Yacht Games (Coastal Fury Book 22) Read online

  “Wesley,” Wesley muttered in response.

  “Good to meet you,” Logan replied cheerfully. “So, what happened to your leg? I noticed you limping earlier. One of my platoon mates stepped on a landmine during an operation a few years back.” Logan shook his head. “Is that what happened to you?”

  “No, uh, it was a drunk driver,” Wesley replied softly. “Hit me damned near head-on… Shattered both my legs. They both healed up eventually, but, uh,” Wesley looked down at his right leg, “the right one never quite stopped hurting. My back, too. Lost my job since I couldn’t go to work, so then I lost my insurance, so I couldn’t fix my leg.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Lost everything in the past year, and now I’m here.”

  “That’s a shame.” Logan clapped Wesley on the back sympathetically. “But hey, you’re still alive, right? So long as you’ve still got air in your lungs, you can’t give up, right? You’re too young to think about giving up.”

  Wesley turned to look at the old man, who was smiling kindly back at him.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he replied as a shiver ran through him. Even down underground, the bitter cold cut through him.

  “Of course I am!” Logan laughed. “Anyway, maybe we should find someplace to hit the hay. It looks like it’s going to be a cold one tonight. Come on.” The old man got shakily up onto his feet before turning to Wesley. “I know a spot not far from here. It should be pretty deserted this time of night, so we shouldn’t have any problems. And it’ll be dry!”

  Wesley stared back at Logan warily. Just moments before, he’d been thinking about how nice the old man seemed, but that didn’t necessarily mean that Wesley trusted him. He was, after all, still a stranger. A stranger whose first inclination had been to accuse him of being a communist and of plotting to attack him. Wesley wasn’t keen on the idea of following him anywhere, especially not somewhere that would be “deserted.”

  “Come on, what are you sitting there for?” Logan asked as he leaned down to haul Wesley to his feet.

  Wesley was shocked by just how much strength the man had. For someone that looked like they were in their seventies, the man was anything but frail, and he managed to yank Wesley at least partway off the bench.

  “Snow’s picking up!” Logan spat. “If we dally, we’ll be soaked to the bone by the time we get there, and then it won’t matter whether the place is dry or not. We will die of hypothermia in our sleep. That’s why you should never sleep in wet clothes, you know. Even if you end up having to strip down and sleep in your skivvies, the best way to survive is…”

  He continued to ramble on about survival tactics and how he’d used those methods himself back during “the war.” Wesley had no idea what war he was referring to if it was even a real one that actually happened. In truth, he was barely listening to what Logan was saying at all. His mind was still stuck on the safety aspect of following this man to who-knows-where in the middle of the night.

  I guess I’ve lived long enough, Wesley thought to himself, self-deprecatingly, as he resigned himself just to go wherever the man suggested. What was the worst that could happen? He could be killed? At that point, Wesley wasn’t sure that would be the worst outcome. Since he was crippled, homeless, penniless, and without a single prospect or way out, what other hopes did he even have?

  “Alright, fine,” Wesley cut Logan off with a low, defeated mutter. Logan blinked in surprise, as though he’d completely forgotten that Wesley was there in his rambling. “You’re right. Let’s go before we freeze to death.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Logan replied cheerfully as he clapped Wesley on the shoulder. “Come on then, let’s go.”

  Logan took off without another word, ambling away surprisingly quickly for a man his age. It was still, fortunately, at a pace that was slow enough for Wesley to keep up with his bad leg. That was good because Logan didn’t stop or turn around once to make sure Wesley was even behind him. Wesley smiled ruefully as he thought about what a sight the pair must make, shuffling down the street in single file like this. He might have laughed if his teeth hadn’t been chattering too much.

  The walk seemed to drag on for an eternity, and all the while, Wesley’s leg was screaming in angry protest. Logan slowed down briefly to greet someone in an alleyway that was, as far as Wesley could see, chock-full of other homeless people, but they didn’t stay long, much to Wesley’s dismay. He was about to just call it quits and collapse into the shadow of a doorway when Logan finally spoke up.

