Cold Blooded III: Sins and Sanctions (Nick McCarty Assassin Series Book 3) (42 page)

The three men enjoyed Nick’s counter to Gus’s request for a holiday, with Gus trying and failing to bring a point of order. “During our small break, didn’t you promise knife throwing lessons for this weekend?”

“Leave it to you, Payaso. We try to enjoy a small laugh at your expense, and you go nuclear on me,” Nick complained. “Yes, I agreed to teach knife throwing to my incorrigible daughter, the infamous Dagger.”

“What did Rachel say when you showed her the gift? I’ll bet you pulled out all the stops. ‘Oh dear, these are like works of art. They can’t be even considered weapons. Knife throwing will soon be an Olympic event. These are beautifully made treasures’.” When Gus finished his falsetto imitation of Nick’s imaginary plea to his wife, Nick was glaring at him, while John struggled mightily with snorts and clamped hands over mouth to keep from laughing.

“Okay…. I did lay it on a little thick,” Nick admitted. “I have a problem with you mimicking me so accurately. I think the infamous Dagger betrayed my heartfelt pleas to her Mom in comical form for Uncle Gus’s amusement.”

“Guilty. I interrogated Dagger in a moment of weakness behind your back, brother. My questionable source told me Rachel was not drawn into the flowery praise of throwing knives. Jean was down at the mouth about it. She suspected the knives were going to be returned before she even touched one.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Nick said. “I later carried on the conversation, reminding Rachel without training, Blackbeard would have had his way with Mona, Jean, and the weapon abhorrent Rachel. With training, I pointed out, Rachel handled Blackbeard like he was a cub scout with a bladder problem. I’ll be teaching knife throwing to both of my ladies thanks to the quick thinking of El Muerto, the master of deception.”

“You are the man, Muerto!”

“Thank you, Payaso, you disrespectful tool. You’re right though, I promised the lessons, so I’ll be creating a target site in my backyard. I’ll start them out with the basics tomorrow morning.”

“Do you still wish to imbibe the devil’s morning beverage at Otter’s Point tomorrow morning while we play Frisbee with the Dekester?”

“Yes, Brother John, we will be walking down together tomorrow early to continue our celebration of Lady Carol. There will be a few small doses of celebration tonight as well. I admitted to her my true past in answer to her last wish. Dan knows now too. It made her smile. I’m working on getting Dan to think about helping us out somewhere along the line, listening in where only a geezer could do so unnoticed. I believe he may warm to the idea of paying me back in such a way rather than money he can’t afford.”

Gus remained silent, his mouth tightening to check his emotions. Nick noticed, and put a hand on his shoulder. “We did right, partner. Dan will never betray us. I couldn’t refuse Carol’s request. I may have reacted over the top afterwards, but don’t worry about Dan knowing.”

Gus nodded. “That was special what you did, Muerto. We won’t overdo it tonight, because I’m looking forward to the arctic chill, and waves crashing on the rocks tomorrow, while we sip our enhanced coffee. I’m sure your knife throwing will not suffer because of it.”

“I killed a man at nearly fifty feet with a thrown knife while drugged. I’ll be fine.”

John leaned forward from the backseat. “He was a bad guy, huh Muerto?”

Nick smiled, remembering a similar question from Rachel. “He was to someone.”

Chapter Fifteen

Making Memories

Jean pumped her fist. At fifteen feet, she had buried the throwing knife in the large layered cardboard target Nick created from boxes cut to a three foot square center, attached to an old tilted pine table. Rachel, Tina, Gus, and John sat under Nick’s rear veranda, watching the lessons. Jean never showed any boredom with Nick’s repeated corrections to her form and handling. She ran each time her knives plunked to the ground without any indication of frustration. Nick was already worried. He sensed dedication. Although he taught with calm deliberation, Rachel bailed early from the lessons. Tina, John, and Gus had taken a few shots at the target with only Gus making progress with a few hits.

They neared the two hour mark in the lesson as Nick began to legitimately regret enjoying his Otter’s Point sojourn with Gus, John, and Deke. Although the magic coffee elixir had been incredible with the stillness of both the water and his outlook, shared with Gus and John, it had taken a toll on him. He grinned over at the watchers, knowing Jean’s first strike with the knife would mean more practice than he had bargained for.

