Hard Tide: A Sea Adventure (Florida Coast Adventures)

by Johnny Asa

  I cursed, wishing I had a grappling hook or something, but there was no such luck. I kicked hard, aiming toward the back of the boat. Even with my fins, it was going to be hard to keep up with the boat, and I was glad the hundred foot yacht didn’t seem to be moving very quickly.

  “Someone up there must like me,” I mumbled as a pink line flashed in the beam of my flashlight. They’d thrown down a trail line for people to grab in case they fell off. It was common enough because even the strongest swimmers could get carried away by the current if they fell off, but I hadn’t expected it.

  Guess someone was looking out for me. As I swam toward it, I grabbed hold of the line and took a deep breath. This was about to get a lot less fun and quickly. I was just glad the boat wasn’t that high off the ground.

  As I cinched the line to my belt so I could let the boat carry me forward, I pulled off my fins. I held them for a moment before tying them to the line. I wasn’t sure if I’d be coming back for them or not, but either way, I felt bad just leaving them in the ocean.

  Even holding the line, it was a bit weird to kick in the water, and I could immediately tell how much slower I was going. Guess it was good I was at the boat already.

  A couple moments later, I’d pulled off nearly all the gear I could before I disconnected the oxygen tank. I left it all tied to the line and hoped no one would notice it as I clamored forward along the line until my feet touched the sidewall. Then, using strength I didn’t know I had, I pulled myself out of the water.

  My muscles screamed with the effort as I got my feet up on the side and pulled my happy ass up until I could reach the rungs of the ladder on the side of the boat. I was just glad it wasn’t far because if it had been, I’d have been screwed.

  Once I was on the ladder, it became exponentially easier, and I hauled myself up. The sounds of the party filled my ears as I pulled off my hood so I could hear better. Then I pulled out my Glock and clambered up. I carefully poked my head up, and seeing no one, I hopped over the side and flopped down on the deck of the ship.

  I sucked in a gulp of air before getting to my feet and moving across the walkway toward what looked like a small room. I ducked inside it and found myself inside a bathroom.

  After what felt like forever, but was probably only a couple minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom in my suit and tie. I had my Glock holstered beneath my jacket for a quick draw, and my knife was hidden up one sleeve.

  The party was boisterous, filled with scantily clad women lounging around a pool while dance music played. Waiters wearing white tuxedos moved around the perimeter carrying flutes of champagne. I wasn’t sure which guys were the drug dealers per se, but I was willing to be it was the fat guys wearing gold chains with the women crawling all over them.

  A grimace crossed my lips as I glanced around, trying to figure out who was running the show. I couldn’t tell, but that was fine. All I had to do was blend in for a while, and I’m sure the host of this little party would make himself known.

  Deciding to do just that, I headed toward the bar feeling out of place but doing my best to blend in. It was hard because while the suit I was wearing was nice, it was still off the shelf, and most of these guys looked like their buttons cost more than my entire wardrobe.

  Hopefully, no one would notice.

  Moving quickly, I found the bar and sat down beside a guy with salt and pepper hair. He wore a tuxedo t-shirt and cabana boy white slacks and had one of those captain’s hats on his head. He glanced up at me as he nursed a glass filled with a giant ice cube and whiskey.

  “Hello,” he said, his big blue eyes taking me in as he raised his glass. “Enjoying yourself?” His voice was surprisingly pleasant, and from the way he spoke, I got the impression he actually cared.

  “Yeah, I’m not much into crowds,” I said, shifting in my seat so I could look out at the party.

  “Not much of a party person either?” he asked, gesturing toward the scene with his glass before laughing and waving at the bartender who had been across the way trying to not make eye contact with him.

  “Sir?” the bartender said, coming over so quickly I thought he might leave a dust outline behind himself.

  “Ted, this man is conspicuously without a drink,” the older gentlemen gestured at me before taking a huge swallow of whiskey, draining the glass in a single gulp. He slammed it down on the bar. “As am I, and I’d hate to think we were in the Sahara.”

