The Sea Horse Trade

by Sasscer Hill

  Ahead of me, Gonzales’ big Dodge rumbled out of Gulfstream and headed north on Route 1. At three in the morning, the usually heavy congestion was still locked away in parking lots and garages. It was easy to let a few cars slip between me and the trailer while I followed its running lights from a safe distance.

  We zipped along Route 1, drove through the Hollywood traffic circle, and continued north. Gonzales must be headed for one of the ports of Fort Lauderdale. Reaching the southern outskirts of the city, he ignored the expressway leading to Port Everglades. Apparently Currito’s yacht wasn’t so big it had to moor alongside the gigantic container ships and cargo vessels that used the major port. Then again, were we really headed for Currito’s yacht? And what about the groom? I didn’t like to think about him lying on the trailer floor.

  A few minutes past the Port exit, Gonzales made a right on Seventeenth Street, which led to the docks of Fort Lauderdale. After crossing the Intracoastal bridge, he exited onto Access Road. I followed, trying to concentrate on his truck and trailer instead of the extraordinary luxury crafts looming into view around me.

  I gave up worrying about being seen. Even though it was well before dawn, there was more traffic here—delivery trucks refurbishing supplies and an eighteen wheeler loaded with diesel for the underground tanks that fueled water craft. My generic blue Toyota shouldn’t be that noticeable, and fortunately, the trailer blocked any view Gonzales could get from his rear mirror.

  He pulled into the wide gravel lot of the “Seaside Marina,” where night lights revealed a concrete wharf built alongside the Intracoastal. Shaped like a T, the long stem of the platform ran parallel to the parking area. A freighter floated on the far side and two large yachts snuggled against the lot side.

  When I saw “La Sirena” painted on the bow of the closest yacht, I rolled to a stop. Dock lamps and the craft’s running lights revealed a sleek, modern outline. The yacht was so long! Had to be almost a sixteenth of a mile. Maybe 300 feet. Her immense size dwarfed the helicopter perched on her topmost deck.

  Currito’s wealth staggered me. Drug money. Human flesh money. Who needed so much money?

  I cut my lights and slid the Toyota’s transmission into reverse, backing quietly out of the lot, finding a spot behind a parked delivery truck on Access Road. A stiff salt breeze burned my eyes and stung my cheeks when I left the Toyota and raced toward La Sirena.

  CHAPTER 48

  Crouching against the first parked car I reached, I watched Gonzales climb from the cab of the Dodge. The trailer’s narrow side door opened, and the groom crawled out. The rig blocked the streetlight, so I couldn’t see how badly he was hurt. At least he was moving.

  The car that provided me cover exuded a strong odor of engine oil, while the night air carried a mix of varnish, garbage, and dead fish. Two live oaks grew on a stretch of grass that separated the parking area from the dock. Their leaves cast shadows over the picnic tables scattered beneath.

  Gonzales spoke to the groom as he strode forward. When he leaned over the injured man, I bolted for the trees closest to La Sirena, then crawled under a picnic table.

  Midway down La Sirena, a gangplank stretched from the lower deck to the dock. Currito emerged from the boat and walked onto the plank. His nephew Victor appeared behind him. With his long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail, Victor reminded me of someone else. Maybe Gonzales?

  Currito called to Gonzales, then motioned toward the back of his yacht where a wider ramp with high sides connected the boat to the concrete dock. When Gonzales nodded, the groom struggled to his feet and went back inside the trailer to unload Diablo. I was glad the guy could still walk. I wished Gonzales couldn’t.

  Gonzales opened the trailer’s rear doors and dropped the ramp. With a crash of hooves, Diablo backed off the trailer. For a moment he stood like a statue, then emitted a whinny more like a challenging scream, an unanswered call to his own kind. I slipped out from under the table and flattened my back against the trunk of an oak.

  Tires crunched on gravel and I peered around the tree. A car rolled past the horse ramp, heading toward Currito. It stopped beneath the pier’s dim lights and the engine cut off. The driver door opened, and Rick climbed out. He paused a moment.

  “Hey, boss,” he called to Currito.