“Hey… give Dagger a break. Show us what you can do with the knives,” Rachel said, knowing Nick had been imbibing down at the Point. “You’ve been showing form, but we want some substance.”

She was of course encouraged by all watchers, as Jean ran to the throwing line Nick had created with the knives. Jean understood what the joke was. Watching Nick plant the three knives at twice the distance on target at Jerry Burkhart’s request, she handed him the knives with a smile. “Show them, Dad.”

Nick without pause or aim, planted the knives to the hilt. They struck so close together in the bulls-eye target he had pinned to the cardboard backing as to appear staged. He went to gather the knives himself, chuckling over the remarks of awe as well as disbelief. Nick returned to the throwing line, handing a knife to the exuberant Jean. “If all you other blokes are bored, go on inside. I’ll stay out here with Jean.”

Rachel stood and ran over to hug him. “You may be a lot of things, but damn… you’re good. I’ll pay more attention to the future lessons.”

“You’ll have to,” Nick replied, holding her to him. “I doubt Dagger will be giving this particular sport up any time soon. She’s driven, Rach. It’s best to accept it, and move on, rather than fight it, and alienate her.”

Rachel glanced at her high fiving daughter before returning her gaze to Nick. “You’re right as you so annoyingly are on a daily basis. Good Lord, Nick… I hope you’re wrong.”

“So do I, baby. So… do… I.”

* * *

On Sunday morning, Nick wrote and edited with single minded concentration, Deke lying happily at his feet. Nick’s new novel ‘Assassin’s Folly’ touched him in a way he could not express. Although resembling his other Diego novels, this new one incorporated more of himself in it than he had ever chanced before. Diego felt things he had chained inside his being, never to see the light of day. Nick poured over it with a passion he knew originated in the happenings he had faced since his prior book tour. He glanced startled at the clock, hearing a soft footfall, combined with the musky odor that drove him crazy at times. Rachel moved nearer to him with slow steps, clutching her black silk robe around her he had purchased on a whim. His imagination of Rachel in it one day, while shopping with her at the mall, had forced him with it in hand to the cashier.

“It’s only six, babe. Is Quinn doing his usual stomping act on your bladder?”

Rachel smiled, allowing the robe to open while wrapping an arm around Nick’s shoulders. “Of course, but I missed you in bed with me. Quinn had little to do with me traipsing down here to interrupt your pursuit of Diego’s latest pulp fiction killings. I know you’ve finished the novel. Why this driven obsession to edit until your eyeballs pop out?”

“I edit best in the morning.” Nick’s hands roved in places garnering moans as well as gasps of denial. “See… even you are a quandary of emotion in the morning. Your body says yes, yes, yes, while your head calls out no, no, no. I would say my concerted editing efforts are far more reasonable than those half-hearted denials.”

Rachel clutched him to her with passionate annoyance. She backed away after a moment, her small embrace of angst fazing Nick not in the slightest. “You go too far!”

Nick grinned innocently at her, his hands roving without pause. “We’re married. You’re having my son. There is no too far. Let’s retreat to the bedroom before your protests wake Dagger up.”

Rachel allowed a full surrender to Nick’s manipulations as he moved her toward the stairs. “Tell Deke to stay down here.”

Nick glanced down at the attentive Deke, who shadowed his new path away from the kitchen. “Don’t worry about Deke. Everything we do makes him doze. He’ll be in a sleep coma ten minutes after I get you into bed.”

“Yeah, but he goes into his coma at the end of the bed… oh damn… okay… who cares.”

* * *

Gus arrived with Dan Lewis in tow at 8 am. Nick met them at the door. He shook hands with Dan. “Did Gus find you wandering the streets, old man?”

“He did indeed,” Dan admitted. “I was plodding down to Carol’s beach when Gus intercepted me. This is my first journey out. It’s a rough one.”

“His kids have returned home,” Gus added. “I figured since we’re all walking to the ocean, we may as well walk together.”

“I agree. Why not walk along together, Dan, if you don’t mind. Gus and I have to walk Deke. Then I have a knife flinging lesson at 10 am with Jean. She’s obsessed with it. We nearly spent three hours at it yesterday.”

“Are you training her for anything in particular?”

