Crystal Blue (Buck Reilly Adventure Series Book 3), John Cunningham [top fiction books of all time TXT] 📗

It was Boom-Boom and his trusty shotgun. He glanced around in all directions. “No more bullshit, Reilly. You’re taking me to Christiansted, now.”

“We’re having a meeting here in the War Room to try and figure out what the hell’s going on. Come on, join—”

“I got no time for this shit!”

“One of your friends is in here,” I said.

I opened the door and Boom-Boom entered first.

The sound of multiple guns being cocked and the ear piercing sound of people shouting sent us both diving for cover.

“THE HELL’S THAT BUTCHER doing here?” Diego said. He had a Kimber 1911 .45 pointed at boom-Boom’s chest. Brass Knuckles had a Mac 10 aimed at our faces.

I tried to speak, but only a bleat came out. I swallowed dust and cleared my throat.

“Relax, he’s with me.”

“Like I give a shit?” Diego said. “Motherfucker’s cost me a lot of money—for all I know he’s connected with the bastards who killed some of my people—”

“Killed my people too, brudda,” Boom-Boom said. “We both been squeezed out.”

A slow smile crossed Boom-Boom’s face. He sat up, shrugged, and reached a hand into his shirt—

Diego thrust his gun forward. “Unh-unh!”

But Boom-Boom had already pulled a fat blunt from inside his shirt.

“Let’s have a toke, brudda.” Boom-Boom lit up and passed the blunt to Diego.

“Guys?” I stood up. “Now that Stud’s been found, the show’s going forward—”

Diego pointed his gun at me. “Only reason I’m here’s for you to fly my ass out—”

“Not before me,” Boom-Boom said.

The shriek of what sounded like a wounded animal turned all our heads. After a pause it sounded again, closer to the shack. We all looked at each other.

The door flew open and Crystal Thedford ran in, carrying a small box. Her face was bright red and she was crying so hard she wasn’t making a sound—until another shrill wail erupted.

“Crystal!” I grabbed her and held her by the shoulders while she shook. Another shriek filled the room as she expelled every bit of air from her lungs.

“What’s wrong?” I said. “What’s in—”

“They’re killing him!”

The box shook like a rattle as she jerked it up.

Ray Floyd must have wet himself after the guns came out, because I smelled urine. Lenny was peeking up from behind a chair. Boom-Boom and Diego looked relatively unfazed—and why not? They had the weapons, and they had a fresh buzz.

I caught Crystal and half carried, half dragged her to the chair Ray was crouched behind. She collapsed into the seat and clenched her fist between her teeth. Somehow the box wound up in my hands—I was surprised at how light it was.

“Open it up, man,” Diego said.

I pulled the lid open on what I realized was a fast food hamburger box.

Another shriek from Crystal while I was flinching myself from the sight of the contents.

It was a finger with a ring on it.

“That’s John’s wedding ring!”

I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pressed my jaw next to her soggy cheek.

“What’s in the box?” Ray said.

“Crystal, listen to me,” I said.

She continued to wail.

“Crystal!” I shook her. “This must mean that John’s still alive! Okay? If it’s his finger—”

“Finger!” Ray squealed.

I kicked him. “Then that’s more like a serious message. Was there a note?”

Her hand shook like a Parkinson’s victim as she reached into her pocket and removed the crumpled paper. I unrolled it, surprised that it was on linen—high quality stationary. The note was brief and in blocky letters:

LAST WARNING, STOP PARTY OR

HE IAT SCHIT FOR ALWAYS!

“What’s it say, man?” Lenny said, his lips curled at the sight of the finger caked with dried blood.

I read it aloud, paused on the misspelling, then read it phonetically. “Eat shit?”

“They gonna make him eat shit?” Brass Knuckles said.

Crystal moaned. Diego jerked his head around and glared at his lieutenant, who held his palms up and stepped back.

“It’s like some kind of bad translation,” I said.

“From Russian, maybe?” Boom-Boom said.

The linen stationary wasn’t the size of a typical letter, and I noticed the top had a jagged edge. It had been torn. Had there been a logo on top?

Scarlet, Crystal’s assistant, came running into the shack. She glanced around at the unsavory group, then gently urged Crystal forward.

“Don’t give up, okay?” I said. “I’ve got all these guys here to help me find John. They’re not pretty but they’re connected.”

She pushed past me without a word and walked out of the shack. Scarlet gave me a sidelong glance and a raised eyebrow, then she too brushed past me. My hands clenched into fists. I felt helpless—and worse, useless.

“Ain’t looking good for her man,” Diego said. “These people ain’t fucking around, whatever it is they want.”

Boom-boom blew out a ring of smoke. “Telling you, brudda, I heard the Russians had the dude, so maybe—”

“Same bastards that wiped us out?” Diego said.

Both men looked at each other, then me.

“As in the Russian mob?” Ray said.

I felt a pressure building inside me that threatened to explode. I couldn’t just sit in here.

“I need some air—be right back.”

I stumbled outside and slammed the door.

“Buck!” Ray and Lenny called out, but I was already jogging toward Foxy’s.

The bar was crowded and the energy palpable. Uniforms and familiar faces from the silver screen, CD covers, book jackets, and the nightly news clustered in groups, laughing, talking, and milling about. But there was no sign of Booth.

Of course as soon as I need him, he’s nowhere to be found.

Dammit!

I slumped onto a bar stool and covered my face with both hands. My skin was gritty, my hair slick, my shirt pasted to my back.

I’d failed Crystal. The whole event, for that matter. If it went forward John Thedford would be—

“Hey, good-looking,” a familiar drawl sounded behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder.

Avery Rose. Short shorts, tight tank top, snakeskin boots, straw cowboy hat with black hair down to her shoulders.

“Can a girl buy you a drink?”

“Thanks, Avery, I’ll take a rain check.”

She put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed.