by Amy Andrews
Hearing Thorne’s spoken threat made Lenny snap, and his empathy disappeared. “Get up,” Lenny ordered.
Throne scrambled to his feet, with his fists clenched.
“You mad at me, Thorne,… or Verde,… or whatever the fuck your name is?” Lenny pried. “Then be a man, and you take it out on me. Right here, right now. It’s you and me. Guess what? I’m mad at you too, so this will be fun for me.” Lenny started to remove his guns and his knife, pitching them behind him. “See. Fair fight,” he said while holding his hands up, his elbows bent at ninety degrees, palms splayed open, and facing Thorne. Normally, Thorne wouldn’t have been a well matched opponent to Lenny’s skills, but because he was tired and weak, hungry, and half dehydrated, they were an equal match. Thorne looked as though he had already taken a pretty good licking to the nose, but Lenny wasn’t sure exactly what kind of condition he was in. Lenny did know one thing for sure, and that was that crazy could give you some powerful energy.
Something clicked in Thorne’s head. Maybe Lenny was right. Maybe he should take it out on him. Lenny didn’t love anything else in this world more than his wife. What could be worse than causing his wife to live with pain and sorrow, even if Lenny was no longer around to know about it. Just the satisfaction of knowing he got the last laugh was good enough for him.
Thorne didn’t say a word, as he threw his arm forward and released a fistful of dirt into Lenny’s face, and charged in at him like a linebacker, catching Lenny off guard. Thorne tucked his head down and led in with his shoulder catching Lenny around the waist, pushing him back about fifteen feet. Lenny fell to the ground onto his back, his eyes blurred and stinging from the gritty debris. Thorne jumped on top of him and got in a few punches. Lenny bucked up, and brought his legs up in a crisscross, anchoring them around Thorne’s neck. Pushing down with his legs, Lenny was able to get Thorne off of him, and get to his feet.
Using his shirt sleeve, Lenny drug the cloth across his eyes. His vision became clearer, but his eyes were watering excessively, in a desperate attempt to remove the remaining foreign dirt particles.
Lenny stepped in with a quick left right jab to the torso. Thorne countered with a fake left jab, followed by a big roundhouse punch with his right. The cracking sound echoed through Lenny’s head, as Thorne’s fist connected with his ear, snapping his head and neck to the side. A loud ringing sounded from Lenny’s eardrum, and his equilibrium was thrown off, making him dizzy. Lenny stumbled back a few steps, and shook his head trying to get his bearings.
Wanting to end the fight, Lenny mustered up his last bit of energy. He let Thorne continue to walk closer to him. When he got in range, Lenny took a step forward, jumped in the air and did a quick one eighty pivot, landing a hard roundhouse kick to Thorne’s head. Lenny landed back on the ground, firmly on both feet, back into his fighting stance. Thorne went flying, landing on the unkempt grass. He rolled over onto his belly, and got up on all fours. Crawling away from Lenny a brief distance across the yard, he scrambled for Lenny’s gun. Before Lenny realized what was happening, Thorne hastily swung around, and fired a shot. Feeling the hard impact of the bullet, Lenny looked down, and clutched his chest. He stumbled backwards, and fell with a thud, onto the ground. Looking up at the star filled sky, he struggled to breath. Son of a bitch that hurt, he thought.
As Lenny lay there, Thorne approached him, still pointing the gun. He was so engrossed in the moment, that he didn’t notice that there was no blood oozing from Lenny’s chest, thanks to the bullet proof vest he was wearing. He didn’t hear Layne approaching him from behind, who at up until this point, stood at the end of the dock as a spectator to the brawl. Lenny had said, he had it under control, and Layne didn’t want to interfere with Lenny’s moment. Once the gun was fired, and the tables were turned, Layne no longer cared if Lenny got pissed at him or not for jumping in.
Thorne was standing at Lenny’s feet, and cocked the gun for a second shot. “I win,” he gloated. A split second before Thorne’s itchy trigger finger could get the shot off, Layne ducked around in front of him, and clocked him hard in the jaw with a solid right. Thorne’s eyes fluttered and rolled back into his head. Losing all consciousness, his body collapsed into a crumple, after being walloped with the knock out punch. Layne pried the gun from Thorne’s grip. Rolling Thorne over onto his stomach, he cranked his arms behind his back, and slapped some cuffs on him. Layne gave him a swift kick, literally in the ass, just for good measure, and again for fucking up his brand new tattoo.