“I hope not,” Nick answered truthfully. “We have something on the horizon you may be able to help us with if you’re interested.”

Dan considered Nick’s statement before answering. “Get Deke, and tell me about it on the walk. Otherwise, I may say yes now, and no later.”

“That’s fair enough. Be right back.” Nick gathered the happy Deke, added a beach chair to his dual set, and his pack with thermos. He also brought along Deke’s water dish and water. Gus brought the cups, while Nick could strap up to four chairs tightly to his pack, and it held snacks as well as spiked coffee. He always traveled down with his small satellite laptop.

Rachel caught him before Deke dog sledded him out the door. “Hey, Muerto, do you know what Jean’s already doing?”

“Probably smacking the target with throwing knives. I heard her. The first part of our lesson was to teach her safety. How’s she doing?”

“Let’s just say if you were the target, you would not be happy. She’s burying one or two every set she throws.”

“She’s a natural,” Nick said. “How was I this morning?”

Rachel gasped and blushed, smacking Nick’s shoulder. “Never mind. No matter how you were this morning, you’re never doing it again, so it won’t matter.”

Nick kissed her, holding onto Rachel below the hips. “You always say that.”

Rachel broke away from him. “Did you know all sex in or out of marriage is rape?”

“Really,” Nick seemed interested. “Is that why you were screaming?”

Nick’s quickness, led by Deke’s intuitive nature, allowed the pair to escape through the door before Rachel could catch them. Nick and Deke scrambled down to the sidewalk as Rachel appeared huffing and puffing on the porch. When she saw Gus and Dan, Rachel remembered she only wore her black silk robe. She waved at the men, as she clutched the robe to her.

Gus and Dan waved in response. Rachel added a fist waving sequence at the unrepentant Nick. “I will have my revenge, Muerto!”

“Who is Muerto?”

Nick clasped Dan’s shoulder. “All in good time, old man. All in good time.”

“What did you do to anger Princess Preggo this morning?”

“Not a thing, Gus. I was my usual lovable self,” Nick replied. “I have no idea what got into her highness this morning. Some people are unfortunately not morning people. Let us move past these petty squabbles with hormonal women. We need to enjoy the small good fortune of another chillingly wonderful ocean visit.”

“Chillingly wonderful meaning another trek to Ice Station Zebra,” Gus complained, slapping his hands across his chest as if drumming arctic cold from his body.

“You haven’t grown accustomed to our brisk climate yet, Gus?”

Gus shrugged, gesturing down the hill, where gray skies highlighting drifting somber clouds, framed the ocean scene embedded with rocky escarpments jutting from white capped waves. “It’s a process, Dan. I admit it is beautiful. I’d miss it if I were anywhere else… like the sandpits overseas.”

“I remember you guys went overseas for research on Nick’s new novel,” Dan replied. “It was more than research, huh?”

“It was a business/research trip,” Nick answered for Gus. “We’ve decided to stay out of the sand. There seems to be more terrorists here than overseas now anyway. With these new Isis bastards claiming to have cells all over the USA already, I’m wondering if we’ll ever shut the damn immigration door.”

Dan chuckled. “You sure are right about that. I thought Diego isn’t political.”

“He’s getting as fed up as I am,” Nick replied. “It may be seeping into Diego soon. The Kum Ba Ya crowd doesn’t buy my pulp fiction anyhow, unless it’s for the purpose of doing a ‘Book Killing’.”

“Are you contacting Grace and Tim at the beach?”

“Grace and Tim?”

“Gus is referring to our US Marshal friends. We’re working on a case they were dumped on with. It should have been funneled down through a different venue. Their relationship with me, along with a recent case we worked has our usually reticent Department of Justice reaching into dark corners they don’t belong in. Our contact with the Company will be attempting to limit their involvement after an unforeseen development.”

“Is that the case you were referring to at the house?”

“Only if you’re interested, Dan. We may not be able to use you. If the woman has fled the country, any part we could use you for probably wouldn’t work. Her name is Nancy Pettinger. She’s been selling us out from a high level in the DOJ, betraying missions, and blocking action against suspected terrorists. Nancy’s on the run, but after the other night, we know she has some backdoor into operations no one knew existed. My concern is if she’s already sold the backdoor to the myriad enemies we have all over the damn globe.”