by Joe Gazzam
As I got older there were other things that seemed odd. He was overly obsessed with his military background. He kept disarmed bombs in our garage along with a strange collection of “retired” military weapons as souvenirs. Our bookshelves were decorated with inactive grenades and RPGs. He’d regularly traveled for work, but back then it seemed normal. Manufacturers were overseas. Then there was the time I stayed home sick and he had to stop by work. He’d made me wait in the car because special security clearance was needed to get inside. At the time I didn’t question it. Though I couldn’t imagine other appliance companies requiring any kind of security clearance to enter the building.
But that was Dad. Most of the time he cooked and kept the house organized, did crosswords and watched the news. Just like any other single parent.
“No,” I finally answered. “I mean, it makes sense now, looking back, but I had no idea.”
“Me either. It’s so...I just can’t imagine him killing people. I feel like our whole life was a lie. I didn’t even know him.”
“It wasn’t a lie. He’s still Dad. He still loves us. That’s the reason he kept it all from us.”
Mitch bit his cheek and gazed into the surface of the table. “So, what’s your plan again?” he asked.
“Get Nefasto alone. Force him to tell us where Dad is or Castillo.”
“Yeah, but Castillo’s guys will be armed, including Nefasto. We don’t know how many guys will be there or what the environment will be like. It could be hard to isolate and grab him.”
The subtle drone of a car driving by outside tempered the quiet room as I thought.
“What if we let the deal go down and follow Nefasto until he’s alone?”
“I like it,” Mitch said. “But...he’s a cop, won’t he be good at spotting a tail? We lose him, we’re screwed.”
I nodded, trying to come up with something else.
Mitch’s eyes ticked back and forth, as if all the variables were spinning like a roulette wheel inside his head. Finally, he pulled out his iPhone. “It’s got GPS and a tracking app. We put this in his car and we don’t have to physically track him at all.”
“That could work,” I brightened, actually hopeful. “But isn’t it dead?”
Mitch smiled. “The first thing I bought when we went shopping for the club was a phone charger.” He stood and pulled it from an outlet behind the couch. “We also need to pinpoint the location of the deal,” he said, plugging it in.
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my bare thighs. “Maybe if we use Google maps we can zoom in and figure out what the dock looks like.”
“You think we should ask Andy if he knows anything about the location that might help us?”
Andy. I shot to my feet, pinning my hair back with my hands. “Shoot!”
“What?” Mitch asked.
“Jorge arrested me at Andy’s shack. If he told Nefasto about seeing us together, they’ll figure out he was Dad’s contact.”
Mitch’s mouth hung open for a brief moment as he connected the dots.
My heart beat faster. “I have to warn him.”
Grabbing a few bills from our roll of cash and the drug dealer’s gun from the kitchen drawer, I headed for the door, but stopped with my hand on the knob.
“What?” Mitch asked.
“I need you to write down your phone number,” I said, searching the kitchen for a pen and paper.
“Why?”
“I don’t have it memorized, and I don’t have my phone. They confiscated it from me at the police station. Write it down just in case things go wrong.”
“I’ll just go with you.”
“No. I’ll be fine, and I can move faster alone. Just stay here. No anxiety running or whatever.” He scribbled it down and gave me a worried look as I headed out. “Try to sleep and eat something,” I said over my shoulder.
Out on the busy street I stashed Mitch’s number in my back pocket and looked around for a place to buy food. The café from this morning seemed like my best bet. Eyes followed me as I made my way to the counter, and paranoia set in. Any one of them could rat me out to Castillo. I looked like a feral cat who’d just lost a fight. It was pretty obvious something was wrong.
I tapped my hand on the wooden table in time with my rapid pulse, willing them to hurry, and nearly ripped the burrito from the young server’s hand when it was done.
Heading down the sidewalk, I devoured oversized bites, trying to finish quickly. At this point, even eating was an annoying obstacle in my way. As I walked, the road ahead seemed so long. Everything felt too far out of my control. If Andy was okay, maybe he could help me think it all through. He knew the place better than I did.
Although the sun had set, the heat felt unrelenting. I wiped at my brow with the hem of my T-shirt as the light above me brightened and faded with each passing streetlamp. Soon, the city nightlife came alive, slowly becoming a cacophony of distant dance music, traffic sounds, and mulling crowds mixed together as I headed toward the beach.
Once Andy’s shack came into view, guilt pooled in my gut like a bullet wound. What if they’d already gotten to him? I should have pushed him away a long time ago. But the truth was, I was glad he’d helped us, and secretly I hoped he still would.
I scanned the coast. With a wave of relief, I spotted Andy on the mostly empty beach, packing up gear and loading it into a beat-up jeep. He closed up the back and slid behind the wheel.
“Hey,” I called before he could drive away.
Andy turned, defensive at first, but the moment he saw it was me his posture changed, and his features lightened with surprise.
“You...” His dark eyebrows and large lips lifted.
I stepped closer as he got out of the car. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pop out of nowhere,” I said. “I was so worried.”
Andy reflexively hugged me, which caught me off guard, but after a moment I let myself relax into his chest, thankful for the brief moment of comfort.