“No, we win, you sick fuck!” Layne said.
Layne kneeled down beside Lenny, who had unbuttoned his shirt to reveal the butt end of a bullet lodged in his vest. Lenny said, “I told you I got this.”
Layne shook his head. He stood and offered Lenny a helping hand. “Fuck you, dude,” he said with a smile on his face.
“I got this,” Layne said with an emphasis on “I.” Layne turned towards the water, pointing at the boat that was drifting just offshore.“ Your missus awaits,” he continued.
Lenny winked at Layne, and gave him a big smile. “Thanks for having my back, man.”
Layne extended his hand, and Lenny took it. There hands gripped, and they pulled each other close and patted one another on the back.
Layne said, “Anytime, brotha. Anytime… Hey, Lenny, before I let you go see your wife, I gotta know, how did you know? How did you know it was him and not me?”
Lenny said, “your shoes. I tracked the son of a bitch all the way here. All I had to do is look down at your feet. Mother fucker’s feet are as big as a damn skunk ape.”
Layne smiled and had an “a-ha” moment spread over his face. “Good work, Detective. Good work. Now, go see your wife.”
Lenny offered his hand to Layne, and they shook. Lenny’s eye’s filled with empathy. “I’m sorry about Katy, Layne. I know how fond you were of her.”
Layne nodded his head. “Thanks, but you were too. It’s a tragic loss for both of us. For all of us. Now go, before I have to kick your ass too.”
Lenny smirked, and turned to go to Tessa. He knew in his heart that Layne would be okay in time. And he would too.
As Lenny was running towards the dock, Detectives Wilshire and Lt. Whitten came careening around the corner with guns drawn. Detective Layne looked at them casually, and said, “Oh, hi guys. Glad you could make it, although, you’re a little late to the party.”
Wilshire and Whitten holstered their guns. Walking over towards Layne and the beaten and unconscious Thorne, Wilshire said, “What the hell happened here?” Turning towards Whitten he said, “looks like we did miss a good party, Lieutenant.”
“Looks that way,” she said.
Layne gave them the rundown of the nights events. Lieutenant Whitten gave him permission to write up his official report on Monday. It was a direct order from his Lieutenant to take the rest of the weekend off.
#
Lenny’s legs didn’t stop pumping. They carried him across the grass, onto the wooden dock. Approaching the end of the dock, his feet sprung him up and away from it, as he jumped and did a swan dive right into warm ocean. Surfacing, he took a breath, continuing to kick his legs, while adding a breast stroke. The saltiness of the water burned his eyes and his arm, but he didn’t give two shits.
Tessa saw him coming, and drove wake speed to meet him halfway. Turning off the ignition, she dropped the anchor. If the boat’s deck would have been long enough for her to break into a full speed sprint, she would have. Dropping the ladder at the rear of the boat, she offered her hand, to help Lenny onto the deck.
As his soaking wet body, pressed against hers, they both started shaking and crying. “Oh, Tessa,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry, baby. Thank God you’re okay.”
With her arms securely locked around his waist, he placed his palms on both sides of her face and planted a million kisses. On her forehead, on her cheeks, on her lips.
Giving him a tighter squeeze, and leaning her head into his chest, she didn’t need to s
ay anything. Lenny placed one arm around the small of her back, and with his other, he cradled her head, holding it right where she laid it.
After a few moments had passed, Lenny lifted Tessa’s chin and said, “This day did not go at all like I planned, but I will completely make it up to you tomorrow, I promise. Happy Anniversary, sweetheart.”
Tessa gave him a peck on the lips, and said, “Happy Anniversary, babe. I don’t know what you had planned, but I have all that I need. I have my life, I have my health, and I have you.”
Giving her a kiss on the forehead, Lenny said, “I love you, Mrs. Lenny Shane.”
Pulling her head back, Tessa said, “You know what, Mr. Shane? Scratch that last remark about having everything I need or want, because I could really use a pizza and some beer. I’m starving,” she joked.
