Shark's Instinct (Shark Santoyo Crime Series Book 1)

by Bethany Maines

  Shark leaned over the desk, staring at the little outlined pictures. They looked like IKEA instructions. It took him a minute to orient himself before he saw it. He and Marko pointed at the same time.

  “It’s in the floor,” Shark said.

  Marko swore softly. “I should’ve moved the desk.”

  Shark shoved the flimsy pressboard desk to the side. Beneath the divots in the carpet where the desk legs had rested, one of the carpet squares curled slightly at the edges . Marko tore the square up, and they both stared at the floor safe.

  “Well, shit,” said Marko. “That’s going to be a problem. I can’t crack safes. What about you?”

  “Maybe. If it’s a really old one.”

  “Which this ain’t.” Marko gave the safe a disgusted look.

  “I’m going to need a cutting torch and a tank each of oxygen and acetylene.”

  Marko looked surprised.

  “I may not know how to read a floor plan, or unlock a safe,” Shark said, “but I do know how to cut through steel.”

  Two hours later, Shark shut the torch off and inspected his work. His vision was alive with ghost sparks. He had one hinge done and was half-way through the second. He was also starting to overheat the leather gardening gloves Marko had managed to scrounge up. He pushed up his glasses and rose to stretch. “Time for a break.” He’d ditched the sweater and was down to his t-shirt. After the heat of the torch he felt a little cold. “Let’s check in with Zip, see if he’s heard anything about the Ukrainians.”

  Marko, who had been on spark patrol with wet towels, nodded, and lead the way out to the bar. Shark went to the seat holding his jacket, while Marko went behind the bar.

  “Water,” said Marko, tossing a bottle his way. Shark caught it, reached into his jacket pocket for his phone. It wasn’t there. He searched the other pocket. It wasn’t there. Inside pocket. Wallet was there. No phone.

  “Where’s Zip?” wondered Marko.

  “Over here, jackass,” said Zip, and shot Marko twice in the chest. The gun roared, but Marko went down without a sound.

  Zip and Two Tone came out of the kitchen, guns aimed at Shark. Two Tone was dragging an angry Peri along by one arm.

  Shark’s gun was in the office. He had his knife, but that was about it. “Well,” he said, “I guess it’s a party.”

  “And I guess you shouldn’t have left your phone in your jacket.” Zip was smug. “You think you’re so smart? You think you can boss everyone around? I’m not some nineteen-year-old punk! I played your ass!”

  “And I think you just painted a target on yours,” Shark replied. “Geier is not going to be happy.”

  “Fuck Geier,” said Two Tone. “What’s he ever done for us?”

  “I’ll tell you what he’s going to do to you,” said Shark.

  “Fuck that,” snarled Two Tone. “You’re going to give me the cash in Big Paulie’s safe.”

  “We know you found it,” added Zip.

  “And then what,” Shark said. “You think Geier is going to let you go?”

  “I think Geier’s not going to catch us,” said Two Tone.

  Shark wanted to illuminate all the ways this plan was stupid. It wasn’t enough cash to retire. Smuggling that amount of cash across the border or through airport security was difficult at best. And then there was the fact that Geier’s reach was international. They’d be dead within the week.

  “You hang on to that,” said Shark. “What’s the girl doing here?”

  Zip sneered, holding Shark’s phone up. “You texted her.”

  “She’s leverage,” said Two Tone, and shoved Peri at him. She stumbled and crashed into him, so that he had to catch her. Her arms went around him and he found a handgun rather forcefully being shoved into his waistband. Which is when he realized that she’d never returned the little .380 after the job. She’d scooped it up with her clothes in the car. At least she was returning it now.

  “I think you may have overestimated her importance,” said Shark, setting Peri upright and pushing her away.

  “No I haven’t,” said Two Tone. “I heard about you. I know you’re tough. And I don’t have the time it would take to break you. But here, I got her. And maybe you’re not screwing her, but I know you’ve got a soft spot for the little baby shark. And unless you want Zip to do bad things to her, you’re going to do what I tell you. You’re going to go in that office and get me my money.”

