Wild Break Read online

  Wild Break

  Tyson Wild Book Twelve

  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

  Author’s Note

  Tyson Wild

  Max Mars

  Connect With Me

  Copyright © 2020 by Tripp Ellis

  All rights reserved. Worldwide.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents, except for incidental references to public figures, products, or services, are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental, and not intended to refer to any living person or to disparage any company’s products or services. All characters engaging in sexual activity are above the age of consent.

  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, uploaded, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter devised, without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  1

  Wind whistled through my ears. The glare of the sun squinted my eyes. My heart pounded, and blood coursed through my veins. My legs drove me forward, sprinting across the beach, chasing after the little bastard.

  He was quick. No doubt about it.

  Nimble, too.

  But I wasn't going to let him get away.

  I weaved through the throngs of people that crowded the sand. It was that time of year again. That glorious time when thousands of gorgeous bodies flocked to Coconut Key to soak up the sun and have a good time. And raise lots of hell.

  Sometimes too much hell.

  Teal water crashed against the white sand. Boats floated on the horizon. The weather was perfect. The sun hung high in the blue sky, painting the beach with blinding light.

  Beer bottles, and drink cups, dangled from drunk hands. Girls sauntered about in skimpy bikinis, showing off toned abs, long legs, and pert assets. Sand clung to jiggly bottoms. Bodies were slathered in oil, glistening in the sun.

  Men displayed washboard abs and bulky biceps. There was every shade of sunburn imaginable from barely tanned to burnt to a crisp. Music pumped from PA speakers, and there was a stage that featured bands, wet T-shirt contests, bikini contests, EDM DJs, and other forms of entertainment.

  The entire island was a madhouse during the month of March.

  There was an influx of hormones and bad decisions.

  College students from around the country flocked to the lush paradise to blow off steam, drink copious amounts of alcohol, hook up with random strangers, and try not to get arrested.

  Some tried harder than others.

  Things were usually pretty out of hand, yet somehow remained mostly safe.

  You could always expect a few brawls, some petty theft, generous amounts of public intoxication, and unfortunately, a few sexual assaults.

  By and large, the Sheriff’s Department did a decent job of managing the chaos. Officers took on extra shifts, and all of the county’s resources were deployed. Still, it wasn't always enough.

  My feet kicked up sand as I raced through the revelers, chasing after the scumbag that had stolen a cell phone. I’d been standing there with JD, taking in the sights and sounds, when the incident went down. A hot girl was taking a selfie, and a guy ran by, snatched the phone from her grasp, and took off.

  I gave chase.

  I was starting to gain on the dirt-ball when things went downhill.

  The sand rushed up to smack me in the face. I stretched my hands out to break the fall.

  Some jackass frat boy had stuck out his leg and tripped me as I passed.

  I sprang to my feet and craned my neck over my shoulder, glaring at the man. He was probably 21. He had brown hair with an athletic body. His eyes widened, and he took off running, disappearing into the crowd.

  The muscles in my jaw flexed.

  My eyes glanced ahead of me to the cell phone thief. He slipped away into a crowd of people and was gone in the blink of an eye.

  I grumbled and spit a few obscenities, then spun around and headed back down the beach in defeat.

  JD was talking to the victim and her friend when I arrived. She was a cute blonde with brown eyes and serious tan lines. She filled out her bikini in delightful ways.

  Jack wore board shorts, his trademark Hawaiian shirt that flowed open with the breeze, and dark sunglasses that covered his eyes. His long hair hung past his shoulders and he’d recently dyed it back to its original blond color, wiping away any traces of the gray. I knew Jack well enough to know in his mind he was still clinging on to 29. He’d been clinging onto that number for more than two decades.

  The girl looked hopeful, but my grim expression gave away the bad news.

  I shook my head. "Sorry. He got away."

  "That sucks! It was a brand-new phone. It was like a thousand bucks."

  "I don't know what to tell you," I said. "You can file an official police report. You might need that to make an insurance claim."

  Her face crinkled in thought. "I think I did buy the insurance. It was only a couple dollars a month."

  "I know it's an inconvenience, but it could have been worse. You're alive, and in one piece, and that thief could have stolen something more valuable."

  She sighed, then forced a smile. "I guess you're right. At least now I don't have to talk to people I don't want to talk to. I have a good excuse." Her smile brightened. "Thank you for trying!”

  "My pleasure," I said.

  She looked me up and down, and her eyes sparkled. "I am Charlotte, and this is Addison. Let me give you my number… I mean, let me give you Addison's number, and you can call us if you find the phone. You can call even if you don't."