Lenny chuckled and said, “you drive a hard bargain, but you got yourself a deal. I don’t know where we’re gonna find a pizza joint open at this hour of the morning, but by time we get everything sewed up here, and get back home and cleaned up, maybe we can go for lunch?”
“It’s a date,” she said through a grin.
Lenny saw Layne, Wilshire, and Lt. Whitten standing around Thorne, who was still lying on the ground. He had probably regained consciousness by now, which would explain why Layne was standing there with one of his feet resting on the top of Thorne’s back.
“I guess we better get back,” Lenny said, as he looked over. “Everyone has had a long night, and they probably want to be getting home. I know I do.”
“Come on,” he said to Tessa as he grabbed her hand. They walked to the helm of the boat, and Lenny took the wheel. Getting to the dock, he tied off, and waited for the rest of the crew to board.
Lieutenant Whitten walked in front, while Wilshire and Layne escorted Thorne from both sides. Boarding the boat, Layne sat Thorne at the very rear, and cuffed him to Sonny’s lifeless corpse.
Lieutenant Whitten sat in the front passenger’s chair, and Tessa sat in the captain’s chair. Lenny stood at the wheel. Detectives Wilshire and Layne parked their rumps on the edge of the boat, directly across from Thorne.
The sunrise laid a soft orange glow on the water. As the wind whipped through their hair, Lenny captained the boat over the glass-like water. He unbuckled the leather strap on his Timex, that was continuing it’s countdown. Two hours and winding down. He balled it up in his right hand, and glanced over at his honey. He made a pitch that would have made Babe Ruth strike out. He watched as it sailed through the morning sky, and hit the Gulf in a soft kerplunk, where it would sink to the bottom, and be forgotten.
During the ride back, Layne noticed Thorne glaring a hole into Tessa’s back. “Hey!” Layne exclaimed, as he smacked Thorne open handed across the face, “don’t you look at her.”
A short time after that, Detective Wilshire said and did the exact same thing, except he was not referring to Tessa, he was referring to Lieutenant Whitten.
Layne gave Wilshire a funny sideways glance.
“What?” Wilshire asked. “He was looking at her,” he said unapologetically.
Layne just shook his head and chuckled under his breath. “Okay,” he said.
The ride back to the boat launch, and Layne’s truck, went otherwise without incident.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - BREAKING NEWS
Verde finished his second smoke, and snuffed it out by stuffing it into a diet soda can. He was a lot of things, but a liter bug was not one of them.
He had no idea where they were, because he had been down in the cabin the whole time. Walking over to the edge of the bed, Blondie started to quake even more. “Oh, relax, Blondie. I’ve had my fill of you. For now. Where are we?”
Pulling the sheet up even more, and staring at the wall, she said, “About twenty-five miles off the coast.” She did not want to look into the eyes of the man that just violated her in the most intimate way.
“Anyone else around here?” he said, waving his finger in a circle.
“I don’t think so,” she spoke quietly. “You’ve had your fun, now will you let me go? Please,” she pleaded.
“Fun?” he razzed. “Blondie, I haven’t had any fun yet. Trust me, you’ll know when I do.”
Blondie started to weep. “Are you going to kill me?”
Verde snickered to himself, and said, “you stay here, and don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be right back.” Was this bitch dumb, or what? No, honey, I’m not going to kill you. I’ve only assaulted you, and let you see my face. And, I’m an escaped convict, which she wasn’t aware of. Of course, I’m going to kill you. Some people were so dumb.
Blondie watched as Verde pulled something small and shiny out of a beach bag that was not hers, then exited the cabin, onto the deck of the boat. The moment the door closed behind him, she scrambled off the bed. Opening the top bureau drawer, she furiously rooted through it, and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of blue jean shorts. From the top of the bureau, she grabbed a lighter, and stuffed it into her front pocket. She didn’t smoke, but had kept a lighter on the boat, to light candles. With her bare feet racing across the teak wood floor, she went into the bathroom and grabbed a can of hairspray.
She could hear Verde walking around the perimeter of the boat, on the deck above. She stationed herself to the left of the stairs, and waited. Hearing the cabin door swing open, and footsteps descending the stairs, her heart started to hammer, as her panic reached an all time high. She readied the lighter in one hand, and the hair spray in the other.
