Rum Runner

by Tricia Leedom

  He shouldn’t have been so surprised when she bunched his T-shirt between her fists and hooted at the sky.

  It was official. He was as vertical as a stripper pole.

  He slowed the machine back down to thirty and was thankful they were almost to Dixie’s.

  He stopped at the stop sign on the corner of Simonton and Eaton and spotted Captain Jheri-curl, the mysterious Winnfield, waiting for them across the street on his own scooter. That meant his buddy Vega probably wasn’t too far away.

  “Hold on, darlin’. We’ve got company.” Jimmy turned the scooter around and headed toward Duval. The bike maxed out at seventy with a regular-sized person riding it. Jimmy was a big guy so his weight slowed the maximum speed to around sixty. Add the Duchess and they’d be lucky to hit fifty-five. He rolled through a stop sign and cut off a taxi as he made a left onto the busy road. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know Winnfield was right behind them, and Vega, on his own ride, had joined in on the fun.

  Jimmy swerved around a convertible and dodged a couple of jaywalking tourists who flipped him the bird and cussed at him in French.

  The Duchess shouted over his shoulder, “I think they might be trying to cut us off. One of the men turned down a side street.”

  Winnfield’s front tire came even with the back of theirs and the bozo grabbed for Sophie. She screamed and clutched Jimmy tighter, burying her face in his back. He swerved the scooter away and gunned the engine. The speedometer struggled to reach fifty-seven. He went up the curb and onto the sidewalk to avoid a trio of cars stopped at a red light. Their pursuer missed his chance and his machine skidded across the asphalt on its side, parting rider from bike, before it slammed into the back of an SUV and burst into flames.

  Jimmy ducked his head to avoid the low-hanging tree branches and decided to bail on the sidewalk. He jumped the curb, making a clean landing back onto the street. Slowing down to take the sharp turn onto South Street, he swerved to evade a rooster. It squawked and flapped its wings.

  Still pressed against his back, the Duchess shouted, “I think we lost them.”

  “Let’s hope so,” he said but doubted it. Vega was still out there somewhere waiting for them.

  Jimmy took it easy as they passed the Southernmost Point. The red, black, and yellow concrete buoy was a popular attraction and it was crawling with tourists as usual. The spot claimed to be the southernmost point in the continental United States, but locals knew that honor went to a restricted area on the local naval base.

  They traveled up Whitehead Street through the heart of the historic district, past the Lighthouse Museum and Hemmingway’s Spanish colonial estate. Jimmy took a right on a side street to head back toward Duval.

  Vega came out of nowhere. Jimmy braked and weaved away just in time to avoid being T-boned by the oncoming bike. The bozo was going so fast he had no time to stop. He slammed head on into an eight-foot whitewashed fence. The collision wouldn’t have been so bad if the fence hadn’t butted up to the back of a concrete building.

  The result wasn’t pretty.

  Jimmy brought the scooter around and stopped to see if the guy was still breathing.

  “Don’t look, Duchess.” He patted her thigh. “Stay here.” He got off the bike and approached the mangled mess of the man he’d nicknamed Vega. The dude’s right arm was clearly broken above his elbow and his left foot pointed in the wrong direction. He was banged up pretty good, but he was conscious.

  Jimmy crouched down to check Vega’s pockets for identification but wasn’t surprised when he didn’t find any. He took the guy’s Beretta, pocketed the magazine, and emptied the chamber. Using the bandana he carried in his back pocket, he wiped his prints off the gun before he tossed it into the gutter.

  “So you gonna tell me what this is all about, boss?”

  A siren wailed in the distance.

  Vega didn’t answer.

  “Let’s try this again.” Jimmy put pressure on the guy’s broken arm.

  Vega panted. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Okay, stop. Stop!”

  Jimmy eased up. “Who are you working for?”

  “Goldilocks.”

  “Cute.” Jimmy pressed down on the knucklehead’s injured arm again.

  Vega howled.

  The sirens grew louder.

