Wild Venom: A Coastal Caribbean Adventure (Tyson Wild Thriller Book 31)

by Tripp Ellis

  My eyes narrowed at her, and my face crinkled.

  Buddy trotted back to the settee, jumped up, and curled beside her. She stroked his fur with a small grin on her face.

  Traitor.

  She wore a tight black dress and stilettos. Her long, sumptuous legs drew the eye.

  "What are you doing here, and how did you get in?"

  She scoffed. "Please. There is no lock that can resist my charm."

  She grabbed a manila envelope and tossed it on the hi-lo table.

  "What's this?" I asked, snapping up the envelope.

  "What you asked for.”

  I unclasped the folder and pulled out the contents. There were several pictures of Elias Fink eating at a sidewalk café in Caracas. The images had been taken with an extremely long telephoto lens. There were close-ups and wide-angles. It was clearly the infamous terrorist.

  "How do I know these are recent?"

  "Look at the date on the billboard in the wide-angle shot."

  I studied the image of the bustling city street filled with cars and pedestrians. Buses and mid-rise buildings. Weeds sprouted from the medians and looked like they hadn’t been tended to in ages. Nature was attempting to reclaim the urban sprawl that was in decay due to the economic and political turmoil.

  There was a vertical billboard on the side of a building advertising a Latin pop music star with the dates of her upcoming show a week from today. "How do I know this wasn’t manipulated?"

  Sophia rolled her eyes. "You're going to have to trust me at some point."

  "Trust, but verify. Send me the original digital images, if you have them."

  She grabbed her phone, and her svelte fingers danced across the keyboard, clicking and clacking. She sent a handful of images that buzzed my device a moment later. I forwarded them to Isabella. She could analyze them for authenticity and digital manipulation.

  "How did you get these?"

  Sophia smiled. "I have a source. And my source followed him back to an apartment. I have the address, if you want it."

  "I do."

  She texted it to me, and again I forwarded it to Isabella.

  "Time is of the essence," Sophia said. "He might not be there for long. We need to move fast."

  "I need confirmation first."

  "And once you get it, then we'll go down and kill him?"

  "That will be up for discussion."

  She smiled. "At least that's a start."

  She pressed her full lips against the glass and finished the last of the whiskey. She held it out to me and wiggled the glass, demanding more.

  I stood there for a moment, glaring at her.

  She arched her eyebrow and wiggled her glass again. "Where are your manners? You should be thanking me. I'm bringing you valuable information."

  I sighed and stepped forward, taking the glass from her hand. Our fingers touched for an instant.

  I moved to the bar and poured us both a drink, then returned and handed her a full glass. She lifted it to toast. "To taking care of our problem."

  I reluctantly clinked glasses. We both sipped our beverages.

  "You know, that's one thing I like about you—you don't drink cheap whiskey."

  "It's the simple pleasures," I said.

  A naughty sparkle flickered her eyes. "Speaking of pleasure. How about we consummate our new partnership? For old time’s sake."

  "As I recall, last time I ended up in bed with you, you tried to kill me."

  "At least you had a good time."

  My eyes narrowed at her. "And you killed my friend, Quinn. The only reason you're not dead right now is because—"

  "Because I saved your ass, and you need me."

  I frowned at her.

  "And you want me. You can't deny it." She arched her torso, showing off her luscious endowments.

  They were compelling features.

  "Finish your drink and go before I decide to arrest you or worse."

  She made a pouty face. "You don't really want me to go, do you?"

  "Yes, I do. I'd like to get a good night’s sleep."

  "Who needs sleep?"

  I continued to scowl at her.

  "What if I told you I didn't kill Quinn Palmer."

  “Liar.”

  "I'm not lying."

  I rolled my eyes.

  "Elias hired multiple hitters. Someone else got there first. I tried to take credit. Sue me."

  "A likely story."

