On the Rocks

by Mia Gold

  She needed to finish this. Now.

  The two men still standing came at her, and immediately she knew they were more dangerous than the guy with the bat. They had come with face protection, and even more, they came unarmed. They obviously wanted to abduct or kill Senator Wishbourne with a minimum of noise.

  Right away she could tell they were fighters. They came at her from opposite angles, fists clenched and up to defend themselves.

  That didn’t stop the first one from getting a front kick snapped right into his solar plexus.

  His arms stopped the blow, saving him from unconsciousness but not from the force of the kick, which sent him stumbling back.

  His friend threw a punch for Ruby’s gut that she only just managed to stop.

  And then it was a flurry of blows and blocks back and forth until one of Ruby’s strikes got through and the guy stumbled back.

  The two steadied themselves, preparing to attack again. One of Ruby’s eyes was almost shut now, every breath a burning torture. Her face was swelling too. Although she had avoided the cloud of pepper spray, enough was evaporating off her own skin to all but knock her out.

  No time to gripe about that. Ruby could hear Senator Wishbourne shouting for help inside the house.

  She rushed her two opponents just as they came at her.

  Two against one was always bad odds, especially with guys this good. Plus she had to defend her head so much she couldn’t properly attack. Within moments she had taken a couple of hard punches to the ribs, then one of them swept her legs. She landed on the sidewalk, only just stopping her head from hitting the pavement.

  She sprang up, dodging a punch as she did so, landing a knockout kick against one before getting knocked back by a strike from the other.

  The man rushed her, and took a roundhouse kick to the head. He went down for the count.

  Holding her breath, Ruby rushed into the house, hoping not to catch too much of the lingering cloud of pepper spray. Half blind and with her face and lungs burning, she couldn’t tell if she did.

  She burst into the darkened front hallway and nearly tripped on a body lying in the front hallway. Footsteps receded to the back of the house. The back door opened.

  Peering down at the dark form at her feet, she saw it was Senator Wishbourne. A faint gagging sound came from her.

  Not daring to turn on the light, Ruby knelt and peered at her.

  Even half blind in bad light she could see the livid wound on the senator’s neck.

  She had been struck in the windpipe.

  The briefcase with all its precious documents was gone.

  The senator gasped.

  “Sit tight, I’ll call an ambulance,” Ruby said, flicking on the light and glancing in either direction to make sure none of the assassins were approaching.

  The senator tried to choke out something, a single word. Ruby couldn’t make it out.

  “What’s that?” Ruby said, leaning closer while fumbling for her phone.

  “R-run,” she husked. “Y-you know too … much.”

  Her breath caught, and no more came.

  Tires squealed outside. Ruby rushed out to find all three assassins gone.

  A window went up across the street. A man and wife poked their heads out and stared at Ruby standing near the dead body of Senator Wishbourne. The woman put a phone to her ear.

  And Ruby knew she had been framed. The Saudis, or one of Senator Wishbourne’s other slimy contacts, had wanted it this way.

  On instinct Ruby ran, and the instant she did that, she knew she couldn’t go to the police. She had been seen at the scene of a murder, been spotted by witnesses, and bolted.

  That made her look guilty as hell.

  That was why Tim was down here. He thought she had been involved.

  The State Department probably thought the same thing. When someone runs from a murder scene, it’s only natural to assume they’re the killer.

  But she wasn’t the killer. She had barely avoided becoming another victim.

  But the senator, not having time to tell her what was going on and thinking she might die before she could, had given her a clue—a magnetic card with a holographic logo on the front, like the logos companies put on credit cards to make them harder to forge. The hologram showed a pair of keys crossed above a palm tree. On the back of the card was written a series of numbers in the senator’s tidy hand. That was all.

  She still had that magnetic card, hidden away in the depths of one of her closets. She had taken it out many times, puzzling over its significance and never figuring out the answer.