  “I’m not through the hinges. It’s going to take time.”

  Zip looked at Peri in a way that made Shark want to crush his skull. “We got time.”

  “Well, then you had better get your ass in there,” said Two Tone, motioning with his gun. Peregrine moved with him, but Zip stepped forward and grabbed her.

  “Nu-uh, you and me are going to sit right here. Spend some quality time together,” said Zip. “What do you think about that?”

  “I don’t recommend it,” said Peri. Zip punched her in the face. She went down and Shark didn’t move. This was the discipline. The less they thought he cared, the better off she’d be. Getting shot wasn’t going to help either of them.

  “Yeah?” demanded Zip, dancing around. “What do you think now?”

  “You know,” Peri said, standing back up and spitting out a little blood. “You can punch me all you want, but you’re still going to be a fat fuck in a polyester track suit.”

  Zip charged angrily forward, but Two Tone caught him by the arm. “Wait until we have the money, then we’ll see what they have to say. Shark, move it.”

  Shark walked in front of him, hoping like hell that Peri had adjusted his shirt well enough to hide the .380 in his waistband. Her shoulders were set the way he’d seen them that day in the high school parking lot. A fight was coming. He was going to have to move fast.

  “Nothing’s going to happen to her,” Two Tone said, “as long as you do what you’re told.”

  “You’re so full of shit,” said Shark, but let Two Tone push him inside and shut the door. Two Tone immediately scooped up the gun off the desk.

  “The floor,” exclaimed Two Tone, when he saw the safe. “Damn. I should have looked there.”

  Shark pulled on the gloves. “I don’t suppose you have the combination.”

  “Just get to work,” growled Two Tone. He seated himself in the desk chair where he was out of reach and could easily keep Shark covered.

  Shark set to work. The flame sparked on the torch and he surreptitiously checked for something, anything, to set on fire. Something that would act as a distraction to give him time to pull the gun. But Marko had done too good job of clearing fire hazards. He was running out of options.

  Thirty minutes later he finally finished the second hinge, and switched off the torch. He lifted the door of the safe off and there, in the inner cavity, was a large pile of cash.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” said Two Tone with satisfaction.

  Then they both heard a wild yell, and a gunshot. Before he could move, Two Tone had the gun in his face. “You’d better hope that’s just Zip blowing off steam. Get out in front of me.”

  Shark stripped off the gloves and opened the door. It was all he could do to keep his hand from shaking.

  Zip was on the floor, Peregrine kneeling on his chest. Her arm was bloodied up to the elbow and as they watched, she pulled her knife out of Zip’s eye with a sucking sound. Zip didn’t move. Zip wasn’t going to ever move again.

  “Shit,” said Two Tone.

  “The 7:15 is always on time,” said Shark.

  She grabbed for Zip’s gun, but Two Tone was faster. “Don’t even think about it, girly,” he said, pressing the gun barrel to Shark’s temple. “Stand up and kick the gun to me. Don’t get cute or I blow his brains out.”

  Shark’s peripheral vision picked up a movement by the bar. He tried to look with
out being obvious. It was Marko’s hand, creeping up above the edge of the bar. Five fingers stretched up. As he watched, Marko folded down his thumb. Four. Then the index finger. Three. Middle. Two. Ring. One.

  Marko leapt up and blasted off two shots into the wall. Shark dropped straight down onto his back, drawing the .380 as he went and firing upward.

  Two Tone took one in the shoulder, but pitched sideways, dodging the second. Kicking out, Two Tone sent the .380 flying. Shark kicked back, nailing Two Tone in the crotch, grabbing his gun as the gangster doubled over. Rising on one knee, he chopped at Two Tone’s elbow, folding his arm back toward his face, pushed himself to his feet and kicked Two Tone’s legs out from under him. Two Tone’s eyes showed white all around the iris and he grunted as he landed, still struggling to control the gun that Shark pressed ever closer to his throat.

