by Scott Cook
When you stepped back and took a look at things with a bird’s eye view, it seemed an impossible task. And yet… and yet I seemed to always find the threads, one way or another. I couldn’t really tell you why or how. I’d like to think it was at least in some small part skill and experience. However, I also had to admit that luck was definitely a player as was instinct. An instinctive… or perhaps an intuitive… understanding of how these things worked. Of how the bad guys thought and how they’d act and react.
Whatever the reason, I somehow managed to find my way to the center of the web. That was all fine and dandy… but at the heart of the web lurked the spider. And if one were not careful, one would end up a dried up and bloodless husk.
The lower forward section of the boat featured two staterooms and a head. The forward stateroom was the master and the one on the port side a smaller one with a Pullman berth. The head was small but featured a separate shower and toilet area. It was while I was poking around the master stateroom that a thought occurred to me.
If you lifted the companion stairs that led up to the galley, you would gain access to a hatchway that led down into the engine room. This large space, mostly dominated by two big diesels, would be a fine place to hide contraband. If there was anything to be found, it’d probably be down there. It’d have to be, as I found nothing in either stateroom or the head. This thought had just formed when I heard a creaking sound from the top of the short corridor and then steps behind me. I groaned inwardly as I realized that I should’ve checked the engine room first.
Two men were crammed together in the narrow passage. They were short and stocky and reminded me of the type of men I’d seen plenty of in Costa Rica not long before. Especially since they both held pistols trained on me.
“Buenos noches, amigos!” I said cheerfully and smiled big.
“It’s about to turn very unpleasant for ju, meng,” the man on the left said in an accent that was definitely Cuban. “Ju fucked up, madicon.”
I drew in a scandalized breath, “That’s a bad word!”
‘Let’s go,” The other man said in a heavy Spanish accent as well.
His seemed different, somehow. Although most Latin accents sounded similar, there were a few differences depending on region. Cubans, for example, had a certain intonation or cadence that was different from Puerto Ricans, for example, who sounded a little different than Mexicans or Central Americans. It was subtle, but you could pick up on it after a while.
“Nicaragua?” I asked him.
The man rushed forward into the room and tried to kick me in the gut. I managed to twist away, but still got a glancing blow. It wasn’t debilitating, but I played it up by umphing loudly and bending over a bit
“Move,” The Cuban man said, waving his gun suggestively.
His buddy was behind me now and the barrel of his pistol jammed hard into my lower back.
“Okay, okay,” I said pleasantly. “You don’t have to get fresh. I’s agoin’, I’s agoin’…”
“Pinche loco gringo…” The man behind me muttered.
The Cuban led me up into the saloon and I was waved into one of the armchairs. The second man sat across from me on the sofa and pointed his gun in my direction. The Cuban man pulled out a smart phone and sent a text. He then went and sat on the couch as well, making sure to leave a space between him and his compadre.
“Are you the two cabrones who broke into my grandparent’s house last night?” I asked.
The Cuban man said nothing but his friend’s brows rose in surprise. It wasn’t an admission of guilt, but it did indicate that they knew what I was talking about.
“How about Tavares yacht last night?” I asked. “That you guys?”
“We’re not here to answer jur questions, meng,” The Cuban guy growled.
“Oh… well, then I won’t keep you. Have a good night.”
“Shut your mouth, pendejo!” The other man barked, waving his gun at me.
I clucked at them, “Sticks and stones.”
The saloon door slid aside and Cooper Trent stood framed in it. He stared at me with an expression that seemed to hold a distinct note of malevolent pleasure.
“Oh, good,” I said. “Cooper is here to save me.”
Cooper came in and slid the hatch closed, “Hardly, asshole. I’m here to teach you a lesson, ya’ lousy fuckin’ snooper.”
“Oh yeah, Cooper?” I mocked. “You a tough guy, Cooper… Cooper… Jesus.”
“You need to learn once and for all what happens when you stick your nose where it don’t belong,” Cooper said nastily. “And I’m the guy’s gonna teach ya’.”