  Ruby picked up speed, the pain in her rib jabbing at her like a stiletto. Zoomer gave a frustrated howl. He couldn’t keep up. He was built for swinging through vines, not long-distance running.

  And yet Ruby couldn’t stop running. The physical punishment felt good, like a release. To spare her little primate friend she started running in circles around him, still advancing down the beach but running twice the distance he did.

  Ruby ignored the early morning walkers and the few tourists on the beach who all stared at her and her monkey. She was getting used to being stared at. At least here they wouldn’t try to kill her.

  Elaine had left a message late last night. Ruby hadn’t answered it. She had to clear her head a little. Figure out just what to tell that poor, suffering woman.

  Nothing better for clearing her head than some Bahamian Gold. She had fully intended on getting hammered when she got back home last night but had crashed the instant she saw her bed.

  Now she was going to make up for lost time. Hey, security at the Coast of Dreams had let her in drunk before. They could do it again.

  Ruby arrived at the Waving Palms winded and in pain, but with her head clear. She still didn’t have answers to any of her problems, but there was nothing like a good run to clean out the stress of half a dozen near-death experiences.

  High-end rum helped too. As she came onto the patio with its incredible sea view, she spotted Sanyjah serving another table and raised two fingers. The waitress gave her a confused look until she saw Zoomer leap onto Ruby’s shoulder. Then the Bahamian woman gave them a sparkling smile. She loved the little monkey.

  Ruby sat at her usual corner table, angling the chair so that she could look out at an unobstructed view of the white beach and glittering blue sea and not see the scattering of other customers having breakfast. The illusion of solitude was precious to her.

  She scratched the back of Zoomer’s furry head. He had sat down on the table in front of her, looking out at the view too in an amusing imitation of her posture.

  It would be nice to be a millionaire and have one of those beachside bungalows, Ruby mused. A porch to sit on and drink rum and watch the world go by. Private gym. Big entertainment center. Personal masseuse. She could even import a female capuchin monkey so Zoomer could have a girlfriend. No worries, no obnoxious customers, the easy life.

  Ruby chuckled to herself. She’d never have that. Hell, who did? Elaine was loaded and she sure didn’t have the easy life. Those beautiful multimillion-dollar homes were nothing more than pretty facades.

  Still, a bit of peace would be nice.

  Zoomer leapt in the air and clapped. Ruby turned to see Sanyjah arriving with a tray. The waitress had brought Ruby her usual breakfast, along with a bowl of nuts for Zoomer and, more importantly, a glass of rum for her and a bowl of the same for the monkey.

  Zoomer clapped, scampered up one of the support poles to the palm roof, and waited while Sanyjah set everything down on the table. Once she had, Zoomer dropped down onto the waitress’s shoulders.

  “Hey, buddy,” Sanyjah said, scratching his back. “How’s my favorite little furry guy?”

  Zoomer pulled open the front of her blouse and peered down, eyes going wide.

  “Stop that!” Sanyjah said, plucking his hand away with a giggle.

  “I think he’s fascinated by how big they are,” Ruby said.

  “They’re not tha
t big, it’s just yours are small. I don’t know how white women can attract a man with tiny little chests like that.”

  “Thanks,” Ruby said, taking a sip from her first of the day. It ran like warm syrup down her throat. Heaven.

  Zoomer patted Sanyjah on the chest and pointed down at the table.

  “What’s that, you want your bowl?” Sanyjah picked up the bowl of nuts, teasing him. Zoomer hooted and pointed at the bowl of rum. “Oh, of course, you’re like your flat-chested girlfriend.” She picked up the bowl of rum. Zoomer screeched with joy and began to sip from it, his other paw around Sanyjah’s neck.

  The waitress headed back to work. It wasn’t the first time she’d waited tables with Zoomer on her shoulder. Some of the tourists began to take photos.

  Ruby chuckled and dug into her breakfast. Now that food had been set in front of her, she felt ravenous.

  For a minute, the beautiful view and satisfying meal satisfied her. The rum warmed her and eased the pain of her bruises and cracked ribs. For just a little while, Ruby could pretend her life had returned to normal.