  "Think about how Quinn’s boyfriend was killed. He was hanging from a noose when they found him. You think I really had the strength to hoist him up on the rafters all by myself?"

  "And what about the shots you took at me in the hospital parking lot?"

  She gave a quick shrug. "Okay, that was me. But I missed, didn't I?"

  I sneered at her.

  "How about we start over? I'm sorry I tried to kill you. I promise I won't do it again. What can I do to make it up to you?"

  I trusted Sophia Breslin about as far as I could throw her. I figured I could manage to throw her overboard, and that was about it. I probably should have done it.

  "If you didn't kill Quinn Palmer, who did?"

  “I got myself into the hotel room next door. I climbed across the balcony to her room, and she was already dead. I swear. Elias’s other hitter had gotten there first, just like with the other targets. It was starting to piss me off. So, I started tracking him. Sometimes the hunters forget they can also be hunted."

  "Are you trying to tell me you hit the hitman?"

  "I'm not stupid enough to admit to a deputy that I killed someone. So I'm not going to say that. But if you need proof of death, I might be able to tell you where you could find the remains."

  "How convenient."

  "It's part of the reason Elias is so pissed off at me. Not only did I botch the job of killing you, I… Well, you get the picture."

  “Where can I find the remains of said hitman?”

  19

  "Why?” Sophia asked. “So you can arrest me?"

  "I think I’ve already got enough reason to arrest you,” I replied.

  "And yet you haven't," she said with a sassy eyebrow.

  "The night is young."

  She laughed.

  "You should leave before I change my mind."

  She took another swig from her glass, draining the last of the whiskey. She set it down on the table, then stood up and sauntered toward me like a jungle cat stalking her prey. Her hungry eyes were locked onto mine. She stepped close and whispered in a velvety voice, "I'm not as bad as you think I am."

  Her lips hovered inches from mine.

  "Yes, you are."

  She smirked and pushed away from me, heading toward the salon door. "Good night, Deputy Wild."

  Buddy followed her to the door, and I held onto his collar so he didn't dart out.

  “Bye, Buddy," she said.

  He barked.

  Sophia blew me a kiss and strode across the aft deck to the passerelle, her high heels clacking.

  “I want my tender back,” I shouted.

  She ignored me.

  I slid the salon door shut and locked it—not that it would keep her out. I just shook my head as I watched her strut down the dock.

  I looked at Buddy in dismay. "How could you?"

  He looked up at me with sad, pathetic eyes, tilted his head, and whimpered slightly.

  "I know, I know. She does have a certain quality."

  He barked again.

  I climbed up to the bridge deck and stepped into my stateroom. I settled into bed for the evening and woke with the sunrise, amber shafts blasting in.

  I yawned and stretched and wiped the sleep from my eyes. Then grabbed the phone from the nightstand. There was no message from Isabella. No call from Nolan. Nothing.

  I got up, fixed breakfast, and took Buddy out for a walk. When I returned to the Avventura, I finally got a call with the bad news.

  "They haven't let her go," Nolan said. "There has been no contac
t from them, despite my repeated attempts at communication. I've been up all night. Have your people discovered anything?"

  "Unfortunately, no. But every agency is looking."

  "She's dead, isn't she?" he said, his voice quivering.

  "Let's not jump to any conclusions yet."

  "Why else wouldn’t they respond?"

  "We still have to consider the possibility that they never had Eva in their possession."

  "Then where is she?"

  "Maybe she was seeing someone else besides Liam. Maybe she ran off."

  Nolan was silent for a moment.

  "I'm not going to sugarcoat things,” I said. “Something could have gone wrong. She could very well be dead. But until we know that for certain, we need to hold onto hope."

  "I don't have much of that at this point."

  "I understand. It's possible she has been released in a remote location and doesn't have access to a phone."

  "What if Liam killed her? What if she broke it off with him like I asked her to do? Maybe he got mad. Maybe he killed her because he couldn't be with her."

