Rum Runner

by Tricia Leedom

  “You can have Cheyenne’s room,” Molly was saying to the Duchess.

  “I don’t want to put her out. She already dislikes me.”

  Molly waved her hand. “She’ll survive one night bunking with me.”

  “If you’re certain.”

  Jimmy looked at the caller ID on the phone and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rose. Angela Garcia. Big Rig’s widow and Florez’s sister.

  The last time she’d phoned was three years ago when Tulio was nine years old and needed an emergency appendectomy. Jimmy sent Angela funds every month to keep her and the kid comfortable, but without insurance, she couldn’t afford the operation. Jimmy paid for the surgery and the kid had recovered good as new. It was the least he could do for Big Rig’s family.

  “I need to take this call. Go on inside, Duchess. I’ll be along in a minute.” He stayed on the four-by-four stoop while the women went inside the apartment. He answered the phone just before the call went to voicemail. “Angela? Qué pasa?”

  A barrage of rapid Spanish shot out of the phone. Jimmy was fluent, but she was talking so fast he only managed to catch bits and pieces. “Tulio…van…little-boy…Mother of God…help me!”

  Jimmy replied in Spanish. “Calm down, Angela. Take a deep breath and start again. I can’t help you if I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

  “Please help me,” she said. Her voice was high-pitched and strained, but comprehensible. “Please. They took Tulio.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know! A van pulled up outside my house. Men, soldiers maybe, in green camouflage, snatched him off the street.”

  “When?”

  “Just now. He was on his way home from school. I was on the porch watching for him.” She let out a long, painful wail and Jimmy gave her a moment to collect herself.

  It was Bautista. Had to be. A little over an hour ago, Jimmy had told Bautista’s right-hand man to buzz off. Florez had warned him he wouldn’t like the consequences if he continued to interfere with his plans. He pretended to care for his sister’s welfare, but he cared for nothing except money, power, and rising in the ranks of Bautista’s criminal organization. He was the man’s lapdog, doing the dirty work while Bautista maintained his image as a harmless businessman. Florez had no qualms about using his family to further his career. Big Rig had figured that out about him a long time ago, and that was why he’d cut him off.

  “Listen to me, Angela. You may receive a phone call from—”

  “I have no money! Why would they do this?”

  “They don’t want money. The call will likely come from your brother.”

  “Rio? Why do you say that?”

  “He wants something from me. I think he planning to use Tulio to get it. I’ll take care of this. I’ll get your son back.”

  “I trust you, Jimmy.”

  His gut tightened into a painful knot. He wanted to tell her not to trust him, but how could he? Sometimes false hope was better than no hope at all, so he kept his trap shut and gave her instructions instead. “Remain calm. Stay close to the phone. I will call you as soon as I know anything.”

  “Thank God for you, Jimmy. You are our savior.”

  Jimmy squeezed his eyes closed. A tremble rolled through his body and he grabbed the metal banister to keep himself from doubling over.

  “I’ll be in touch.” He said through clenched teeth and hung up the phone.

  “Is everything all right?” The Duchess’ cool voice brought his head up.

  He blinked the moisture from his eyes before turning around to face her. “Yeah.”

  She was standing in the half-open doorway, tall and willowy and sexy as hell in her minor dishevelment. He suddenly had the urge to kiss the doubtful expression off her haughty face and mess her up some more. Instead, he muttered, “It was nothing.”

  “I heard someone speaking Spanish and thought that man Florez was here.” She raised her hand to show him the baseball bat she was holding by the wrong end. “I wanted to help.”

  For a minute, Jimmy’s stress evaporated. He even chuckled. “Darlin’, what did you intend to do with that?”

  “Pass it to you?”

  Jimmy shook his head. “I appreciate the solicitude, but I would’ve been shot dead before you made the handoff.” He reached out, turned the bat around, and handed it back to her. “Remind me later to teach you how to fight.”

