by Tripp Ellis
"I don't want to take the mystery out of our relationship," I said, coyly.
"So, this is a relationship?"
"Sure. We have a relationship… You get in trouble, I get you out."
She sneered at me playfully.
The waitress returned. "Can I get you another round.?"
"Absolutely," I said.
"No. Two is my limit."
"Don't be a party pooper."
She looked at me flatly. ”Because I was loads of fun the other night…”
"True." I turned to the waitress. "She's cut off. But keep them coming for me."
Archer shot me a look. "I am not cut off. I am voluntarily choosing to moderate my consumption."
"Yeah, I'd rather you didn't pass out on me tonight." I said. "But you were kind of adorable when you were puking in the bathroom."
Her head fell into her hands, embarrassed. "Okay. What's it going to cost me to make that memory go away?"
"I'm sorry, I don't accept bribes. You just have to live with it."
"Are you sure there's nothing I can do to change your opinion of me?”
It was a loaded question.
"I could maybe think of a few things,” I said with a mischievous grin.
"Could you, now?" she replied with a flirty twinkle in her eyes.
Near-death experiences and traumatic events affect people in different ways. It pushes some people deeper into their shell. Some grow extremely fearful and seek to minimize risk. For others, it does quite the opposite. It brings them out, and they desire to experience all that life has to offer, knowing it may end at any moment. I think it affected Agent Archer in the latter.
Buy the time we got back to the Slick’n Salty, our lips were practically glued together.
We tumbled into the salon, peeling each other's clothes off, leaving a trail behind us. She looked even better out of the swimsuit than she did in it.
We tumbled around in bed, and let me tell you, she acted like this was the last time she might ever get laid.
When it was all done, we collapsed beside each other in a state of post orgasmic bliss. She slinked her body around me and stroked my chest. "I'm sure that was another bad judgment call, but it was a lot of fun."
"Yes it was," I said.
We basked in the afterglow for a moment.
The sound of the aft hatch squeaking broke me out of my stupor. I lurched up, grabbed my pistol, and advanced to the hatch of my stateroom.
Jen sat up in bed, fumbling for her weapon.
I pushed into the salon and almost had a heart attack. The air escaped my lungs, and I froze for a moment.
I lowered my weapon. I was relieved that the boat hadn't been infiltrated by a team of assassins. But I had mixed feelings about seeing Aria, in light of the current situation.
She smiled cautiously. "Hi?”
"What did I tell you about sneaking up on me?"
"Sorry, I forgot. I was just so excited and I wanted to surprise you."
"What happened to New York?"
She made a pouty face. "I missed you.”
She moved close, but she quickly sensed that something was wrong. "You don't look thrilled to see me."
"No. I am. It's just that…"
She peered around me and saw Agent Archer.
Her cheeks flushed. "Oh my God! I feel like such an idiot."
Her eyes brimmed, and she spun around and marched toward the hatch.
I chased after her and grabbed her arm. "Aria, wait. It's not what it seems."
She jerked her arm free. "You don't owe me any explanations,” she said, trying to sound detached.
"Wait. Just let me explain."
Aria marched into the cockpit, hopped the transom, and strolled down the dock.
I continued after her. "You were the one who dumped me! Remember?"
She stopped in her tracks and turned around. "I didn't dump you."
There was a long pause between us.
"You kind of did."
She took a few steps closer to me. "I didn't know what to do. My life was on hold. And my career was going down the tubes. And I didn't want you to have this obligation to me. Once I got back to New York, I felt like I made a big mistake. So I came back here. And you've moved on. Rather quickly, I see.“
"I haven't moved on. It—“
"You don't have to explain anything," she said, softly.
She was trying desperately to hold back tears, and failing. "I gotta go. I need some time. We'll talk later."
She turned around and stormed down the dock. By this time, Archer marched out of the salon.
I turned to face her and forced a smile. "You don't have to leave."
"Yes, I do. I need to salvage a little bit of my dignity.” She strolled by and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "It was fun, Tyson. Poor judgment on my part, but fun."
She spun around and marched toward Diver Down.
I let out a frustrated breath and clenched my fists and growled at the sky.
What lousy timing!
18
"Sounds like you got on the horse, and got thrown right back off," JD said, his voice crackling through the speaker on my cell phone.
"Something like that." I replied.
I had told him about the previous nights drama with Aria and Agent archer. I had tossed and turned most of the night and didn’t get much sleep. It was 9am the next morning, and I was still lying in bed pondering how I was going to untangle the mess.
"I don't know what I'm going to do. I’ve been calling Aria, but she won't answer. I don't know where she's staying. It's an absolute cluster fuck.”
"When I said get back on the horse, I didn't mean you should bang the FBI agent."
"Things happen."
"Well, pull yourself together. The judge signed off on a warrant to raid Carlos's place."
"Who's in on the raid?"
“Sheriff Daniels. SWAT. Unless you want to bring your FBI agent in on this?"
"No."
"Didn't think so."