  “Jimmy, please. The police are coming.” The Duchess had climbed off the bike, but she stayed back. “I can’t be arrested again.”

  “Based on the distance of the sirens combined with the afternoon traffic, we have approximately four minutes before the first patrol car is on the scene.” When Vega looked like he might pass out from the pressure Jimmy was exerting on his broken arm, he let go. “Let’s quit the bullshit. Does this have something to do with Mitch Thompson?”

  Pain etched Vega’s face. He nodded and spoke through labored breaths. “Boss wants Thompson’s daughter dead or alive.”

  “You can tell your boss she’s no good to you dead. If anything happens to her, Mad Dog will dig in deeper than a tick. He’ll be impossible to find.”

  The sirens grew louder. Less than three minutes out.

  “Jimmy, please!”

  He leaned closer to Vega, so he wouldn’t miss a word of Jimmy’s low warning. “But I promise you, one night when you least expect it, he’ll find you and slit your throat while you sleep, you stupid cocksucker.”

  Vega spat in Jimmy’s face.

  Jimmy used the edge of his T-shirt to wipe his cheek dry, and then he grabbed Vega’s good arm and snapped the wrist with one efficient twist.

  Vega’s bark of agony drowned out the Duchess’s gasp, but Jimmy still heard it. A sliver of guilt pinged around inside his gut. He couldn’t meet her eyes.

  The sirens were a minute out.

  “What does he want with Thompson?” Jimmy demanded. When Vega didn’t answer, he reached for his right arm. The humerus bone was broken, but the wrist was still intact. “Tell me what I want to know or you won’t be able to pull down your zipper to piss.”

  “No! No, wait!” Vega gasped. He took a deep, shuddering breath and said, “Thompson stole something from Bautista. My boss wants it, but I don’t know what it is, though.”

  “Are we gonna play this game?”

  Vega shook his head, his eyes widening in panic. “No, please! I swear, I swear, that’s all I know.”

  “So you don’t work for Bautista. Who then? Tell me.” Jimmy twisted Vega’s wrist until he yowled.

  “Albatross! I work for Albatross! Please, stop!”

  Ice cold dread shot through Jimmy’s veins. He looked at the Duchess, remote and regal, and blissfully ignorant of the fact that the danger level of this escapade had just shot from severe to critical. Posed in front of the scooter in her borrowed American clothes, she still looked like a high fashion model on the cover of Vanity Fair.

  Fear curdled inside his belly.

  “Leave him, Jimmy,” she pleaded. “Let’s go.”

  The police were almost at the corner.

  He hauled back and punched Vega in the face, knocking him out cold. Then he hopped on the scooter and pulled the Duchess behind him.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist. “What did you do that for?”

  “Can’t have him telling the cops which way we went. Hold tight, Duchess.”

  He turned the scooter around, juiced the throttle, and high-tailed it down a narrow alley away from the sirens.

  April stood on the dock in front of Fat Cat Charters studying the Sea Esta. The forty-foot touring boat had a canopied sundeck and padded seating for thirty passengers. There was a small galley and bathroom below deck. She knew this because she’d been on the boat once before during her sophomore year. Her marine biology teacher chartered the boat and took the whole class out on a field trip.

  She’d checked the office for Jimmy, but it was empty except for the fat orange tabby cat lounging on the counter. Someone was definitely around, because there was a box of cleaning supplies on the dock and a fast
tempo Latin song wailing out of the boat’s speakers.

  A dark head appeared in the stairwell as a person emerged from the galley. April’s heart skittered when Damian Rios came into view. He looked right at home on the Sea Esta wearing an old T-shirt, bathing suit trunks, and a pair of boat shoes.

  He stopped short when he saw her and a slow smile spread across his face. He reached out to lower the music without taking his eyes off of her.

  “Hey,” she called out, moving toward the boat.

  “Hi, April. What are you doing here?” He hopped the gunwale and met her on the dock.

  “I’m looking for Jimmy. What are you doing here?”

  “Working.” His warm brown eyes turned smoky as they checked her out.

