Southern Comfort

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Southern Comfort Page 13

by Fern Michaels


  Kate shook her head. Leave it to Sandy to ask stupid questions.

  “Jelly said the cop was dry. And what about the bird? If he shows up, we give him something to talk about.”

  Sandy clucked her tongue. “I get it. You feed the bird information, hoping it’ll get back to them, is that it?”

  “Yep, you got that right. I’ll just make sure the info is . . . enticing.”

  “I like it. Feel free to mention something about my interest in the redhead. That way they’ll know up front.”

  “I can’t believe you. We’re getting ready to break and enter, possibly endanger our lives, and all you think about is that . . . man!” Kate motioned toward the beach.

  “Somebody has to think about our future. We’re not getting any younger.”

  Sandy was right, but it wasn’t the time to concern themselves with their love lives or lack thereof. “True, but we don’t know them. For all we know, they could be gay.”

  “No, they’re not. I can spot a gay man a mile away. My gaydar is always right on the money. The dark-haired one was married before, remember?” Sandy stated seriously, as though this were the most important conversation she’d ever had.

  “And that’s supposed to make a difference how?” Kate grimaced.

  “I wonder about you, Kate, I really do. Let me spell it out for you. If the man was married, chances are pretty slim that he’s gay.”

  “Whatever you say. Right now, those two are the least of my concerns. Jelly said he was sure the cop is who he claims to be, and I agree. I didn’t see anything suspicious at his place, nothing to indicate he was anyone other than a man who seems to want nothing more than a bit of peace and quiet.”

  “Not that we went inside to investigate further, no thanks to you, I should add. He sure as hell isn’t getting any peace and quiet with that whacked-out bird of his, but I agree he seemed normal, whatever that is these days.”

  “True, but that’s not our business, at least not now. Let’s get over to that . . . compound. Something sinister is going on there, I can feel it in my bones. If that jerk Tyler thinks he’s going to discover what it is before we do, he’s got another think coming. And you’re positive Jelly identified him as the guy on that ragged excuse for a boat called Sooner or Later?”

  “Absotively, posilutely sure,” Sandy added.

  “I can’t believe the little weasel has actually been spying on us. Probably doing big Daddy-o a favor. There’s something about that bunch that isn’t right despite their public image of one big happy family.” Kate stuffed a mini Maglite in her pocket, along with her cell phone and a small bag of tools given to her by Jelly. She slipped a Sig Sauer, one she had purchased after turning in her government-issued firearm, in her ankle holster. As an afterthought, she rubbed mosquito repellent on her face, arms, and legs. She was going prepared.

  “You think you’ll really need that?” Sandy asked, indicating the gun strapped to Kate’s ankle.

  “I’m not willing to risk it. You should be packing, too. Who knows who might be watching, just waiting to jump our bones, and I don’t mean it in the way you think I mean it, so wipe that smirk off your face. You better use some of this, too,” Kate suggested, tossing the bottle of insect repellent to her.

  The bottle hit the floor with a thud. “No thanks, Kate. You’re just no fun anymore,” Sandy teased.

  “And you’re just a barrel of laughs yourself. Look, let’s get this over with. I want to have something to report to Jelly when he calls tomorrow. I’ll figure out how to omit the breaking-and-entering part. Seriously, take your gun, Sandy. We don’t know what or whom we’re likely to run into, and I don’t mean our hot-looking neighbors either.”

  “At least we agree on that,” Sandy replied. “You’re human after all.”

  “I never said I didn’t think they weren’t attractive.”

  “No, I don’t believe you did.”

  “Come on, Sandra, let’s get our butts in gear. If we keep this up, it’ll be morning before we’re out the door.”

  Sandy strapped her shoulder holster on. She slipped on a dark blue windbreaker to hide the gun.

  “You’ll suffocate with that on,” Kate admonished.

  “Then I’ll suffocate, I’m getting used to it. I’m not strapping an ankle holster on. What if it gets wet on the way over?”

  “Shit, Sandy, let’s stop with the twenty questions! It isn’t going to hurt a damn thing if the gun gets wet. I don’t plan on going for a midnight swim unless I have to. I’m leaving now. You can come along or not.”