  "I don't think we can rule anything out yet. We will continue to pursue all avenues."

  "I know you're doing your best."

  "Is there anyone else you can think of that we should be looking into?"

  "I'm going to put you in touch with Natalie Conroy. She's the head of our Trust and Security team for the platform. She would be aware of all of the online threats."

  "She would have been a handy person to talk to sooner."

  "I'm sorry. In all the chaos, I wasn't thinking clearly. She's the one who coordinates the threat reports and sends them to the security detail. I’ll send you her contact info.”

  He did so after hanging up.

  I called Natalie Conroy and introduced myself.

  "Deputy Wild, thanks for getting in touch. Nolan said you would be contacting me."

  "I wish I would have talked to you sooner."

  "Agreed. Sometimes Nolan is a little scatterbrained. And I can’t imagine the stress he's under currently."

  "Have there been any online communications or threats that you think could correlate to Eva's kidnapping."

  "We get more online threats than you could possibly imagine, and more than Nolan knows about."

  "You keep information from him?"

  "No. We minimize the amount of noise that he has to deal with to keep his bandwidth manageable."

  "So, you are vetting and discarding low-level threats."

  "Yes. The ones we think are credible, we refer to the security detail. They vet them even further. Nolan doesn't need to spend his time worrying about things that should be the focus of the security detail. Nolan's focus is to steer the ship so that we all move in the right direction."

  "Does anything stand out?"

  "We’ve received thousands of threats. We deplatform users for incorrect speech."

  “Incorrect?"

  "Offensive. As you can imagine, that makes some people quite angry."

  "I would imagine so."

  "We've gotten bomb threats at the office. Vandals have broken windows. Cars have been damaged in the parking lot, and property has been defaced with spray paint."

  "You’re a global platform. What about terrorist organizations and cartels?"

  "We have advanced detection algorithms that scan private message content for potentially illegal activity—child pornography, drug trafficking, terrorist activity. If the algorithm flags something, it is reviewed by an actual person and brought to a safety committee. From there, we make a decision on whether or not to notify law enforcement."

  "What about user privacy?"

  "There is a balance between privacy and security."

  “Have you made any recent reports to law enforcement?”

  20

  “I gave this information to Liam several months ago,” Natalie said. “Was this not given to you?”

  “Liam is no longer part of the team,” I said.

  “I know, but I assumed Jason would have been aware. We turned over the private messages that led to the arrest and conviction of 15 members of the Falcon Syndicate including the head of the organization, Felix Ramos. I believe the arrests took place in Pineapple Bay in coordination with local law enforcement and the DEA."

  "I remember hearing something about that, but it wasn't made public that Flutter cooperated with law enforcement," I said.

  "We like to keep those details out of the press. As you can imagine, it undermines user confidence."

  "I would imagine so. Are there any other similar incidents I should be aware of?"

  "That's the most recent and most notable. I can send you a summary of all our threat assessments over the last six months."

  "That would be extremely helpful."

  I gave her my email address and thanked her for the information. I ended the call and dialed Isabella. “What can you tell me about Felix Ramos and the Falcon Syndicate?"

  Her fingers danced across the keyboard. “Real nice guys. Drug trafficking, human trafficking, kidnapping, extortion, racketeering… Should I go on?"

  "I think I get the picture."

  "Felix Ramos is currently serving a life sentence, as are several other members of the organization. According to my information, Felix’s son, Javier, has taken over the syndicate. You think this has something to do with the Orton kidnapping?”

  “Seeing how the people at Flutter notified law enforcement of the gang’s activity, I’d say Eva’s kidnapping could be motivated by revenge.”

  “Felix is currently in a holding pod at the Pineapple Bay Detention Center awaiting transfer to the state penitentiary,” Isabella said. Her fingers tapped the keys again. “Javier lives on a boat in Pirates’ Cove. I’ll see if he’s got a cell phone that’s trackable.”

  “Let me know what you find out.”

  “I will.”