  I smiled, handed her my phone, and she punched in Addison's digits. My phone rang just as she finished. "Looks like you’re getting a call." She read the caller ID, "Sheriff Daniels."

  I gave a quick look to JD.

  Charlotte smiled as she handed the device back to me. “So, are you, like, a cop?"

  I nodded.

  "Exciting. I’ve never been with a cop before." There was a naughty glimmer in her eyes.

  My thumb swiped the screen, and I put the phone to my ear. The sheriff’s gruff voice filtered through the tiny speaker. "Get down to Pirates’ Cove ASAP!”

  “What's going on?"

  "Spring break just got ugly."

  2r />
  The divers had pulled the body out of the water by the time JD and I arrived. They were on the dock with their gear, wearing black wet suits and dive masks atop their heads. Water dripped from neoprene, pooling on the dock.

  Their work was done. Now they were just onlookers.

  We hurried down the dock toward Sheriff Daniels, Brenda, and the forensics team.

  Pirates Cove was home to small yachts, sailboats, and sport-fishing boats. It wasn’t as nice, or as well-maintained, as the marina at Diver Down. Maybe I was just biased?

  The slip fees were a little less expensive.

  Cameras flashed, and Brenda hovered over a large black bag, wearing latex gloves, examining the remains. A crowd had gathered around the caution tape, peering with curious eyes.

  Boats swayed in their slips, and lines clinked against masts. Gulls squawked overhead. Spring breakers partied on decks, and music pumped through speakers. It didn't matter that there was a dead body on the dock.

  The party must go on.

  The party must always go on.

  The incident was nothing more than a mild curiosity. Something to occupy mindless banter and become the subject of social media posts. A tragic story that people would recount when they returned home from their vacation.

  For the victim, it was clearly more significant.

  We pushed past the deputy that kept the crowd at bay. From a distance, all I could see was Brenda peering into a black bag, but as I drew closer, I saw the bloated pale body within the zippered garment bag.

  The stench hit my nostrils and twisted my face.

  "This is happening again," Daniels grumbled with a stern look on his face as we stepped to the scene.

  "What do we know?" I asked.

  Daniels pointed to a gentleman talking to another deputy a few feet away. "He saw the bag floating in the water, pulled it close to the boat with a fish gaff, and unzipped it. He says he called us as soon as he discovered the body inside."

  "Bruising around the neck indicates she was strangled," Brenda said. “Looks like the bag was weighted down with dumbbells, but decomposition gases formed within the body, causing it to surface. I'll know more when I get back to the lab, but I'd say she's been in the water for at least 24 to 48 hours."

  I hovered over the remains. The girl’s once blue eyes were now milky, staring blankly at the sky. Her skin had no color and took on a translucent quality. The 60” black garment bag had kept the large critters away, so the remains were mostly intact. She was a pretty girl when she was alive. Maybe 18 or 19? "Do we know who she is?"

  "Not yet," Daniels replied.

  "Can you tell if she's been…?"

  Brenda frowned. "With the amount of time that the victim has spent in the water, there won't be much evidence left, but I'll let you know if I find any evidence of sexual assault."

  A few days earlier, we had found another young girl floating in a canal. She'd been sexually assaulted, then strangled.

  Daniels had a grim look on his hard face. I could tell he sensed this wouldn't be the last victim like this we found.

  I hoped like hell this wasn't starting again.

  The island had been terrorized by a serial killer already. This time of year was prime pickings for predators. With spring break came plenty of inebriated girls wandering around carelessly, unaware of their environment. It had the potential to become a safety nightmare. These kids came down here to have a good time. They didn't give much thought about going home in a body bag.

  I talked to the man who found the body, Brian Watson. He was a tall, skinny guy in his mid-30s. Short brown curly hair, and sun-weathered skin.

  I introduced myself and asked him a few questions.

  "Like I said, I saw the bag floating in the harbor. It just kind of drifted by, and I used the gaff to hook onto the bag and pull it close. At first I thought it was a tire or a piece of rubber. I didn't want it to damage someone's boat. But when I hooked onto it, I knew something was wrong." He squirmed slightly.

  "What time did you find the body?” I asked.

  He shrugged. "I called you guys right away. That was, maybe, 45 minutes ago?“

  "Do you recognize the victim?"

  He shook his head.

  “Ever seen her before?" I asked.

  "Look, officer, I just pulled her out of the water,” he said, growing defensive. "I've never seen her before in my life."

  “Are you local?”

  He nodded.

  I took down his information and said we'd be in touch. After the scene was documented, the forensics guys lifted the body, still in the garment bag, onto a yellow-framed gurney. They rolled the remains down the dock to the medical examiner's van while the crowd of onlookers gawked.

  Brenda pulled off her latex gloves with a snap. "I'll let you know what I find."

  She strolled away.

  The sheriff’s concerned eyes blazed into me. "You know, sometimes I wish I would have lost that election." He sighed. "Get on this. Figure it out before another body turns up."

  3

  "What happened?" a young brunette asked as we strolled away from the crime scene, the crowd of onlookers going back about their business.

  "We don't really know yet," JD said.

  Cheap plastic beads dangled from the girl’s neck, and a red plastic drink cup teetered in her hand. The beads were wedged in between an ample valley of cleavage, pushed together by minuscule fabric that strained to contain the bulging assets. "Was she murdered?"

  "People stuffed in garment bags, floating in the bay, usually haven't died of natural causes," JD said.

  "So, like, is there a serial killer running around? I mean, I saw something on social media about another girl getting killed a few days ago. My mom is totally freaking out. She calls me every hour to make sure I'm okay. She doesn't really like the fact that I'm here."

  "We are urging everyone to exercise caution," I said. "Always have someone with you. Stay in populated areas. Don't get too tipsy."

  “Whoops, too late!” she giggled, then sipped her beer.

  “Amber!” a guy yelled from the cockpit of a nearby boat. He held up a bottle of gold tequila. "Get over here!"

  Amber flashed us a cute smile before she boarded. "Duty calls."

  She sauntered away and scaled the transom of the sport-fish to join the party.

  JD’s eyes were glued to her, and I was pretty sure that he was fantasizing about being reincarnated as a tiny bikini in the next life.

  We strolled to the parking lot and climbed into his lizard-green Porsche speedster. Drunk revelers drifted everywhere, like zombies. Jack cranked up the engine and dropped it into gear.

  People stumbled around in front of the car without a care in the world, making it difficult to navigate through the parking lot. The island was saturated with spring breakers. The traffic was insane. There was a sea of red taillights everywhere. More people poured into the island every moment.

  We pulled out of the parking lot and flowed into the metal river that crawled at a snail’s pace, stopping and starting. Music blasted from open car windows. Motorcycles split lanes of traffic.

  The engine idled as we hovered on the highway with the top down.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the display. It was a call from JD's daughter, Scarlett. I swiped the screen and took the call.

  "Oh, my God!" Scarlett shrieked with excitement. "I just had the most amazing meeting. You need to check out the Hollywood Dish."

  "I take it things went well?"

  "Beyond well. I just met David Cameron at the Ivy. Paparazzi were taking our pictures. They are gossiping on all the industry websites."

  "That's great. So, did you get the part?"

  “We had lunch, and we talked about everything under the sun. It was super cool and casual. I was so nervous going into it, but he's just a normal, average guy who loves movies. He wants me to do a screen test for a small, but important, role in Ultra Mega 2!” Scarlett shrieked with
joy.

  "Congratulations! That's fantastic!"

  "It doesn't mean anything, and I probably won't get the part. But it's so cool to even be considered."

  "Think positive. Go into the screen test like you've already got the part. You'll be fabulous, I know it!”

  Another shrill tone escaped her lips. "I'm so excited!"

  “Keep me posted.”

  “I will.”

  “Want to talk to Jack?"

  "Yeah. I need to give him my flight information. I can’t wait to see you guys! And I’m dying to see Chloe-C’s concert.“

  I handed the phone to JD, and Scarlett shared the good news.

  We crawled down the highway and finally made it to Diver Down about the time JD was finishing with Scarlett. He ended the call and handed the phone back to me.

  We circled around the parking lot for a few minutes, looking for a spot. Jack squeezed into a narrow space, which heightened his concern over door dings on the pristine exotic sports car.

  We could barely open the doors wide enough to squeeze out of the car. We ambled through the parking lot and pushed through the main doors of the restaurant/bar.

  Diver Down wasn't typically known as a party spot. It was more of a locals’ bar, but even this time of year it was swarmed with revelers. The onslaught of drunkards demanding their drinks with urgency was almost too much for Alejandro to handle. He scooped ice into glasses, and liquor cracked the frozen cubes. He slid cocktails across the bar and popped tops off beer bottles, moving faster than a gunslinger from the Old West. His tired eyes gave me a pleading glance.