  “Solicitude? That’s an impressive word.”

  “It better be. It was the featured word on my word-a-day calendar.”

  Her sudden smile warmed him like the sun burning though the haze on a cloudy day.

  “Stunning,” he murmured without realizing he spoke aloud.

  “Sorry?”

  “Your smile. It could dazzle a squirrel into handing over its nuts.”

  Her expression sobered and her gaze flickered with uncertainty. “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Feel the need to flirt.”

  “I wasn’t flirting.”

  “You were.”

  “Darlin’, when I say to you, ‘you have one of the prettiest smiles in the northern hemisphere,’ I’m simply stating a fact. When I add a wink.” And he did. “Then you’ll know I’m flirting.”

  She stared at him, unmoved by his charm.

  Sophie Davies-Stone cold, that’s what she was.

  “Are you coming inside?” she asked.

  He hated to leave her, but he didn’t have much of a choice. “I have a charter boat tour starting in about an hour and some other business I need to take care of, but I’ll be back.”

  “When?”

  “In the morning.”

  “But…” her voice trailed off.

  “What?”

  “It’s just.” She glanced away before meeting his gaze again. “I hadn’t expected you to leave so soon.”

  “You’ll be fine. Molly’s good people. She’ll take care of you for the night, and I’ll be back in the morning.” He started down the stairs.

  “You promise?”

  He froze and looked back at her. The worried expression on her face was so unexpected it tugged at his heart. He cursed inwardly. This was exactly why he preferred keeping things simple and limiting his personal attachments. You give people an inch and suddenly they’re asking you to make promises and shit. He swallowed hard to clear the tightness in his throat and said, “Promises are like rainbows. Impossible to keep. I can only say I’ll do my best to come back to you.”

  He girded himself for a rebuke or a sneer of disgust, but instead, she smiled gently and said, “Our best is the most anyone can ever ask of us. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jimmy.”

  He stared at her as his brain struggled to catch up. A Duchess with empathy. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  When she stepped back and started to close the door, he said, “Bolt the lock. Don’t open the door for anyone except Cheyenne. Molly has my number in case you need me.”

  “I may not act like I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I do.”

  He nodded.

  She closed the door.

  He waited until he heard the bolt slide into place before he turned and jogged down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he punched a number into his phone.

  After several rings, a voice broke through the static on the other end of the line. “Go ahead.”

  “It’s Panama. I’ve got a problem. Are you anywhere in the vicinity of Colombia?”

  After a few beats of silence, the solemn voice on the other end of the line said, “I can be.”

  “You familiar with the drug lord Hector Bautista?” Jimmy took the lack of response on the other end of the line as an affirmative. “Some men in military uniforms just kidnapped Tulio Garcia from the street outside his home in Cartagena. I have reason to believe Rio Florez is behind it. The knucklehead works for Bautista now. I need help locating the boy.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Thanks, man.”r />
  “I’ll be in touch.” The line went dead.

  Jonas Ostergaard was a Black Ops operative. A highly trained killer as badass as they came. He was also Jimmy’s little brother and, if he was able, was usually willing to do Jimmy a favor on the rare occasion he asked for one.

  Some of the weight lifted from his shoulders, knowing his little bro was taking care of business for him in that part of the world.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  April paused outside the door to her father’s study with her hand poised to knock. The boom of her father’s voice sliced through the wood like a hatchet. He was royally pissed about something.

  “What do you mean you lost her? Never mind. I don’t want to hear excuses. Do you understand the urgency in this? I have to find Thompson before Bautista does. A mind-boggling amount of money is at stake.”

  Thompson? As in Sophie’s father Mitch Thompson? Why did her father want to find Hamburger Man, of all people? She would ask him, but then he would know she was eavesdropping again. The last time she was caught, he was so angry he took her credit cards away for a month.

  “Well, do it then!” he shouted, and April flinched.

