Unlawful Chase, C.J. Schnier [best book clubs TXT] 📗

her. She reminded me of Kelly. I mean, she was younger and had red hair instead of brown, but she had Kelly's green-gold eyes. I knew it wasn't her, but I had to go down that rabbit hole anyway."

"Chase, you won't find love in a hole, man. You know me, I'm all for getting a little action, just don't go crazy and be sure to treat it as what it is. When you're ready, you'll find someone, but you're not there, yet. Where did you pick her up at anyway?" he asked.

I took a huge gulp of beer, forcing it down my protesting gullet. "I wish I could tell you. Maybe at the Brass Monkey. There was a receipt in my pocket from there. It looks like we closed the place down last night. By the way, that reminds me, do you have any work I could get in on soon? My little bender last night broke the bank."

Jeff looked at me, frowned, and shook his head. "No, bro. Work is scarce right now. Do you have enough to pay your rent at least?"

"Oh, yeah, of course," I lied again and took a few more giant gulps of beer, killing it. I had less than $100 left to my name. "It'll be tight for a while. I'll be living off this fish we caught until I can wrangle up some cash. In the meantime, I think I'll have another beer."

"Just be careful. I heard the marina was talking about kicking you out of the mooring field."

"Let me deal with the marina. They're more bark than bite."

"Your funeral, dude," he replied.

Jeff and I rode out the rest of the trip back in relative silence, choosing the brilliance of the sun on the sparkling blue water over the tedium of conversation. Jeff dodged a few tourist sailboats and then motored through the entrance to Boot Key Harbor. To the north, the famous Seven Mile Bridge stretched off to the west, disappearing over the horizon.

"I'm going to stop and grab fuel at the Marathon Marina, then I'll drop you back off on your boat, ok?"

"Yeah, no problem," I said. "Port side tie off?"

Jeff nodded at me and I stood by with a line as he pulled up to the dock. The marina was right at the entrance to the harbor and was a convenient spot to top off the fuel tanks. Jeff expertly maneuvered his boat and laid her gently against the wooden fenders. As soon as we had two lines attached to the dock, a man with a surgically sharp part in his hair strode down the dock, heading straight for us.

"Chase Hawkins?" The man called out, his tone all business.

"Who wants to know?" I asked, trying to remember if I had ever seen him before. I was pretty sure I'd have remembered his horrendous haircut if I had.

"I need you to come with me. Now!" the man demanded in a husky Russian accent. "My employer would like to speak with you. He is not the sort of man you refuse."

I looked over at Jeff, who shrugged. "What the hell kind of trouble did you get into last night, Chase?"

CHAPTER TWO

"Who the hell are you and how the hell did you know to find me here, of all places?" I asked. The man dressed well. He wore a tailored polo shirt tucked into casual, if too short, shorts. He could have been any of the thousands of rich tourists who found their way into the Keys every week. But my money was on Miami. That city had a style of its own, and living down here I saw enough of it to recognize it when I saw it.

"Who I am is unimportant," the man said, puffing out his chest. "What is important is we don't keep my employer waiting. So, if you would be so kind, I have helicopter standing by at airport."

His jaw was square and razor sharp, but his tongue stumbled over his words. He wasn't struggling with the language, his grasp of English was good. It seemed he was simply unaccustomed to speaking.

"What makes you think I'd go with you. You've got bad news written all over you. You're wearing the wrong clothes and you've definitely got the wrong attitude for the Keys. Besides, my mother always told me not to get in helicopters with strangers. Why don't you go down to Key Weird, loosen up a little, and try me again tomorrow? I've had a hell of a morning."

The man looked at me, flabbergasted someone had the audacity to refuse him. This was a man accustomed to a certain level of power. I took his moment of shock to study his face closer, watching his craggy jaw change from confusion to what seemed to be pity. His eyes, however, remained an empty cold blue, completely devoid of the emotion his face betrayed.

"My employer wants to hire you for job. He is rich man, but time is short and he needs to hire someone today. You come highly recommended and are at top of his list."

I hadn't expected that. Recommended for what? Everyone in Marathon knew me as a drunk who filled in as captain on tour boats when their normal captains were too hungover to come to work. Once upon a time I worked for myself, making a living as a delivery captain. I moved boats from one place to another for clients too rich or too busy to do it themselves. It had been a glorious life until, through some serious misadventures, I had ended up as the captain of a drug smuggling boat.

Nobody down here knew about my past. I'd kept it secret for over a year, and there was no way I would allow myself to end up back in that trade. Whatever this guy was proposing felt a little less than legal. If it hadn't been for my rumbling stomach, I would have walked away. As it was,