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

So when she got her thumb on the panic button sewn into the bottom of her jeans pocket, she felt a touch more hope than she usually would.

She handed over her phone, wallet and keys.

He seized her by the arm, and the bald guy grabbed Alexis, and together they led them toward the villa.

Violetta’s last thought before they entered the house sent fear rippling through her.

What if Kane intentionally withheld what he knew?

What if this is what he wanted all along?

81

King and Slater were halfway back across Grand Bahama when their phones shrieked in unison.

They didn’t need to pull them out for confirmation.

They knew it hadn’t gone well.

It was the age-old debate between speed and strategy. If Violetta and Alexis held back, waited for King and Slater to rendezvous with them, Lyla and Caleb might have died before the four of them could go in together. With the two women going in on their own, there’d been a greater risk of failure, but even if they failed they were still overcomplicating everything for the surviving members of Dylan Walcott’s forces. The panic alarm screaming meant they’d been taken alive, otherwise there would have been no one to press it in the first place.

Which wasn’t good, but it wasn’t all bad.

In fact, without telling Slater, King had already planned for this exact situation.

Instead of veering west off Grand Bahama Highway into Freeport, he gunned it further west onto Queen’s Highway, then threw a left into the Downtown district. His intended destination was a street of cul-de-sacs named Pioneers Way.

Slater said, ‘What the hell are you doing? You didn’t hear the alarm?’

‘I heard it,’ King said. ‘But they’ll have an airtight perimeter now. We’re going to use the same strategy that Walcott’s tactical team used.’

‘The team he sent to the bungalow?’

‘Yeah.’

‘That would involve a kamikaze.’

‘Precisely.’

Halfway down Pioneers Way, King screeched to a stop outside the residence of Wayne Portis.

82

Even though the sun was still high in the sky, Wayne was on his third Island Pirate Ale IPA.

Which possibly made him an alcoholic, but he didn’t mind the term.

He worked both smart and hard, and it made him a busy man with more coin in his pocket than he needed. So if an occasional day came around where his schedule was clear of meetings with potential buyers, he had no shame in cracking open his first beer at midday. He had the rest of his life in order, and if he wanted to drink, he’d damn well drink. He wasn’t expecting anyone for the whole afternoon and evening. In fact, his next meeting wasn’t until tomorrow at eleven a.m., with a couple of guys named Zidane and LaQuan who were worried about getting assassinated, or something similarly ridiculous. They’d pencilled in the meet five days ago, and he hadn’t heard from them since, so he hoped they’d show. It sounded like they wanted some heavy weaponry.

Then a knock came at the door.

He heard it through the house from his position on his back porch. He grumbled, took his sandals off the footrest, and drained the last of his third can. Ordinarily he might have flown off the handle at whichever poor sap had been tasked with door-to-door marketing in the area, but three tall boys had him in a good mood.

He swaggered to the front door, a grin on his face, and threw it open.

The big guy from the bungalow stuck a 9mm Glock in his face.

Wayne’s smile disappeared. ‘That’s not very nice of you.’

The big guy lowered the gun. ‘Sorry. Just had to make sure you wouldn’t shoot me on sight.’

The dark-skinned man stood beside him.

They’d parked a convertible off-road jeep on his lawn.

Wayne said, ‘You’d keep that gun pointed at me if you knew what was good for you.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘You ruined my lawn,’ Wayne said. ‘So either pay me for the trouble or I’ll do something about it. And how’d you get my address?’

‘Violetta found it,’ the big guy said. ‘She gave it to me.’

‘I’ve killed people for less than that.’

‘I don’t doubt it.’

‘Now what do you want? And it’d better include a footnote about payment for my lawn.’

‘You like money, don’t you, Wayne?’

‘It’s an unfortunate necessity,’ Wayne said. ‘I like it no more than the next man.’

‘We’ll give you a hundred grand to do something for us. That’s a whole lot of beer money.’

‘Why beer money?’

‘You reek of it.’

Wayne stared deep into the big guy’s eyes. ‘You bluffing me, son?’

‘No. In fact, we’ll wire transfer it in advance. Because we know you’re a man of your word, and a man of his word doesn’t go back on a deal, no matter if he receives payment before or after.’

Wayne thought it over. ‘Okay. Show me.’

The big man had a bank application open on his phone in five seconds. Wayne fed him his details, watched the guy’s fingers fly over the touch keys as he entered them, and ten seconds after that there was a notification on his screen for a wire transfer to Wayne’s account: $100,000.00.

Wayne said, ‘Holy shit.’

The big man said, ‘I never bluff. It’ll be in your account within twenty-four hours. As soon as the bank clears it.’

‘What do you need?’

‘This is all hinging on you having access to a certain piece of gear.’

Wayne rolled his eyes. ‘I have access to everything. Lay it out for me.’

The big guy laid it out.

Wayne paused to take it in, then laughed. ‘You’re a crazy son of a bitch.’

‘Are you in?’

‘What if I’m not?’

‘Then we don’t have another second to waste, so I need an answer right now.’

Wayne said, ‘I’m in. But it’s not about the money. I miss the thrill. Dealing guns isn’t particularly eventful.’

‘I don’t care what it’s about.’

‘Give me thirty seconds.’

‘For what?’

‘Anything this insane requires an absolute minimum of five beers in me,’ Wayne said. ‘I’m only on three.’

Silence.

Wayne said, ‘Like I said, thirty seconds.’

A few steps from the door, he looked over his shoulder. ‘I still don’t know your names.’

The big