Wild Surge

by Tripp Ellis

  "Look, it's simple," I said. "We set up a surveillance camera and we catch whoever is doing this. Not a big deal."

  Jack shrugged it off. "I know. I just get a little worked up sometimes."

  "You look like you could use a massage," Harper said.

  A sly grin curled on Jack's lips. "Why, yes! Yes, I could. Are you offering?"

  "Now, now. You know, I never mix business with pleasure. I don't date customers."

  "Who said anything about dating?" Jack said with a sly grin.

  She arched a sassy eyebrow at him.

  "We're just talking about a massage," JD said, innocently.

  "If you’re looking for that kind of massage, there's a 24-hour place two blocks over. I'm sure they'd be happy to take care of you."

  Jack seemed to consider the suggestion for a moment.

  Harper shook her head and chuckled, then attended to another patron.

  I took a sip of my whiskey. "I gotta hit the head. Are you going to be okay unsupervised?"

  Jack made a face at me.

  "You're not going to cause any trouble, right?"

  "I'll be on my best behavior."

  "That's not saying much."

  I left the Tiki hut and made my way around the pool. I pushed through the crowd and stepped into the main building. There was a hell of a line for the restroom. My only consolation was the fact that the women's line was twice as long.

  It took 10 minutes to get through the line, but it seemed like an eternity. The bathroom attendant handed out towels and spritzed cologne in exchange for tips.

  When I was finished, I left the facilities, walked down the hall, and rounded the corner. As I did, a girl tripped and fell into me, spilling her fruity drink down my shorts. I reached out and caught her before she tumbled to the ground.

  I wasn't particularly thrilled about having a frozen strawberry daiquiri spilled on my crotch. It lowered the temperature quite dramatically. I was even less thrilled when I realized who the owner of the drink was.

  "Are you following me around?" I asked.

  The pretty blonde CIA agent scowled at me. She wore a teeny bikini, and the wet fabric clung to her perfect form, leaving little to the imagination.

  This agent definitely had hidden talent. She looked good in a pantsuit, but she looked even better out of it.

  "Don't tell me. You're working undercover?" I asked.

  She glanced around to see if anyone was eavesdropping. "As a matter of fact, I am. Don't blow it."

  "Are you looking for potential terrorists in the pool?" I asked, my voice thick with sarcasm.

  Her eyes narrowed at me.

  She shrugged and said, "Sorry about the drink, Mister." She sauntered away, pretending like she didn't know me.

  I couldn't tell if she was full of shit or not. I watched her go, partially to see what she was up to, partially because I liked the view. She slipped through the crowd and made her way to the bar and ordered another daiquiri.

  I cut the line and went back to the bathroom. There were groans and angry words from the crowd.

  At the sink, I pulled off my shorts and washed them, trying to get the red stains out. Once I had gotten most of the discoloration out, I wrung out the shorts and put them back on. I wouldn't be too out-of-place walking around Tide Pool in a pair of wet shorts.

  I went back to the patio and met up with JD. He was still at the Tiki hut, talking to Harper.

  "What happened to you?" JD asked, his face crinkling at my attire. "You fall in?"

  I told him about my encounter with Kennedy Shaw.

  "What the hell is she doing here?"

  "Who really knows? She's a spook. You can't trust anything they say."

  "This coming from a former spook."

  The term was slang for secret agent.

  "I'm reformed," I said with a smile. "My spy days are over."

  "You keep saying that," Jack said, knowing I was always a moment away from getting sucked back in.

  We hung out at Tide Pool for a while, then decided to call it a night. I never did see Kennedy Shaw again that night.

  We stepped onto the sidewalk and strolled the block. Oyster Avenue was packed with drunken revelers listing up and down the strip. Music from bands spilled into the street, and the smell of food from street vendors filled the air. Tacos, burritos, oversized pretzels, hot dogs, and hamburgers. We grabbed some pizza by the slice, which was pretty damn good. For some reason, food seems to taste better closer to 2 AM.