  Maybe this wasn’t the best time to talk to him. She’d come back later when he wasn’t in a bad mood.

  She was just turning to go when the door flew open and her father nearly plowed into her.

  “I was just about to knock,” she rushed to explain her reason for lurking outside his door.

  “Come inside. I need to speak with you.”

  Expecting to get blasted, she lingered in the doorway while he crossed to his desk and sat on the edge of it with his arms crossed. “I said come in.”

  She did, but she avoided his gaze as she came to stand a few feet in front of him.

  “How was your day?” The question struck her as peculiar, because he really didn’t seem in the mood for small talk.

  “Fine.”

  “I hope your friend Sophie is well after her ordeal with the police?”

  “Katy Mirsky told me they let her go this morning because you called and straightened everything out. I was just coming to thank you.”

  “Have you seen or spoken to Sophie today?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I think you owe Jimmy Panama an apology for getting him arrested.”

  April frowned. Okay, that was weird. “I thought you said Jimmy broke the law and he got what he deserved?”

  “I’m grateful to him for bringing you home safe and you should be too. You should go and see him tomorrow after school. You have a half-day, don’t you? If you wish, you may take him a bottle of wine from my private collection. A thank you gift.”

  “Jimmy doesn’t seem like much of a wine drinker, but I would like to apologize to him.”

  “Good girl. You can go now.”

  At the door, she glanced back at him.

  His mouth quirked into his version of a smile. “Good night, Kitten.”

  “Good night, Daddy.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jimmy ghosted into Dixie’s Bar and Grille, skirting the wall as he passed a raucous bunch of locals and a couple tourists who looked like they were attracted to the dive atmosphere. Sue was behind the bar keeping everyone’s drinks full. Jimmy caught her eye and nodded before he slipped into his office and locked the door.

  He reached into his pocket for his cell phone and hit redial. Florez had left a message on Jimmy’s voice mail while he was hosting the sunset cruise.

  The Colombian answered on the fourth ring. “I was beginning to think I misjudged your concern for the boy,” he said in English.

  “Where’s Tulio?”

  “Safe for now. Let’s make this simple,” Florez said. “You give me the woman and my men will return the boy to his mother.”

  Jimmy sat on the edge of his desk. “I can’t let you have her, boss.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll enjoy raising my nephew.”

  “His momma doesn’t want him anywhere near you. You know that.”

  “Tulio will begin training at one of Bautista’s soldado camps tomorrow at dawn.”

  “Why would you force your own nephew to live in those conditions? Why would you risk his life like that?”

  “He will honor the memory of his father Rigoberto by becoming a soldier just like him.”

  “Men like Bautista are the reason Big Rig became a SEAL.”

  Florez scoffed. “The boy is strong. He will learn to be a man or—”

  “Or what? Die trying? Is that what you want for him?”

  “If you don’t want this fate for Tulio, hand over the woman.”

  The knot in Jimmy’s chest tightened as he scrambled for a solution that would guarantee the boy’s safety and didn’t involve handing the Duchess over to Bautista.

  He took a shot in the dark. “Is this about the medallion? Is that what was stolen? If so, I can get it for you.”

  “I know nothing about a medallion. What Thompson stole was much more valuable than an artifact. My boss won’t be satisfied without a face-to-face meeting with the thief.”

  “Pot meet kettle. Look, I’m not handing over the woman, so you can forget it.”

  “That’s too bad. My sister will be sorely disappointed to learn she’s lost another loved one because of you.”

  “Wait!” Jimmy said, before Florez could disconnect the call. “What if I were to find Mitch myself? What if I traded him for the boy?”

  “You know where he is?”

  “No, but I can use his daughter to lure him out of hiding just as well as you can. Probably better, because Mitch is more likely to reveal himself to me.”

  Florez chuckled softly. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you would be willing to betray an old friend to get something you wanted.”