I scoffed, “Fine then. Let’s take it outside, Cooper.”
He laughed, “Oh, it’s not gonna go that easy for you, dick. Tie him up, boys.”
“Yeah, tie me up, boys,” I said nastily. “Otherwise I might be able to fight back and old Coopster here might get his wittle feelins’ hurt.”
Cooper scoffed, “Keep it up, asshole… keep it up.”
17
The two goons secured me. My ankles were tied and my wrists bound to the arms of the chair. Were I to be left alone, I was sure that given enough time, I could get free. The knotting was sloppy and I could still move my body. My ankles weren’t even secured to the chair, just to each other.
However, being left alone was not the plan. Once I was trussed up, Cooper came to stand in front of me with a nasty sneer on his face.
“You ain’t so tough now, are ya’?” He asked.
“Oh, I’m still tough,” I mused. “Being tied up doesn’t make you weak, Cooper. It makes the man responsible weak… like you. Only a coward ties a man up so he can bitch slap him without fear of getting hit back. That what you are, Cooper? A little bitch?”
“Listen to this guy,” Cooper said to his henchmen or whatever they were. “How’s this for weak, fucker?”
He hauled back and drove a hard right hand into my left cheek. Although my mobility was limited, I had enough room to roll a bit with the punch. I snapped my head to the right and turned it so that the impact of the blow was lessened somewhat by deflection. It still stung, though.
I looked back up at him, “Pretty poor, really… still think you’re a pussy. How’s your hand, wise ass?”
I saw Cooper flexing the fingers on his right hand. A lot of guys made that mistake. The bones in the skull are thick and hard, with the exception of the jaw, which can more easily be broken. The bones of the fingers and Meta carpels are thinner and don’t absorb punishment as well. Only a fool slams his balled fist into a man’s head and thinks he’s doing any real damage.
“Lucky for you, you got a thick head,” Cooper mocked.
“What do you fellas think?” I asked the two Hispanic men watching the show. “Think a guy throwin’ a beatin’ on a man who’s tied up and can’t respond is a real man… or just un pequeña puta asustada?”
The Cuban man grinned but said nothing. The other one only shrugged.
“I got your little bitch!” Cooper barked angrily and swung for the fences again. He had no technique. That at least was something in my favor. Cooper was of average height and size, maybe five foot ten and about one-seventy. He was strong, though, with a lean muscular build and there was obviously a lot of anger behind those punches. At any rate, his first sent blood pouring from my nose. I didn’t think it was broken but it smarted. His next one I managed to lean into a bit and his already abused right hand slammed squarely into my skull just above my right ear. He clipped the ear a little, which stung like a bastard, but the howl of pain that erupted from him was more than worth the discomfort.
Unfortunately, in his now pain fueled rage, he threw another left hand and that one got my right eye socket. It’d be a gorgeous shiner for sure.
“Fuck!” he groaned, holding his more likely than not broken right hand.
“Dumb ass,” I chided him in a calm voice. “That’s what you get for being a coward. What’re you pissed off that I banged your girlfri
end first? Is that it? Worried that you’re little Vienna sausage… su la verga pequeño… just doesn’t measure up, huh sweetie?”
My Spanish translation drew bursts of laughter from the two goons. Either they didn’t work for Trent or they didn’t much care how he felt. Both men grinned at me with respect, I chose to believe.
“You… fuckin’… asshole!” Cooper seethed. “You better shut the fuck up.”
“Or what?” I asked. “You’ll break your left hand on me, next? Why don’t you untie me, Cooper, honey, and let’s fight like men. Y’know? Or are you just a scared little pussy who’s afraid to fight a man who’s not tied up?”
Cooper tried to bluster that out. He waved a hand at me and half turned to his friends, “You believe this fuckin’ guy? Hey, Jarvis, just so you know… I’ve been bangin’ Nikki for almost a year now. How long did she do you? Couple of weeks? She tells me she never had it so good. Says she enjoyed faking her death just to fuck with you. To make up for how shitty you are in bed.”