  “Fuck you,” whispered Shark, and clamped his hand over Two Tone’s, pushing hard enough to squeeze the trigger. The back of Two Tone’s skull exploded and his body went limp.

  Shark stood up, breathing raggedly. He turned to look for Peri. She had Zip’s gun in her left hand and her knife in her right. At the bar, Marko was leaning heavily against the counter and looking pale, but alive. One arm was wet with blood, but nothing leaked from the obvious bullet hole in his chest.

  “Vest,” Shark guessed.

  “I’m fat, but I ain’t that fat.” He tapped the vest. “Don’t leave home without it.”

  Shark picked up Two Tone’s gun, then the .380. He took a step toward Peri, but then the front doors crashed open.

  Marko and Peri both turned, guns ready, and Shark raised both of his. If they were going down it was going to be in a blaze of glory.

  Paper and his crew screeched to a halt, hands up.

  “Uh, we lost Two Tone,” said Paper. “Thought you should know.”

  Shark put his gun down. “That’s OK. We found him.”

  “What the hell happened?” asked Paper, taking in the scene.

  “We had a disagreement over money.”

  Peri chose that moment to spit on Zip’s body. “I just didn’t like that guy.”

  “Uh. OK,” Paper was clearly trying to process, but it wasn’t going very quickly. “What do we do now?”

  “Well, I think we’re going to have to call Marko’s friend over at Triple Clean, for one thing,” said Shark.

  “Can we maybe call Marko a doctor first?” grunted Marko, sliding onto a bar stool.

  Paper fished for his phone. “Yeah, I got a guy.”

  “You calling Stein?” asked Peri. Laying both her weapons on the bar within easy reach, she began to inspect Marko’s arm.

  “Yeah,” said Paper, scrolling through his contacts. “He’s best with gunshots.”

  Peri nodded her agreement.

  “We’re going to move these bodies,” said Shark.

  “I bought extra tarps and shit after Big Paulie,” Marko said. “They’re in the storeroom.”

  “I want to cut your shirt here and get a better look,” said Peri.

  Marko made a pained expression. “Well, wash your knife off first. God knows what Zip had. I don’t want to catch something.”

  Peri went behind to the sink behind the bar and Shark directed the Blue Street crew to move the bodies into the kitchen onto the concrete floor.

  “The Godmother fucked this guy up good,” said Domingo, dropping his half of Zip onto a tarp. “I think I can see his brain. Or, you know, what’s left of it.”

  “Pointy-ass magic wand,” agreed one of the others, which got a laugh.

  “That reminds me,” Shark remembered. “Domingo, take this garbage bag out to Peri. She needs to put her clothes into it.”

  Domingo was reluctant to take it.

  “She has a change of clothes in her backpack. But she’s covered in evidence. We need to get rid of it.”

  Domingo looked nervous. “Uh.”

  “Uh, what?”

  “I mean, are you sure she’s going to be OK with that?”

  “Would you like me to tell her for you?” he asked sarcastically.

  “Well, honestly, yes. I don’t want her to wave her magic wand at me.”

  Shark rolled his eyes. “Fine. Come on.” He walked out to the bar, Domingo lagging behind. Marko was lying on one end of the bar while the “doctor” performed minor surgery. Peri was washing up in the sink. She looked a little pale, but was holding it together without any problems. Shark leaned close enough to talk to her without everyone hearing.

  “You’re going to have to change clothes. Give everything you’re wearing now to Domingo. He’s got a garbage bag. We’ll get it incinerated.”

  “Even my All-Stars?” She looked down at her blood-spattered high-tops sadly. “I just got them broken in.”

  “I’ll buy you some new Chucks,” he promised. “Put the knife in too.”

  She grunted in annoyed assent.

  “After you’re done, Domingo will drive you home.”

  “Can’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m in the dead zone. I can’t go home until after three, when Mom hits REM sleep.”