  “Here it is!” Logan declared when they finally arrived at their destination after what felt like an eternity of walking. “The guard’s not here, just like I thought. Perfect, no one will bother us then.”

  Wesley, who’d been so focused on the steadily increasing pain in his leg, finally looked up. It was an ordinary-looking parking garage tucked between two nice, well-kept buildings.

  Part of Wesley wanted to ask if Logan was sure this was a good idea, but he honestly couldn’t summon the will to care anymore. He sighed as he followed Logan onto the deck. To his surprise, the inside of the deck felt a little warmer, probably because it was insulated due to being sandwiched between the two large buildings.

  “Over here should be good,” Logan whispered conspiratorially as he led Wesley over to a spot in the corner of the floor. “The air vent is just outside of this back wall, so this spot is always the warmest.” He beamed proudly, and Wesley was shocked to discover that he was right. The spot just in the corner did feel a little warmer. “Ground’s not that comfortable to sleep on, but at least it beats sleeping outside, huh?”

  Logan lowered himself onto the ground, and Wesley followed suit nearby.

  “Well, let’s get some shuteye,” Logan declared as he laid down without any more preamble.

  Wesley watched him for a minute, still uncertain whether it was a bright idea to just go to sleep next to this stranger in a very deserted parking garage. In the end, he just shrugged and laid down as well. As he’d thought earlier, if this were the end, then at least he wouldn’t have to worry about his leg or any of his other problems any longer. As he closed his eyes, he wondered vaguely what the next day might bring.

  He woke with a jolt sometime later, his heart hammering as the sounds of screams echoed in his ears. He realized quickly that the old man was shouting something about being under attack, and Wesley groaned. Had he really been shocked awake all because of the man’s crazy delusions?

  “Come on, Logan, nothing is—” Wesley grumbled as he sat up to help calm the man.

  He stopped short as he opened his eyes and found Logan several feet away from him on the parking deck, kicking and struggling on the ground as a man dressed in black clothes stood threateningly above him.

  “Hey!” Wesley barked as he attempted to get to his feet.

  His leg protested at once, and he stumbled slightly as he attempted to go to his newfound friend’s aid, but he pushed through the pain to get to Logan, who was trembling on the ground now as the assailant rained blows down on him with his fists.

  “Get off him!” Wesley yelled as he shoved the attacker away.

  Wesley had always been more of a “brains over brawn” kind of guy, which showed in the awkward strike against the man, but he wasn’t about to just stand by and let him beat on Logan. “You think you’re tough, attacking a little old man? You must feel like a big man!”

  The assailant turned to look at Wesley, and Wesley found himself regretting his surge of bravado immediately. The guy was big, built like a linebacker, and looked furious. Wesley barely had a moment to react before the man suddenly lunged at him. Wesley swung his fists wildly, whispered remnants of a self-defense class he took during his freshman year of college coming back to him as he tried to recall how to throw a punch.

  Wesley was shocked when his fist connected with the attacker’s face. The man yelled with pain as he reached up to press his hands against his nose, and for a few seconds, Wesley wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to do
next. Then he shoved the man again before turning to check on Logan, who was still curled up on the ground. Before he could take more than two steps, though, something hard hit him over the back of the head.

  The pain from the blow was immense. It felt like whatever had hit him had cleaved his skull right in two, and stars were dancing in his vision.

  “Hey, careful!” a warbled voice above him hissed. “Don’t kill him! He won’t be useful if he’s dead!”

  Another voice responded, but Wesley couldn’t make it out. His vision was going dark, and the pain in his head was starting to recede as drowsiness overtook him. He knew, logically, that he shouldn’t fall asleep. He shouldn’t just give up and let his eyes fall closed. He was so tired, though, and the pain was gone now, so he allowed the darkness to overtake him.

