by Tripp Ellis
They began to scout for locations as I took the tender back to the Wild Tide, fighting against the incoming surf. I made a few more trips, bringing the makeup artist, the art director, and the girls.
I returned and picked up JD and Buddy. I clamped on his leash and kept hold of him in the tender as we cruised to the beach.
JD hopped out and pulled the tender across the beach to the tree line. We hovered in the shade of a palm tree, watching our clients prepare for their next shot.
I cradled Buddy and petted him. "I'm gonna take him for a walk on the beach.”
I didn’t want to let him roam freely. I didn’t know what was out here, and if he ran off in these woods, we might never find him.
I set him down on the sand. "Come on, boy."
He pulled the leash, wanting to run and explore.
I jogged along with him as he ran along the surf. He was a little shy of the water at first, then ventured farther into the foamy surf.
The island wasn't that big, and we made a complete circle in no time.
By the time I got back to the photography set, the action was in full swing.
Hope was in the surf, topless, clutching her breasts with her hands. Hector stood in the foamy waves, bouncing light into her face. Sidney clicked away at the camera.
Hope's body glistened in the sunlight. It was the stuff dreams were made of.
JD and I sat in the shade watching the entertainment.
When Sidney felt confident he had gotten the shot, he motioned for Hope to come out of the water and change clothes. Her bikini top rested in the sand.
I was a bit distracted, and Buddy got away from me.
The feisty dog grabbed the bikini top in his jaws, probably looking for a chew toy. Maybe he just wanted to play chase? He took off running down the beach with the skimpy garment.
I didn’t even train him to do it.
“Smart boy,” JD muttered with a grin.
Hope, Sydney, and Kim chased after the little Jack Russell terrorist.
12
It was just a game to Buddy. He frolicked around in the surf, dodging and weaving as the girls, and Sydney, chased after him. He avoided their every attempt to confiscate the bikini top.
JD and I watched with amusement for a moment, then I decided I should probably put an end to the fun. "Buddy!"
He stopped in his tracks, his head perked up, and he twisted his ear.
"Drop it!"
He dropped the bikini to the sand, and Hope scooped it up, laughing.
She walked back to the set, not bothering to cover herself.
The art director gave her another outfit, and Sydney took more pictures of her lying in the surf. Grains of sand stuck to her oily skin, speckling her round bottom.
Hope turned on the steam whenever she was in front of the camera. Her eyes smoldered, and her full lips parted. She looked like she was on the brink of an orgasm every time Sydney snapped a frame.
Hope knew how to arch her body, accentuating her curves, maximizing her assets.
When Hope’s bikini was all shot out, Sidney began shooting Eliza.
Kim hovered not far away, applying touchups to makeup as needed. Lauren oversaw everything with a discerning eye, constantly looking at photos on the camera to make sure she got what she needed to sell bikinis.
I didn't think she’d have a hard time. Every photo looked stunning.
Hope strutted toward us and took a seat between JD and me in the shade. She didn't bother to put her top on, and I tried my best not to notice.
“Rough day for you guys, huh?" she asked.
"Brutal," I said.
"You guys do this kind of thing a lot?"
"All the time," JD said, his eyes dropping down on occasion.
"Is it really that dangerous out here that you need a gun?"
"I could tell you plenty of stories, but you probably wouldn't believe me,” I said.
"I'm sorry if I came across as rude earlier. Guns just frighten me."
"Have you ever fired one?"
"No."
“If you want, I'll take you to the range sometime. Whether you own a weapon or not, I think everybody should be familiar with their operation and know how to safely handle one.”
Hope looked hesitant.
"You never know,” I continued. “It could save your life one day."
"I like to think I'm open to new adventures. Maybe I'll take you up on the offer," she said, finally softening again.
There was an awkward pause between us as we gazed at each other.
"So, tell me some of these unbelievable stories," she said. "What kind of danger lurks out there?"
"Just a few weeks ago, JD and I stumbled across 8 tons of cocaine that smugglers were attempting to bring into the country."
Her eyes widened. "Eight tons?”
I nodded.
"That's one hell of a party,” she said.
I chuckled. "I would imagine so."
"There are boat thieves, pirates, sex traffickers… Just about everything you can imagine. It may look like paradise, but there is a dark side."
"That's why they need Tyson and I to bring the light," JD added with a smile.
Hope grew serious. "Have you ever had to use your gun?”
"Many times, unfortunately."
"So you've killed someone before?"
I gave her a grim nod.
"Oh wow" she said, solemnly. She thought for a moment. "I probably shouldn't ask how many."
"You probably shouldn't."
"Does that mess with you? I mean, do you feel bad? Like, guilty?"
I took a deep breath. She was venturing into a subject area I didn't like to think about much. "Do I feel guilty? No. Everything I’ve done was justified. Do I feel sad that we live in a world where violence exists? Yes. My whole life has been in service to this country, doing what I thought was right. Doing my duty. I’m not going to apologize for that. Do I wish the world didn't need people like me? Absolutely!” I paused for a long moment. "It's an interesting question. I know I will be judged for my actions someday.”
