by Tripp Ellis
They snapped photos of the burned-out interior. There was nothing left of the upholstery—only the metal framework and springs of the seats. The steering wheel and dashboard had melted. The charred remains of two Uzi submachine guns lay crusted on the floor next to several charred, empty shell casings. The remains of an empty plastic gas can lay amid the debris.
“The vehicle comes back as stolen,” Faulkner said. “It was reported missing earlier this evening.”
It didn’t come as a surprise.
“We think they hopped out on foot, took off up this driveway, hopped a few fences, then disappeared into another vehicle,” Faulkner continued.
“You got a description of the other vehicle?” I asked.
Faulkner shook his head.
“Anybody see anything?”
“Erickson’s canvasing the neighboring houses now.”
“We know who did this,” JD said. “We just need to connect it to Nico.”
“He’s clearly panicking,” I said. “He thinks Slater’s going to rat him out. We need to keep putting pressure on him.”
We left the scene as forensic investigators continued to collect evidence. We drove to the ER, and I flashed my badge at the reception desk. “Any information on Deputy Grogan?"
She tapped on the keyboard and pulled up his information. "He's in critical but stable condition."
"What about Slater Magnus?”
A grim frown tugged her face. "I'm sorry, but he's deceased."
My jaw tightened, and I may have muttered a few obscenities. The wind went out of my sails.
JD shared my displeasure. “You ready for that drink about now?"
I nodded.
We left the hospital and headed back to Diver Down. The bar was packed. We pushed inside and squeezed our way to the bar.
As soon as Teagan saw us, she poured two glasses of whiskey and brought them over.
“Are your psychic powers coming back?” I asked.
“No. Sometimes you two aren’t too hard to read. Bad day?”
“You could say that.”
She frowned but didn’t have time to linger. “It will get better.”
She attended to other patrons that were waving bills and shouting for attention.
We pulled away from the bar and tried to find a place less crowded, but that was impossible. We sipped our drinks, and when we finished, we decided to leave and head to the Avventura. The sundeck would be a perfect place to resume our drinking. We could watch the activity of the marina from on high. There were plenty of impromptu parties happening.
We pushed outside and started toward the dock when a figure emerged from the shadows between two parked cars.
I palmed my pistol, ready to draw. As the figure stepped into the light, I recognized him immediately, and my whole body tensed. I drew my weapon and took aim. It took everything I had not to squeeze the trigger. Rage swelled within me, and the veins in my temples pulsed. My heartbeat thudded in my ears.
The figure raised his hands in the air and said, “Don't shoot."
It was Griffin, Slater's partner in crime.
"Did you come to turn yourself in?"
"Not exactly."
"Slater's dead."
"I know."
"Looks like you accomplished your mission," I said.
"Not my mission. Slater was like a brother to me."
"Some brother."
“I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“A cop is dead, you know…”
His face tensed. "Look, do you want my help or not?"
"What kind of help?”
"You want Nico. I can hand him to you."
"I'm listening."
"Not so fast,” Griffin said. “I want full immunity and protection. I’ll give you enough to put Nico away for the rest of his natural-born life."
"Why?"
"Because he crossed the line."
I snorted. "Killing his sister wasn't crossing a line, but killing Slater was?”
"Caprice was never supposed to die. If you don’t believe anything else, believe that. I loved her, man.” His eyes brimmed.
There was a long pause.
I still had my weapon aimed at him.
"Do we have a deal or not?” he asked.
48
We called for a patrol car and took Griffin to the station. In the interrogation room, he told us everything.
"Nico ordered the hit on Slater behind my back,” Griffin said. “He knew I wouldn’t go along with it. It was Jagger and Ajax. They'll do anything Nico tells them to do. I want them to pay.”
Griffin broke down in sobs.
It was a surprising display of emotion from a sociopath. But even sociopaths can form complex relationships. Caprice was right. Griffin did have a soft side.
He spilled the beans on Nico's entire operation. The gambling, money laundering, and all the details about the bombing. With his sworn affidavit, we were able to get a warrant for Nico's arrest.
We gathered a tactical team, suited up in gear, and waited outside the club. We thought it was best to take Nico down after the patrons left.
It was close to 3 AM when Nico finally emerged from the club with his goons. They exited through the back door and walked across the parking lot toward the Anson-Barton.
That's when we swooped in.
Half a dozen deputies swarmed the parking lot, surrounding the thugs.
"Coconut County!" I shouted with my weapon aimed at Nico. "You're all under arrest."
There was a moment’s hesitation on their part.
Then Ajax reached for a pistol inside his coat.
So did Nico and Jagger.
Muzzle flash flickered, and the deafening bang of assault rifles echoed across the parking lot. Bullets crisscrossed, and clouds of smoke wafted with the breeze. The sharp scent of gunpowder filled my nostrils, and my heart pounded with adrenaline.
Blood spewed.
Bullets smacked flesh, tearing cavernous holes.
In the span of a few seconds, the three thugs lay on the concrete, riddled with bullets. Pools of crimson surrounded their bodies.
Nico writhed on his back, staring at the stars, gasping for breath. Blood seeped from his mouth and sucking chest wounds gurgled.
I didn't bother to give aid. It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. He was on the fast track to the afterlife.
Nico looked up at me with helpless eyes.
I towered over him and wished him farewell.