I made a rude noise and laughed, “Blah, blah, blah… Whatever gets you to sleep at night, thumb boy. But hey, maybe you’re right. Maybe a big bad lover like you don’t need to truss a man up so he can’t hit back. Untie me and prove to all of us what you’re packin’. Cast off these lashings and show me whatcha got.”
The Cuban man was grinning broadly now. I chose to believe that he was well aware of what a joke Trent was. His partner was softly chuckling as well.
“A real tough guy,” Cooper rejoined brilliantly. “How’s this make you feel, shamus? Got anything to say now?”
He’d pulled a pistol from the pocket of his cargo shorts and levelled it at me. Not a big gun, probably a .38. Plenty lethal, however. I laughed.
“Eek! I’ve got plenty to say, needle dick,” I replied. “Why don’t you go first, though? What the Christ do you want, anyway?”
“You broke into my boat,” Cooper said more evenly. He was trying to reestablish his bravado. “This is self-defense.”
“Uhm… it’s Ray Tavares boat… and I work for him, so…” I chuckled. “Why don’t you cut the shit, Cooper? Be a good little flunky and call your boss in and let’s get this show on the road… or do you feel the need to cover up the fact of your tiny sack by taking it out on a man you’re too afraid to face unfettered?”
“Fuck you!” he replied brilliantly but loudly.
My baiting was certainly working well on him. In an amazing display of stupidity, he reared his right foot back and launched a kick at me. As I said my feet were not secured to the chair. This allowed me the freedom of movement to twist my body sideways and stand up, raise the wooden frame of the armchair directly in the path of his flying tootsies.
Oh, perhaps I should note hear an important detail… young Cooper was not wearing shoes. He’d either had on flip flops or top siders that he’d left outside. The result of this fashion choice was that his foot crashed forcefully into the solid wood of the chair as it rose. The majority of the impact was absorbed by the first knuckles of his big toe and the next three, all of which promptly snapped from the force applied.
Yet another howl, this one higher pitched, was torn from Cooper’s lips. With wide astonished eyes, he toppled back and sat down hard on the coffee table and then slid to the carpeted deck, writhing in pain and grasping his broken foot in his good left hand.
I repositioned my chair and sat back casually, eyeing the two men on the couch, “See that, hombres? I managed to beat the Christ out of this jackball and didn’t have to throw a single punch. Didn’t even skin a knuckle! Perhaps one of you fine gents would wipe this blood off my face?”
The second man, the one I didn’t think was from Cuba was laughing softly, “Is good, Chico… is good.”
“Muy Bueno,” The Cuban man said with a little salute. “Of course, he’s going to want to kill you now, meng, lemme tell you.”
As if to prove the point, Cooper had retrieved his gun. He held it in his left hand and it was clear that he was not left handed. He did manage to point it at me, though, “Jarvis… you fuckin’—“
The saloon door slid aside and a fourth person entered, sliding the door closed behind her. She took in the scene instantly and held out a hand, “That’s enough, Cooper. Put the gun down. We need him alive.”
The beautiful blonde woman I’d once loved looked at me and all I saw in her blue eyes was a coldness I’d never seen before. She stared at me for a long moment and smirked.
“Oh good,” I said unhappily. “The go’ment… I’m saved.”
Nikki Sloane walked into the galley and came back with a wetted dish towel which she pressed to my abused sniffer, “Scott… I was monitoring the entire scene in here. You brought this on yourself.”
“What?” I asked peevishly. “He started it! Who ties up a man and then smacks him around… I mean in anger that is… That ain’t fair. So I made a few innocent remarks… a few casual observations… One… maybe two… very mild insinuations about his character, integrity, physical prowess and penial specifications…”
She sighed and yet I saw a ghost of a smile cross her lips, “You really can’t turn it off, can you?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” I replied. “Unless you’re referring to sexiness… then no, I can’t turn that off. Can you untie me now, please?”
She scoffed, “What, so you can overpower all four of us? Not a chance.”
