Wild L.A. Read online

  Wild L.A.

  Tyson Wild Book Sixteen

  Tripp Ellis

  Contents

  Welcome

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Author’s Note

  Tyson Wild

  Max Mars

  Connect With Me

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  1

  The names and locations have been fictionalized to protect the innocent and the guilty…

  It was probably a bad idea, but when JD gets an idea in his head, there’s no stopping him.

  Diver Down had always been a low-key, family-friendly type of venue. Sure it got a little out of hand during spring break, but otherwise, it was generally pretty tame. JD wanted to throw an all-out bash for Independence Day, complete with a homemade bikini contest.

  Against my better judgment, I let him run the show.

  I had to admit, he was a damn good organizer. He had planned everything down to the smallest detail. Nothing was left to chance. During the process, he had a perpetual grin on his face. Jack Donovan liked to party, and no expense was spared.

  A temporary stage was built on the outdoor patio with a short runway that allowed the girls to prance the catwalk. Jack had arranged for a misting station to be built. It was an archway over the catwalk that drizzled the girls as they strutted down the stage. The fine mist mixed with their oiled skin creating delightfully glistening curves. Water beaded on toned, tanned bodies—flat stomachs, ample bosoms, tight tushies. The taut fabric grew damp and revealing. The peaks and valleys inspired lustful fantasies. Music pumped through massive speakers as a DJ spun tunes while the girls showed off their creativity.

  I had to give it to Jack. This was a hell of a bikini contest. Perhaps the best I’d ever seen. The talent was strong. More than strong. Phenomenal. The judges would have a difficult time.

  Some of the girls were actual designers and had fabricated elegant, revealing swimsuits. Made from the finest fabric, and stitched to perfection, these would-be fashion mavens were hoping the bikini contest might be a springboard to launching their designs, boosting sales from their websites.

  Others had less lofty aspirations.

  They were just trying to make the most revealing outfit possible, relying on their natural gifts to win the judges over.

  And there were plenty of natural gifts.

  A wardrobe malfunction was an ever-present threat. One that was most welcomed by the judges and the crowd.

  There were bikinis made from duct tape, bumper stickers, trash bags, cellophane, red plastic beer cups, leather hide, rose petals strategically glued in place, and dental floss.

  As each new contestant bobbled and jiggled her way down the stage, the crowd went wild. There were howls, whistles, and catcalls. Drunk men practically drooled on themselves.

  Jack had convinced Coconut Cream Sunscreen to put up a cash prize of $10,000.

  The girls pulled out all the stops.

  Diver Down smelled like a combination of beer, whiskey, and coconut oil. Piña coladas and strawberry daiquiris dangled from inebriated hands.

  Many of the girls decided to demonstrate how easy it was to remove some of their homemade wares, eliciting more wild cheers from the crowd. The girls bounced and undulated, their slick, glistening curves on full display. Wide eyes from the crowd ogled the sumptuous delights.

  A DJ with a low, smooth voice announced each of the girls as they took the stage. Many of them worked at Forbidden Fruit, the infamous strip club on Oyster Avenue. They were no stranger to bearing all for lecherous crowds.

  Jack’s band, Wild Fury, was set to play after the bikini contest. After that, a barrage of fireworks would dazzle the crowd with a colorful display of pyrotechnics. It was THE place to be on Coconut Key.

  Jack and I stood by the stage during the contest. JD grinned with pride at his accomplishment.

  Several of the offstage contestants hung around JD, pawing at him, hoping to curry favor. Jack wasn’t judging the competition and had no say in the matter, but he didn’t seem to mind the bevy of hotties that surrounded him.

  That was until Sloan arrived.

  “Am I catching you at a bad time?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.

  “Oh, no! Not at all,” Jack said, trying not to look guilty.

  He slipped away from the beauties and stepped toward Sloan. Pouty looks twisted the bikini models’ faces.

  JD was smitten with the sultry brunette, and it was easy to see why. Sloan was smart, witty, and had a successful career as a pro golfer. She could see right through JD's bullshit. That made her all the more alluring to him, I'm sure. Her gorgeous blue eyes, sculpted cheekbones, pillowy lips, and toned body didn’t hurt either.

  The two hadn't officially been on a date yet, but this was the second time she had ventured out to see JD's band play. At this point, he hadn't even gotten to first base.

  There must have been some interest on her part. Why else would she keep accepting his invitations?

  "Can I get you a drink?" JD asked.

  "Sure," Sloan said, then eyed the bikini-clad beauties by the stage. "I don't want to pull you away from your entourage."