  “Sorry, sir, what would you like?” he asked, sweeping the empty glass off the bar and wiping the bar with a rag that seemed to have materialized in his hand.

  “Something nice,” he said, glancing at me. “Say, you drink whiskey, son?”

  “When it’s good whiskey,” I replied, eyeing him carefully. Something was definitely off with the guy, but I wasn’t sure what. “I’m not a fan of the cheap stuff. It might go down around a hundred proof, but it comes up two hundred proof, if you know what I mean.”

  “I hear that,” the guy said, gesturing to Ted, the bartender. “Why don’t you break out the Dalmore 64?”

  “The Trinitas?” Ted asked, mouth falling open in shock. “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t seem to recall myself stuttering,” the guy next to me said, rubbing his chin. “Was I somehow unclear?”

  “No, sir. Right away, sir.” Ted nodded furiously before rushing to the other side of the bar and disappearing through an alcove.

  “Dalmore. I’ve heard of that. It’s supposed to be pretty good, right?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “I think I had a Dalmore 15 before.” I shut my eyes, remembering how smooth it had been. The stuff had been so amazing, I’d been surprised to find it was one of Dalmore’s cheaper whiskeys even though it cost almost a hundred bucks a bottle.

  “You have no idea,” the guy replied as Ted returned with a stag’s head emblazoned in in silver along with the words Dalmore Trinitas. It looked to be nearly full, and I watched as Ted plunked down a huge ice cube in a glass before pouring two fingers’ worth in a glass.

  “Is that enough, sir?” Ted asked, holding the bottle like he was afraid he might drop it.

  “This is fine,” he said, reaching out to take the glass. He held it up, inhaling the scent before handing it to me. “Consider it a gift.” He glanced at Ted. “Pour one more, but add a splash of water please.”

  “Of course, sir,” Ted said, glancing from the man to me and back again. It’d only been for a second, but I could feel a mixture of fear and jealousy in the bartender’s eyes.

  “To your dad,” the man said taking his glass from Ted and holding it up to toast. “May we eventually find him.” My blood ran cold as he tilted the glass back and took a sip. “Go on. It’s bad luck not to participate in a toast, Billy.”

  The next minute or so happened in a blur. I stood, going for my Glock as he sat there sipping his Dalmore. As my hand disappeared beneath my jacket, a dude who would have made a professional wrestler look small grabbed my left shoulder and spun me around. My hand flew from my coat sans gun as his meaty fist came at my face.

  I ducked, allowing the attack to pass overhead as I buried an elbow in his side. He buckled forward as my knee came up onto his crotch. His eyes bugged out of his skull right before my heel lashed out, shattering his knee.

  He collapsed to the ground as something hard smacked against the back of my head and everything went black.

  26

  I woke with a splitting headache, and as I tried to move, I realized I was tied to a damned chair. I struggled anyway, feeling the nylon rope cut into my wrists as I struggled. My flesh would give long before the ropes even thought about it.

  “I’m glad you’re finally awake, Mr. Ryder,” the guy who had offered me the drink said. He wasn’t wearing his jacket anymore, and his white shirtsleeves had been rolled up to reveal well-muscled forearms as he leaned over the backside of a chair. “I’d like you to meet my acquaintance.” He gestured toward the left where a guy with a handlebar mustache and a cowboy hat sat
on a bench beside a bunch of power tools. He had one leg kicked up on his knee, giving me a good look at his leather cowboy boots.

  “Howdy,” the cowboy said, nodding toward me as one hand went up to the brim of his black Stetson.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, surprised I wasn’t beat to shit yet, but judging by the cowboy, the best was yet to come.

  “See, I have a problem,” the guy said, smiling at me. “I need to find your dad. He’s disappeared with something very important to me.” He sighed. “I need it back.”

  “Wait, you don’t have him?” I asked. That was nearly the best thing I’d heard all day. If these guys didn’t have my dad, then he was out there somewhere.

  “If I had him, you’d be dead already.” He gestured at me. “I’d have just shot you and thrown you into the ocean for the sharks.” He sighed, getting to his feet and sauntering toward me. “As it stands, I need information, and while I’m fairly certain you don’t actually know where he is, I’m hoping we’ll get a good idea.” He reared back and slugged me across the face.