JD leaned in and whispered in Hope's ear. "He died once before, you know."
"Really?"
"JD's making it sound more than it was.”
"No I'm not. You got shot. You were technically dead."
Hope’s eyes were wide. "What was it like?"
I was silent again for a long moment. I didn't think that I needed to tell her I'd been to hell and back. "Let's put it this way. I can't stress the importance of making good choices in life."
Sydney kept photographing the girls until sundown. He captured some stunning images of the beauties as the sun hung low over the water.
He had forgotten to put sunscreen on, and the back of his neck looked like a boiled lobster.
When the day was done, Sydney and Hector loaded up the gear, and I ferried the team back to the Wild Tide, making several trips.
Once we were all back aboard, JD weighed anchor, cranked up the engines, and we headed back toward Coconut Key.
After a full day in the sun, everyone was tired and hungry.
I was ready for a cocktail.
“I think we got some great stuff today!” Sidney said. “Thank you all.”
“I am more than pleased,” Lauren, the art director said. She had a wide smile on her face, and dollar signs in her eyes. It was the first time I’d seen her smile all day.
“I know models don’t eat,” Lauren said, half joking, “but I’m hungry. Let’s all go to dinner. My treat.”
There were cheers all around.
Lauren’s eyes flicked to me. “What do you recommend?”
“What are you in the mood for? Italian, American, Mexican, seafood?”
“How about a good combination of surf and turf?”
“Upscale, casual?”
“Well I don’t think we’re dressed for upscale. How about high-end casual?”
“Franky T’s might fit the bill. It’s considered fine
dining, but you don’t need evening attire. It’s excellent. I highly recommend it.”
“Perfect!” Lauren said.
The sun fell below the horizon and the sky grew dark. We skimmed across the water as JD brought the boat on plane. I was looking forward to a good steak.
In hindsight, I wish I would have never suggested Franky T’s.
13
We docked at Franky T’s and made our way into the restaurant. I left Buddy food and water and told him to behave, though I was quite sure he would cause his usual mischief.
“I need a table for seven,” I said.
The pretty blonde hostess smiled. “It’s going to be about a 20 minute wait. Is that okay?”
I gave a glance around, and everyone returned with a nod of approval.
“That’ll be fine,” I said.
“Name?”
“Tyson.”
She scribbled my name on a piece of paper and gave me a card with a number written on it. There was a display above the hostess stand that flashed numbers that were ready to be seated.
There were several benches to sit on inside, near the hostess area, and outside on the pier. The restaurant was crowded, and the cacophony of conversation echoed through the eatery.
Silverware clinked against dishes. Waiters poured drinks. Runners served food. Those waiting for a table milled about inside and out.
It was like this every night of the week.
They had excellent food, and they were proud of it—as reflected in their pricing. I wasn’t paying for this meal, so I didn’t care about the price.
We were finally seated at a large round table. The waitress promptly attended to us, passing out menus and taking drink orders. She told us about the specials of the day and asked if we’d like an appetizer to start.
“Bring us some oysters on the half shell, the crab cakes, and the crispy alligator,” Lauren said, perusing the menu as she ordered for the table. “Oh, and an order of fried calamari.”
I ordered whiskey on the rocks and JD did the same. Hope ordered a beer, Eliza ordered a martini, and Kim, Lauren, and Sidney ordered Manhattan's.
The waitress scribbled it all down and smiled. “I’ll be back soon with the drinks and to take your orders.”
She spun around, and her ponytail twirled as she dashed between the crowded tables.
I looked over the menu, surveying the entrées—even though I already knew what I wanted. I was in the mood for a bowl of lobster bisque and a nice medium rare filet with lemon pepper.
JD ordered the lobster.
It was too bad we didn't get to enjoy our appetizers.
Two masked men stormed into the restaurant. One of them cracked a man in the face with the stock of a shotgun, laying him out cold. Blood spurted from his mouth and nose.
Patrons gasped and screamed.
Suddenly, the chatter stopped, and the clinking of forks against plates went silent.
Kaboom!
The goon with the shotgun blasted the ceiling. Bits of gypsum and powder rained down. The blast was deafening in the confined space. "Now that I've got your attention…"
I slowly moved my hand under the table and grabbed the grip of my pistol and pulled it from the holster. My thumb flicked the safety off. It was ready to do its thing. I kept it under my napkin.
"If you haven't figured it out already, this is a robbery,” Shotgun said. “My associate is going to make the rounds, and you all are going to make a generous contribution. I can assure you it's for a worthy cause.”
“Put your wallets, purses, and jewelry in the bag. Do as you're told, and nobody gets hurt. Don't worry about your meal this evening. It's on the house. Courtesy of me. If the restaurant doesn't give you a free meal, I will personally find the owner and kill him!”
His associate moved from table to table with a black trash bag, held open. The patrons tossed in their valuables and cash.
Hope grabbed my thigh and squeezed tight. It was a nervous squeeze. Her eyes were wide, and her jaw clenched tight.