  What? A weird falling sensation rocked me. The overhead lamp silhouetted his profile, triggering a memory. I’d seen his profile before—at the same distance, at the same time of night. A terrible recognition—Rick was the cop who’d made jokes at the crime scene where those men killed the girl.

  Everything I knew shifted. Rick was the leak! I stared at Victor and his pony tail. I’d bet my life he’d been in the SUV with Gonzales on Hallandale Beach Boulevard. One of them had pulled the trigger.

  I pressed myself harder against the tree’s trunk. Bark pierced my shirt, scraping the skin on my back. The loud ringing of hooves drew my gaze to the boat. Diablo was loading without a fuss. Must he cooperate now?

  Men closed the horse ramp, and Gonzales walked toward Currito, who was still on the gangplank. Victor had disappeared.

  The roar of a car engine and loud clatter of gravel startled me. I risked another glance around the side of the tree at the parking lot.

  A red Mustang. Carla. She braked the car to a sharp halt, threw her door open, and burst out. She stopped when she saw Rick. For a moment the two stood motionless.

  Then he hurried toward her. “Baby, what are you doing here?”

  “That’s what you need to tell me, Rick.”

  “I’m looking for Jade, Carla. You know that.”

  Gonzales took a step toward her. She saw him and stiffened. “That man, I’ve seen him before. He’s—he’s the one who, who dragged Lena into Worldwide Enterprises! What the hell is going on, Rick?”

  As Gonzales shortened the distance between them, I eased closer into the long shadow of a palm.

  “Mr. Rick,” Gonzales said, his voice slow and amused, “I think your lady wants to go for a sea cruise.”

  Rick shrugged. “I guess she leaves us no choice.” In a lightening fast move, he grabbed Carla’s arm and dragged her onto the gangplank.

  “Rick, no!”

  She struggled. He backhanded the side of her face. I could hear the crack of his hand hitting her cheek.

  In a broken voice she said, “Jade’s on this boat, isn’t she?”

  “Oh yeah, she’s here.”

  “You’re going to sell her!” Her voice rose, like she’d reached a breaking point. “You lied to me from the first day!”

  “Yeah, I guess I did.” He grinned. “But you had a good ride, right?”

  I was close enough I could see her shock, could almost smell Rick’s evil. How had he hidden it so well?

  She jerked away from his grip and slapped his face.

  He came right back with a fist to her jaw. With a groan, she collapsed onto the ramp.

  He stood over her. “I told you to stay out of it. But you had to know everything, didn’t you? But you still don’t get it. You think I’d work my life away for a cop’s salary and a fucking pension? I don’t care about these stupid girls. And if people want to use cocaine, let ’em.”

  I reached for the can of pepper spray. Took a step forward.

  “Rick, don’t do this,” she cried, suddenly placating and needy. “I love you!”

  She rose from the gangplank and leaned into him, tears streaming down her face. What was she doing?

  Almost gently, Rick put an arm around her. Carla jerked his gun from his shoulder holster. He tried to knock it away, but she shot him in the chest.

  “You piece of shit!” she cried. Then she shot him again.

  Blood spurted. She stared as he collapsed onto the ramp. Gonzales took rapid steps toward her.

  “Carla—” I began, but a hand clamped over my mouth. An arm locked around my neck. I whipped out the spray and twisted. Victor. I sprayed him in the face. He screamed, letting me go.

  I raced toward Carla.
On the ramp, Rick stared at nothing, his eyes, empty and unseeing.

  “Carla!” I warned.

  But Gonzales had already gotten to her. He hit her head with the butt of his pistol and she slumped, unconscious, onto the gangplank.

  Currito headed for me, and Gonzales pointed his gun. Something zinged past my head. Shit.

  “Gonzales!” Currito cried, “Don’t! She’ll bring money.”

  An angry roar behind me. Someone smashed into me, slamming me down. Fucking Victor. Then Gonzales and Currito were on me, knocking my pepper spray onto the plank, kicking it over the side.

  Hands gripped my wrists. Plastic cuffs circled my ankles. Currito grasped me beneath my shoulders and Gonzales held my legs. Victor, his red eyes streaming, dragged Carla behind us. She was still unconscious.

  As they stepped onto La Sirena’s deck, her diesel engines roared to life. I felt the vibration through the men’s hands, almost like conveyor belts transporting me to slaughter.