  My head snapped to the side in a spray of blood as pain shot through me. Stars flashed across my vision, and as my head started to fall back into place, he knelt down in front of me, grabbing my chin between his thumb and forefinger.

  “I don’t actually like hurting people,” he said, turning my head so I could see the cowboy. “That’s why I have Jimmy. He likes it a lot.”

  “Good to know,” I said, before spitting a gob of blood in the man’s face. He slowly reached up to wipe his eyes with his hand. He stood and sighed.

  “It really doesn’t have to be like this,” he said, turning on his heel and heading toward a door. As he did, he waved one hand over his head. “Jimmy, let me know when it’s done. I want to see to his two friends." He quirked a smile at me over his shoulder. “Your girlfriend seems very nice. I’m going to have to arrange some alone time between the two of us, if you know what I mean.” With that, he exited through the door, leaving me alone with Jimmy.

  Burning rage exploded through me. If he hurt Mary Ann, I’d…

  I didn’t get to finish that thought because Jimmy belted me across the face with the back of one hand. Again my head snapped backward, but this time, instead of letting me rest, he slugged me in the stomach. It hurt. A lot.

  “Pay attention,” Jimmy said, turning toward the bench and picking up a hammer and a knife. “You can get the one or the other. I honestly don’t care.” He smirked. “That’s a lie, I like the knife a lot more.” He drove it into my thigh.

  Pain raged up from the wound like wildfire, setting every nerve ablaze. My jaw tightened, biting down the scream that threatened to tear from my throat as I jerked violently, trying to get away even though I was bound tight.

  “How’s that feel, Mr. Ryder?” he asked, wrenching the knife around in my flesh before letting go and standing. He held the hammer out to me and smiled. “See, here’s the thing. The boss wants information, but I don’t care much about that. So talk or don’t. It’s fine with me either way.” He moved down, pulling off my right shoe and flinging it across the room. “Actually, don’t talk. You’ll need to save your voice for screaming.”

  “That’s good to know,” I said as he raised the hammer in the air, ready to smash my toe into bits. As the hammer fell, his head exploded into a fine red mist, drenching me in blood and thicker bits. His headless corpse collapsed to the ground, his hammer striking the ground beside me with a clang.

  Tom, the guy who had come by the house earlier, stared at me from behind the barrel of a smoking gun.

  “You sure do know how to make an entrance, Mr. Ryder,” Tom said, moving over to me. He jerked the knife from my leg and used it to cut me free of the ropes. It felt like it took forever, but that may have been due to the throbbing in my leg.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, and as I spoke, he turned to go

  “It’s not a problem.” He glanced at me over his shoulder, barely a shadow in the outline of his door. “Remember the deal. If Mandrake doesn’t go down, I won’t help you find your dad.” With those words, he left, leaving me all alone in the room.

  I nodded and got to my feet. My leg burned. Blood gushed from the wound, making my pantleg stick to my flesh as I trudged forward with my good hand on the guardrail. As I reached the door, I realized it led to stairs that went up toward the outside.

  Gritting my teeth, I tried to ignore the pain, and the blood making my foot slosh in my shoe. Everything was secondary to the wound though. I could feel it throb beneath my pants.

  I was bleeding, and with every beat of my aching heart, blood gushed from the wound. I could feel it run down my leg and soak through my sock so I left bloody prints on the dirty floor.

  I took a step off the stairs, and my dress shoe slipped on the slick steps. The world went topsy-turvy as my feet went out from under me. I reached out, desperate to grab onto the railing, only my leg was slashed open. Agony tore through me as my bloody fingers grabbed for the handrail… and missed.

  Then I was flat on my back. Bright lights danced across my vision like stars on a windswept night as the moon glared down at me from the sky above. Warm Florida ocean spray splattered across my face as I stared up at that moon, and my breath caught in my throat.

  I tried to wipe my face, tried to make myself move.

  Only I couldn’t. I was too old, had lost too much blood, and even with Mary Ann, Ren, and my dad counting on me, maybe enough was enough.