  “Okay, okay! I’m in on this, too.”

  “Then move your ass. I don’t want to spend all night in that godforsaken place, do you?” Kate demanded.

  “I haven’t been there yet, so how would I know? They could have all the amenities we’re lacking in this metal shell that’s supposed to be livable. Like a bathtub and a real shower. And an air conditioner that actually cools.”

  They’d both known going into this gig that the accommodations weren’t going to be ideal, but Sandy hadn’t stopped complaining. They had to make do with a handheld shower attachment connected to a freestanding sink for showering, and the windowunit air conditioner did little more than circulate hot air. Sandy was right. Their accommodations stank, but Kate knew this might be her last case as a bona fide DEA agent, on the book or not. She wanted to prove to Jellard, and to herself, that she still had the guts to do whatever it took to see a case to its end, win, lose, or draw.

  Kate knew that Jelly had taken a huge risk when he asked them to go undercover while under the radar. She would not make him regret his decision. Besides, complaining about their lack of amenities wouldn’t look good on her or Sandy’s record if something more came of this opportunity. It would be looked at, they’re women, they were born to complain, that kind of thing.

  “Then don’t forget to pack a bath towel and shampoo. Seriously, Sandy, we’re working here, not lazing around at some luxurious spa. Now come on, or I’m going without you.”

  “All right,” Sandy said.

  Both women checked their guns for ammunition, then each added an extra clip/magazine for good measure. Neither knew what they were likely to encounter.

  With no visible moon, the darkness concealed them as they made their way to the stretch of beach directly in front of their quarters. The night air was balmy, the humidity still near the hundred percent mark. A light rain continued, the only evidence of the earlier storm. Even though it was close to midnight, the warm breeze sweeping in from the Gulf did little to ease the oppressive heat.

  Sandy slapped at her legs. “These bugs are the size of moths. I can’t believe how many times I’ve been bitten since we’ve been . . . marooned. If this keeps up, my legs are going to look like a leper’s.”

  Kate shook her head. “You should’ve used the repellent like I told you. This area is a natural habitat for bugs.”

  “Isn’t that just grand?” Sandy replied. “Anyway, you stink. Scent travels, you know that. That’s why I didn’t use the repellent. What if we see our neighbors? I don’t want to smell like I’ve bathed in chemicals.”

  Kate laughed. “We don’t have a bathtub, remember? I may stink, but I don’t have ugly red bumps all over my legs. I told you, it’s highly unlikely we’re going to run into our neighbors. Like I said, if they’re smart, they’ve had one too many and called it a night.” What she really would’ve liked to do herself, but she was on a mission, and personal comfort wasn’t considered a high priority on a stakeout, sanctioned or not.

  “I’m not taking any chances. It’s not every day we’re stuck on a beach with two hunks. I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure the odds are in my favor,” Sandy snapped.

  “Since when did you become so gung ho on attracting men? It’s not like you haven’t had your share.”

  Sandy swatted Kate’s arm. “You make me sound like some twobit bimbo.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way. Sorry. You can have any man
you want, so why this redheaded guy? What’s so special about him?”

  “There’s just something about him, I’m not really sure I even know what it is. Yet. I could see it in his eyes when he looked at me. He felt it, too, I could tell.”

  “Whatever ‘it’ is will have to wait, Sandy. We have a deal with Jelly, and I, for one, intend to keep my word, men or no men.”

  “And you think I’m not? Shit, Kate, what kind of person do you think I am? I know what we signed up for, and I intend to see this to the end, same as you. But there’s nothing wrong with a little male incentive to get the juices flowing.”

  Kate laughed again. Poor Sandy, she needed a date. Badly. And soon.

  “All in good time, my friend, all in good time.”

  “Yeah, a good time. That’s exactly what we both need,” Sandy added, as they carefully made their way to the compound stationed at the end of Mango Key.

  “Enough. No more talking. From here on in we’ll use hand signals until I say it’s clear. We don’t have a clue what we’re about to encounter. Are you ready?”

  Sandy ran her hand along her right side, making sure her gun was in place. “I’m ready.”

  “Then let’s go. I want to find out what’s really happening at that . . . place.”