  I glimpsed two crew members dragging Rick’s body on board, others pulling in the gangplank. The sharp metallic odor of blood reached my nostrils. Then I was inside the ship.

  CHAPTER 49

  They carried me into a wide lounge. I twisted my head and saw the outline of the neighboring freighter through the far glass wall. Its twinkling lights receded as La Sirena steamed forward, bringing a familiar sinking sensation—like the night I’d looked up and down Hallandale Boulevard for help and no one was there.

  “It will be awkward carrying them down the stairs.” Currito’s voice. “Put Nikki down. Gently. I don’t want her bruised. The other one is older, but so lovely, she should have some value.”

  Acid burned my stomach. Why had I believed innate goodness existed in humans?

  They placed me on the floor. Gonzales removed the plastic cuffs from my ankles and pulled me to my feet.

  “Stand up, bitch.”

  I could see the whole room now. Rick’s body dumped just inside the entry. I hated these men!

  Gonzales half jerked, half-led me down a metal spiral staircase to the deck below. Behind us, crew members helped Currito and Victor carry Carla. I heard her moan. She must be coming to. Gonzales paused in the hall at the base of the stairs.

  To the rear of the ship, the passage opened onto the deck. I noted the exit. I planned to get off this yacht.

  The injured groom hobbled toward us. He’d been kind to Diablo. He looked at me with concern, but he worked for Currito, and was no friend of mine. I turned my head from him. Currito’s harsh voice broke the silence.

  “Pedro, get back to your work! This is not your business.”

  “Si,” the groom responded. I heard him turn and head for the deck.

  Gonzales steered me left into a long passageway. Dim service lights glowed overhead, and closed doors lined the corridor. Cabins?

  I heard Carla moan again. When the men carrying her reached the bottom of the stairs, they set her on her feet. She swayed, but managed to stand. Gonzales hustled me forward. We reached a door, then Gonzales turned the handle and shoved me inside. I stumbled and fell to the floor. They pushed Carla in beside me. Someone removed my wrist cuffs, the door closed and I heard the lock click.

  I lifted my head, pushing my fingers against a thick carpet. A base of polished wood lay a few feet away. A bed. Rose fabric encased the mattress like a slipcover. Drawers in the base. A matching chest to one side.

  I rolled and sat up. We had company. Jade gazed at me from where she lay on the bed, propped on one elbow. She wore a pink tee shirt and matching boxer shorts.

  The cabin, the girl—it all looked so pretty and so normal. Carla struggled to a sitting position.

  Jade frowned. “You guys are kind of late.”

  She must refer to my broken promise to return for her earlier. She was a smart ass and bold, like her mother.

  “Things…fell apart,” I said. “We tried to get you away from these people.”

  “But who are you?” She looked closely at Carla and grew very still.

  “My name is Nikki. This is.…”

  Carla leaned forward. Her expression resembled someone about to walk the plank. “Jade, I’m your mother.”

  The girl’s eyes narrowed. “Which mother? My real mother, or the woman who gave me away?”

  God, I hadn’t even thought about the mother who’d raised Jade. Had she been killed in front of Jade?

  Carla tried again. “Jade, I—”

  “Don’t talk to me! You have no right. Where were you when they killed my mother, shot my father, and dragged me out of my home?” Jade turned away from her. As if suddenly interested in the bed’s fabric, she traced the rose pattern with a trembling finger.

  Carla and I exchanged a glance.

  “Jade,” I said. “A terrible thing happened to you and your family. I’m so sorry. But Carla—”

  “No! I don’t want to talk about it.” Stony faced, she refused to look at us. A tough act, but her shoulders shook. A sheet of luminous hair fell forward and hid her face. One finger traced the roses again.

  “Okay,” I said. I shrugged at Carla and made a time-out sign. I stood, walked to the door, and tested the handle. Locked on the outside. I turned back, moving past a glass-topped table to the cabin window where I pulled the curtain aside. Below, the water streamed past. The big diesel engines vibrated gently beneath my feet, powering La Sirena past the lights of million dollar homes, swimming pools, and private docks lining the Intracoastal.