  The one thing I did know was this though.

  This old Marine was too damned stubborn to die. Not when he had a job to do.

  I rolled myself to my hands and knees, ignoring the dirty water seeping into my slacks. I was still wounded, and as I stared down at my leg and watched the bloody puddle spreading outward around it, I knew I had to stop the bleeding.

  Fortunately, I could do that.

  I picked myself up and stumbled back inside. Those bastards might have taken Mary Ann, but even if they hadn’t, if there was one thing I didn’t like, it was a bunch of goddamned thugs thinking they could do whatever the hell they wanted in my town.

  And, much as I hated to admit it. This was my town.

  27

  I ground my teeth together as I propped my leg up on the chair and used the dead man’s undershirt to staunch the bleeding in my upper thigh. So far, no one had come inside to look for me, but I had no idea how much longer I had. Sooner or later, someone would come. Worse, I had no weapons other than the knife that had been in my leg.

  As I sat there, seconds turning to minutes, I focused on being calm. They had Mary Ann and Ren, and while I wasn’t sure how everything had gotten FUBARed, I had to save them. Then I had to kill Mandrake so I could get the location of my dad from Tom. It seemed impossible, but I was going to try anyway.

  Satisfied my leg wasn’t bleeding anymore, I tied the makeshift compress in place with some of the ropes they’d once bound me with and made my way back outside. My leg hurt like a son of a gun since most of the shock had worn off, but that was fine, I could handle a little pain. This time, I made it outside easier, and as I grabbed at the handrail and pulled myself onto deck inch by painful inch, I could hear the sounds of the party in full swing.

  “So they kept partying while leaving me for dead,” I grumbled, suddenly incensed. I had half a mind to go out there, guns a blazing, but I didn’t have a gun. Well, it was time to change that.

  I made my way toward the back of the boat where I’d stashed my stuff. Each step sent a jolt of agony through me, but I fought the pain as best I could, focusing on how much I was going to enjoy seeing the look on Mandrake’s face as I choked the damned life out of him. Probably more than was proper.

  As I approached the bathroom I’d used to change, a waiter dressed in a white suit carrying a platter laden with food too expensive for me to know on first sight ambled into my path. His eyes widened in shock as I lunged forward, my fist arcing through the air. My knuckles caught him under the chin,
knocking him on his ass.

  His platter hit the ground next to him with a clang that was mostly muffled by the sounds of the party, and as he lay there dazed, I grabbed the metal platter and smacked him in the face. The crack of his nose shattering filled my ears as he dropped to the ground unconscious. I took a deep breath, not sure what to do with the man as I looked around for somewhere to hide him. The smart move would be to drop him overboard, but that just rubbed me the wrong way.

  Instead, I grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him toward the bathroom. Satisfied he wouldn’t immediately be seen, I opened the bathroom door and saw, much to my delight, my bag was still sitting in the corner where I’d left it. I hastily reached in and grabbed the block of C4. Hefting it in one hand, I grabbed my spare gun from the bag and made my way outside again.

  I headed toward the engine room, small stabs of pain jabbing my leg. I clenched my jaw, trying to ignore it as the party continued on the other side of the boat. I had no idea where my friends were, but I knew I had to find them. The best way to do that would be to find someone in the know and beat it out of them. Unfortunately, I also couldn’t risk the Hard Tide getting away.

  No. I had to make sure she went down. If not, my dad would be lost. So the engine room it was.

  I readied my Glock and moved forward, and as I did, I saw a man dressed in black slacks and a black turtleneck smoking a cigarette. He stood next to a metal door that appeared to lead into the depths of the ship. Perfect.

  “So, where might a guy find the engine room?” I asked, pressing the gun to the back of his neck. He stiffened, the cigarette falling from his fingers and into the choppy sea below.

  “You’re a dead man,” he said, not bothering to move as he stared out at the churning sea.

  “Yeah, I hear that a lot, but somehow I’m still kicking,” I ground the gun into his skull. “Now, am I going to have to toss you overboard or are you going to help me.”