Second Chance (7 page)

I heard the door creak and sprung across the room and onto my bed, where I proceeded to open the Ritz Bits. I made it look like I had been there a while, but I’m sure she knew better.

Tay locked the door, huffed, and stormed toward me. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded. “Did you see how fine that man was? Another ten minutes and I’d have been—”

“Please, spare me the visual. Look, this is serious. So take a deep breath and I’ll fill you in while you pack.”

“What?”

“We’re caught in the middle of a Jamaican gang slaying. Remember those police boats and choppers?” I had Tay’s attention. She nodded. “A fishing boat pulled a woman’s head out of the water in its net.”

“Someone was killed?” she asked with incredulity. Tay began to cry. “Why?”

“It’s a long story, but the bottom line is that you’re not safe here in Miami. I had to leave our car parked in the lot of this Jamaican gangster’s club, and they may figure out that both of our names and addresses are on the rental agreement. I’ve kind of got that covered—someone’s going to make the car disappear, but still … you’ve got to go home, Tay.”

Tay sank down onto the bed, sobbing. “What about you?”

“I’m going to stay and see this through, but I can’t make a move until I know you’re safe.”

“Stephanie, it’s not your fight. You’re not on the job here. You need to come home with me.”

“I’ll take the first flight back as soon as I nail the bastard responsible.”

“But what if—”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got help. I’ll head home the moment this sleazebag is behind bars.”

“What kind of help do you have?”

“I spoke to my friend Herbert Ambler at the FBI. He’s putting an army at my disposal.” In actuality, Rick was an army of one, but Tay didn’t need to know that. “Hurry up and get packed. I’ve got someone waiting to drive you to the airport.”

Tay was still in tears as she stood. “Stephanie, I’m scared. I’m scared for you.”

I hugged her. “I know you are.”
So am I.

Chapter Twelve

I could smell it in the air the moment I entered the hotel suite.
It was under construction, and the air was filled with the scent of sawed wood, plaster dust, men’s sweat … and blood. A single illuminated construction fixture hung from the ceiling. You learn to recognize the smell of vile misdeeds—its cold embrace in the dim light, clawing at you and pulling you forward. The smell was in my nostrils and permeating my lungs. I assumed that Flynn had been badly beaten, and I feared that his lifeless body might have been tossed into the ocean just like Keyla’s had been.

Where is Flynn?
Telltale signs of a struggle were present. There were bloodstains on the unfinished oak floor and a construction ladder had been knocked over. I winced when I saw a drill with blood on the chuck and bit.

My cell phone buzzed. It was Rick. “You’re welcome,” he said in a condescending tone.

“For what?”

“Your rental car is already at the chop shop, and Tay’s on the plane. I waited until it took off, and now I’m on my way back,” he said. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t fly back with her.”

“She’s a flying basket case. She starts to howl at the moon the minute they shut the hatch door. I need some peace and quiet.”

“You’re a funny girl. I thought we had a deal. I thought you agreed to go home after you knew your friend was safe.”

“I had a change of heart. It appears that someone has beaten the snot out of Flynn.”

“Flynn … the guy from the hotel? The one you said suspected that Keyla had been murdered?”

“Correct.”

“It sounds like you didn’t find a body.”

“He’s not here, and I don’t know if he’s dead or alive,” I replied, not knowing if his corpse had been taken somewhere else or if, against all odds, he was still breathing. I was praying for the latter. “But this is where it went down. I’m sure of it.”

“How did they find him so fast?” he said with surprise. “You said that you were the only one who knew where he was staying.”

“He texted me his room number. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone else. I’m guessing that someone followed him back from the club. He’d been with Keyla at BOOM the night she disappeared. He must have been made by one of Donovan’s men when he went back with me.”

“So now what? You’re not going home, so I guess you plan on taking down Donovan and his band of merry assassins.”

“Seems like sound strategy to me.” I heard an ominous laugh behind me.

“What was that?” Rick asked nervously.

“Quiet,” I whispered. “Someone’s here.” My muscles tensed. I was reaching for my gun just as I took a blow to the back of my head. The taunting laughter appeared to grow louder as consciousness faded, and then everything went black.

