Pineapple Pack III

by Amy Vansant

  “What an awful way to go,” said Declan. “How do you know all this?”

  “I’ve eaten fugu before. Prepared by a master, of course.”

  Charlotte stood with her mouth agape, imagining the horror of the A.D.A.’s death. She cleared her throat and tried to smile away her fear.

  “On the upside, I’m feeling better about the spiders.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “This is all too weird for me. I’m going to bed,” said Seamus, yawning. He poked a finger at his brother. “You and I will be having a long talk tomorrow.”

  Cormac grinned. “If by talk you mean another fist fight, I’m looking forward to it.”

  Seamus snarled his lip and stormed down the hallway to the guest room he’d been occupying for months.

  Charlotte yawned as well. “I’ll call Butch and Andy and tell them I need them to move tomorrow morning. Hopefully I can convince them. I’ll tell them it’s Jamie’s idea.” She looked at Declan. “In the meantime, I think I’ll try and get some sleep. Tomorrow could be a big day.”

  Declan moved toward Charlotte and hugged her to him for longer than he meant to. Embarrassed, he let her go.

  She gave his hands a squeeze and then waved to his father. “Goodnight. Nice to meet you, Cormac. Even if you did accidentally try to kill me.”

  Cormac chuckled. “You too.”

  Charlotte shuffled toward the back of the house.

  “She’s a keeper,” said Cormac, glancing at Declan.

  Declan allowed himself a little smile. He felt tired. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t even want to fight anymore.

  “Do you need a place to stay?” he asked.

  Cormac seemed shocked he would ask. He looked at his watch. “It’s almost three now. I have a hotel at the beach, but I’d rather stick around here tonight if you don’t mind.”

  “No. That’s fine. I’ll get you a blanket.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll be awake. I need to make some calls and get the ambush ready. I can have some men move Andy and Butch by force if need be. Lot of moving parts to arrange in a couple of hours.”

  Declan nodded and headed toward his bedroom.

  “Maybe sometime tomorrow you’ll let me explain better,” called Cormac after him.

  Declan stopped and spoke without turning.

  “There’s nothing to explain. You abandoned us. Mom was alone. She ended up dead and you still didn’t come back.”

  “I didn’t know she was dead.”

  Declan turned. “But you knew she was missing.”

  “Eventually. Much later. I was undercover. I couldn’t check in on you very often. I had to—”

  Declan felt his anger flash. Turning on his heel, he took a step forward. “That’s just it. You didn’t. You didn’t have to. You chose to.”

  Cormac sighed. “You’re right. I didn’t want to leave you, but your mother and I weren’t getting along anymore. Best case scenario, my life with you was going to end up a string of weekend visitations anyway.”

  His jolt of adrenalin fading, Declan found himself exhausted again. He closed his eyes and held up a palm.

  “What’s done is done. Let’s just get through this thing. I need you to concentrate on keeping Charlotte safe.”

  “Charlotte will never be in harm’s way. But—” Cormac grimaced.

  “But what?”

  “I can’t say the same for your other girlfriend.”

  “Who?”

  “Stephanie.”

  Declan scowled. “Ex. Not other. Ex.”

  “Right. That’s what I meant. I have an idea for her.”

  “She can take care of herself.”

  “I suspect you’re right. But maybe not against one person.”

  Declan’s sleepy eyes widened. “Jamie?”

  Cormac nodded. “When we arrest Miles and get Stephanie released, I want to make it look like she was released for cooperating.”

  “For turning on Jamie?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Jamie will kill her. You know that.”

  “I do. That’s the point. She’ll want to do that personally.”

  Declan studied his father’s face. He didn’t look like a man who’d just come up with a good idea. No animation. No urgency. He looked like a man methodically working his way through a plan. One that had been in place a very long time.

  “This was your strategy all along, wasn’t it?”

  His father nodded.

  Declan frowned. “I don’t know if Stephanie will agree to it. Her relationship with Jamie is complicated. She both hates her and longs for her approval.”