  I leaned forward, trying to see where we were headed. The lighted outlines of moored cruise ships and steamers came into view, but La Sirena swung left. As we turned, I could see red and green navigational lights that must indicate the harbor entrance and the open sea.

  I moved to a small door set in the wall. The head, with a toilet, vanity, and shower. A quick search revealed nothing that could be used as a weapon.

  Think, Nikki. I slipped my hand into one pocket. Morons! They hadn’t searched me, and I still had the firecrackers and knockout drops. Though my pepper spray floated somewhere in the harbor, the small, pointed dagger pricked my finger at the bottom of the second pocket.

  I stepped back into the cabin.

  “Why are you smiling?” Jade asked sharply.

  “We might have a weapon.” I held up the knockout drops.

  “Whatever.” She said it like I planned to shoot a rhinoceros with a squirt gun.

  Carla sat cross legged on the floor. “Is that from Klaire?”

  I nodded, then asked Jade, “Who comes in here?”

  “That man, Currito, comes sometimes.” She waved a hand at the glass-topped table and chairs between the bed and the cabin window.

  I glanced at the table. A plastic pitcher of water and glasses lined a tray on the table.

  “He likes to bring sandwiches in here and drink wine. He just stares at me. But mostly Victor comes in. I hate him. The way he looks at me…” She wrapped her arms around her sides. “But if I’m good, he’s nice to me.”

  Carla stretched a hand toward her daughter, but I shook my head.

  “Don’t worry about him,” I said. “We’re getting out of here. Besides, Victor’s an ass. I just shot his face with pepper spray.”

  Jade brightened. “You did? Cool!”

  Definitely Carla’s daughter.

  “Carla shot one of the bad guys,” I said, unable to control a desire to make Jade like her mother. “She was totally cool.”

  “If you say so.” But her eyes had gone empty.

  A metallic, scraping sound. Someone inserting a key in the lock. We stared at the door. The handle turned and Currito and Victor stepped inside. Victor carried an opened bottle of wine. Did he think we were going to party?

  Currito smiled at us then closed the door. The skin around his eyes was darker than usual. Must be stressed out. What a shame.

  “Nikki,” he said, “must you always disappoint me? You get away from me only to let me catch you again? I think you must want me.”


  I didn’t answer. The small vial of knockout drops burned inside my curled fingers.

  “Do not think you will be rescued,” he said. “Carla’s dear friend, Rick? He made certain news of our departure would not leak. And forget your little buddy Mr. Marshall. Rick stopped him from reaching the DEA.

  “You see, Victor?” He smiled at his nephew. “An example of the importance of friends in the right places.”

  Victor shrugged, then glanced at me. “She is a whore. Let me show her what a real man is. Then…I will kill her.”

  “No, no, Victor. I told you, this is business. You know the rule with the women. Take the money. Let someone else have the flesh.”

  “You bastard!” Carla whispered.

  Currito flicked a derisive glance at her. “A shame you no longer have Rick’s gun. You would like to shoot us, no?”

  I turned away, unable to look at the man. “I need to sit down,” I said, moving unsteadily to the table before sinking into a chair.

  “May I?” I asked, stretching across the table to grasp the handle of the water pitcher.

  “Of course,” Currito said. He smiled.

  I poured water into a glass and drank most of it. “Jade?”

  “No, thanks,” she said, drawing her knees into her chest. She looked so small on the big bed.

  “Pour me some wine, bitch.” Victor said. His eyes were still badly swollen and red, yet he ran his gaze up and down Jade’s long smooth legs.

  I could feel Carla’s rage. If she still had Rick’s gun, Victor would be dead.

  “Sure,” I said. I stood and pulled the whole tray closer and managed to knock two wine glasses over. One rolled toward me and I grabbed for it, but hit it clumsily, sending it flying onto the carpet.

  “Who would buy this stupid woman?” Victor said, his voice contemptuous. “She is a cow.”

  “Do your eyes hurt, Victor?” I asked, then ducked my head and shoulders under the table to retrieve the wine glass. As I felt around for it, I worked the stopper off the vial with my thumb. I tipped a few drops from the vial into the glass, letting the vial drop to the floor. I straightened quickly, poured wine into the glass, and held it out to Victor.