Chapter Thirteen

I began to come around while Lyndell was duct-taping me to the seat of a fan boat.
He began to laugh the moment my eyes opened. It was the same menacing laughter I had heard just before getting cold-cocked. I looked up at the hulking giant. His head was as big as a bear’s. Vapor rose from the surface of the muddy water. A full moon hung clear in the evening sky and cast light on our surroundings.

Lyndell saw me looking around. “You’re in the Everglades, lady,” he said in his thick Jamaican accent. I looked down at the water just as a gator’s snout rose out of the murk. “That gator wants you for his dinner.” He chuckled once again. “Too bad for old Mr. Teeth, we got other plans for you.” I recognized the grip of my service automatic—the barrel of my gun was stuffed into Lyndell’s waistband. He pulled my shield and ID out of his back pocket and studied them. “You’re name is Chalice? Like the cup Christ drank from at the Last Supper?”

“No, it’s
Cha-lee-see
, but how sweet you are that you care enough to question the correct pronunciation of my name after knocking me unconscious and taking me prisoner. You’re a prince of a guy.” The back of my head throbbed where Lyndell had slugged me. “And now a midnight ride through the Everglades. How romantic. You’re every girl’s dream.”

“You’re a sassy bitch,
Cha-lee-see
,” he said in a mocking tone. “Maybe it’ll be
your
last supper.” He grinned, once again exposing his huge mouthful of teeth, just as he had when he glared at me from behind the wheel of the SUV. He stashed my shield and ID. “Good thing for you the boss wants you alive. Otherwise I’d chop off your hands and feed them to the gator.”

My hands were bound, but my fingers were free. I flipped him the bird. “You really are a good guy. I can’t wait to see you locked up at United States Penitentiary at Coleman.”

“In prison …
me
? I don’t think so. They’ll never take me alive,” he boasted.

“Dead or alive. Either way works for me.”

It was hot as hell, and the humidity was about three thousand percent. It was such a relief when he started the engine and we raced forward, the wind caressing my face. I don’t know if the fan boat was GPS equipped, but I had the sense Lyndell didn’t need it. He seemed to know his route by heart because he had the engine flat out as he nimbly zigzagged through an obstacle course of saw grass marshes, cutting in and out of the sloughs at great speed.

Clouds began to roll in as we proceeded farther into the wetlands, and the moon disappeared behind them. He was fast with the wheel and able to avoid collision with obstacles in the water that sprang up in the headlamp beams without notice. It felt like a ride on Space Mountain. Not that I don’t like a good roller coaster ride every now and then.

“Hey, Mario Andretti, you mind cutting back on the throttle a smidge?”

Either he didn’t hear me above the roar of the engine or he just flat out didn’t give a crap because we continued to race forward at breakneck speed.

“Hey,” I screamed, “slow the hell down.” I knew he heard me that time.

“Just settle down, lady cop. Enjoy the ride.”

As if I had a choice. We were moving into a more desolate section of the Everglades, an area that definitely wasn’t on the tourist map. It was haunting and dark. Lyndell finally cut the engine, and I could hear the unfamiliar noises the indigenous animals made. He maneuvered the fan boat alongside an old wooden dock and secured it with a nylon rope. He held a long knife in front of my face, trying to intimidate me.

“Compensating for your small Johnson?”

He pressed the tip to my throat for a moment and then cut the duct tape that secured me to my seat. My wrists were bound with PlastiCuffs.

“End of the line, lady cop.” He grabbed me by the arm and yanked me to my feet. I felt a gun barrel in the small of my back as he guided me forward.

Off in the distance, I could see dim lights from within a small dwelling. “Is Donovan in there?”

“You ask too many questions.” He pushed the gun deeper into my back. “Just keep walking.” There was virtually no light. I watched the ground as I walked so as not to take a misstep. I halted dead in my tracks as a snake slithered by in front of me.

“Don’t get so riled up. It’s just a water moccasin,” he said.

“Is it poisonous?”

“No worse than a rattlesnake.”

“Oh gee, I feel so much better.”

“Man, if that snake wanted to bite you, it would have done it by now.” He shoved me forward just as the snake disappeared into the marsh.

