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Authors: Lawrence Kelter
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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 &
“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 &
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