Avery Flynn - Killer Style 02 - This Year's Black

by Avery Flynn

  As if they’d been doing it their whole lives, she and Devin instantly took positions back to back, guards up and fists ready.

  “You take care of the assholes in the window.” A feral grin transformed Devin’s face as a group of men rounded the corner. “I got these five.”

  “Don’t worry.” Using her thumb, she cracked each knuckle on her right hand, her eyes never leaving the duo in front of her. “I’ll be done with these two in plenty of time to help you clean up.”

  Both men stood an inch or two shorter than her. But what they lacked in height, they more than made up for in bulk. The one with shoulder-length hair looked her up and down, his leering gaze never going higher than her tits or lower than her hips. Laughing, Long Hair nudged his freckle-faced buddy and let out a stream of fast-clipped Spanish as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of her.

  Ryder only recognized one word: puta.

  She could do bitch. Hell, it would be rude to disappoint them. Raising her fists to protect her face, she rolled her weight to the balls of her feet then blew the ring leader a kiss.

  Long Hair sauntered forward, smirking at her and leaving all the vulnerable spots north of his collarbone unprotected. That was a mistake. A big one.

  She winked at him…just before landing an uppercut to his chin that snapped his head back like a rubber band. He stumbled back, but she wasn’t about to give him a chance to get his bearings. Her second punch connected with his left eye, which she followed with a high kick to the side of his head.

  Wrapping her arm around Long Hair’s neck in a choke hold, she pivoted just in time to use him as a shield against Freckles’s punch. The hit landed square in Long Hair’s solar plexus. The punch rattled her teeth, so she wasn’t surprised when Long Hair’s knees gave way and he turned into a wet noodle in her arms. She shoved him forward into Freckles. Both men staggered back before Freckles shoved Limp Hair face-first into the dirt, sending up a small brown cloud.

  The element of surprise gone, she had to take a different approach to neutralize Freckles. They circled each other, both ignoring the fight behind them as Devin took on the rest of the Molina’s thugs. Ryder took advantage of the slowdown in the action to bring her breathing under control and assessed her new opponent. She had an easy two inches on him, giving her the wing—and leg—span advantage, but all the pale brown spots covering the creep’s face didn’t mask the jagged knife scar on his left cheekbone or the tear tattoos under his right eye. Long Hair might be the leader, but the air around Freckles vibrated with evil intent.

  All the lessons she’d learned while sparring with Cam at Paulie’s Gym came into perfect focus. Keep your guards up. Don’t stop moving. Attack first. Hit hard and hit often. Aim to disable. Then get the fuck out.

  The whump of a body hitting a hard object sounded by the corner of the house, followed by a moan of agony. Freckles’s gaze flicked to the side for a split second. Long enough for her to get off two solid punches to his face. He retaliated with a solid jab to her sternum. Pain exploded in her chest and her defenses faltered. Seizing the advantage, he backhanded her across the face hard enough that her ears rang and she lost her balance, landing hard on her side. Pebbles hidden in the dirt bit into her cheek.

  Alarms screamed in her head. Paulie’s mantra echoed in her head. No one wins from the floor. She had to get up now or she’d be dead. A shadow appeared and she rolled, narrowly missing the strike of a steel-toed boot aimed at her skull. Clawing up a handful of earth, she scrambled up and tossed it into Freckles’s face.

  He howled and wiped the brown muck from his eyes.

  Ryder kneed him in the balls, remembering to hit him as if she could kick straight through him. He cried out and doubled over. Hitting him where it counted would slow him down, but it wouldn’t take him out, so she cocked her arm and struck him directly in the nose, aiming upward. A crack sounded and blood spurted everywhere. A roundhouse kick finished him off.

  Lungs heaving, she turned to find Devin facing off against two men going at him at the same time. Two others lay on the ground. A third stood off to the side, his attention wholly focused on the two-on-one. Another mistake.