  2

  Ethan

  I sat down at one of the stools at the bar, then reached up to check my mic, pretending to adjust the collar of my shirt as I did.

  “Can you hear me?” I muttered quietly as I looked around casually.

  The bar was as glamorous as they came, every surface polished and shiny, made of glass and marble and sleek gray steel. It was located on the twentieth floor of a skyscraper here in downtown Miami, and it was also the location of our current stakeout.

  “Loud and clear,” Holm’s voice rang out from the tiny receiver in my ear.

  It was pretty impressive how far technology had come in just a few years. Gone were the days when our earpieces were bulky and noticeable, like big, plastic hearing aids. The receiver I was wearing now was only slightly bigger than an earplug, and unless someone looked directly into my ear, they probably wouldn’t notice it.

  “Any sign of her?” I asked as I flagged the bartender down to get a drink. He walked over right away.

  “Nope,” Holm replied from where he was located at the other end of the bar. He was sitting at a table by himself, pretending to be on a hilarious phone call as he spoke to me. “Nothing yet—oh, looks like we got something.”

  I turned to the entrance, where I spotted her at once. Julietta Morales, stunning at nearly six feet tall, with long legs and a sharp, angular face that made her look like a queen. She was wearing a form-fitting, black velvet dress that stopped at her thighs and impossibly high heels that looked like they’d be impossible to walk in. She was managing it somehow, though, and doing it quite effortlessly as she glided along the floor of the bar. She was flanked by several guards, which wasn’t surprising, considering who she was.

  As the wife of a drug lord, it only made sense that she would travel with her own protective entourage. Her husband, Guillermo Morales, had been making waves around the metro Miami area for the past few months. He’d appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and for nearly half a year now, had managed to import a massive amount of narcotics into the United States from Nicaragua. All of our efforts to catch him had fallen flat so far, as he always managed to evade us at the last moment. We’d finally caught a break when we received an anonymous tip that Morales’s wife, Julietta, tended to frequent this upscale bar. We’d quickly devised a plan to come and find her, with the hopes that we’d be able to tail her back to her husband’s location. Now that she was here, all I needed to do was figure out a way past her wall of guards.

  To my surprise, I didn’t end up having to do much because she suddenly turned and walked in my direction.

  “Oh, crap,” Holm muttered into my ear. “Is she onto you?”

  “I dunno,” I replied quickly before grabbing the drink that the bartender had just brought for me.

  “That looks good.” Julietta smiled coyly as she approached and nodded toward the glass in my hand. “What are you having?”

  “You came all the way over here just to ask me what drink I was having?” I replied vaguely, still unsure whether she knew who I was and what I was doing here. I offered her a polite, slightly aloof smile as I waited to see where she would go with this.

  “Is there a problem with that?” she replied as she slid onto the stool next to mine. Her skirt rode up as she did, exposing more of her thigh as she brazenly crossed one leg over the other.

  Her guards were standing right behind us, which wasn’t a good position for me to be in. I was tense and didn’t want to turn my back on them entirely, but I couldn’t make it obvious that I was nervous.

  “Not really.” I shrugged as I turned around on the stool, so my back was to the bar instead. “I guess I just don’t see what’s so interesting about a normal glass of scotch.”

  “I guess, if I’m being honest, it was the man holding the drink that drew my attention,” she murmured as she raised a hand to flag down the bartender. He appeared at once.

  “Get me my usual,” she commanded regally before turning to look at me. “And another one for…?”

  “Ethan,” I replied calmly, though inside, my heart was pounding frantically at the sudden development.

  “Another drink for Ethan, then,” Julietta finished. The bartender moved to prepare the drinks at once. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

  “That’s because this is the first time I’ve been here,” I replied, an easygoing smile on my lips. It wasn’t a lie. Ritzy rooftop bars weren’t my usual hangout spots. For better or worse, the divey little spot Mike owned was where I could usually be found getting a drink.