  “That’s where you come in. She listens to you. I need you to talk her into helping us.”

  Declan stared at the ground and traced a line on the tile with his toes.

  Now it makes sense.

  He looked up at Cormac. “That’s why you’re here. So you could use me to manipulate Stephanie?”

  Cormac shook his head. “What? No—”

  “How did you get this case in the first place? Because they discovered your son had dated Jamie’s daughter?”

  “No, I mean that’s possible but—”

  “Did the undercover gig that kept you from me as a child just end last week?”

  Cormac’s brow knit. “No, it’s been over for years—”

  “So you’ve been free to visit me for years, but you still didn’t come until you needed me to work on Stephanie?”

  Cormac’s posture deflated until he resembled a week-old balloon. “Look, I didn’t know if you’d even want me to show up.”

  Declan pressed his lips into a tight line, staring at his father, before turning to head for bed.

  “There was only one way to find out, coward.”

  Chapter Thirty

  I don’t know how stupid they think I am.

  Miles hung up the phone and looked at the cracked face of his watch.

  Two forty-five a.m.

  That didn’t give him a lot of time to prepare. He’d told Jim he’d be ready to rig the girl’s car at eight a.m., but he knew a trap when he saw it. All they had to do was watch the car. If he got within twenty feet of that car they’d jump him.

  FBI Man thinks he’s so smart.

  Miles chuckled.

  So smart he told me about the new safe house.

  Miles raised his binoculars as the bedroom light extinguished in the house he’d been watching. The girl, her stupid fluffy dog, the boyfriend, and two old guys, one he expected was Jim, were inside.

  Jim never had any intention of taking down Jamie. If he did, he never would have fired me. Jim was scared.

  She’d probably paid him off.

  I knew it.

  Miles didn’t have time for traitors.

  He put down the binoculars and turned the ignition key of the enormous truck he’d stolen.

  “You’re all going to die tonight.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Declan and Charlotte lay in Declan’s bed on their sides, facing each other. The moonlight fingered through window blinds enough for her to see his eyes.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. Her eyelids felt dry and heavy, but she couldn’t decide if she wanted to steal an hour of sleep or power through. Her mind raced with everything they’d talked about. How could she sleep with so much going on?

  Declan smiled. “I’m fine.”

  Charlotte let a few more seconds of silence tick by.

  “Because I’m here if you want to talk about anything.”

  “I know. I’m fine.”

  “I know.” Charlotte took a deep breath. “You know what’s funny?”

  “What?”

  “I’m nearly thirty and I still can’t help thinking what Mariska would think about the fact I’m sleeping in your bed.”

  Declan chuckled. “I think she’d be okay with this.”

  “Because she likes you?”

  “No, because there’s a Soft-coated Wheaten wedged between us with her butt
in my face and her paws pressed against you.”

  Charlotte giggled. Abby lay upside down in the bed between them, her back paws pressed hard against her, one on her chest and the other firmly planted in the notch of her throat.

  “She’s like a furry chastity belt.”

  “And even without her we’ve got my long lost father and my uncle in the next rooms so Mariska has nothing to worry about.”

  “No, hanky-panky.”

  “Definitely not—”

  The sound of glass breaking made all three of them jump. Abby burst into a barking jag as Charlotte grabbed the dog to keep her from leaping out of bed. She looked to the window in time to see what appeared to be a huge black tube thrusting through the broken glass of Declan’s window. There was the roar of an engine and Charlotte felt hot air strike her face. She squinted and turned away.

  “What is it?” she screamed over the howl of the engine. It sounded as if a tractor trailer had parked just outside Declan’s window.

  Before Declan could answer, a shower of black spat from the tube’s gaping maw into the room.

  At the open bedroom door, Seamus and Cormac appeared. Each running from a different direction, they nearly collided in the hall.

  “Outside!” she heard Declan scream at them and the two men bolted for the front door.

  Abby leapt from Charlotte’s arms toward the window, Charlotte flailing, too late to stop her.