Toasted-coconut-scented sunscreen floated from his T-shirt as he pulled away. “I didn’t know if...” His words came spilling out in a quick burst. “I saw him, Jorge...and the van. I was waiting in the parking lot. I didn’t know if my being there would make it worse for you. Some of those guys work for Castillo. I was too late. I thought if I stayed at my hut, Jorge would come back for me, and I could...” His eyes found the scrapes and cuts I’d earned in the last few hours, taking in the state of my blood-spattered clothing, and his thumb gently brushed a gash on my shoulder. “Did he hurt you?”
“He’s dead.”
Andy let out a breathy laugh, but then realized I wasn’t joking. “Did you kill him?”
I shrugged. “It was him or us.”
He nodded his head too many times.
“Okay. Yeah. Okay,” he said, his cinched eyebrows revealing the depth of his concern. “Um...let me put this stuff away and I’ll drive you to the apartment. You should rest.”
I hopped into the passenger side without arguing.
“Is Mitch okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. He’s at the safehouse.”
“Good.”
He started the jeep and drove through traffic for a few minutes, then down an alley between two large concrete buildings. As he reached the end, he stopped in front of a storage garage.
“Listen,” I said, before he opened the door. I took a deep breath, summoning the courage to confess a reality that would very likely ruin his life. “There was a guy at the station named Nefasto. He works for Castillo, and he figured out who I was the minute he ran my prints.” Andy nodded at the grim truth as if he’d expected it. “Jorge is dead, but we don’t know if he told Nefasto he found me with you. If he did, it’s only a matter of time before they figure out you were my Dad’s contact. It isn’t safe for you to be out here.”
He surveyed the alley, and his eyes flickered to the rearview. “You’re probably right. But I’ve been waiting for this day. They’ve been toying with me long before I met you. It�
��s not your fault.”
He got out of the car and fumbled with a set of keys, then opened the storage unit.
“What do you mean, they’ve been toying with you?”
“Castillo and I have a history. Jorge was his man. They’ve been making my life hell for years, which is one of the reasons I was hoping to get out of the country. But he’s not exactly a guy you run from unless you have a way to cover your ass. He’s a weapons dealer. He knows people who can kill you all over the world, no matter where you go. I figured the CIA could help me out with that, which is why I volunteered to help your Dad.”
He flipped on the lights and I followed him through the door of his storage unit. Inside, it was filled with all of the equipment for his excursions: Zip-line gear, kayaks, scuba tanks, and diving gear.
He grabbed a large duffle bag from the corner, neglecting to unload the gear in the jeep, and threw it into the backseat.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” I asked.
“I told you I had my reasons for helping you.” He glanced at the bag he just threw into the car. “If they’re really looking for me, I have a place I was planning on hiding out. Let me take you and Mitch—”
“We can’t. I just wanted to make sure you were safe and knew you could be in danger.”
“Tara.” He stepped closer, and I felt myself tense up as he reached for my hand. “If you really did kill Jorge...you know they’ll be looking for you. They know who you are now, what you look like.” He must have surprised himself, because he glanced down at our touching fingertips and seemed hypnotized by the contact. “You need a truly safe place to hide out. Showing your face in this city is risky. Even if you stay near the safehouse. You don’t know who you can trust.”
“Okay,” I answered immediately. “If it’s not far, you can show me, then we can meet you there later if we need to.”
He looked at me with deep concern and squeezed my hand. “Why? What’s later?”
“We have a lead on one of Castillo’s weapons deals. We’re hoping one of his guys will lead us to him.”
Nervous energy reverberated between us and I let my fingers drop. There was no way to know what the next twenty-four hours would bring.
“How much time do you have?” he asked.
“Mitch and I need to be at the docks at dawn...”
As he looked up, the thought of kissing him was reckless and selfish, but I couldn’t pull my eyes from his lips.
Andy cleared his throat. “Then we should hurry.” He gestured to some scuba gear against the wall and turned to pick it up. “Do you know how to dive?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
AFTER USING ANDY’S PHONE to send a quick text to Mitch explaining the plan, the two of us jumped into his jeep and headed back toward the beach. He parked alongside a dirt road and we carried scuba equipment to a rickety wooden dock near a large cement slab cluttered with ghostly vehicles left to rust. Tied to the pier, several aluminum fishing boats with old outboard motors swayed and tugged against their ropes.
“Is this place underwater?” I asked as he helped me gear up with the proper scuba equipment.
“No. It’s just hard to get to. For a reason.”
Neither of us bothered with wetsuits, but the air tanks, masks and regulators were nonnegotiable. I pulled the large fish-bowl goggles over my eyes and nose.
“Okay, is that it?” I asked, my voice muffled and nasally. “If Mitch and I need to do this without you, I want to make sure I know what I’m doing.”
Andy couldn’t hold in his laughter.
“Yes.” He fitted his mask to his face causing his upper lip to stick out like a duck pout. “But we don’t have to wear the masks yet.”
I smiled and lifted it off my face. “Is there more equipment at the storage unit if we need it?”
He pulled his mask up too. “Yes, but I’ll leave your stuff in the boat when we’re done.”