  She tried to sound disinterested, but underneath the slightly sardonic tone in her voice, the glimmer in her eyes betrayed her amusement—JD had abandoned the other temptations. And Sloan liked it.

  "I'm sure I can slip away for a few moments."

  JD offered his arm, and Sloan accepted.

  Sloan muttered to me, "Eden broke up with her boyfriend."

  That caught my attention. "Good to know. Where is she? Why didn't you bring her along?"

  Sloan's friend Eden was a gorgeous blonde, also on the Pro tour.

  "She's out of town."

  "Well, maybe we could all go on a double date when she gets back?” I suggested.

  A hopeful smile flashed on JD’s face.

  “Better strike while the iron is hot. She won't be off the market for long," Sloan said.

  “I imagine not,” I replied.

  JD led Sloan to the bar, and she ordered a strawberry daiquiri.

  I watched the rest of the bikini contest while JD tried to reel Sloan in. He had her on the hook, but one wrong move and this one could get away.

  My phone buzzed my pocket with a call from Sheriff Daniels. I swiped the screen and put the device to my ear. "I just gotta warn you, it's my day off. I'm overseeing a mass
ive party at the bar. And I'm leaving town tomorrow. So whatever it is you're about to tell me, I don't want to know."

  "You’re leaving town tomorrow?" Daniels asked.

  "Yes. I told you that last week."

  Daniels grumbled to himself, remembering my advanced notice. "Well, I think you’ll want to hear this, anyway. But if you’re too busy, I'll just tell you when you get back."

  2

  “Dalton Lennox escaped," Daniels said in a grim tone.

  "What!?" I exclaimed. "How?"

  Lennox was a ruthless serial killer that had a penchant for carving up young girls. His killing spree had started in Boston, and continued through New York. From there, he headed south and dabbled in the Carolinas, then went hog-wild in Florida.

  He'd been locked up for the last half-dozen years, well before I arrived back in Coconut Key. The notorious killer had managed to capture national attention due to the grisly nature of his crimes, contrasted by his pleasant demeanor and good looks. He always seemed quite charming in interviews and had no shortage of female fans. The dark-haired butcher had a square jaw, dark eyes, and a vile and depraved heart. The Harvard educated, former doctor, was a force to be reckoned with—smart, capable, and cunning.

  "Prisoner transfer,” Daniels continued. “A correctional officer at CCCI was taking him up to Raiford when some jackass ran a red light and T-boned the patrol car. Spun the vehicle around, knocking the officer unconscious. Dalton kicked out the back window and took off on foot."

  "How's the officer?”

  "He's okay. Concussion, broken leg. He's in the hospital now. I’ve got a BOLO out on Lennox.”

  "He can't get too far," I said.

  "Don't count on it." Daniels sighed. "The last thing we need is a scumbag like that roaming the streets. But, since you're leaving town, it's not your problem."

  "I'll be back in a few days."

  "I'm sure we’ll have Lennox under wraps by then," Daniels said. "Highway Patrol's got a checkpoint set up, and I've got eyes in the sky."

  "If it were me, I wouldn't try to get off the island on the highway. Too risky."

  "What would you do?"

  "The first thing I’d do is get out of that orange jumpsuit, get those handcuffs off, and get out of the search grid.”

  "He managed to snatch the officer’s keys. I'm assuming he's out of the cuffs."

  "Any eyewitnesses?"

  "Several. He was last seen running south down Hampton Street. Faulkner and Erickson are canvassing the area now along with several other deputies."

  "Check the marinas. I’d steal a boat and head to Cuba."

  "I'll notify the Coast Guard," Daniels said.

  "Keep me posted."

  "I will.” In a dry tone, Daniels said, “Enjoy your trip."

  I ended the call and slipped the phone into my pocket.

  Dalton Lennox was not a guy you wanted running around on the streets. The thought of him loose in Coconut Key gnawed at me.

  I moved to the bar and ordered a beer from Alejandro. He had hired on a few temp bartenders for the festivities. Teagan was still taking time off, recovering from her injuries. I wasn’t sure she would ever come back after what had happened. I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.

  Alejandro pulled a bottle opener from his pocket, twirled it, and popped the top. Air hissed, and he slid the sweaty bottle across the counter to me. I gave a nod of appreciation, then took a sip of the cold brew from the amber longneck.

  I glanced down the bar. JD and Sloan seemed like they were getting along well. She was laughing and smiling at his jokes, flicking her hair, batting her eyelashes. She had inched closer to him. Maybe the old Donovan Charm was working on her?

  The bikini contest was winding down. The last contestant strutted the catwalk.

  “Can you handle the rest of the contest for me?” JD asked.

