Sharks, Matt Rogers [shoe dog free ebook TXT] 📗

go after Wayne, this man would have held his ankles down while another guy took a blowtorch to his lower half. We caught them in the act. They would have burned him to death if we weren’t around to stop it.’

Alexis looked like she might be sick.

Slater said, ‘Go in the house. You’re not ready to see this.’

Her face turned to steel. ‘Will…’

‘Please,’ Slater said. ‘You can protest later. Right now I need to talk to this guy and I can’t have you here. Okay?’

She gave him the finger, turned and went inside.

Violetta said, ‘That was unnecessary.’

‘I know, right?’ Slater said. ‘What a rude gesture.’

‘You know what I’m talking about.’

Slater threw the guy across the porch so he landed in a heap in one of the patio chairs. Now close to ten in the morning, the sun speared diagonally undercover, shining on the crusted blood. He closed his eyes to stop himself being blinded.

Slater said, ‘You want her to see this?’

Violetta said, ‘She’s killed someone already.’

‘So because she lost a piece of her soul we should just throw away the whole thing?’

Violetta looked at him for a long time. ‘You really think that?’

Slater sighed. ‘I don’t know what I think. I just know I’m not going to like this.’

‘Like what?’ the European guy said, cracking one eyelid open.

‘Look who’s awake,’ Slater said. ‘This, buddy.’

He stomped a boot heel down on the guy’s shin, coming within ounces of pressure of snapping the bone clean in two. But he held back at the last beat, making it incredibly painful instead of crippling.

The guy made to scream but King clamped a hand down on his mouth, saving it from reaching the neighbours’ earshot.

Slater said, ‘I really don’t have time to play around today, sir. So this is going to be very simple. You’re going to tell us how to get to Dylan Walcott or the next stomp is going to be twice as hard as that and you won’t have any lower leg left to walk out of here. Comprendé?’

King’s hand stayed firm on the guy’s mouth. His eyes were wide, and under the crusted blood his face was paler than pale. He mumbled something into King’s palm.

‘Don’t speak,’ Slater said. ‘Just nod.’

The guy nodded.

Slater said, ‘My friend takes his hand away and I hear anything other than Dylan Walcott’s location, well…’

He feigned a second stomp.

Brought his boot to a halt in mid-air inches short of the guy’s shin.

The guy squealed into King’s palm.

Slater looked over at Violetta. ‘You feel sorry for him?’

Violetta didn’t take her eyes off the hostage. Her pale blue irises glowed. She said, ‘Was that the truth about the blowtorch?’

‘Yes.’

‘Not even slightly exaggerated?’

‘No.’

‘Then the answer is no. Continue.’

‘Would Alexis feel sorry for him?’

‘You’ve made your point.’

Slater nodded to King.

King took his hand away.

The guy sat forward, and with his thin lips working at warp speed, said, ‘I swear on my fucking life I don’t know where Dylan Walcott is. He wouldn’t tell a grunt like me. He’s got about ten different offices on the island and he floats between them with a security cohort like he’s the POTUS. I work for Vince Ricci. He’s a debt collector here in Freeport. Vince works for Walcott. So I can give you Vince and he’ll give you Walcott. Trust me on that.’

Slater thought about it. ‘It’ll do.’

Violetta said, ‘You sure he’s telling the truth?’

‘Yeah.’

King nodded his approval too.

‘Where can we find Vince Ricci?’ Slater said.

The guy panted for breath. ‘He’ll be at the tiki hut today. Collecting debts.’

‘Collecting from who?’

‘Specifically or in general?’

‘First, in general,’ Slater said. ‘Why’s a business magnate like Walcott got debts to collect from civilians in the first place?’

‘He’s a loan shark, man,’ the guy said. ‘He was doing it as a side gig to pass the time until Hurricane Dorian hit. Then there were thousands of people who needed money real quick, so he gave it out to everyone who asked. They all signed illegitimate contracts but no one read the fine print because they were focused on rebuilding their homes and their lives. Now everyone’s drowning in the interest payments and Walcott’s got his goons roughing certain people up, making examples out of them, making sure he collects every penny. He’s a scumbag, man. I hate working for him.’

King rolled his eyes. ‘Sure you do.’

‘Okay,’ Slater said, anger rippling through him at the depravity. ‘Now be specific.’

‘There’s an old dude who works at the tiki hut. Vince doesn’t like him. He’s made it his sole duty in life to harass him. I don’t know why — Walcott doesn’t seem to want to touch the old guy with a ten foot pole.’

‘This old guy got a name?’

‘Not one I know.’

‘Where’s the tiki hut?’

‘In front of the MantaRay Bay Condominiums, on Coral Beach. Drive down there, you can’t miss it…’

Slater said, ‘Thank you. That was altogether less violent than I thought.’

A long pause as the guy slumped back in his seat to pontificate on how he’d ended up here.

King lifted his gaze to Slater. ‘Now what?’

Slater understood, and played along.

Slater said, ‘Well, he knows where we’re staying…’

King turned his back on the hostage, practically presenting the Glock in its holster on a silver platter. He pretended not to notice his terrible positioning.

It didn’t take much courage.

Live or die.

The guy went for the gun with the same intensity he’d used to hold down Wayne’s legs. King didn’t let himself forget that mental image. This man was willing to melt the skin off an arms dealer for information and then kill him to put him out of his misery. And if they’d busted him in the midst of that attempt, what were the chances it was his first time? How long had he been torturing, mutilating, executing on this island? How many people were in the ground because of his actions?

So the guy snatched at the Glock, and King darted out of the way, pulled the sidearm, placed it on the back of the man’s skull as he splayed to