  “Were you able to determine the authenticity of the photos I sent you?”

  “They don’t appear to be manipulated. I’m trying to get eyes on Elias for confirmation. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.”

  I ended the call and rang JD. I filled him in on the situation.

  "What do you want to do?”

  "I don't want to tip Javier off,” I said. “If he has kidnapped Eva and we go snooping around, that might spell bad news for her."

  “I’ve got bad news for you. I think she's dead already. I think something went wrong. Maybe one of the captors got a little aggressive, who knows?”

  "Let's try to stay positive,” I said. “I’ve got Isabella trying to track his phone. With any luck, she can intercept his calls. In the meantime, I say we go over in the surveillance van and see what we can find out."

  "You know how much I love a stakeout," JD said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  I told him I’d meet him at the station. I grabbed my helmet and gloves and hustled down the dock to the parking lot. I straddled my bike and cranked up the engine, twisting the throttle a few times. The exhaust growled a sweet note.

  I eased out the clutch and rolled out of the parking lot. When I turned on the highway, I let her rip, running through the gears.

  The sportbike was pure exhilaration. It was a top-of-the-line, 1000cc crotch rocket. It was one step removed from a MotoGP bike. Blistering speed and superb handling.

  I hugged the tank, and the wind whistled my ears as I blazed down the road at more than twice the legal limit.

  I had a get out of jail free card, and I abused it from time to time.

  A few moments later, I pulled into the parking lot at the station. JD joined me in his Miami Blue Porsche not long after.

  The surveillance van was still wrapped to look like a plumbing company—Dr. Drippy’s Pipe and Drain. We updated the disguise with a new vinyl wrap from time to time. Nobody ever pays attention to maintenance vehicles.

  We recruited one of the tech guys for the mission. Crenshaw was always eager to get out of the off
ice and into the field. He’d gone on a few of our stakeouts before and had gotten a taste for the intelligence-gathering aspect of it. He was a good guy but was well versed in all the hacker tricks.

  We all hopped into the van, drove over to Pirates’ Cove, and parked in the lot. I climbed into the back with JD and Crenshaw.

  There were large flatscreen displays, and the van was outfitted with a high-definition camera and a slew of surveillance toys.

  "So what's the plan?" Crenshaw asked.

  21

  Pirates’ Cove was filled with sport-fishing boats, small sailboats, speedboats, and a few motor yachts. Some were on the larger side, but you didn’t see a lot of 140-footers here. It was a mid-level marina that lacked the upkeep and amenities of the more prestigious locations.

  From our location in the van, we had a line of sight on Javier’s boat, The Bandit. Probably not the smartest thing for a gangster to name his boat. It was an older 45-foot sport-fish. A nice boat but not too flashy for a gangster. He was trying to fly under the radar, living in Pirate’s Cove. But he wasn’t doing a good job of it, sending mixed signals with the boat’s moniker.

  “I need ears on that boat,” I said.

  “So, you want me to do illegal shit?” Crenshaw asked, almost eagerly. A sly grin tugged his lips.

  “We need to find out if he’s got any involvement in the kidnapping,” JD said. “If he doesn’t, we move on.”

  A call from Isabella interrupted the discussion. “Looks like Javier has gotten smart. He doesn’t have a cell phone in his name.”

  “If I get you his position, can you triangulate a burner phone in the same location?”

  “If it’s turned on.”

  “Ok, hang on.” I slid open the door to the van and stepped out. “Can you track my phone?”

  I heard her fingers run across the keyboard. “Ok, I’ve got you.”

  I pulled the door shut and walked across the lot with the phone to my ear. I casually strolled the dock until I was standing in front of The Bandit.

  "It's just in front of me to the north. I'm 5 feet from the stern.”

  I kept walking so it wouldn't be too obvious. From my reference point, Isabella was able to calculate the GPS coordinates of the boat. She could then look for devices that were pinging the cell tower at that position.