by Mark Stone
“You definitely have a point there,” I answered. “You know, I never got a chance to tell you how impressed I was with you the other night. I absolutely could not have done it without you, and I hope you know that.”
“Oh, I do know that,” she said, looking over at me. “I’m completely aware of it. I’m just glad everything worked out. It was certainly touch and go there for a minute.”
“How about your boss?” I asked. “I’m guessing from the lack of criminal charges leveled against me that he’s at least open to the idea of not hating me.”
“Of not hating us,” Mia answered. “Let’s not forget, I’m the one who held him and Charlie at gunpoint for more than an hour.” She shook her head. “But yes, he understands. He’s not going to be throwing you any parties anytime soon, but you did save his grandson’s life and bring his son’s killer to justice. I guess that earns us both a pass for all the laws we broke. Though I wouldn’t make a habit of it.”
“Does that mean you’d arrest me next time?” I asked.
“Don’t give me a reason to, and you won’t have to find out,” Mia said, smiling.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I said, looking over at Davey, who was in the middle of his third shrimp cocktail. “From now on, my friend and I are going to keep our noses clean. No more trouble for us.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Mia said. “Even if you’re not causing trouble, don’t you think it’ll find you?”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” I answered, looking back at the glorious Gulf and wondering what I ever did to deserve a scenery and a life that were this beautiful. “Guess that depends on how lucky I get.”
Author’s Note: Each Lucky John Book is a standalone adventure and can be read as such. That said, each book will end with an epilogue that teases the fun to come in the next book. If you don’t care for those kinds of teases and prefer that the book remain a true standalone, feel free to skip the epilogue below and (if you’re so inclined) head straight for the mailing list signup after it. But, if you don’t mind the glimpse into what’s ahead, please read on. Either way, thank you so much.
Epilogue
Grayville, Illinois
She walked into the restaurant with her heels clicking loudly against the tile. A few months ago, she’d never have dreamed of going into a place like this. Grayville had exactly one upscale eatery, and she had never been the type of person who was welcome somewhere like that. She didn’t have the right clothes. She didn’t have the right accessories. She didn’t have the right reputation. Not to mention how expensive everything was here. That wasn’t a problem anymore, though. Money wasn’t an issue. It hadn’t been for months now, since that fateful day at the truck stop when she went from being a cashier to an independently wealthy ex-cashier.
As she’d found out, not only could money buy you the clothing and accessories necessary to come into a place like this with your head held high, it could also buy you the reputation if you had enough of it.
In an instant, Charlotte’s entire story had changed. She had gone from being the white-trash daughter of a white-trash single mother and deadbeat father to the sweetheart of the county. Her story had changed, too. Through a golden heart and determination, she had managed to hold out until her big break came. It had nothing to do with luck in the eyes of the people in this restaurant, nothing to do with happenstance.
Charlotte thought it was odd how rich people always felt the need to qualify wealth, like only the deserving ever got it. She knew that wasn’t true. Hell, she was walking proof of it.
She brushed off the greetings of people who wouldn’t have looked at her twice two months ago as walked to what had become her regular table. It was all standard at this point. Except when she got to her table, Charlotte saw there were two men there. She had never seen them before, but she had seen trouble, and one look at those men told her they were trouble.
Without a word, she turned to go, deciding instead to opt for the Chinese takeout or pizza delivery she’d grown up on. As she did, though, she was met with another man. He looked just as rough as the others, perhaps more so, given the scar across his right cheek.
“Leaving so quickly?” he asked.
“I’m suddenly not very hungry,” Charlotte answered.
“That’s okay,” the man said. “We’re not here to eat, anyway.”
“You picked a bad location then,” Charlotte said, swallowing hard.
“Not really,” the man said. “You see, we’re looking for you. You’re Charlotte, right? My boss sent me.”
“I can’t imagine what your boss could want from me,” Charlotte replied, “whoever he is.”
“She,” the man corrected. “And it’s simple. She just wants us to have a conversation with you.” A menacing smile started across the man’s lips as spoke. “We need to talk about Lucky John.”
The End
Want to know what happens to Lucky John, Mia, Davey, and the rest of the gang?
Well, I’ve got some bad news for you.
Amazon won’t tell you when the next book is out!
You’ll be left wondering what happens in Bonita Springs to all your favorite characters, and that’s not great because- I promise- what’s coming up next is pretty awesome.
But don’t worry. There’s good news!
To find out what’s happening next to the Naples crew, all you have to do is:
Sign up for my monthly newsletter right here! I’ll let you know when the next book will be coming out and I’ll keep you posted on free stuff and upcoming adventures. Also, if you like this book and want me to continue with the adventures of Lucky John, please consider leaving a review. They help SO MUCH.
Also, check out my website and get in touch with me on Facebook.
Also, be sure to click the follow me link on Amazon here.
For more on Dillon Storm and his group of Naples neighbors, check out the sequels.
Book 2: Far From Shore can be found here. Check it out!
Book 3 Across the Sound can be found here.