  After indulging in the cheesy goodness, filling our bellies with dough and zesty red sauce, we ambled down a dark street into a neighborhood where we had parked the car. We climbed into the Porsche and zipped across the island to the marina.

  The waxing moon poked through the clouds, and the wind rustled my hair. It was a nice evening. It would be a lot nicer if someone wasn't out there plotting a terrorist attack.

  Jack dropped me off in front of Diver Down. I told him we'd touch base in the morning, and he sped away into the night.

  I chuckled and shook my head as I watched the lizard-green Porsche race away with red spray-painted graffiti on the door. It would probably buff out. And if it didn't, I'm sure Jack would have the whole door re-sprayed in a matter of days.

  It wasn't quite last call yet, and I thought about stopping in to Diver Down for one more round, then thought better of it. I ambled down the dock to the Vivere, the boats gently rocking in their slips. To my surprise, I had visitors waiting for me on the aft deck.

  24

  "Don't hate us," Londyn said. The gorgeous blonde sat on the settee with Summer.

  The two beauties stood up to greet me as I crossed the gangway and stepped to the aft deck. "What happened to you guys?"

  Londyn frowned. "So, I had, like, a major blonde moment."

  I unlocked the salon door, slid it open, and motioned for the girls to step inside. Buddy rushed to greet us, and the girls were instantly smitten. The little Jack Russell was a charmer.

  Londyn continued, "So, we didn't hear from you, and I thought, well, maybe you guys weren't interested? We were starting to get a complex!"

  I chuckled. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

  "Then, duh, I realized I didn't have my phone. It wasn't in my purse or my bag. Then it dawned on me, I must have left it on the boat," Londyn explained. "We came back here, but you guys were gone. Then we took a cab up to Oyster Avenue, hoping we might run into you." She frowned. "But that didn't happen, so we decided to stop by here and wait for you to come home."

  "I'm sorry we missed you. Jack was disappointed.”

  Londyn searched the salon and found her phone on the settee cushion in the dining nook. She grabbed the device and held it in the air triumphantly. "See!"

  She unlocked the device and scrolled through the screen, reading all of her missed texts. A frowned tugged her pouty lips. "Aw, look at all these messages from JD. I feel so bad."

  "I'm sure he'll let you make it up to him."

  Londyn sighed. "We're going back to LA in the morning."

  "That's too bad," I said. "I'm in Los Angeles every now and again. Maybe we can connect?"

  "That would be fun," Londyn said.

  A devious smile curled on the girls' lips, and they exchanged a glance.

  Londyn said, "So, we have this bet…"

  My curiosity was piqued.

  "On whether or not you're a good kisser," she continued.

  "Oh, really?" I said, intrigued. "And how do you propose to settle this bet?"

  "Well, there's only one way I can think of," Londyn said, stepping closer.

  She bit her bottom lip, and her eyes filled with hunger. She put a hand on my neck, lifted on her tiptoes, and pulled our lips together. Her smooth body pressed against mine, and I put a hand in the small of her back, holding her close as our lips collided, our slick tongues intertwining.

  It was a good, long kiss.

  Thorough.

  Well executed.

  He
r lips were pillowy soft, and her body was warm. Our mouths seemed to fit together perfectly, moving in synchronization. I'm not sure how she rated me, but I would definitely give her a perfect 10.

  When we broke free, she looked away shyly. Her cheeks blushed slightly.

  Summer grinned. "My turn."

  She took Londyn's place, and not to be outdone, the brunette went for broke.

  Her lips felt like heaven and her tongue like silk. She caressed my body, and her hand grabbed my ass.

  Neither of these girls lacked any talent in the seductive arts. Summer's kiss was sweet and passionate and naughty all at the same time. She broke free, and the two stood next to each other with mischievous glimmers in their eyes.

  They exchanged another glance and giggled.

  "So, how did I do?" I asked.

  They exchanged another glance.