As Verde reached the second to last step, he noticed that Blondie was no longer in the bed. Stepping onto the last stair, he turned to look towards the bathroom, figuring she was in there trying to wash his filth off of her body.
Blondie turned towards him, flicked the bic, and pressed the nozzle of the hairspray. A blow torch flame hit Verde right in the face. The nauseating smell of burning flesh and hair consumed the cabin. As he started yelling in pain, his hand lost grip on the small cutting tool he was holding, to cup and shield his now fried mug. Blondie’s mouth gaped wide as she watched the sharp instrument hit the floor. She wasted no time shoving him out of the way, and jetted up the stairs, taking two at a time.
Climbing the stairs in record speed, she emerged onto the deck, and slammed the door shut. There was no time to find anything to prop up against the door to keep him inside. Running over to the instrument panel, she took a quick look at the compass, to see which direction they were facing. There was a light wind, so it was possible that the boat could have turned since she anchored it.
She raced across the deck of the boat, and dove off the back, into the salty, cool dark water. She had never swam so fast before. Without looking behind her, she kept a fast pace, and a steady stroke. Her only chance of survival would be to get to an uninhabited Key that was about a half-mile towards inland, without getting caught.
#
Verde’s hands were trembling as he reached for the knob to open the cabin door. Partly because he didn’t know if Blondie would ambush him again with a fire facial, but mostly because of the pain. He grabbed the knob and slug the door open. Peeking his head out quickly, he didn’t see her standing there. He emerged onto the deck cautiously. Roaming the deck of the boat, he looked in all possible places for her to hide. Son of a bitch, she wasn’t there. Doing a three sixty, Verde surveyed the endless expanse of blue. Scratching his head, he wondered, where the fuck did she go? She obviously jumped ship. Not knowing in which direction she went, Verde decided it was time to get the hell out of Dodge. If they were twenty-five miles off the coast like she said, then the Atlantic would take care of her anyway.
Descending back into the cabin, Verde walked into the bathroom to take a look at the damage. His face was plenty red, but the flesh wasn’t dripping or peeling off. His eyebrows had been singed, but not completely. With some time, some sun burn relief spray, and a couple of gallons of Aloe, he would be fine. He rooted through the medicine cabinet, and winced while applying a topic
al treatment. The hot sting dissipated almost immediately, as his skin glistened with a petroleum shine.
#
Several hours later, the boat was docked, and Verde was in a Naples townhouse, comfortably stretched out on a sofa, watching the nightly news. Bobby should be home at any time now. They had a lot of catching up to do. With his son, the cop, on his side, he could now stay one step ahead of the police. His eternal freedom was eminent. They had already discussed leaving the country together. Bobby said that he had taken care of everything. New identities, complete with birth certificates, passports, and offshore bank accounts. Expecting to see himself as a top story, he sat up and clicked the remote volume up to hear the latest breaking news. The remote fell out of his grip, when he saw Bobby’s face plastered all over the television.
“What the…,” he said, as he leaned in and listened closely to the story of the Naples Homicide Detective that was charged and booked for several accounts of kidnapping, murder, and attempted murder.
“In other breaking news,” a brunette reporter continued, “a Miami-Dade woman was rescued off the coast of Miami. She said she was snorkeling, and when she surfaced, she had strayed too far from her boat, because she could no longer see it. In a heroic effort, she swam to the safety of an off mainland Key, where nearby boaters saw her waving for help. She was treated at the hospital for mild exhaustion and dehydration, and was released earlier this evening. She is now resting comfortably at home. The woman declined an interview with us at Fox 7 News. And now, over to Jim Myers for our local weather forecast.”
Verde clicked off the TV, and paced around the room. At least Blondie was keeping her mouth shut. Probably due to the fact that she didn’t know who he was, and didn’t want him coming back. The stuff with Bobby? This called for an intervention. A seriously calculated intervention. He abruptly stopped pacing, and smiled. Looking like a stark raving mad lunatic, he started laughing out loud to himself, as the idea wheel stopped spinning, and came to a winner. It was time to go raid Bobby’s closet, and hope that he had some Sunday’s best in there.