  Feeling like an eel in his wet suit, Pete adjusted the band on his diving mask, then pulled it back to sit atop his head. He checked his equipment. Fins, snorkel, regulator, dive watch, tank of compressed air.

  “We won’t need the regulator or the tank since we’re not going that deep,” Tick said.

  “I’m not taking any chances, bro. I’ve never done this before, remember? I’m not so sure we shouldn’t have rented those skis you mentioned. At least we’d be above the water.”

  “You’ll do fine, Pete. I’m no expert myself. Let’s just take the snorkels and masks. We can get by with them. We can stay close to the beach, we’ll swim out just far enough so we’re not easily spotted. No one in their right mind is going to be out fishing or doing who knows what this time of night. If we were skiing, we’d be spotted for sure.”

  Pete breathed a sigh of relief. “True. That’ll work for me. I don’t have to tell you, I wasn’t too enthused about diving or waterskiing. Keep me above the water any day.”

  “Yeah, I can see you’re still a wuss,” Tick needled. “Think you’ll need a life jacket, too?”

  “Kiss my ass,” Pete shot back.

  “I think I’ll take a pass on that, bro,” Tick said. For the first time in a very, very long time, he felt good. Really good. As in let’s-kick-ass-and-take-names-later good. Good as in he wondered about the woman who called herself Kate. Visions of her romping on the beach filled his head. She was hot, even hotter than her friend. Somehow Tick knew that she was as totally unaware of her knockout looks as her partner was totally aware of her own attractiveness.

  “One of these days, I’m really gonna kick your ass, you know that?” Pete shot back with a grin.

  “When hell freezes over. Get your gear so we can get started. The sun’ll be up before you’re out the door. And remember, once we swim ashore, no talking. You follow me, stay close so you don’t get into any trouble. When and if I see it’s clear, then I’ll decide our next move. If—and I don’t see this happening—but if for some god-awful reason it does, if we encounter trouble of any kind, I want you to hightail your ass back to the house. Call Joe; he’s the island elder. Tell him what’s going down. He’ll know what to do from there. You sure you’re okay with this?” Tick asked, suddenly serious, more serious than he’d been for a long time. This wasn’t a game, and he wanted to make sure Pete understood the rules.

  “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. No cowboys and Indians. We’re not kids. I know this is serious shit, Tick, and I’m good with all of it,” Pete assured him.

  “If you’re sure, then let’s go. Remember, you follow and do as instructed or else,” Tick reiterated.

  “I heard you the first time. Let’s go before I chicken out,” Pete joked. “Why the hell do I have to wear this? I feel like I’m being strangled by a boa constrictor,” he added.

  “Warmth.”

  “In this heat? I’d think that would be the last thing we’d have to concern ourselves with.”

  “Then you know what to do?” Tick asked as he attached equipment to various parts of his body.

  “You haven’t changed one bit, ass face. I won’t think. That’s what you wanted to hear isn’t it?”

  “I see the ponies didn’t kick all the horse sense out of you. This is good. Now shut up. And yeah, that’s what I wanted to hear. Despite the warm weather, once we’re in the water, you’d be amazed at how fast your body temperature drops.”

  “Looks like I’m not going to find out either. Let’s get out of here before I choke to death in this damned thing,” Pete said.

  “Deep water! Deep water!” Bird croaked from his perch.

  “Is he coming?” Pete asked, pointing at Bird.

  “He’s my right-hand bird. Of course he’s coming.” Tick directed his attention to Bird, perched on the back of the kitchen chair. “Go to that thing, Bird! See what you can find. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Pete shook his head. “I never thought I would live to see the day that you, Mr. Police Officer, best-selling author, would be talking to a damn parrot. What’s worse, you expect him, or her, whatever, to understand you. Nope, I never thought I’d see the day.”

  Tick turned off the living-room lights on their way out. He left the front-porch light on just in case Pete would need it as a guide if he had to return to make a phone call, though Tick hoped that wouldn’t be necessary. He knew that he could feel his way back to the house if push came to shove.

  “Get the girls! Get the girls!” Bird squawked.

  “See? He knows what’s expected of him before he’s even asked. Unlike some people I know, right, Bird?”

  “Bullshit! Bullshit!”