Once we were ready, Andy led me onto a large beat-up speedboat with faded green fabric seating. He pushed us off, cranked up the motor and headed out to sea. With all that had happened I couldn’t help but appreciate the simple brush of wind on my skin or the way the dark water shimmered with gold flakes of moonlight. Warm air threw back the loose pieces of my hair and whipped gently at my clothes as I watched the shoreline, committing the route to memory.
Less than half a mile down the coast and a hundred yards from shore, Andy dropped a small anchor. He unlocked a storage compartment and dragged out two Underwater Sea Scooters. They were bright yellow, and a little over two feet long, resembling a fan with two handles. But, as I’d learned in the service, these things generated enough thrust to pull a body underwater at nearly five mph.
“Nice,” I said, impressed.
“And not cheap. Let me show you how to operate—”
“It’s okay. We used them for dive training.”
“Dive training?”
I almost forgot how little he knew about me.
“I was in the Marines.” I lifted up the short sleeve of my shirt revealing my tattoo. “Special forces...”
His eyebrows shot up. “You’re in the Marines?”
“I was in the Marines,” I corrected.
“Makes sense.” He smirked. “You’re not like most girls.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to decide if he meant it as a compliment.
“In a good way,” he clarified. “I like that you don’t let anyone push you around.”
“Thanks.”
Andy slipped on his scuba tank and helped me with mine.
“Okay, come on.” He hooked a waterproof bag of supplies from his duffle to the handle of one of the Sea Scooters and dropped both of them in the water. “Stay close and follow me.”
After pulling down his mask, he popped in his ventilator and jumped overboard. I did the same, the cool water making my muscles tense up at first. Soon it became comfortably tepid and I found Andy, who pushed one of the Sea Scooters toward me. He grabbed his, and as he twisted the throttle, it yanked him forward. I flicked on the Scooter’s headlamp and gunned it, following the wake of bubbles he left behind.
As we glided through the clear cool water, a group of silver fish materialized out of the dark blue limbo. They spread open and allowed us through. Andy pointed his Sea Scooter down, coasting close to the bottom, and I followed suit.
My headlamp swept past a large coral reef, and I took a moment to soak it in. It looked like a giant rainbow cloud of rock. Each cluster seemed to be a different color, bright blues, reds, yellows and greens.
After a few minutes, the shore became visible ahead. It was a clear horizontal line, except for one section where a small ocean inlet cut away the ocean floor, forming a river-like path. Andy led me toward it, and we passed through a cave-like opening. On the other side, shimmying above the water, a shadowed line of thick trees hovered over the inlet, like some ancient hidden passage.
Andy steered the propulsion device upward. I followed and quickly broke the surface, finding myself in a tiny lagoon, ringed with Mangrove trees. Their roots were a loosely tangled mess of sea snakes that reached for the water’s edge and the branches above were so densely interlaced that only thin silver threads of moonlight seeped in, as if the fabric of the sky was unraveling directly into the lagoon.
Andy removed his mask and I lifted mine onto the top of my head like sunglasses. For a moment we bobbed in the water, the quiet lapping of subtle waves and our breath the only sound in the quiet space. Andy swam closer, his lips and face wet with seawater.
“Here,” he said, guiding me to the edge with a hand on my hip. “I’ll help you out.”
I reached for a tree root and Andy hoisted me up onto the dirt. Once out, I turned and took Andy’s hand, helping to pull him onto the lifted shore. It was treacherous and beautiful.
“Pretty amazing hideout,” I admitted, squeezing water from my hair. Even in the warm tropical air, my wet clothes made me shiver.
“Come on.” Andy
unhooked his waterproof bag and took my hand. “I’ll light a fire.”
It was obvious he came here a lot. A small stone circle fire pit was already set up, the center filled with ashes. Tangled loose branches and thick broken logs sat clustered to the side along with a small black plastic container I assumed was for a lighter and other essentials.
I sat on the firm ground near the fire pit. “This is so—” my voice caught in my throat as Andy removed his wet shirt and threw it on a rock. “Cool...” I finished, noticing a scar that ran from his abdomen around the lower section of his back.
“How’d you get that?” I asked, forcing myself to look away.
Andy let out a breath and slipped into a fresh white T-shirt from the bag. “Castillo.”
My eyebrows lifted in shock. When he’d said they had history, I didn’t imagine it being so intimate. “I can see why you hate him.” More questions lingered on my lips, but I chose not to ask, hoping he’d decide on his own to tell me what happened.
“He’s an easy man to hate.” Andy reached behind a large rock and pulled out another black duffle. “Here,” he said, unzipping the bag and throwing me a faded blue T-shirt with palm trees on the front. “I’ve been bringing clothes and things here in case they come for me.”
Guilt kept me quiet.
Without my needing to ask, he turned his back so I could change. I peeled off my wet shirt, slipping the soft dry cotton one over my damp body.
“So, what’s your history with Castillo, anyway?” I asked, unable abate my curiosity. “You said they’ve been toying with you. Why?”
Andy collected dry tree roots and branches from his wood pile for the fire, taking a moment before he answered.