Book 4: Caught in the Surf can be found here
Book 5: Buried in the Sand can be found here
And…
A new Spinoff Series set in the Coastal Justice world, Coastal Law, can be found here.
Thanks, and until next time, happy sailing,
Mark
And now for a look at the next Coastal Justice book, SWIMMING WITH THE SHARKS, available soon on Amazon.
Chapter 31
Boomer’s hand flew out in front of me quickly as he snatched the fly ball right out of my grasp. He chuckled loudly as he retracted his glove, looking at me and shaking his head. Balancing a beer and a hot dog in his non-gloved hand (which was really a feat, if you ask me), he muttered, “Gotta be quicker than that, Storm.”
A chuckle burst from my lips as I watched my friend tip the beer in his hand back and funnel it into his mouth. Even though he’d just stolen a game ball from me, and even though he lightly chastised me about it, it was good to see him having fun. As the Collier County Chief of Police, my friend could usually be found hunched over a stack of papers at his desk or shoveling a sandwich into his face while burning the midnight oil. Naples could be a dangerous place, and that meant the people who kept the peace were never really off the clock. Take his wife and daughters into consideration, and I didn’t know how the guy ever got a minute to breathe. That was an issue that had been creeping up more and more to the forefront of my mind ever since I found out that my own wife was going to have a baby three months ago.
Of course, today wasn’t a time to think about that kind of thing. Today was the rarest of occasions, a day when both Boomer and I were off of work, a day when we had enough free time to hang out and do one of the most quintessential guys things this side of fishing and playing pool.
“I love baseball,” Boomer said, setting his beer down and diving into his hot dog. “I mean, I love a lot of things, but baseball has got to be one of my fav
orites.” Wiping mustard from his lip, my friend sat down on the plastic green seat and stared out at the field. I joined him.
The game was almost over, which was fine by me. While I was definitely a fan, I didn’t hold the same love of America’s pastime that Boomer always had. The games were long and more than a little boring. If I wanted a sleepy day, I’d grab a fishing pole and go out on the lake, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate the diamond and the talented men who played on it. In fact, one of those talented me was exactly why we were there today.
“You must be pretty proud,” I said, looking up at the scoreboard which read that the Naples Sharks were leading the Tampa Tornados by a score of seven to three heading into the bottom of the ninth. If the Sharks could hold off a grand slam, the home team would be in for a win. And Boomer had a bigger stake in that than just hometown pride. “Hector’s doing a hell of a job too,” I said, smiling wide and looking deeper into the statistics displayed on the scoreboard. “Holding the other team to only two hits the entire game. He’s definitely a great pitcher.”
“Great is an overstatement,” Boomer said, setting the remainder of the hot dog on his lap and holding his hands out in front of him in order to emphasis what he was about to say. “He could be great, and with any luck, he will be. But that’ll take hard work, time, and dedication. Don’t forget we’re only at AA ball right now. The majors are a long way off.”
“Not as long as you might think,” I said, pointing to the scouts that Hector told Boomer had been showing up at any games he pitched lately. “Especially if he keeps showing off in front of those guys like he has been.” I shook my head. “I bet you never imagined, when you playing catch with your godson all those years ago, that he’d grow up to be one of the hottest prospects in baseball.”
“Don’t jinx it!” Boomer said, shaking his head hard at me and looking away. “You can’t say stuff like that.”
I laughed hard again. In all my years of knowing Boomer, which was all my years, I had never known him to be the superstitious sort. He was always a pragmatist, the kind of even keeled man who people said had a good head on his shoulders. It was the oddest thing, though. You get him around sports of any kind, and he was rubbing rabbits’ feet and plucking at for leaf clovers. It was the craziest thing in the world to me, and that inclination only grew now that his godson Hector was part of the game.
“You’re being ridiculous, but I think you know that already,” I said, propping my feet up on the back of the empty seat in front of me and crossing my arms over my chest.
“I already know a lot of things, but that doesn’t mean I can stop any of them,” Boomer replied. “I know it’s stupid. I just want so damn much for the kid. That’s all. You know how much he’s been through. He deserves something good for once.”
I watched a mixture of pride, concern, and deep commitment fill my best friend’s eyes. I knew how much Hector meant to him. I always had. The son of a girl Boomer used to go out with in high school, he and Hector’s mom stayed in touch even after they broke up, after she got married and moved up to Georgia, and after she got divorced and moved back home to Naples with Hector in tow. He always had a special place in his heart for that boy, and because of that, not only did Hector’s mother pick Boomer to be the boy’s godfather, but Boomer’s own children thought of Hector as something of a cousin to them.
“He got something good,” I said, giving my friend a pat on the back and keeping my eyes firmly planted on the field. “He got a damn good godfather.” Nodding, I continued. “But I know what you mean. Ever since Rebecca found out that we’re going to have a baby, I can’t stop thinking about all the things I want for the little bugger. I haven’t even met them yet, and I already want them to have the whole world on a string. And I’m as nervous as a house fly in autumn all the time and I have no idea why.” As Boomer chuckled knowingly, I smiled at him. “And you’ve got two of them. I swear, I don’t think I ‘ve been giving you enough credit all these years. I don’t know how you’ve been able to juggle all of it.”