I could now make out the outline of the house in the clearing. As we got closer, I could see that it was small and dilapidated. I’d be at the front door in a moment if I didn’t fall victim to any reptiles or other manner of swamp-dwelling creatures.

There was no lock on the door. Lyndell pushed it open and shoved me inside. The structure was one open space. There was a small kitchen area and two filthy cots. He used another plastic restraint to bind one of my wrists to the frame of the cot. He walked into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of rum.

“Breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” he said and guzzled a mouthful of the amber liquid.

“What about me?”

“You think I’m sharing my rum with you?” He sat down on his cot and threw down another mouthful. “Dream on, lady cop.”

“How about water?

“No plumbing. You’re lucky we got lights.”

Now that’s delightful.
“So I guess—”

“That’s right, you got to go, you go outside, same as the snakes and gators.”

Well, then I really don’t want water, do I?
“So what are we doing here?”

“Waiting for the boss,” he said.

“Who’s the boss?”

“Come on now, don’t be playing dumb with old Lyndell. You know too much already. That’s the reason you’re here.” He put the bottle on the floor and stared at me with a bemused expression. “Why you got to poke your nose where it don’t belong? You think Donovan’s going to pat your fanny and send you on your merry way? You think he got where he is by being nice?”

“Is that why Keyla’s head was found in the Atlantic?” I asked, probing for an admission.

He averted his eyes, lifted the bottle, and guzzled more rum. “Don’t know anyone by that name.” He looked guilty as hell.

“You can’t hide behind the rum forever. This existence you’ve chosen, you know it doesn’t make for a long and healthy life.”

“Maybe not,” he said, “but I can drink until I pass out. Donovan will be here at first light and then he’ll decide about
your
longevity.” He gulped more rum. “Yo ho,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “It’s a pirate’s life for me.”

Chapter Fourteen

Lyndell had morning wood, tall enough to poke a hole in the roof—I mean we’re talking palm-tree dimensions.
All right, I’m exaggerating, but he certainly wouldn’t have any trouble pitching a tent. He was still passed out drunk when the sky began to lighten, and I’d be able to make my move if only …

The cot was old and rusted, and the brackets that held it together were sharp, sharp enough for me to saw through the plastic restraints Lyndell had used to bind my wrist to the frame. There was no way I’d have been able to find my way back to the fan boat in the dark, but now with the sun on the rise …

My automatic was still tucked into his waistband, next to his.
Slide them out slowly or one quick pull?
I had thought about it for hours. Mine was a Glock 19 with no manual safety lever—one hard tug on the trigger and it would be bye-bye for his palm tree and both of his furry little coconuts.
Now, Stephanie! Go for it now before he wakes up.

Got ‘em!

Lyndell’s eyes snapped open. I had the Glock pointed at his nose as I inched away from him.

“Shit!” he swore.

“Deep shit.”

Lyndell was as large as a moose. There was no way I’d be able to subdue him on my own, and I wasn’t sure how easily he’d be intimidated, even with an automatic in each hand.

“Now what you gonna do?” he asked. “Donovan will be here soon, and then we’re both dead.”

It was a good question, one I had considered well in advance of taking action. “Stand up!”

“The hell I will. You gonna shoot me?”

“Well, actually …” I lowered my aim and fired once, grazing his leg. I know my anatomy cold—I nicked the flesh, just enough to let tall, dark, and menacing know that I meant business. Lyndell grunted and gnashed his teeth. He grabbed his leg where I shot him.

“For a big man, you take a bullet like a whiny little bitch. Now stand up before I give you one on the other side.”

He glared at me. “You know I will kill you.”

“I know you’d
like
to kill me, but your chances seem pretty slim, especially with me holding a Glock in one hand and your Smith & Wesson in the other. Now stand up, reach into your pocket, and toss my badge and phone on the bed.”

Lyndell glared at me but didn’t move. I aimed the Glock at his junk. “Smart money says I won’t think twice about shooting you in the balls. Want to call my bluff?”

Lyndell rose slowly. He was seething with anger, and I wondered if he’d be enraged enough to make a move.

“I know you don’t like taking orders from a chick, but don’t be stupid. I’m playing nice. Believe me, you don’t want to see me when I’m pissed off.”