a handful of women whose hands were bound. They were being marched toward the boat. This was it. They were being gathered and hauled off to the 'market'. It made me damned sick.
Natasha tore into the group, turning hard away from the women. Gunfire blasted through the air, and my heart fell. She plowed into them, knocking a hole into the group. She knocked one, two, three of the men out before her bike skidded off the pier, taking her with it.
My God. She had almost certainly taken enough bullets to take her out, and she had done so to give us a chance to take this thing down.
One of the women scrambled toward one of the men Natasha tore down. As I neared, I saw familiar features. Tanya grabbed a key and undid her shackles. She then turned toward the others, attempting to free them as well.
One of the men not injured grabbed her head and pulled her backward hard, jerking her back. He punched her hard in the kidneys and, as I neared even closer, I saw it was Coin. His damned disgusting bandana shone in the moonlight.
I leapt onto the pier, realizing Natasha had given me another gift when she drove into the group. Not only were some of them taken down, but there was so much panic and disarray now that- even though I was running at full speed- they didn't notice me.
I slammed into Coin, plowing into him so furiously that my body left the damned ground. I almost somersaulted, grabbing him tightly and pushing him down onto the pier.
Coin grunted loudly and cursed as he fell against the pier, me on top of him.
"Son of a bitch!" He yelled, punching me square in the throat. I gasped for air that wouldn't come, air that stung like a fireball lit in my chest. I jerked backward, but knew better than to take too much time on myself.
I was in pain, but this was zero hour. I threw an elbow into the man's face, and then a fist into his gut.
He was huge though, and hard to take out. Even on the floor of the pier, he was a force to reckon with. With both his hands, he pushed me hard, sending me flying into the air. I fell against the pier, my throat burning, my chest heaving with agony. I felt a snap as I landed. Pretty sure I had just broken a rib, I raised my gun.
Coin was already up though, already standing over me. He kicked my hand, sending my gun flying.
He roared down at me. "I told you I was going to kick your ass."
"And I told you you'd have to do it," I said, my throat aching as the words squeezed out. Breaking the cardinal rule of being a guy, I kicked the bastard right in the family jewels. He je
rked, screaming as he fell backward.
I lunged up, twisting over him. On top of him, I grabbed his shoulders, pulled them up, and then slammed him hard against the pier. He thudded as I did. So, I did it again; over and over until the man was unconscious.
Then, thinking of all the crap he had put so many people through, all the pain he had probably put so many women through, I punched him hard across the face.
Standing up, I readied myself to deal with the rest of the Scorpions. I found I was no longer alone though. Tanya was kicking ass, free of her chains. Cross and Anchor were there as well, presumably having gotten to the pier while I was dealing with Coin. A flurry of officers joined them as well; Vero Beach's finest at work.
I joined them, throwing fists and elbows alongside the brave men and women who were- at this moment- taking care of business.
I worked through them, taking out as many as the rest, covered in sweat, blood, and indignation. Soon enough though, there were more officers than there were people to deal with. The Scorpions were taken care of and the women were being tended to.
I took a deep breath.
As I looked though, scanning the area and seeing that things were finally under control, one person was noticeably missing.
I ran to the other end of the pier, stepping over the unconscious bodies of the Scorpions she had taken out.
Looking down, I saw the dark water empty.
"Where are you?" I muttered.
"Storm!" I heard in the distance.
Turning around, I saw Katherine Cross. She had Coin in cuffs now, pulling him groggily toward the end of the pier, where I saw a line of squad cars had gathered.
She nodded at me. "Good job, Detective."
I nodded back at her. "Good job," I said.
Chapter 32
"You know, this isn't quite as bad as I thought it would be," I said, looking at Rebecca and grinning as I sank into the second hour of my grandfather's party.
Sure, there were pictures of him up everywhere and flowery wreaths, as if to anoint his grave, but he was standing right there. He was alive, he was vibrant and, more than that, he was having fun. The music was loud, the drinks were good, and the company was amazing. After everything I'd been through the last few days, I was having a hard time trying not to enjoy myself.
"I'm glad you like it," she said, squeezing my hand and resting her head on my shoulder. "I'm glad you're okay too."
"You know me," I said, leaning in and kissing her head. "You're not going to rid of me that easily."
"Thank the Lord for that," she muttered, sending ripples of warmth through my entire body.
It was strange. Though I hadn't necessarily left things with Natasha on a good note, something about having seen her, about having talked things through with her, that made me feel lighter. I hadn't even been really cognizant of just how much of what had happened between us I had been carrying around. Standing beside a woman I had just recently professed my love to though, I could tell now. And it felt damned good to be able to let it go.
"There he is!" A familiar voice shot out from across the room.
Anchor lifted his glass to me, grinning like the crazy person he was.
"It's not normal for a human being to irritate another human being as much as her irritates me," another voice said.
Looking over, I saw Cross standing there, a drink in her hand as well.
"I wonder why that might be," I said, grinning at her. It might not have been obvious to her that the two of them had a connection right yet, but it was painfully clear to me. Though I had clashed with this woman more so than anyone else since I'd gotten here, I had to admit that she was a hell of a detective and a damned good person to boot. If her happiness was hidden somewhere in all that irritation, then I hoped she found it one day.