"Let's go by the station, grab some vests, then take down this perp. It'll be just like old times.”
“Do we know where he’s at?”
“He’s been living with his girlfriend since his release."
JD hung up, and was at the marina within 20 minutes. He freaked the fuck out when he saw his boat. It was the first time he had seen it since the incident. His eyes widened, and he looked like he was going to have a seizure. His face twitched uncontrollably. "What the hell happened? You said a few bullet holes."
I shrugged dismissively. "What? That is a few bullet holes."
"A few hundred!” he exclaimed, incredulous.
"It could have been a lot worse. You’re lucky the damn thing didn't sink."
He glared at me.
"Hey, I'm not happy about this either. I live here, remember?"
"You know how much that's going to cost to fix?"
"You’ve got insurance, don't you?"
"That's beside the point."
"How long do you think it will take to fix?” I asked.
JD shrugged.
“It’s going to put me out on the street for a little bit,” I said, sounding pathetic.
JD’s eyes narrowed at me. “I don’t know if I want you staying at my place. My house might end up looking like this.”
"Fine. I'm sure I can find someplace else to stay," I said, moping.
JD grumbled to himself and shook his head. "Come on. Let's get out of here. We've got work to do."
We geared up at the station and headed to the location with the SWAT team. Carlos’s girlfriend had a small house on the west side of the island. According to her file, she'd been popped once on a small possession charge. She wasn't currently employed. It was my guess that she'd been living off cash that Carlos had stashed somewhere before his arrest. The house was in her name, but there was no doubt that Carlos paid for it.
We sat in the SWAT Tactical Response Van parked down the street from the tar
get’s house. I was already starting to sweat with the heavy bullet-proof vest on. I press checked my weapon and slipped an earbud into my ear canal so I could communicate with JD and the team.
Two SWAT officers advanced down the street, doing an initial recce of the house. They took infrared images of the house, and the live feed was pumped into the tactical vehicle, displayed on large-screen monitors. I watched several orange-red figures move about the house. Cooler colors were represented by blue.
“Looks like we’ve got three occupants total,” an officer said, his voice crackling in my ear.
“Are we sure Carlos is in there?” Sheriff Daniels asked.
“Reasonably confident, sir,” an officer responded.
Sheriff Daniels gave the nod, and we slipped out of the van and approached the house. The midday sun beat down hard. I advanced forward with the team, my weapon drawn, keeping it in a low ready position.
As we reached the property, the team split up, with several officers moving around to the rear. They all wore black tactical outfits with vests, helmets, and carried semiautomatic rifles.
JD and I took a position in front of the house, flattening our backs against the wall beside the door.
“I’ve got eyes on the target,” a voice crackled in my earbud. “Two men and a woman.”
“Are they armed?" Sheriff Daniels asked.
“Affirmative. I have a visual on a pistol holstered on the target’s waist. There are what appear to be several kilos of cocaine on the table.
"This should be fun,” JD muttered.
“Give me a signal when you’re in position,” Sheriff Daniels said
“Roger that. We are good to go.”
Daniels looked around at the team, then banged on the door. He yelled, “Sheriff’s Department. We have a warrant. Sheriff’s Department! We have a warrant!”
There was some commotion inside.
Daniels nodded to officers holding a battering ram. They advanced forward, ready to slam the end of the heavy metal ram into the door.
The door exploded, showering splinters of wood in all directions as a shotgun blast shredded the door.
We all took cover.
Looks like the occupants didn’t want any unwelcome visitors.
The SWAT team broke glass, scattering razor-sharp shards. They tossed in flash-bang grenades that exploded with a blinding flash, then filled the home with smoke.
There was shouting and an eruption of gunfire as the team stormed the house. We breached the front door, leapfrogging our way inside, clearing the area as we went.
The crackle of gunfire filled my ears. There were a few loud booms from the shotgun. Bits of sheet rock and gypsum exploded from the walls. My nostrils filled with the sharp smell of gunpowder. Muzzle flash flickered through the thick haze.
It was pure chaos.
Carlos’s girlfriend didn’t get too many shots off with the shotgun. The SWAT team peppered her full of bullets, her body jerking and twitching with each hit. Blood sprayed into the air, and she fell back to the tile. The shotgun clattered away as her sucking chest wound gurgled.
Several kilos of cocaine were stacked atop a table in the living room—Carlos had apparently resumed operations.
He retreated down the hallway and ducked into a bedroom. He angled his weapon around the doorframe and squeezed off a few rounds. The muzzle flash illuminated the corridor.
Bullets snapped in all directions.
Smoke filled the hallway.
An officer fired several rounds into the sheetrock by the door Carlos hid behind.
A few seconds later, Carlos slumped to the ground, and his pistol tumbled from his hand, sliding into the hallway. The bullets had blasted through the gypsum and into Carlos’s thoracic cavity. Blood flowed from the wounds.
The tactical squad advanced, clearing the area. One of them yelled, “Target acquired,” as he reached Carlos’s body.
Carlos twitched and convulsed as the last breath escaped his lungs.