“The same way everybody does,” Boomer said. “With great difficulty, but you will get it done. Just like the rest of us, you probably won’t think you will, but it’ll come.” As Boomer spoke, the sound of a distraught grunt reverberated throughout the field. It was accompanied by a growing roar in the crowd. My head whipping to the source of the noise, I saw Hector standing there, his hands in the air as he’d just struck out the last batter of the night. The Sharks had won, and much of it was because of Hector.
“Would you look at that?” Boomer asked, grinning from ear to ear.”Sure is a good night to be a baseball fan.” He leaned forward, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting in the direction of the scouts who had come to watch Hector play. “That’s my godson!”
An hour or so later, I found myself waiting in the mostly empty parking lot outside the ballfield. All the fans had already left and the away team, licking their wounds over their loss, already piled into their bus and drove away. That only left the Sharks and the stadium custodians still inside. As we watched the hometeam filter out into the parking lot, Hector among the, I knew I was in for some expert level bragging on Boomer’s part.
“There’s the MVP!” my friend said, walking toward Hector and the others with his hands in the air as though he’d had anything to do with winning the game himself. “You boys are good,” he continued as we settled in front of the team. “But you got nothing on my godson here.”
“Would you stop it, Uncle Boomer?” Hector asked, smiling as he shook his head and turned back to his teammates. There was a look of pride in the young man’s eyes, and something told me it had less to do with his numerous accomplishments on the field and more to do with having someone actually waiting for him outside to brag on him about them. As a kid who grew up without a dad in his life, I knew that desire pretty well. It was a yearning that pulled at you, and even after having it filled with time, accomplishments, and relationships of your own, it never really went away.
“I sure as hell won’t,” Boomer said, beaming with enough pride to put the lights that still burned bright in the parking lot to shame. “You’re the best damn player Collier County has ever seen, and I’m not about to let anybody forget that.”
“Doesn’t say much for the rest of us, does it?” a tall, thin boy with white blond hair said, smiling as he stood beside Hector. He extended his hand toward Boomer. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”
“Of course I do,” Boomer said. “You’re the shortstop.”
The tall boy chuckled loudly. ‘Not just the shortstop, but yeah,” he said. “I’m also Wes Tillman. Jake Tilman’s son.”
Boomer’s eyes went wide and his jaw basically drug the parking lot. “You’re joking!” he said, his voice a near gasp. “You’re little Wesely? Lord in heaven. How long has it been?”
“Since Dad died?” Wes asked, hurt flashing noticeably through his eyes. “Almost fifteen years now.”
Boomer leaned back, his hand grappling for the car as he leaned against it. “Fifteen years. Are you serious?”
“Afraid so,” Wes said, nodding firmly. “Time flies when you’re not paying attention, I guess.”
Boomer looked down at the pavement, taking a beat and trying to catch his breath. I knew, without him having to say anything, that this boy and the identity of his father hit him right where he lived. Whatever was going through his mind right now was enough to send him spiraling.
“I’m Dillon Storm,” I said, extending my hand to Wes and shaking it in an attempt to break through what was happening. “It’s nice to meet you. You seemed very talented out there today as well. You all did,” I said, looking at the others. “You’ll have to forgive Boomer here. He’s a little bias.”
“To be expected,” Wes said.
“We were actually planning on surprising Hector with dinner at his favorite seafood joint,” I said, looking back at Boomer, who still hadn’t really composed himself. “You all are very
welcome to come if you want.”
“You’re going to regret that,” Wes said slapping me playfully on the shoulder. “Ball players have big appetites.”
“I think we’ll survive,” I said, smiling myself and looking to Hector. “Why don’t you meet us there. We’ll be right over.”
As they walked away, I turned my attention to my friend. “Boom. What the hell is going on? Who was that kid?”
“He’s the son of my first partner,” Boomer said. “And his dad is dead because of me.”
Chapter 32
“Boomer, what are you talking about?” I asked, my eyes wide and my arms crossing over my chest. I had known my best friend for my entire life, at least, the parts of it that mattered. He told me everything. I knew when he’d gotten his first kiss. I knew when he was planning on proposing to his wife. He even told be that time he had to have a questionable mole checks on his back. But, of all the things Boomer Anderson had told me, he had somehow left this part out. “You had a partner who died?”
Boomer, his eyes still planted firmly on the concrete parking lot, seemed to crinkle into himself, like the memory he was evoking now was so heavy that it had begun to crush him. “It was a long time ago,” he said solemnly.
“Fifteen years, apparently,” I said, remembering what Wes had said. “You never told me.”
“It’s not something I like to talk about,” he answered. “Not the best memory I’ve got, you know?”
“I can imagine,” I answered, stepping closer to him.
“I’m not sure you can,” Boomer said. “He was more than my partner. Jake Tillman was my friend. Back then, when you were gone, he was my best friend.” Boomer shook his head. “It would be like losing you, you know?”