  Reacting on pure animal instinct, she sped toward the action, stooping low to swipe up a baseball bat-length tree limb from the ground. She had it cocked and aimed at the dickweed’s head before he even realized she was there. The violence of the impact ricocheted up her arms. He crumbled to the ground.

  Devin landed a hard haymaker to one opponent’s right eye. His elbow connected with the second guy’s solar plexus. What followed was a vicious combination of hits and kicks to both men. The whole thing looked more like a caged mixed martial arts fight than a street fight. He might work in fashion, but the muscles and ink weren’t just for show—dollars to donuts, he’d earned both the old-fashioned way. Within thirty seconds, he had the men moaning on the ground.

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here before more show up,” she called to him.

  He nodded and sprinted to the front porch, grabbed an empty wine bottle, and smashed it against the railing. Dark red liquid splashed over the wood. Gripping the bottle neck, he trotted down the steps to the driveway and plunged the sharp edge into the trucks’ tires, flattening at least one tire on each of the four trucks.

  Then they took off across the pineapple field, dodging the spiky bushes as they made quick work of the distance. They had to get to the police before the rest of the Molina family found them.

  …

  The local police headquarters was housed in the only two-story building on the island. The tan stone structure stood like a plain cousin amongst the brightly colored stores that lined Andol City’s downtown. And because this whole trip was FUBARed already, it seemed appropriate that the station sat right across the street from Tea Time.

  Ryder would give the Molinas one thing, they had balls. It took big stones to locate a smuggling cover operation dead in the local authorities’ysights. That either meant they were overly cocky or legitimately confident in their ability to get away with their crimes. Considering how the islanders reacted with either fear or guilt whenever she brought up the Molinas, it was probably the latter. Dirty cops were a reality all over the world. Still, as a cop’s kid, not notifying the police about a crime was akin to growing up with dentists for parents and never brushing your teeth.

  She twisted in her seat to give Devin her full attention. “There’s a good chance the cops are on the family payroll.”

  “Agreed.” He nodded. “Which is why this is a stupid move.”

  She clenched her teeth and made it to five before exploding. When it came to her personal life her instincts were for shit, but when it mattered—when lives were on the line—her gut was good. “You’re not in charge of this investigation. I am. And I say we’re going to the cops.”

  “Why?” He hurled the question at her like a hand grenade.

  “Because shit is hitting the fan and I don’t like our odds. We won’t know for sure if the cops are bought until we get in there. We can’t assume. That’s how people get hurt.” Flames beat against her cheeks and she had to stop and take a deep breath. Calmer, she continued. “Keep everything close to the vest until we figure it out.”

  Though he clearly didn’t like it, he grunted his assent and circled around to the back of the station, where he parked the Jeep in the lot bordering the alley. That would keep the hot pink vehicle out of sight from Dominga, who no doubt was on the lookout from her perch at the tea shop.

  Devin turned off the motor. “You ready?”

  Ryder glanced in the Jeep’s visor mirror at the bruises forming on the left side of her face and winced. “Why is it that cuts and bruises always hurt more once you actually see them?”

  “Because life is a real bitch that way.” He wiped his thumb across the corner of his mouth, clearing away some of the dried blood, but a new trickle started as soon as he removed pressure. “Let’s get this winning plan over with.”

  No longer
bathed in pain-blocking adrenaline, her body ached as they crossed the parking lot. Without even looking, she figured she could pinpoint at least fifteen bruises from her toes to her eyebrows. No broken bones, thank God, but enough hurt to slow her step and add a slight limp to compensate for a pain in her right thigh.

  Devin wasn’t quite at his normal pace, either. Pea green bruises covered his swollen jaw. His left eye had puffed out, foretelling of a hell of a shiner tomorrow. What other injuries lay hidden under his white linen shirt and dark slacks, she could only guess at based on his deliberate pace and the way he held his right arm away from his side.

  “Your ribs broken?” Ryder grabbed the handle of the glass door and pulled it open.

  He shook his head. “Bruised. I’ll live.”