I cringed, knowing we would never get any answers about why he killed Kingston.
If he killed Kingston.
I advanced down the corridor, and angled my weapon into another bedroom. There was a wide-eyed man in the corner with his hands up, displaying a badge. He had shaggy hair and a scruffy beard and looked like a beach bum. “FBI. Don’t shoot.”
19
“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” the shaggy haired FBI agent snarled. He looked like a rabid dog, frothing at the mouth. The veins bulged in his neck.
We were back at the station in a debriefing room. We gathered with Sheriff Daniels, along with the SWAT team. This was supposed to be a victory celebration. Instead it turned into a tongue lashing.
“We were just doing our job,” Sheriff Daniels protested.
“Did you ever think to confer with the FBI on this?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I had to ask your permission for every suspect we arrest,” Daniels snarked.
“I’ve been working undercover for six months, trying to work my way up the food chain. Carlos just got out of prison, and he was hungry to get back in the game and prove himself a good earner for the Rey Rojo cartel. This was the second buy I had made from him in the last two weeks, and I was getting closer to an introduction to the higher ups. Now that’s never going to happen.”
Agent Archer stepped into the briefing room. We exchanged a glance that was full of tension. There were a lot of things to be discussed.
“Maybe you should have informed us of your operation?” Daniels said.
“We’re pretty sure we have an internal problem,” Archer said. “These cartels are getting assistance from the inside. We couldn’t take the risk. This operation was strictly on a need to know basis.”
“Then no one is at fault here. So take your bitching somewhere else,” Daniels said, red in the face. “My men did a fantastic job today. And I will not have you coming in here and disparaging our work.” He took a deep breath. “I think that concludes our debrief for the day.”
He stormed out of the briefing room. The squad of tactical officers followed. JD flashed me a wary glance, anticipating some heated discussions between Archer and me.
“You two jackasses stay out of my way,” the shaggy FBI agent grumbled as he stomped out of the room.
Archer followed.
I pushed away from the table and chased her into the hallway. “Agent Archer, do you have a minute?”
She stopped reluctantly, spun around, folded her arms, and sighed. “Yes, Deputy?”
“In private.”
We stepped back into the briefing room, and JD waited in the hallway. I closed the door behind us. There was a long moment of silence.
“I understand why you didn’t say anything about your sting,” I said. “Operational security and all. I get it.”
“There certainly were a lot of things that you failed to tell me,” she said, snidely.
“I didn’t know we were going to raid Carlos’s place until this morning.”
There was a long uncomfortable pause.
“You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend either.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“So, she was just a crazy stalker that showed up out of nowhere?”
“We broke up. I didn’t know she was coming back into town.”
“Whatever. It’s none of my business,”she said, trying to act dispassionate, but failing. She changed the subject again. “I guess you can chalk today up as a win.”
“Not really. I still don’t have definitive proof of who killed Kingston. But there is one less scumbag on the street.”
“Is that all? Can I go now?” she asked in a sassy tone.
“What else are you not telling me?” I asked.
“Hmm, let’s see. Oh, yeah… nothing.”
My eyes narrowed at her.
“What? I don’t have a boyfriend. Everything I’ve told you has been the truth. Except maybe the part that you were g
reat in bed. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
She gave me a sympathy pat on the way toward the door.
“You’re a terrible liar,” I said.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said as she grabbed the door handle.
“What’s your connection to Kingston?”
She paused, then turned around. She grimaced as she thought about it for moment. Then she came clean. “He was a CI.”
“And you didn’t think it was important to tell me that he was a Confidential Informant?”
“He would give us tips from time to time.”
“Is that why Carlos came after him?”
She shrugged. “Who knows?”
Archer spun around and left the briefing room. The fruity smell of her shampoo lingered in my nostrils. I clenched my jaw in frustration.
JD snickered when I stepped back into the hallway.
I gave him the side-eye. “So, what’s next?”
“Happy hour is next. The perp is dead. We have no leads. This one goes unsolved. It will end up on one of those cold case TV shows in 20 years.”
“Not acceptable,” I said. “I’m not letting this one go.”
“When have you ever let anything go?” JD muttered.
20
The sushi was half-price during happy hour at Blowfish. I’m usually always leery of discounted sushi, but Blowfish was the best on the island. It was an upscale joint. The stunning waitresses wore skintight bodysuits with low-cut necklines and fishnet leggings.
“Are you sure it’s safe to eat here?” I asked.
I wasn’t asking because I had concerns about the quality. The last time we were here, JD hooked up with one of the waitresses. Depending on how he left things, there was a possibility our food could be contaminated.
“Would you relax? There is no cause for alarm.” Then he caught a glimpse of the waitress across the restaurant. “Oh shit. Keep your head down. It’s Kaylee.”
I grumbled under my breath. “She’s going to spit on our food.”
“Nonsense. We’re sitting at the bar. We can see it from beginning to end.”
Kaylee strolled past us and put a hand on JD’s shoulder. “The 80s called. They want their hair back.”