  Then it all came crashing back.

  “Morning,” a male voice said.

  Tim Harris sat down next to her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Ruby nearly jumped out of her skin.

  She brought up one arm, fist clenched, to protect her face. The other picked up her dish ready to throw it like a discus into Tim’s head.

  The senatorial bodyguard raised his hands in a calming gesture.

  “Whoa! Easy there. I just want to talk.”

  “You didn’t want to talk last night,” Ruby growled.

  “You didn’t give me a chance.”

  Ruby’s eyes narrowed. What was his game?

  Still, he didn’t look like he was planning to attack. He had both his hands in sight, on guard but not coiling to strike, and his legs were under the table, a poor position if he wanted to try anything.

  Plus he had snuck right up on her. He could have given her a karate chop to the back of her neck before she would have even known he was there. Lights out forever.

  Seeing her hesitation, Tim went on. “Yeah, I shadowed you last night, but I didn’t want to fight. I wanted to get you in a place where we could talk in private.”

  “Like a dark alley?” Ruby asked, her suspicions remaining.

  “No, that’s where you ambushed me. You and that beast from hell.” Tim looked around. “It’s not here, is it?”

  Ruby glanced around too, and saw that Sanyjah had gone inside. “He’s a capuchin monkey and he’s with a friend.”

  The partial truth is all this guy deserves right now.

  Ruby couldn’t help but smile as she saw the bandages on his face and neck. Some of Zoomer’s lighter scratch marks hadn’t needed bandaging and crisscrossed Tim’s flesh like the trails of red meteors.

  Tim smiled self-consciously and gestured at his face.

  “Yeah, he messed me up. Didn’t hurt as much as the rabies shot, though. You did a good job too. You still have it.”

  “So do you,” Ruby said, softening a little. “Thanks for not striking at my head. And don’t worry, Zoomer doesn’t have rabies.”

  “Zoomer?”

  “Long story. What do you want? Who sent you?”

  “I’ll tell you if you put that plate down. You look like you want to smash it into my face.”

  “I thought about it,” Ruby said, doing as he asked while still keeping an eye on him.

  Just make one wrong move and I’ll give these tourists more than a monkey to gawk at.

  Tim glanced around to make sure no one was sitting close by. Even so, he lowered his voice.

  “I know you didn’t kill Senator Wishbourne.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Ruby grumbled. “Does the State Department know that too?”

  Tim grimaced and shook his head. “They don’t know who did it, and neither do I. When you cut and run everyone thought you were the guilty party. So did I. It was only natural. Especially the way she got killed. A hard punch straight to the larynx. The person who runs is usually the person who did it. But then I found out some of the things the senator was into.”

  Ruby tensed. She decided to play dumb. “Like what?”

  “Like arms deals to the Saudis that benefitted her husband’s company. Oh, not his company directly, but through a shell corporation. And the hospitality she arranged for those Saudi oil barons when they came to D.C.! I’ll spare you the details. Wouldn’t want to put you off your breakfast. Plus she used her influence to get some suspects off the terror watch list. There’s probably more I don’t know about.”

  Yeah, there’s more. A whole lot more. And I know about it all.

  I was about a week away from becoming a whistleblower. Just needed some more firm evidence to protect myself from the blowback. Too afraid to talk without one hundred percent proof.

  Maybe if I had been a little bolder, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe she would still be alive.

  She felt the old confusion, the mixture of guilt and pain at seeing Senator Wishbourne dead. By all rights she shouldn’t give a damn that Wishbourne had been assassinated. She had certainly deserved it. But she had been Ruby’s savior, picked her out of her collapsed career and a deep well of self-pity and made something out of her. Wishbourne had been like a mother to her, an advisor and mentor.

  For a couple of wonderful years.

  Somehow all the senator’s bad deeds couldn’t quite wash those feelings away.

  “How do you know I wasn’t in on all that?” Ruby asked.