  “Are you from out of town?” she asked as she leaned toward me, letting her knee brush against my leg as she did.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “I’m up here on business. I thought I’d check out what Miami has to offer.”

  “Oh?” she asked as she leaned even closer, just inches away from me now. “And do you like what Miami has to offer?”

  She smiled slyly at me as the bartender returned with our drinks. She was laying it on pretty thick, and though I could almost believe that she might have just been flirting with me, I couldn’t quite shake the suspicion that there was something else hidden behind her eyes.

  “I can’t say it’s been too bad so far,” I replied casually. “Tonight, especially, has been pretty eventful.”

  She laughed in response as she reached for the glass the bartender had set on the table.

  “Well, I have a feeling it’s about to get a little better,” she grinned. “Agent Marston.”

  And there it was.

  Rather than feeling worried, I felt oddly relieved. I’d had a feeling that she was just pretending, and the fact that she’d confirmed it meant I could now drop the pretext I’d been keeping up.

  “Do you?” I asked as I glanced over to the guards still standing just a few feet away. There were two of them, bulky and probably decent fighters. Holm could probably get over here in a few seconds, but if the two goons had guns on them—

  “Don’t worry about them.” Julietta smirked. “They won’t do anything. Not unless I tell them to.”

  “And you’re not going to tell them to kill me?” I raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Of course not.” She gasped at me in mock indignation. “At least not yet, anyway. We’re having such a nice conversation, you and me. It would be rude to have them take you out now.”

  “How considerate of you,” I replied dryly.

  “You really shouldn’t talk so much.” She frowned at me. “You’ve got such a nice face, but you ruin it every time you open your mouth. No, just sit there quietly and listen for a moment, alright?”

  “Alright,” I replied flatly, still mentally calculating my best escape route should things go sideways.

  She snorted.

  “You really don’t know how to follow directions, do you?” She shook her head.

  “I don’t take orders from people like you,” I replied without hesitation.

  “Don’t you?” She snickered maliciously. “I think you do, actually, since you’re here. And all I had to do was make one little ‘anonymous’ phone call.”

  “Wait,” I muttered. “That was you?”

  “Oh, you can’t honestly be telling m
e that you had no idea this might all be a trap?” She tutted at me disapprovingly. “That’s disappointing. I suppose there really isn’t anything more behind that handsome face. No, Agent Marston, I’m the one who made that call. And while I’m at it, I suppose it can’t hurt to tell you everything else since you won’t be alive for very much longer.”

  “What do you mean by ‘everything else’?” I demanded.

  “Your plan was probably to use me to find my husband, correct?” She raised her eyebrows at me. “Along with your little partner over there. The one sitting at the booth pretending he’s having the conversation of his life? I’m certain he can hear us, so why don’t you tell him he can drop the act?”

  I glanced over at Holm, who immediately put his phone away and looked our way.

  “So, you wanted to lead us out here,” I sighed. “Why? Are you planning on betraying your husband on your own?”

  “Betray him?” She scoffed. “What’s there to betray? You can’t honestly believe that idiot is the one who’s been running things, right?”

  “What are you trying to say?” I asked her.

  “I suppose you’re just as dense as my stupid husband is,” she huffed. “I’m telling you that I’m the one who’s in charge here. Guillermo is a figurehead, a pawn. You can hardly count on men to do anything correctly these days, except maybe for taking the fall when you need them to. That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Agent Marston. I’m the one you’ve been looking for this entire time.”

  I glanced over at Holm again.

  “No,” she snipped. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t even try it. My men will have you both dead before either of you can even stand up.”

  “Is that right?” I smirked at her. “Did everyone hear that? It sounds to me like we’ve got everything we need.”

  “What?” Julietta snarled as she shot to her feet. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Everybody down!” Agent Birn roared as he suddenly jumped up from one of the tables at the other end of the bar.