The two Hispanic men laughed sardonically. Nikki turned to them, “Paulo, Diego, trust me… this man is extremely dangerous.”
“He ain’t shit,” Cooper protested from his partial fetal position on the deck.
Nikki only shook her head, “Cooper, he managed to kick the shit out of you while being tied to a chair. Believe me, honey, he’s twice as tough as you think he thinks he is. Do not underestimate him… ever.”
“That mean mine is bigger then?” I asked churlishly.
Diego and Paulo convulsed with laughter. Yessir, I was killin’ it in the henchmen demo.
Nikki only sighed. She didn’t deny it, though. Proof positive in my book.
“Your job was to hold him until I got here,” Nikki said to Cooper in a tone that was less than girlfriendy. “Nobody authorized you to break bad. For Christ’s sake, get up already.”
He glared at her. I think he was mad that she didn’t reassure him about his naughty portions. No doubt he had some insecurities or doubts or at least some frustrations when it came to me. Maybe to anyone. A bombshell like Nikki required a confident man. Otherwise, her beauty would be a double-edge sword. An insecure guy would be thrilled to have such a hot number with him, but always secretly worried he wasn’t good enough.
“So I’m confused,” I stated. “You’re not here to cast off my bonds and allow me to sip the rarified nectar of sweet freedom once again, Nicole?”
“No, Scott,” She said. “I’m not here to rescue you. I’m here to find out something that I think only you might know.”
“I’m sorry, Nicole,” I said in mocking sincerity, “but that part of our relationship is over. You may indeed not savor the abundant fruit of my loins… or get my margarita recipe, neither.”
She met my gaze for a long moment without saying anything. Finally, she just shook her head and sighed, “You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you?”
“You could pleasure me sexually and cajole me into spilling… hehehe… spilling,” I said with a wry grin that got laughs from the two goons.
“Didn’t you just say that that part of our relationship was over,” Nikki said in a stern tone but with just a hint of twinkle in her eyes.
“I’m wishy washy, just ask anyone. I also have weak sales resistance,” I quipped.
“Put a fuckin’ bullet in his fuckin’ kneecap,” Cooper grumbled as he got himself up and planted in the other armchair. “He’ll sing like a canary then.”
“Nah,” I said to him, flashing a brilliant toothy grin. “She’d have far better luck… and a lot more fu
n… doing it my way. A lot more fun than she’s been having, at any rate.”
“Scott,” Nikki said sternly. “You’re not making things any easier by taunting him.”
“Yeah but I like taunting him,” I observed. “I know it’s not humane, but when I see those little fishies flittering around in that barrel… well…”
“Cooper,” Nikki said. “Can you run the boat?”
He groaned, “I think my foot’s busted.”
“We’ll have it looked at later,” Nicole said, going over and kneeling by him. “I’m sorry, honey… but nobody told you to kick the damned chair. I’ll get you some Advil for now. Probably not broken anyway, just sore, your foot doesn’t look all that bad. Come on, honey, I need you right now.”
She leaned in and kissed him and whispered something in his ear that turned his grimace of pain into a smile. She turned to the other two men.
“Paulo, can you help him, please? Diego, you stay with us.”
Nikki went below and into the head. While she was gone, Cooper leaned toward me, “Yeah… you think this has been bad, fuck face? Just wait until we make the rendezvous. And oh yeah… know what she said to me just now?”
He had a nasty sneer on his face. I only shrugged, “I’m not sure that there is a scientific instrument sensitive enough to measure my indifference, Pooper.”
He scoffed, “Said that when she put her hot mouth on my hard cock, I’d forget all about my foot.”
“Swell,” I intoned.
He grinned, “Think I’m lying? She can’t get enough, Jarvis.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It don’t bother you I’m going’ balls deep on that every night?” he mocked.
I just laughed and pointed with my chin. Nikki had just stepped up the companion with a bottle of pills in her hand. She rolled her eyes and frowned.
“Sorry, babe,” Cooper said a little too quickly. “Just bustin’ his little balls is all. No offense.”
