Read Online Blank Slate (A Kyle Jackle Thriller) by Zack Hamric - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Zack Hamric
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to a halt between the scattered bouncers. I hit the car in midair, catching myself on the roll bar with my left hand and vaulting into the right seat of the black BMW Z4. Thank God for convertibles. One of the bouncers is starting to pull himself up on the passenger’s side of the car. I smash the car door into his face with a sickening crunch of bone-he drops like a stone. Another one grabs the driver’s side door and is fumbling for the lock. He screams in agony as Tasha drives her knife through the back of his hand and into the doorframe. We leave in style-twin smoking streaks of rubber as Tasha exits the parking lot.
I look at Tasha and she’s giggling hysterically. I can’t help it-I start laughing too-funny how almost dying can do that to you sometimes. “That was just like a scene out of a bad James Bond movie,” she said wiping away the tears as she slowly choked away the laughter.
“I know, but I usually don’t knock four guys on their ass when I’m leaving a movie,” I said as we headed south down A1A. “By the way, since we’re in a hell of a lot more trouble than we were fifteen minutes ago, any ideas on where we can hide?”
“How about your place?” she asked glancing over at me in between the whine of gearshifts.
“Hey, you lead the way, because I have no friggin’ clue where ‘my place’ is,” I said. leaning back in the seat and trying to enjoy the ride.
We continued south accompanied by the muted crash of the surf rolling in from the Atlantic. About four miles later, we turned right into the Bahia Mar Marina-my internal navigation was still working even if my memory wasn’t. I had another flash as we passed the gates; I knew this place.
Tasha parked near the docks and we started walking out to G dock. We were dwarfed by the huge luxury yachts that seemed to stretch the entire length of the docks. All gleaming stainless, teak, and fiberglass combined to create floating works of art with full time crews working hard to keep them that way. I was excited in spite of myself-no idea of how I could ever afford to live on one of these-maybe I’d won a lottery at some point in my life? Near the end of the dock, we walked around the stern of a hundred fifty foot Bennetti to see a small sailboat tied against the pilings.
I looked at Tasha aghast. “Please tell me you’re kidding… I live on this?”
“It’s not that bad,” she said with a smirk. “And it’s forty five feet -actually a little bigger than it looks.”
After I got over the initial shock, I looked a little closer and had to admit it was a beautiful boat-just a little bit of a letdown compared to the forty million dollar yacht beside it. It looked like a greyhound of the sea, low sleek, and fast as hell. A sloop if I remembered my sailboats correctly with a mast that seemed to go up forever. I couldn’t tell the age, but it was definitely a classic boat in what appeared to be mint condition. We clambered aboard and unlocked the hatch leading below.
“Thank God for small miracles,” I said as I entered the cabin. “At least it has air-conditioning. Oh, and thanks for saving my ass back there. Assuming we can actually avoid being interrupted by someone trying to kill us in the next few minutes, we really need to talk. Especially about your fondness for inserting sharp, pointed objects into people with very little provocation.”
“Every girl needs a little protection,” she said whipping out the switchblade in a blur of motion and proceeding to clean the remaining traces of blood from the blade. “And we can certainly talk; but first things first,” she said diving into the depths of the refrigerator and coming out with a pair of ice-cold Blue Moon beers in her hand. “Salute,” she said as she popped the tops and handed me one.
“Thanks.” I clinked the bottle against hers, flopped down on the burgundy settee and took a healthy swig of the best beer I’ve ever tasted. The boat was subtly lighted with
I look at Tasha and she’s giggling hysterically. I can’t help it-I start laughing too-funny how almost dying can do that to you sometimes. “That was just like a scene out of a bad James Bond movie,” she said wiping away the tears as she slowly choked away the laughter.
“I know, but I usually don’t knock four guys on their ass when I’m leaving a movie,” I said as we headed south down A1A. “By the way, since we’re in a hell of a lot more trouble than we were fifteen minutes ago, any ideas on where we can hide?”
“How about your place?” she asked glancing over at me in between the whine of gearshifts.
“Hey, you lead the way, because I have no friggin’ clue where ‘my place’ is,” I said. leaning back in the seat and trying to enjoy the ride.
We continued south accompanied by the muted crash of the surf rolling in from the Atlantic. About four miles later, we turned right into the Bahia Mar Marina-my internal navigation was still working even if my memory wasn’t. I had another flash as we passed the gates; I knew this place.
Tasha parked near the docks and we started walking out to G dock. We were dwarfed by the huge luxury yachts that seemed to stretch the entire length of the docks. All gleaming stainless, teak, and fiberglass combined to create floating works of art with full time crews working hard to keep them that way. I was excited in spite of myself-no idea of how I could ever afford to live on one of these-maybe I’d won a lottery at some point in my life? Near the end of the dock, we walked around the stern of a hundred fifty foot Bennetti to see a small sailboat tied against the pilings.
I looked at Tasha aghast. “Please tell me you’re kidding… I live on this?”
“It’s not that bad,” she said with a smirk. “And it’s forty five feet -actually a little bigger than it looks.”
After I got over the initial shock, I looked a little closer and had to admit it was a beautiful boat-just a little bit of a letdown compared to the forty million dollar yacht beside it. It looked like a greyhound of the sea, low sleek, and fast as hell. A sloop if I remembered my sailboats correctly with a mast that seemed to go up forever. I couldn’t tell the age, but it was definitely a classic boat in what appeared to be mint condition. We clambered aboard and unlocked the hatch leading below.
“Thank God for small miracles,” I said as I entered the cabin. “At least it has air-conditioning. Oh, and thanks for saving my ass back there. Assuming we can actually avoid being interrupted by someone trying to kill us in the next few minutes, we really need to talk. Especially about your fondness for inserting sharp, pointed objects into people with very little provocation.”
“Every girl needs a little protection,” she said whipping out the switchblade in a blur of motion and proceeding to clean the remaining traces of blood from the blade. “And we can certainly talk; but first things first,” she said diving into the depths of the refrigerator and coming out with a pair of ice-cold Blue Moon beers in her hand. “Salute,” she said as she popped the tops and handed me one.
“Thanks.” I clinked the bottle against hers, flopped down on the burgundy settee and took a healthy swig of the best beer I’ve ever tasted. The boat was subtly lighted with
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