  “The way I see it, Mad Dog can take care of himself. I’m doing him a favor by keeping his daughter out of your hands. Do we have a deal?”

  Florez thought it over for a moment. “You have one week to find Mitch Thompson and deliver him to me.”

  Warm, heady relief spread through Jimmy like a shot of Jim Beam. “There’s one more thing. A couple of pros stopped Mitch’s daughter at the airport and chased her all over creation yesterday. Know anything about that?”

  “They weren’t Bautista’s men.”

  “Are you sure? If they weren’t working for Bautista, who were they?”

  “I’ll make some inquires,” Florez said. “You have one week, mi amigo.”

  The line went dead.

  Jimmy stuffed the phone into his pocket as he made a beeline for the closet. He grabbed his “Go Bag” off the floor. The black duffel was identical to the one he’d used as a SEAL. It was made of waterproof junior ballistic urethane-coated pack cloth, which in laymen’s terms meant it could sustain a dip in the drink up to 300 feet and its contents would remain dry. He did a quick inventory. Extra clothes, toiletry kit, MRE field rations, iodine, rope, extra magazines, two of his favorite German knives, and a disassembled M60. The encrypted satellite phone, which looked like an ordinary smartphone, met military standards for immersion, shock, dust, humidity, and solar radiation, as well as altitude and temperature extremes.

  After checking to make sure the phone battery was juiced, he went to the framed photo hanging on the wall across from his desk and removed it to reveal a safe. The photo was a candid shot of Jimmy and five of his best friends from his SEAL days. They’d been blowing off steam in some tropical backwater when the picture was snapped. They stood with their arms linked around each other, busting up over something, looking at each other instead of the camera. Spider, Mac, Chauncey, Panama in the middle, Big Rig, and their team leader…Mitch “Mad Dog” Thompson.

  Jimmy looked closer at the picture he’d hung as a reminder of better times. Before his life had gone to hell. He’d forgotten Mad Dog was in the shot. More friend than CO, he was a good man. One crazy SOB, but a good man. Jimmy wondered if the Duchess had ever seen a picture of her father. Realizing
she probably hadn’t bothered him more than it should have.

  A soft knock came at the door. He ignored it and carefully set the picture on the wooden chair below the safe before he started on the combo. He didn’t glance over his shoulder when a key turned in the lock and someone entered. He knew it was Sue. She was the only person other than himself who had a key.

  “Hey, Jimmy,” she said softly.

  “Hey, Suzy-Q. I need you to do me a favor.” The safe handle turned and the door swung open. “I need you to look after things around here for a few days. I’m going out of town.” He withdrew three passports—two US and one Canadian—with three different aliases, a wad of cash, and a Sig Sauer 9mm pistol.

  “What’s happened?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Ashley has things under control out there. I’ve got a minute.”

  Jimmy tossed everything in the duffel except for the gun. He removed the magazine and then slid the rack back to clear the chamber. “Tulio was kidnapped and I have to get him back.” He reloaded the magazine.

  “Oh my God! How is Angela?” Sue said that like they were old friends, but she knew Angela only through stories Jimmy told when he was in a nostalgic mood.

  “She’s scared.”

  “Of course she is.” Sue came away from the door. “What do they want? Money?”

  “They want Mitch Thompson’s daughter.”

  “I didn’t know Mitch had a child.”

  Jimmy added the gun to the duffel. “She’s hardly a child. She’s all grown up.” He gave her the short version of events since he’d first laid eyes on Sophie Davis-Stone. “I told Mitch I’d keep her safe, so that’s what I intend to do.”

  “But didn’t you just say she wants to go home?”

  “She can’t. Not yet. I need to use her to get her daddy’s attention. They want Mitch, so I’m gonna give them Mitch. It’s the quickest and safest way to get the boy back.”

  “And you think she’s going to be okay with that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She came all the way from England to meet her father. Do you think she’s going to be okay with helping you find Mitch only so you can hand him over to a drug lord?”