  “Abby!”

  Charlotte swung her legs over the bed to reach for the Wheaten, but Declan’s hand slithered around her waist and jerked her back into the bed.

  “Don’t get out!” he barked. He’d shifted into soldier mode.

  Charlotte watched Abby land on the low dresser beneath the broken window, scrabbling to keep her balance. Quick as a ferret, she squirmed between the invading black tube and the jagged pane to disappear outside.

  No!

  Charlotte heard a man outside yell over the sound of roaring machinery. She turned to Declan.

  “I have to get Abby!”

  Declan’s face stopped her from moving. His jaw was clenched, his eyes wide and wild as he pointed past her toward the tube.

  Charlotte followed his arm and for the first time really saw the substance spewing from the flexible pipe in the window.

  What she’d thought was some sort of chunky black dirt, didn’t act like dirt when it hit the ground.

  It moved.

  The floor pulsed with activity.

  It wasn’t dirt.

  Insects.

  Charlotte covered her mouth with her hand.

  The floor writhed with spiders, cockroaches, ants and larger bits she suspected might be scorpions. It was hard to make out the bodies in the dim light, and that only made everything more horrifying.

  The cockroaches felt out of place. Certainly cockroaches couldn’t kill them? They’d joked about it earlier in the evening. Yet, somehow their creeping brown bodies arose in her the most panic. They certainly added to the vileness of the horde. They moved faster than the other bugs. Perhaps Miles had meant them to be herders, pushing his victims toward the slower but more deadly members of the battalion.

  Or maybe he just had a lot of cockroaches he didn’t know what to do with.

  Either way, they were surrounded. Declan and she sat on a mattress ark, adrift in a sea of multi-legged death.

  A loud boom! echoed nearby and Charlotte jumped.

  “Was that a gunshot?” she asked.

  Without answering, Declan reached over her to grab the bed sheets on her opposite side. Thanks to the Florida heat, even with air conditioning, they’d been lying on top of them, and she felt them tug beneath her as Declan pulled them over her and toward him.

  “Make a sushi roll!” he screamed over the engine.

  It took her a moment, but Charlotte came to understand his unusual request. They ate sushi together often. They always sat at the bar where they watched the chefs roll their food into neat little rice tubes. In this case, the sheets and top cover would be the seaweed wrapper and rice, and they would be the tuna stuffed inside.

  It was a brilliant plan, except for one thing.

  They were on the bed.

  They still had to drop to the floor.

  This is going to hurt…

  Together they rolled into the bed linens to create their human sushi roll, hoping the sheets would shield them from the insect army.

  “Hold on,” Declan said in her ear, his body pressed against hers. “You’re on the edge of the bed. I’m going to roll us off so I land first. Try to keep your skull from knocking out my teeth…”

  Charlotte whooped as she felt herself falling and stiffened her neck to keep her head from bouncing off Declan’s. They hit the ground with Declan taking the brunt of the fall. She heard the air escape his lungs.

  “We have to roll out the door.”

  Rolling and scrunching like an inch worm, they worked their way through Declan’s bedroom door. Charlotte strained her neck to catch a glimpse of the bugs through the top of their roll and had to take a deep breath to quell her panic. Her arms were pinned to her sides like the piece of tuna she’d been reduced to. If any of those bugs started down their little linen tube from the top or bottom…

  Charlotte heard the sound of bodies crunching beneath them. Worse, she felt it.

  “So gross,” she muttered through gritted teeth as they folded their legs in to clear the doorway. They crumpled, rolled and stretched their way down the hallway toward the living room until they felt they were a safe distance away.

  “Unroll,” said Declan.

  Charlotte rolled with him until they were freed from the wrap. She leapt to her feet, jumping and shaking for fear something might be on her as Declan stood and did a similar dance. He half pushed her through the wide open front door, which hung at an angle, its doorknob missing.

  Charlotte used Declan’s friendly shove to gain momentum as she ran into the yard. She had to find Abby. In the clear, she stopped and surveyed the scene.