I whispered, "Stay calm, and hit the floor when I make a move."
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know."
I knew damn good and well what I was going to do.
JD and I exchanged a glance. He had his pistol ready.
Things seemed to be going smoothly at first. There were a few women that didn't want to part with their wedding rings, but a pistol in their face quickly change their minds. The man with the shotgun provided overwatch, and his head swiveled as he scanned the restaurant, looking for troublemakers.
I wanted to put a bullet in him.
But I thought better of it.
As long as things were going smoothly, I figured it would be best to let them take what they wanted and leave the patrons unharmed. Hopefully no one would lose their life.
It didn't make sense to escalate the situation just yet.
From where I was, I could probably get a clear shot. But it was still risky. The restaurant was packed.
Bag Boy moved from table to table, collecting the loot.
My eyes kept flicking between him and Mr. Shotgun.
Then things went south.
Someone got brave.
A patron at a table close to Mr. Shotgun launched from his seat and tried to tackle the goon.
It didn't work out too well.
Mr. Shotgun kicked the guy in the nuts, then pumped a round of buckshot into the man's chest. It exploded in a volcanic eruption of crimson blood.
The patron fell back against the carpet and gurgled blood.
Screams filled the restaurant.
This was my cue.
I sprang from my seat and took aim at Mr. Shotgun. My finger gripped the trigger, and I squeezed it twice.
Muzzle flash flickered, and two rounds launched from the barrel of my pistol.
They rocketed across the restaurant, smacking into the goon, knocking him to the ground.
The shotgun clattered beside him.
Bag Boy’s eyes widened in disbelief. He looked to his dead comrade, then to me, then bolted toward the door.
It wasn't worth risking a shot at him and killing a bystander.
I sprinted toward the exit, chasing after him. Like a wrecking ball, I barreled through the double doors of the restaurant and darted onto the dock.
The thug raced toward the end of the pier, his sneakers smacking against the deck.
"Freeze! County Sheriff!"
It didn't do any good.
The thug reached the end of the pier and hopped into a Go Fast boat that was idling. The getaway driver throttled up, and the speedboat spit a furious wake of white water as it raced out of the harbor.
The boat disappeared into the inky blackness.
I raced back into the restaurant.
JD hovered over Mr. Shotgun, checking his vitals.
There were none.
I pulled out my phone and called the sheriff, and within minutes, the place was swarming with officers.
Daniels stormed in with a sour look on his face. The last thing anybody needed was another crime in Coconut Key. Muggings on the strip were one thing. Entire restaurants held hostage and robbed?
The beautiful oasis would definitely see a drop in tourism if word of this got out.
14
"I've got to put you on administrative leave," Daniels said. "There will be an internal investigation. Once you’re cleared, you can get back to working the case. Until then, take a vacation. Lie low. Try not to kill anyone."
The other deputies took statements from the patrons. Brenda examined the body. It was eventually removed and taken to the medical examiner's office. I gave the sheriff a description of the two thugs—black ski masks, black shirts, black pants, sneakers.
Not much to go on.
I knew I would have a lot of paperwork to fill out, and questions to answer.
I went back to the table and apologized to our clients.
"Maybe next time you shouldn't pick
the restaurant," Lauren said with an air of levity.
"Maybe you're right. I'm sorry you had to experience that."
"I take it all back," Hope said. “You were right about bad people out there.”
I smiled. "I've got to go down to the station and fill out some paperwork. Please excuse me. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."
I hung around the table for another moment.
The manager of the restaurant announced he would be happy to serve anyone who wanted to stay and finish their meal. If people wanted a rain check, and a coupon for a free meal, they could get one on the way out by the hostess stand.
Some patrons couldn’t get out of the restaurant fast enough. Others didn’t seem disturbed in the least.
"I don't know about anyone else, but I'm still hungry," Sydney said.
Eliza hesitantly said, "Is it wrong that I found that whole thing exciting?"
We all looked at her curiously.
She shrugged, innocently. "What? So I’ve got a little bit of a dark side."
"A little?" JD said.
"I don't think my heart has pounded that hard in my entire life," Eliza said.
"You're high on adrenaline," JD said.
"I don't know. But I feel alive."
"That's because you're not dead," JD muttered.
Her eyes narrowed at him.
"If you like this kind of thing, you should hang around me more often,” JD said. “This kinda shit happens to me all the time."
"Really?"
"Just ask Tyson. It's all his fault."
"I don't go looking for this kind of stuff," I protested.
"Yes you do," JD said.
"You can't even begin to blame this on me."
"You did pick the restaurant," Lauren said.
I shrugged, innocently.
Our clients decided to stay, and since Jack wasn't involved in the shooting, he decided to stay with them.
“I’ll get your steak to go,” he said. “I’ll text you when we finish up.”
“Take care of Buddy for me,” I said. “Make sure he gets food and water and take him for a walk.”
“Will do,” JD said.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Sheriff Daniels intervened. “You’re coming with me.”