  He didn’t want to break away from Sloan.

  I nodded and headed toward the stage. The DJ’s low voice rumbled through the PA speakers. “Let’s give a warm round of applause for our contestants.”

  There were hoots and hollers and claps.

  “The judges will confer, and we will have our winner shortly,” the DJ said.

  The judges took a few minutes to tally their scores, making painstaking calculations. Their faces twisted with agony as they debated whom to award the $10,000 prize.

  All the girls were winners, but there could be only one.

  Once the judges tabulated the results, they handed the scores to me, and I made my way to the stage. I grabbed the owner of Coconut Cream Sunscreen, Tristan, and he followed me to the stage, holding a giant check for $10,000.

  The wireless microphone squealed as I first turned it on, then the feedback faded. “Was that talent, or was that talent?”

  The audience roared.

  “I’m so glad that I’m not a judge,” I continued. “Before we go any further, I’d like to thank all of the contestants for their hard work and design skills.”

  The crowd whistled and hooted.

  “Let’s give a big round of applause to our sponsor, Coconut Cream Sunscreen. All day, waterproof protection that doesn’t leave you feeling greasy.”

  The owner bowed and waved to the crowd.

  “I’ve been told that, right now, all Coconut Cream Sunscreen products are on sale via their website with a special discount code of ID4BIKINI.”

  The crowd didn’t care about the sunscreen. They were just here for the girls.

  “Without any further ado, let’s get to the results.”

  The raucous crowd cheered.

  I looked over the results, paused for dramatic effect, then, in my best announcer voice, said, “The third runner-up is Brittany Miles!”

  The crowd howled.

  Brittany bounced up and down and strutted to the stage like she’d just won the lottery.

  Tristan’s assistant handed her a gift basket of various sunscreens, moisturizers, and beauty products.

  “The second runner-up is Carolina Cole!” I shouted.

  She was a beautiful blonde with an infectious smile. She made her way to the stage, pranced down the runway and back one last time, soaking in the adulation of the crowd.

  Tristan’s assistant handed her a similar gift basket. Carolina smiled and waved to the crowd before taking her place next to Brittany.

  “The first runner-up is Sabrina Talbot,” I announced.

  The gorgeous brunette shrieked with joy. She bobbled to the stage, took her congratulatory walk, and received another gift basket.

  “And the moment you’ve all been waiting for... the grand prize winner... and the inaugural Miss Diver Down, Sierra Peaks!”

  Sierra bounced up and down, covering her mouth as she almost burst into tears. She pulled herself together, climbed to the stage, and strutted down the catwalk, waving to the crowd. She fanned her eyes as she teared up.

  Tristan handed her the giant check, and the two stood together for publicity photos.

  “Congratulations, Sierra!” I said. “Can you tell us about what inspired your design?”

  She took the microphone. “As you can see, I’m wearing dental floss.”

  There were more howls from the crowd.

  She’d actually taken the time to weave the dental floss into a pattern that resembled a bikini—a very teeny tiny bikini. One that covered little more than pasties would. And down below, it barely covered the promised land. There was a small little landing strip visible that pointed the way.

  It was hard not to become enamored with her design. Her slick body glistened in the sunlight.

  “I’m sure you have a bright future in the bikini world,” I said.

  Sierra smiled. “I sure hope so. Be sure to visit my website.” She gave the horde her web address.

  The crowd cheered again, and we all left the stage.

  Sierra posed for more photos with the giant check and Tristan.

  The DJ spun tunes, and the inebriated crowd drifted from the s
tage to refill their beverages and take a much-needed pitstop.

  After all the photos were taken, and the camera flashes had stopped, Sierra sauntered in my direction. The dental floss bikini struggled to maintain its form. It was hard not to ogle the design, but then again, that’s what it was designed for.

  “I just wanted to say thank you for giving me this opportunity,” Sierra said.

  “Don’t thank me, thank JD. This was all his idea.” I pointed across the bar to Jack.

  “He looks kind of preoccupied at the moment,” Sierra said.

  “Indeed.”

  “Well, I’m sure you will pass along my gratitude.”

  “I will.”

  “Will you be having another contest next year?”

  “This was such a hit, I imagine we would have to.” I smiled.

  “Yay!” Her joy quickly turned to a frown. “You won’t disqualify previous winners, will you?”

  “Actually, I haven’t given a lot of thought to the rules.”

  She smiled. “Well, I think it would be great if you let reigning champions compete.”

  “I will have to keep that in consideration,” I said.

  She smiled, and her blue eyes glimmered. When the light hit her auburn hair, you could see the deep red in it. “What was your name again?”

  “Tyson Wild.”