  An overhead fan pushed stale, humid air around the barren front lobby. It was “decorated” by a few folding chairs, an empty desk, and large, full color portraits of The Andol Republic’s president and vice president. An older model computer monitor took up a third of the space on the desk, an empty wire in-and-out basket sat on the opposite side, and a hotel bell sat in the middle. A small folded note in front of the bell read: Receptionist at lunch. Ring for service.

  She did. Nothing happened.

  “Anyone home?” Devin’s voice boomed in the quiet room.

  “I’ll be with you in one moment,” a voice called from the hallway to the right.

  A second later, an officer wearing a light blue uniform shirt and tan khaki pants appeared in a wheelchair at the end of the hall. He rolled toward them. “Sorry about that, I just returned from lunch and the other officers on duty just left for theirs.” He stopped behind the desk. “Dios, what happened to you two? Shall I call for medical attention?”

  “No, thank you.” Devin paused and looked at Ryder. “Unless you need it?”

  Ryder shook her head. “No. Just banged up.”

  The officer looked skeptical but let the idea of a hospital slide. “So how about you start at the beginning and walk me through what happened.” He pulled several sheets of paper from a desk drawer and retrieved a pen from a cup holder. “Let’s start with your names.”

  She and Devin took turns explaining they were in The Andol Republic for the fashion week events, being sure to leave out that the old friend they were looking for had embezzled almost five million dollars, as well as exactly how they’d ended up at Sarah’s pineapple farm. The longer they told their story, the more the officer clammed up, and the more often he looked behind him as if waiting for the boogeyman to attack.

  Ryder’s skin crawled. The officer might not be dirty but, judging by his nervous ticks, he wouldn’t going to be any help, either.

  “And you just accidentally ended up at the Molina family farm…where thugs attacked you for no apparent reason?” the officer asked, a noticeable shake bouncing each syllable before it left his lips.

  Telling him about the diamonds wasn’t going to do anything but give any dirty cops and the Molinas more motivation to hunt them down. As far as the Molinas knew now, she and Devin had never seen the stolen jewelry.

  “That’s right,” she answered as she shot Devin a telling glance that she hoped yelled keep your mouth shut.

  “They jumped us for no reason at all,” Devin all but growled.

  The officer gulped and took a slow look around the nearly empty room, his eyes settling on the closed entry door before returning to them.

  Ryder’s stomach twisted. Whatever was coming next, she wasn’t going to like.

  “I once filed a report very similar to this one.” The officer faltered, but only for a moment, then an unconvincing smile appeared on his face. “I’ve been in this wheelchair ever since.” He raised a hand. “Not that I’m saying you shouldn’t make your report. Just know there are consequences on this island for this type of action—even for a policeman. For a tourist whom no one here knows or will miss…”

  Forget about having elephant cajones to establish a crime business front across from the police station. The Molina family obviously didn’t waste time worrying about the cops. If they could do whatever it took to put a cop in a wheelchair, they feared nothing.

  “Thank God you weren’t more seriously injured by these…unknown hooligans,”othe officer said.

  Devin crossed his arms, the motion making him grimace. “Are you going to investigate this at all?”

  “Of course, but we are a small department.” The officer shrugged. “It may take some time before our detective can look into your allegations.”

  Ryder couldn’t believe the Molina assholes were going to get away with it all, and probably not for the first time. But it looked like that was exactly what would happen—unless she and Devin did something about it. “I see.”

  “I hope you do,” the cop murmured.

  Devin pushed up from his chair and headed for the door. Ryder followed suit. A police cruiser pulled into the parking lot as they pulled out. The two officers inside gave the Jeep a long, hard stare before one of the cops winked. His smile was anything but friendly.

  Obviously, there wasn’t much else she and Devin could accomplish through official channels. Whatever happened next, it was up to them.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I think it’s the responsibility of a designer to try to break rules and barriers.”

  — Gianni Versace

  Fifteen minutes later, Devin’s silent treatment was about to make Ryder nuts. If it wasn’t for the birds chirping, there wouldn’t have been a sound inside the vehicle as he steered the Jeep down the same highway the Palm Inn was located on. Frustrated aggression rolled off him in swells big enough to flatten her curly hair into stick-straight strands.