  "You passed," Londyn said.

  "You definitely passed," Summer added.

  "That's not saying much. Did I pass with a D, or did I pass with an A?"

  "A. Definitely A," Londyn said.

  "Good to know," I said, a cocky smile curling on my face.

  "So, who won the bet?" I asked.

  "We both did," Summer giggled.

  Londyn shrugged, mischievously. "We both figured you were a pretty good kisser."

  "But we might have to try that again, just to make sure," Summer added.

  I was more than happy to indulge their curiosity.

  We repeated the experiment.

  Multiple times.

  "We have another bet," Londyn said when she came up for air.

  "Do you?" I asked, more than a little intrigued.

  I was beginning to like their little bets. She didn't need to tell me the details. It was obvious. And I was more than happy to settle it for them.

  It didn't take long for panties to hit the deck. We found ourselves frolicking around in the salon, the companionway, and finally in the master suite.

  I felt a little bad that JD had missed out on the action. But not that bad. He would be beside himself when I told him the story. He probably wouldn’t believe me.

  25

  I woke up the next morning with the two beauties wrapped around me.

  Life was good.

  For the moment.

  I got up, dressed, and fixed breakfast for my companions. There's something about eating breakfast with models in their underwear that starts the day off right.

  They had a plane to catch, so there were hugs and kisses and promises to reconnect if I was ever in Los Angeles.

  After they left, I took Buddy for a morning run, then came back and took a shower. Joel called as I was toweling off. "I hear you worked with Sam Mason yesterday?"

  "You hear correctly."

  "I've already gotten several phone calls this morning. It seems that Penelope pitched the TV series to Doug at PrimeFlix. Doug called this morning and made an offer for 13 episodes."

  "What!?" I said in disbelief.

  "Yup. They want to take it off the market. It's a preemptive bid."

  "How much?"

  "Total production budget for the 13 episodes is $130 million. They're willing to pay you a million an episode, and I negotiated an upfront, lump-sum payment. We can sign the deal today."

  I hesitated. "What about David and Susan?"

  "I wanted to talk to you before I reached out to them. There's no doubt that they've heard the news. You know how fast gossip travels in this town. I expect a call from Susan shortly. I'm sure she's considering her options as we speak."

  "Hang on, I'm getting a call," I said. I looked at the display. "It's David Cameron."

  "Call me back."

  I clicked over. "David, how are you?"

  "I'm good. Still alive, which is good."

  "Indeed."

  "Thanks for the card and the flowers. It was very kind of you."

  "It was the least I could do."

  "I know you're busy, so I'll just cut to the chase. The rumor mill is swirling."

  "Yes, it is."

  "I’m still committed to the project. I want to do the TV series now more than ever. I feel like I've been given a second chance, and I connect with your background even more now."

  "Glad to hear. Honestly, I don't want anyone else to do this project."

  David breathed a sigh of relief. "You don't know how excited I am to hear that. As soon as we hang up, I'm going to call Susan, and I'm going to beg her—which is something I rarely do—to move forward with the deal. I know it stalled out due to my accident. Right now, I feel good. But, as an insurance requirement, the studio will make me have a full medical evaluation before moving forward with the production. Until that happens, we may be in limbo. I know you are getting sizable offers elsewhere. I'm going to ask you to put your faith in me and the studio. Hold off on your offers until I can get my situation sorted. I know it's a big ask, but I promise I will make it well worth the risk."

  I thought for a long moment. The money that had been offered by PrimeFlix was enough to meet my current needs and save Diver Down, if we sold the boat. But I liked David. I had a gut feeling about him that he would do the material justice. I was loyal, perhaps to a fault. "I believe in you, David. I'll wait."

  "Thank you."

  "Not a problem."

  I ended the call and dialed Joel's number. I wasn't sure how he'd feel about me turning down the cash-in-hand offer. I was pleasantly surprised by his response.

  "I think you made a good choice. It's risky, but people have long memories in this town. If this all comes together, I think you will forge a strong relationship."