She glared over at me, perhaps not fully understanding what my comment had meant.
"You're weird," she said. Then, leaning over and speaking to Rebecca, she added, "You must have the patience of a saint."
"Something like that," my girlfriend nodded.
Smiling, I squeezed her hand the way she'd squeezed mine. Looking over, I saw Charlotte off in the distance. From the way her hands were stretched off toward the sky, I could tell she was telling Isaac a story. Knowing the kid, it was probably a dramatic reenactment of what had happened on the pier the other night, tamped down for his young ears, of course. Either that, or a story about dragons.
I smiled. The new lightness I felt changed the way I looked at Charlotte. Before, there had always been a sort of pain that came with seeing her, a knowledge that there was an unspoken, broken thing between us. Now though, I understood things better. Happiness comes in all different shapes and sizes. I found mine in Rebecca. Maybe one day, Cross would find hers in Anchor. Charlotte had found hers already too, and it was in that little boy.
"Dilly," my grandfather said, waving me over toward him.
"Give me a minute," I said, looking down at Rebecca.
She nodded, I untangled myself from her, and headed toward my grandfather. The old man smiled at me, but I could tell from the look on his face that there was something heavier under it.
"Wanna take a walk with me, son?" he asked.
"More than anything," I said, and followed him out onto the beach. "What's wrong, Old Man?" I asked, taking in a beautiful night in Vero Beach. The stars shone like diamonds in the sky. The ocean rippled softly in the distance. My grandfather put his hand on my shoulder and turned me toward him.
"Is it Tanya?" I asked. "I noticed she and Marcus weren't at the party. Are they okay?"
"Just fine, son," he answered. "She's heading off for some fancy new job in a week. That's all. I guess they want to spend as much time together as possible until then."
"That makes sense," I said, looking into the eyes of a man who had meant more to me than maybe anybody else in the world. "So, what's up?" I asked, swallowing hard.
"It's about us," he said.
"Us?" I asked. "What do you mean?"
He shuffled a little, something he did every once in a while, usually when he was about to do something he really didn't want to.
"You know you're my favorite person in the world. Don't you, son?"
"I'm not quite sure I follow you," I said, tensing up a little.
"Knowing you, raising you, loving you; it's the greatest gift of my life," he said softly. "I want you to know that."
"Of course, I know that," I said, narrowing my eyes. "And you know that I—”
"No," he said, stopping me. "That's not what this is about. I just want you to know how much you mean to me. I want to know that you know. So that what I'm about to say next doesn't come so hard." He shook his head. "I'm not going to be around much longer, Dilly."
He waited, probably for me to stop him. This time, I didn't.
"You have a life to live, and so do I," he continued. "I watched your mother die, and I saw what it did to you. I saw what it did to me. I don't want that for you. I want you to be happy every damned day. I want you to do your work, and do what fulfills you."
"What are you saying?" I asked, my mind creeping toward what I imagined his point was.
"I'm staying here, Dilly," he said.
"What?" I asked, though I already knew he was going to say it. "Grandpa, don't do this for me. I know you think it's right. I know you think I can't handle it, but—”
"I know you can handle it," he stopped me short. "You're a hell of a man, and you can take anything this world can throw at you. This is about me. This is about me, about me giving something to you." He smiled. "And giving something to myself."
I tilted my head to the side. "Daisy?"
His grin burst open like sunshine. "We've gotten close," he said. "Really close."
"I'll be damned," I mused. "Boomer was right."
Grandpa shrugged. "Even a broken clock is right twice a day, right?"
I chuckled. "I'm going to miss you, Old Man."
"Not too much," he a
nswered. "I'll still be around. I've got a garage to deal with every once in a while, and, so long as there's room on the Good Storm for me—”
"Always," I said.
"Then I'm just a few hours' drive away," he answered.
"Or a day and a half's sail," I laughed.
"Damned straight," he said, patting my shoulder again. "Oh, I almost forgot. Something came for you in the mail."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope postmarked to me.
"Mail?" I asked. "Who would send mail to me here?"
"Hell if I know," he said, handing it to me. "Anyway, I'm going to get back in there. It's not much of a party without me."
"Never is," I added.
"Don't stay out here too long, son," he said. "It's not much of a party without you either."
I nodded at him as he walked back into the house.
Opening the letter, I pulled out a handwritten note and read it.
This is long overdue, but I hope it means something.
With any luck, you can put it to good use one day.
She'll be a lucky girl.
Fly right, Stormy, and thanks for everything.
I shook the envelope a little and out came my grandmother's ring.
I chuckled to myself, looking down at the piece of jewelry I hadn't seen in years. There was no return address on the envelope and no signature at the bottom of the page. I didn't need one though. I knew who this was from.
She wanted me to have it back. She wanted me to use it one day.
I looked out at the dark water, as though she was out there in it somewhere, staring right back at me. For all I knew, she was.
"Thank you, Nat," I muttered. "You know, I just might do that one day."
The End
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