  Tim looked her in the eye. “Because I know you.”

  A blur of gray fur flew between them.

  “Gah!” Tim cried out, bringing his hands up as Zoomer tried to scratch his face.

  “Zoomer, no!”

  Tim thrust the monkey away and Zoomer landed on the table, where he screeched in rage, baring his teeth.

  “Get that thing away from me!” Tim cried, stumbling over his chair and backing away.

  “Zoomer, it’s all right. He’s a friend.” At least I think he’s a friend. “Come here.”

  Ruby picked him up and tried to soothe him. Zoomer grabbed some nuts from his bowl and started pelting Tim with them.

  “You shouldn’t have a wild animal like that in here!” someone from another table shouted.

  They turned and saw a middle-aged American couple frowning at them from behind their huge breakfasts. The man had the sour, haggard look of a salaried city worker whose vacation hadn’t quite healed him of the trauma of years of meaningless toil. The woman had a scowl that looked like it was etched in stone, her bottle blonde hair practically fluorescent when set off against her carcinogenic sunburn.

  Ruby laughed, both out of amusement and in an attempt to defuse the situation. “Oh, never mind Zoomer. He’s a bit drunk. A big fan of Bahamian rum.”

  The woman’s sunburn grew redder. “You gave him rum? That’s cruelty to animals! And reckless endangerment to the other people in this restaurant! Not to mention breaking the health code!”

  Her husband didn’t say anything. It was obviously not his place to speak.

  “He’s tame. He thought he was protecting me and now I’ve calmed him down,” Ruby growled. She didn’t have time for this idiot.

  The woman narrowed her eyes. Ruby guessed that was supposed to be intimidating. She felt like sharing what she had been through the night before.

  “Well, maybe I should talk to the manager and just check that. What do you think about that?” She pulled out her phone.

  “Don’t even think of trying to film us,” Ruby told her.

  “And what are you going to do? Get your beast to attack me? YouTube would love that. So would the courts. I’ll have you charged with assault and have the filthy thing put down.”

  “Don’t even think of trying to film us,” Tim said.

  His words came out slow and clear, with the steady, unstoppable menace of a lava tide. Th
e woman paled, her red skin turning a girly pink.

  Ruby gave the tourists a wicked smile. Tim had always been able to turn on the threatening look. He generally worked “front line,” the term bodyguards used for the ones who stayed close to the crowd, holding back protestors and hecklers and potential threats. Once he stopped a dozen anarchists with eggs in their hands with a simple look. Not a single egg was thrown.

  Ruby worked “back line” to protect the client’s person.

  There had only been a back line the day Senator Wishbourne got assassinated. A back line that had turned out to be no line at all.

  The phone went back in her purse, a Pochette knockoff she had probably bought from a beach vendor.

  “Hey, you can’t talk to my wife like that,” the man told Tim, speaking for the first time. His voice imitated every action movie Ruby had ever seen, although it came out a couple of octaves higher.

  Tim cocked his head and looked at him. “Bitch, please.”

  “Are you calling me bitch?” the woman shrieked.

  “No ma’am,” Tim explained calmly. “I was calling your husband a bitch. Calling you a bitch would be sexist.”

  Ruby petted Zoomer, who was watching the whole exchange with wide-eyed curiosity, and said, “My friend isn’t sexist, but he has just enough toxic masculinity to wipe the floor with your husband. He’d never touch you, though.”

  The couple got up and walked stiffly for the door. Once they had made it a safe distance, the husband turned around, all pot belly and summoned courage, and jabbed a finger in Tim’s direction. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today.”

  Tim and Ruby burst out laughing. Zoomer scampered around the table, hooting and clapping his hands.

  “We won’t be paying!” the woman squalled at nobody in particular.

  And then they were gone. Ruby and Tim kept laughing for a minute, hugging each other.

  “It’s been too long,” Ruby said, wiping her eyes.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Tim said. Their gaze held for a moment.