  A large truck sat feet from Declan’s bedroom window, where it had jumped the curb and left deep tire tracks in his front lawn. Printed on the side in bright coral and green colors, Tropical Landscaping shone beneath the glow of Declan’s front entryway lights. Near the foot of the truck, Seamus and Cormac hovered over a man lying prone on the ground. She realized the engine roar had stopped. The flexible pipe they’d seen in the bedroom snaked from the back of the truck before threading through the broken window. Abby sat a few steps away from Cormac, Seamus, and the unmoving man, her tongue lolling from all the excitement.

  Charlotte ran to her and began to inspect the dog for cuts. There were a few small streaks of blood on her front leg. She’d been lucky.

  “Stay back from the window,” said Cormac, a phone against his ear. “There are spiders and ants and—” He rolled his eyes so hard his head moved.

  She glanced up at the window and hefted Abby into her arms to move the dog to the relative safety of the curb, far away from any bugs falling from the truck.

  “Did Abby catch herself on that broken window?” asked Declan coming up beside her. He handed her his phone and she used the flashlight to inspect the Wheaten. After poking through Abby’s light tan fur, she was able to find the cut, but it wasn’t deep. She hugged Abby to her.

  “What were you doing? You can’t go jumping through windows,” she scolded.

  Declan cradled Abby’s snout and kissed her nose. “Are you okay, dummy?”

  Abby gave his cheek a few slurps.

  Charlotte rolled back to sit on the grass and then, thinking better of it, stood. “She seems okay. What just happened?”

  Declan straightened and put his hands on his hips.

  “It looks like Miles—”

  “Do we know it’s Miles?” she asked, interrupting.

  Declan looked at her as if she’d just asked if grass was green. “He just tried to kill us by pumping bugs into my house with a mulch shooter. I think it’
s safe to say that’s Miles.”

  Charlotte turned to the truck. “Is that what that is? A truck that shoots mulch?”

  “Yes. You never saw one before? The landscapers walk that tube around the plants and it pumps mulch from the tank so they don’t have to haul and place it.”

  “That’s pretty neat.”

  “Mm. I hate to break it to you, but the mulch shooter really isn’t the big news here.”

  She shrugged. “It’s still pretty neat. Great idea.”

  Declan put his finger under her chin and pointed her attention away from the mulch truck and toward the front door. “Anyway, to get back to us nearly being stung to death by insects, it looks like Miles tied a rope to the front door knob and secured it to that tree,” he said, nodding at the large palm in his front yard. “He was trying to seal us in with the bugs.”

  “That was the gunshot we heard. Cormac must have shot the knob off to get outside.”

  They turned to watch Seamus and Cormac drag Miles’ body from the back of the truck to the middle of the lawn. Charlotte guessed they were trying to keep him from being eaten by his own little monsters.

  “They should open up that guy’s skull for science,” said Seamus as he approached, clapping his hands together as if Miles had been dusty.

  Miles lay still, his hands now cuffed behind him. Cormac was barking orders to someone on the phone as he wandered out into the street to continue talking, undisturbed by bugs.

  “What did you see when you came out?” asked Declan. “Did Cormac shoot him?”

  Seamus hoisted up his pajama bottoms, his pale, bare chest glowing nearly as white as the gray hairs snow-capping his still-perky pecs. It was easy to see he’d been a bulldog scrapper as a younger man.

  How much had changed, really?

  “We found him like that, in a heap at the back of the truck. I think he fell and clipped his head on the bumper of the truck. He’s got quite a gash.”

  Declan nodded and Seamus waddled off toward Cormac on his thick, bowed legs, still trying to keep his thin pajamas from sliding off his non-existent butt.

  “Is he dead?” asked Charlotte, taking a step toward Miles. The large cut on his head glistened, matting his hair with blood.

  Charlotte gasped. “There’s Stephanie’s coral.” She pointed to the roadwork of red lines working their way around Miles’ neck, peeking above the stretched crewneck collar of his t-shirt.