  “How do you know when your mom hits REM sleep?”

  “I hacked her fit-bit. If I go home now she’ll wake up.”

  “All right, fine.” He dug in his pocket and handed her his keys. “He’ll take you to my place. I’ll take you home once I’m done here.”

  She nodded and took them. Her hands were now the only parts of her that weren’t bloodstained.

  Saturday ~ October 21

  23

  Shark: The Condo

  It was close to five when he got back to the condo. He moved cautiously through the rooms until he found her on his bed, wearing his sweats and sound asleep. His spare Glock and her phone were set neatly within easy reach on the nightstand. She would have had to go through his drawers to find the gun, but for some reason that didn’t bother him. Considering their evening, it seemed reasonable. Her hair was wet; she must’ve taken a shower. He’d showered and changed at the bowling alley, himself. He took off his watch and shoes, unbuttoning his shirt as he went back into the kitchen.

  He was halfway through a container of leftover Chinese take-out when she padded in, phone in hand as usual. He held out an arm in invitation, and she tumbled into him, leaning against the tattoo on his chest, a heart surrounded by roses. This was the way he’d wanted to hold her at the bowling alley, before everyone had come in. “I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he said, breathing in the smell of her hair.

  “I wanted to be woken up.”

  He reached around her to hold the takeout box, so he could eat from it and hug her at the same time. Laughing at him, she wriggled free and opened the refrigerator.

  She leaned into the fridge. “Do you want a drink?”

  “Yes, please,” he said, unabashedly watching her ass.

  “You’re out of Coke. All you’ve got is the Jack.”

  “Just pour it,” he said. His eyes followed her as she fetched a glass, tossed in some ice, and poured out a generous helping. She hopped up on the counter and held the glass to her bruised face. “What are you going to tell your mom about your face?”

  “The truth. You know, ish. I’ll tell her I got in a fight. At school. A little truth to sell the bigger lie.”

  “Hm.”

  “Any word on Tall Jimmy?” she asked, taking an experimental sip. She made a face. She still didn’t like alcohol.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Word came through about an hour ago. Ukrainians got him coming outside at about three this morning. We got visual confirmation at the crime scene. What’d you do with Trey to keep him out of the house?”

  She handed him his drink. “I had his mom call him to the hospital. She’ll make sure he stays the night. Do you need me to take any action on the Ukrainian civil war s
ituation?”

  He washed down a mouthful of Kung Pao chicken with a slug of Jack. “I set that rumor loose on Thursday when I was in the city. At the previously established rate of gossip, it should be hitting here by Monday. Situation should take care of itself.”

  He turned around so he could lean against her while eating. She draped her arms around him, squeezing his sides a little with her thighs. When she leaned her head against his neck, her breath was warm against his skin. Instinctively, he tilted his head back, resting against her shoulder. He was so tired and this felt like the safest place in the world. He exhaled for what felt like the first time in forever.

  “Is it weird that this is the best moment of my week?” he mumbled, unaware that he was speaking out loud. Her arms tightened around him.

  Best moment of the week? Probably more like of the month. Year? He tried to count back. When was the last time he’d been happy? Before prison? With Francesca? He flashed to their summer of hot, angry sex that always ended with him checking on the status of his gun and his wallet. Happy maybe, but he certainly hadn’t felt safe. But he did feel safe now. Safe with a teenage girl who could slice her way through guys twice her age. The whole thing was ridiculous.

  He straightened up and threw the takeout box into the trash. He needed to move before he gave in to the things he was trying not to think about.

  She slipped off the counter. “Best moment of your week? Sadly, this is at least the best moment of my entire month. But I’m pretty sure we can do better.” She took the glass out of his unresisting hand and set it on the counter. Then, standing on tiptoe, she kissed him.

  He wasn’t sure what she had intended the kiss to be, but it ended up being the first kiss they should have had—slow, sensuous, and exploratory. He moved from her mouth to her neck and her body seemed to relax into him as she let out a little groan of satisfaction.