  Well, he wasn’t the only one pissed off at the world right now. Staying quiet after the crap sandwich they’d just been served had her twitchy, but despite her attempts to get a conversation going, Devin had completely ignored her—unless you counted him double-checking her safety belt, which she did not. At the pineapple farm, they’d clicked as if they’d been working together for years. No second thoughts. No second guessing. Everything right the first time. Now the pendulum had swung back to fractious, and it pissed Ryder off more than she wanted to admit. The inability to run away from or punch the annoyance had her as edgy as her dog during a thunderstorm.

  Keeping her focus on the sidewalks and buildings they passed, watching for signs of trouble, she decided to give it one more shot before the tension ate a hole through her stomach lining.

  “Where are we going?” Walking away from a half dozen black tank tops and a few pairs of jeans wasn’t going to kill her. However, finding members of the Molina family or the winking cop in her room just might. “We can’t go back to the hotel.”

  “Agreed.”

  One syllable was an improvement compared to silencer mode, but she was going to strangle him with her shoelaces if he didn’t form a full sentence soon. “So, are you going to tell me, or do I need to finish the job those goons started?”

  He suddenly grinned, and it was 100 percent pure, cocky, testosterone-driven jock. “You really think you can take me?”

  “Without a doubt.” Okay, maybe a little doubt.

  His fingers relaxed against the steering wheel. “How about once we get back to Harbor City, I give you a chance?”

  “Challenge accepted.” In reality, home was a world away, but at the moment, it felt like it was in another solar system. “Now spill, where are you driving us?”

  “I found a tent and camping supplies in the back of the Jeep yesterday when I grabbed our bags. Must be included in the rental. We can camp in the nature preserve outside of town.”

  Not surprisingly, the idea of roughing it seemed more appealing than it had the other day. The Molina family had located them at the Palm Inn despite the fact that they’d registered as Mr. and Mrs. Fitzsimmons. Even if they could find a room in another hotel, which was doubtful, it wouldn’t be long before Sarah’s family knew exactly where they were.
And this time they wouldn’t stop at taking incriminating photos of her and Devin getting down and dirty.

  While he drove, she grabbed her tablet from the glove compartment, pulled up the Maltese Security encrypted messaging system, and began typing.

  Carlos, I need a GPS track put on Sarah Molina’s cell. The number’s in the file.

  She hit enter and waited. If she knew their tech guru, he’d be glued to a screen somewhere. A notification beeped a few seconds later.

  Consider it done.

  Ryder laid the tablet in her lap. “Carlos is putting a track on Sarah’s cell phone. That’ll give us her coordinates, as long as she hasn’t disabled the GPS or turned off her phone.”

  “It’ll be on in the morning.” Devin sounded sure.

  Ryder hiked a brow. “What makes you say that?”

  “Her mother is in an assisted living center in Harbor City. She calls her every morning at nine sharp. Everyone on the executive level at Dylan’s Department Store knew better than to buzz George’s office between nine and nine-thirty.”

  Finally a break. Even with her family connections, Sarah wouldn’t be able to hide out on the tiny island much longer. “I’ll let ‘Los know.” Ryder’s thumbs flew across the screen as she texted the update to Carlos. “We only have forty-eight hours until George has to open the books to MultiCorp.”

  “We’ll find her.” His firm tone didn’t leave room for doubt.

  She peeked at him from the corner of her eye. His right cheekbone had turned the same shade of purple as a fresh eggplant. “I hope there’s a first aid kit in the back, because you’re going to need some ice packs tonight.”

  He cracked a smile with only the smallest of grimaces. “You’re not looking so hot yourself, sweetheart.”

  Her responding wry chuckle caught on the island breeze as they passed the hotel and continued west, heading toward the coast. She didn’t even have to glance in the rearview mirror to know he was right. She snickered softly. Sylvie and Drea were always on her to wear more color…but she highly doubted this was what they had in mind.