  "Let's hope so."

  "I'm going to call Susan now."

  "Keep me posted," I said before hanging up.

  I had just gotten off the phone with Joel when Daniels called. "We've got another situation. I need you to get over to the apartment complex at 1633 Surfside Drive. Brenda is going to meet you there with Dr. Page from VUMB."

  I cringed. "Don't tell me…"

  "Dr. Page is coordinating the response team. Do not engage anyone without the proper protective equipment."

  "How bad is it?"

  "I don't know yet. I want an assessment report as soon as you find out what's going on."

  "Have you called the Feds yet?"

  "No. I want eyes on this thing first."

  "Got it. What exactly are we dealing with?"

  "That's what you’re going to find out.”

  I hung up and called JD and said I would meet him at the scene.

  When I arrived, Brenda, Dr. Page, and a bio-response team were all suited up in white PPE gear. They stood next to a bio-response van that was similar to an ambulance. It contained protective gear and equipment, along with ISOPODS, and a disinfectant spray station. The cargo bay had room to transport one victim along with medical personnel. It was a negative pressure environment with a HEPA filtration system.

  JD parked the Porsche and jogged to greet us.

  Dr. Page said, "The sheriff called. He said a call came in from the apartment manager. Apparently a tenant was late on the rent. When the manager entered the apartment, he noticed a putrid odor. Upon further investigation, he discovered the tenant lying in bed, dead, his body covered with pus-filled lesions."

  I shivered with dread.

  "The manager has been instructed to stay in his apartment and not have contact with any of the other residents."

  "Do you think he's been compliant?" I asked.

  "I don't know," Page said.

  "How many residents has he been exposed to in the interim?"

  "Unknown." Page sighed. "This sounds awfully similar to what we've seen previously."

  We donned masks and goggles and suited up, wearing gloves and booties. The response team entered the lobby of the apartment building like aliens from another world. We found the manager's apartment and knocked on the door.

  "Coconut County Sheriff's Department. Do not open the door. Stay in your apartment. I
repeat. Don't open the door. Stay in your apartment until further notice."

  The apartment manager shouted back through the door. "What is happening?"

  "We'll know shortly," I said. "After you discovered the body, did you have contact with anyone else? Any other residents?"

  "No. Just my wife."

  "Where is your wife now?"

  "She's here with me, but she needs to pick up my daughter from the mall."

  "Not anymore, she doesn't. You both need to stay in the unit until further notice. We'll arrange a pickup for your daughter."

  "How long will that be?"

  "I don't know."

  The panicked man asked, "Are we in any danger?"

  I hesitated. What was I supposed to say to the man? He and his wife could be at risk of dying a horrible death?

  26

  The manager slid the key to the apartment underneath the door. I knelt down and grasped it with my gloved hand. He said the tenant's name was Kayden Thomas.

  We made our way up to the 4th Floor and pushed into the man's apartment. The stench was horrid upon entering the foyer—even through my protective mask, it was rancid.

  The team advanced through the living room, down the hallway, and into the bedroom where the corpse lay in bed.

  Flies buzzed, and bloodstains crusted around mucous membranes. The body was in the same condition as the ones aboard the Intrepid. There was no doubt in my mind this was the same pathogen. I didn't need to wait on the lab results.

  Brenda confirmed the man was deceased, and Dr. Page collected tissue samples. Kayden was in his early 20s. His remains were triple bagged and heat sealed. The exterior of the body bag was sprayed with a disinfectant before removing it from the apartment. It would be sprayed once again before it was put into the containment van. The bedsheets and bedding were also sealed in bags. The walls and floors were sprayed, and once the apartment had been disinfected, it was sealed with police tape and marked with do not enter signs.

  Dr. Page's team outfitted the manager and his wife with protective gear and transported them to the bio-containment facility. Child Services arranged to pick up their daughter and see to it she was cared for while they were in quarantine.