  She took pleasure in knowing she was looking her best. She wore a white peasant blouse with short, off-the-shoulder sleeves and a narrow, hot pink belt that gathered the fabric just below her breasts. A sassy little bow covered the buckle. A cute pair of low-rise black and white plaid short shorts and hot pink stilettos completed her outfit.

  “Jimmy is going out of town for a couple of days and he left me in charge.”

  “I thought you worked for your dad?”

  “I do. I also park cars at the Ritz.”

  “Three jobs?”

  “UF isn’t cheap.” He grinned. “I can’t assume I’m going to get a scholarship. Are you thirsty? Do you want a Coke or something?”

  “I’m okay.” She toyed with her hair, twirling a long, blonde strand around her finger.

  “Want to sit down?” He gestured to the boat.

  “Sure.”

  When he offered his hand, she didn’t hesitate to take it.

  Boarding a boat was tricky in four-inch heels, but with Damian’s help, she made it safely without slipping. He guided her to the rear-facing last row, and they sat back and put their feet up on the railing.

  “Have you thought about what you want to do after high school?” he asked.

  He was still holding her hand, she noted with secret delight. She didn’t even care that the question sounded like something her father would say.

  “Greenlee wants to backpack across Europe. Of course, her idea of backpacking is traveling by air-conditioned limousine and staying in five-star hotels.”

  “That’s what Greenlee wants to do. I asked what you want to do.”

  April shrugged. “I dunno.” She grew quiet like she always did when someone asked that question.

  He got up and hopped off the boat to grab a sponge and spray bottle from the box of cleaning supplies. When he came back, he stopped and looked at her. “You’re smart, April. You could be anything you wanted to be. Go to any college you want. Why would you just throw away an opportunity like that?”

  April couldn’t meet his gaze. She studied the pelican perched on top of the post at the end of the dock. It didn’t seem fair Damian had to work so hard for something she took for granted. He was right. She had her pick of any college in the country, heck, in the world. And here he was, a boy her age, working three jobs just to be able to afford to go to a state school.

  She shook her head. “I know it’s stupid, but the decision is kind of overwhelming.”

  He sprayed the seats in the next row and started wiping them down. “Your dad owns a bunch of hotels. Did you ever think about getting a degree in hotel management?”

  The idea had never occurred to her, but it was compelling. She enjoyed traveling and loved staying in hotels. She might like working in the hotel business. It was something to consider. “Can I help?” she asked Damian.

  His eyes glittered with amusement as he paused to look at her. “I appreciate the offer, but I wouldn’t want to be responsible for causing April Linus to break a sweat. I might get arrested.”

  Her face heated. Was he teasing her about Jimmy’s arrest? If so, she found the comment kind of mean-spirited. “I am a little thirsty. Maybe I’ll get that Coke after all.”

  “Go ahead. Help yourself. The office is unlocked.”

  “Do you want anything?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got a bottle of water around here somewhere.”

  He helped her over the gunwale and then went back to work while she crossed the parking lot.

  Fat Cat Charters was a small, rustic beach town shop. A cash register sat on top of a glass case filled with souvenirs that were available for purchase. The T-shirts hanging on the wall behind the counter were for sale, too. An L-shaped bench lined the base of the cloudy, oversized windows in front. The soda cooler and a snack rack were to the left and the pair of doors on the back wall led to a toilet and a storage room. The cat that was sprawled on the counter earlier rubbed against her legs and slipped out the front door as she entered.

  She stood in front of the open cooler for a minute, letting the frosty air kiss her overheated skin. She closed her eyes and sighed.

  What was she going to do with the rest of her life? She kind of liked Damian’s suggestion. Hotel management. She might even be able to work in one of her father’s hotels while she went to college. Her father thought she was spoiled and irresponsible, but maybe she could prove herself to him by learning the hotel industry from the ground up, earning her right to inherit the family business one day.

  April took a Coke from the cooler and turned around.

  A man was standing directly behind her.