The last breath rattled from his lungs, and his body went limp.
The air was still, and the chaos had faded to silence. The orange glow of a mercury vapor light bathed the parking lot and buzzed. Moths swarmed around the light.
Ajax and Jagger were dead.
“Is everybody okay?” I asked.
The rest of the team sounded off. We had all made it through without a scratch.
There weren’t any tears shed over their demise.
Brenda wasn’t too happy about getting pulled out of bed at 3 o’clock in the morning to evaluate a crime scene. The forensics team documented the carnage and snapped photos. When we finally wrapped up, we headed back to the station to fill out after-action reports.
It was nearing dawn by the time we made it back to Diver Down. JD pulled into the parking lot to drop me off at the dock. The lot was practically empty, and the marina was quiet. Gentle waves lapped against the hulls, and all the revelers were tucked away for the evening.
Jack looked at me with tired eyes. “Helluva Spring Break.”
I nodded and ambled down the dock to the Avventura.
I crossed the passerelle and slid open the door to the salon. Buddy was asleep on the settee and lifted his sleepy head at my return, then went back to sleep.
I moved to the minibar and poured a drink, then climbed up to the sundeck, took a seat, and watched the sunrise.
I had a sense of closure but still felt hollow. Nothing would bring Caprice or Tom Janik back, but at least Nico�
�s reign of terror was over—until the next criminal overlord filled the vacuum. You can’t take out one tyrant without paving the way for another. It seemed like the natural order of the Universe. Things always want to break down to a state of chaos and dysfunction.
I was starting to come to grips with it. There would always be bad guys. I took a small degree of comfort in knowing someone would always be there to stop them. I planned on keeping up the fight as long as there was still breath in my lungs.
49
The big day had finally arrived. The water was packed tight with boats, and there was hardly a reveler in sight who didn't have a drink in their hand. The stage, built on a barge, had towers of speakers that could probably be heard across the Atlantic. The ongoing music fest had been raging for days. Today's focus was entirely rock 'n' roll, and JD's band was headlining. It was their biggest show to date. And a good primer of what was to come. I had hired a couple of college kids, and they scooted around in a little wake boat selling T-shirts and other merchandise. The T-shirts sold like hotcakes.
I hung out with JD just off stage, watching the finals of the bikini contest. Glistening beauties strutted their stuff.
The raucous crowd hooted and hollered.
By this point, it really wasn’t a bikini contest anymore. Every bit of skimpy fabric fell away during the course of each girl's performance, and voluptuous assets bounced and jiggled free of any restraint.
Rachel Reid had made it all the way to the finals, and when the judge's votes were tabulated, she took the grand prize.
She bounced up and down with a mixture of surprise and joy. The MC handed her an oversized check for $100,000 and a bouquet of red roses.
Cameras flashed as she posed for press pictures, strategically covering her lady bits with the check and bouquet.
She smiled and waved at the drooling audience before leaving the stage, carrying the big check away.
A fruity, tropical scent filled the air as she approached. “Hi, boys.”
“Congratulations,” I said.
She smiled.
“What are you going to do with the money?” JD asked.
“Pay off my car and put a down payment on a house.” She flashed her pearly whites.
“I thought you might like to know we caught Vivian’s killer,” I said.
She didn’t seem all that surprised when I told her Audrey was responsible. “Figures. Shady bitch.” She looked at JD, and her eyes sparkled. “Have a good show!”
“I will,” JD replied with a grin, watching the luscious vixen saunter away.
When the chaos had settled and the stage had been cleared, the MC took the microphone and shouted to the audience. The wall of speakers rumbled. "Please welcome to the stage, the mighty Wild Fury!"
JD and company rushed onto the stage like true rockstars, greeted by a thunderous roar.
Dizzy’s guitar growled as he hit a low note and bent it with a whammy bar. It warbled and screeched with feedback. Styxx climbed behind his candy-apple red drum set and beat the bass drum.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
JD grabbed the microphone and howled, “Get ready to rock and ro-o-o-o-o-ll!"
The crowd screamed.
My phone buzzed my pocket, and I was surprised I could feel the vibration amid the thunderous wall of sound. I pulled out the device and looked at the caller ID. It was Sheriff Daniels.
I didn’t answer. I knew it wouldn’t be good. I slid my phone back into my pocket and figured I would call him after the show. I had an excuse—I wouldn’t have been able to hear him, anyway. Besides, we deserved a little time off. A little fun.
Not to be deterred, the sheriff sent me a text a few minutes later. I ignored it. Then curiosity got the best of me. I finally read the message. It looked like we weren’t going to get any time off.
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Author’s Note
Thanks for all the great reviews!
I’ve got more adventures for Tyson and JD. Stay tuned.
If you liked this book, let me know with a review on Amazon.
Hope you are well during this challenging time. Thanks for reading!
—Tripp
Tyson Wild
Wild Ocean
Wild Justice
Wild Rivera
Wild Tide
Wild Rain
Wild Captive
Wild Killer
Wild Honor
Wild Gold
Wild Case
Wild Crown
Wild Break
Wild Fury
Wild Surge
Wild Impact
Wild L.A.
Wild High
Wild Abyss
Wild Life
Wild Spirit
Wild Thunder
Wild Season
Wild Rage
Wild Heart
Wild Spring
Wild Outlaw
Wild…
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