  Both Tick and Pete doubled over with laughter.

  “Bird, it’s time to go to that place at the tip of the island. Listen up and wait for us when you see us getting out of the water. You got that?” Tick asked seriously though his grin was as wide as the ocean.

  “Outta here, outta here!” With a flutter of wings, Bird flew off the back of the chair and out the front door before either Tick or Pete could say another word.

  Carefully, they inched down the steps. Tick was the first to speak. “I’ve never heard Bird say that before. I swear he’s more intelligent than some of the residents here on the island. I wonder who trained him. And why?”

  “Unless Bird tells you himself, or herself, I guess you’ll never know. I have to admit, I’m surprised that he or she actually understands and follows orders. Maybe it’s time to put Bird on the road. Make some big bucks off a show like that,” Pete said thoughtfully.

  “Don’t make plans for my pet. He’s not going anywhere except where I tell him to go,” Tick snarled to his brother’s back.

  Pete flipped him the bird.

  Waddling like two penguins in their wet suits, with their diving gear sticking out every which way, Tick and Pete looked like sea creatures from a bad B-rated 1950s movie as they entered the water.

  “We’ll walk out about fifty feet, then if the water’s deep enough, we’ll swim out another hundred yards, give or take a few. From there we’ll head east, which will put us directly in front of that thing. Remember, once we’re onshore, no talking. Stay behind me, and don’t do anything unless I tell you. Just in case you don’t know this, sound carries over water.”

  Exasperated, Pete shook his head. “Okay, Dad. I think I’m old enough to follow a few simple instructions.”

  “Old enough, yes. Smart enough, I’m not so sure,” Tick razzed.

  “Hey, you better watch your mouth.”

  “Just kidding, bro, just kidding.”

  Without another word between them, the two men waded into the water until it was waist deep. Securing
their snorkels and masks, they swam away from shore, heading into unknown territory.

  Chapter 12

  Wearing the pink and yellow shirt patterned with bright green parrots and palm trees, his new distressed shorts, and flip-flops, Tyler knew no one would recognize him in what he thought of as his new-island-tourist garb. He discarded the Miami Dolphins cap, choosing instead the white baseball cap emblazoned with the word PARROTHEAD in bright orange print above the bill. He figured it had something to do with Key West and Jimmy Buffet, but didn’t give a damn because he wasn’t about to let anyone see him like this, or at least anyone that mattered. What would Nancy Holliday think if she saw him all decked out in flowers and birds? Something told him she’d like him no matter what he wore.

  He parked his rental behind the marina, took his cell phone from the dash along with his night-vision goggles, his Glock, and a set of binoculars. The night air was steamy, tinged with the odor of rotting fish. He glanced around at the older homes, some of them nothing more than shacks, all without central air-conditioning, and he wasn’t sure if they actually had plumbing or not. He wondered how anyone could possibly live here in this heat without all the amenities he had in his Los Angeles condo. In Phoenix, the heat had been dry, nothing like the sweltering, dank air in Florida. It could be worse. At least he hadn’t seen any alligators slithering around the marina. Yet.

  Fifteen minutes later, under a moonlit sky, Tyler expertly maneuvered the Sooner or Later from its slip at the marina. No one saw him as he idled slowly down the inlet of water leading out into the ocean. God help him if his father were to see him dressed like this. He smiled at the thought of it. Hell, he might wear this to Christmas dinner this year.

  The pitch-black skies accommodated his plans for the night. For that he was thankful. He knew if he couldn’t see them, meaning those sneaky bitches, Kate Rush and Sandra Martin, then they couldn’t see him. He planned to extinguish the lights and cut the engine as he neared the tip of Mango Key. He had a plan. Sort of.

  Tyler steered the sleek, albeit older model boat out into the open water. When he saw there were no other boats within sight, he bumped the throttle up to its maximum speed. The boat danced over the tops of the whitecaps at a dangerously high speed. He didn’t care, he was experienced on the water, a fact that even his father would agree on. Though, if asked, Tyler was sure his father would take all the credit for teaching him even though they both knew that wasn’t true. His skill could be attributed to summers spent at the beach yacht club with various instructors and hours upon hours of practice.

 

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