  She squeaked and jumped back. The glass bottle slipped from her hand and shattered on the concrete floor, splashing sticky caramel liquid onto her Louboutins. She slapped a hand over her pounding heart. “Oh no! Look what you made me do! You scared me to death!”

  The man was tall, at least six-foot, and maybe in his mid-twenties. His brown buzz-cut showed off the tribal tattoo that snaked from the collar of his black T-shirt up the side of his neck. His cargo pants and boots were black too. His snug-fitting outfit accentuated his broad shoulders and lean, muscular body. No, he wasn’t just muscular. He was ripped. A faded scar sliced the edge of his bottom lip. His eyes were the color of gray-blue storm clouds and just as tumultuous, yet his face was completely devoid of emotion.

  There were no doors or windows open, and the AC was off, but goose bumps still rose on her skin and she shivered a little.

  His deep voice tickled her nerve endings when he said softly, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  In her mind, she thought of a million tart comebacks, but her mouth wouldn’t work. A queer sensation flickered in her lower belly. Sweat dampened her palms and heat climbed up her neck. “I…um—”

  “Store’s closed.”

  “It’s okay. I know the owner.”

  “Does he know you’re stealing his Coke?” He had the slightest hint of a Southern accent.

  “Stealing?” A nervous giggle escaped her throat. “Mister, I’m richer than Midas. The only things I’ve been known to steal are men’s hearts.” The flirtatious line, which would’ve charmed the pants off most men when she was on her game, crashed and burned.

  He stared at her, unmoved.

  A strange energy emanated from him and she gravitated toward it as if he were a pulsating star sucking her in with a beam of electromagnetic radiation.

  A pulsating star? Her heart lurched. God, she was such a geek! Why was she so flustered? She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and broken glass crunched under her shoes.

  “Careful.”

  She glanced down, suddenly remembering the mess at her feet. “I should clean that up!” She took a step and slipped. His reflexes were lightning-quick. He’d reached out to steady her, before she even realized he had moved. She stared at the large, strong hand grasping her arm and the long fingers curving around her fine-boned limb and felt a little light-headed.

  “You okay?”

  She reached out with her free hand to steady herself on the edge of the counter. “I will be. It’s really hot in here, isn’t it?”

  The shop door opened and Jimmy Panama walked in. “Jonas, what the hell happened?”


  “I dropped a bottle,” April rushed to explain. “I was just gonna clean it up.”

  The man in black—Jonas, she amended with a little thrill—let go of her arm and stepped back.

  Jimmy’s eyebrows shot up. “What are you doing here, Springtime?”

  Under the scrutiny of Jonas’ gaze, she stammered, “I…well, I um…” She stopped to take a deep breath and began again. “I wanted to apologize for what happened the other day when you got arrested because of my friend Greenlee. She likes to stir up trouble. And… Sorry. I just wanted to say sorry. Yeah.”

  “No harm done. It’s forgotten.”

  She shot a quick glance at Jonas. He was looking at Jimmy now and she noticed the neck tattoo covered the back of his neck as well. She’d never found tattoos attractive, but on him, they were kind of sexy.

  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Jimmy asked.

  It took April a moment to realize he was talking about Jonas. Her eyes widened. “No! He just startled me. That’s all.”

  He rounded on Jonas. “What did I tell you about showing up around here unannounced and terrorizing the local population?”

  “Fuck you.” Jonas said the words without heat, but she sensed the tension in him.

  “There’s a bucket and pail in the storage room, Springtime, and a sink to fill it in. If you wouldn’t mind. I’m kinda strapped for time, or else I’d clean this mess up myself.”

  “Sure.” She managed not to slip as she skirted the spill.

  The storage room was larger than she’d expected it to be and was empty except for some fishing gear, a few stacked boxes, and the random collection of cleaning supplies along the back wall. But April didn’t move away from the door after she closed it. She stood beside the thin wood panel and put her ear to the seam, dying to know more about the mysterious Jonas and the reason for the animosity between the two men.

  They had lowered their voices, but listening harder, she could just make out what they were saying.