Wild Captive Page 6

  Music thumped my chest. Colored lights slashed the hazy air. The horde of pretty people bounced to the music. It was so loud, you couldn't hear yourself think.

  JD and I weaved through the sweaty revelers to the VIP area. A velvet rope and stanchions sectioned off the exclusive area. Another bouncer, wearing a suit that looked like it would rip to shreds if he flexed, put his hand up to stop us.

  I flashed my badge, and he unlatched the velvet rope and reluctantly let us pass.

  Dmitry sat on a couch, surrounded by beautiful women. A bottle of vodka sat on the coffee table before him, along with several carafes of mixables. If he was 21, he was just barely.

  He wore a navy Zangari suit, a midnight blue De Augustini shirt, and a silver tie with matching pocket square. There was a gold Accorsi watch on his wrist, and Banini leather shoes on his feet. Two bodyguards hovered close by, attempting to be inconspicuous.

  I flashed my badge and introduced myself as we stepped into his domain.

  Dmitry held the court like a king, and the ladies hung on his every word. He was rich and good looking. He had a strong jaw, blue eyes, and short blond hair, styled to perfection.

  "What can I do for you gentlemen?" Dmitry asked.

  "We'd like to talk to you about Violet Scarpetti," I said.

  Dmitry rolled his eyes. "What do you want me to say?"

  "Have you heard from her recently?"

  "No. I dropped that bitch."

  "She's missing,” I said. “Her father is worried about her. Do you have any idea where she might be?"

  "I heard she had gone into rehab. I guess things didn't work out."

  "Do you know where she might have gone?"

  "How should I know? She's not my problem anymore." He smiled and wrapped his arms around the two ladies sitting next to him. "As you can see, I have better things to occupy my time with."

  The girls giggled and pawed at him.

  "And you’re sure you don't know where she is?"

  "If I knew where she was, I’d tell you. She probably got tired of rehab and bolted. I'll bet you a thousand dollars she shacked up with some lowlife and is getting high."

  Even if this guy knew something, he wasn't going to tell us.

  "Thanks for your time," I said.

  "Why don't you guys stick around, enjoy the club? The first round is on me."

  The bouncer unhooked the velvet rope and pulled it aside. We exited the VIP lounge and stepped into the main area.

  JD muttered over the music. “He didn't seem so bad. I say we take him up on that drink."

  I rolled my eyes. Anybody willing to buy JD a drink was okay in his book.

  We squeezed our way to the bar and ordered. JD told the bartender to put it on Dmitry’s tab. The bartender tapped his earbud and conferred with someone, and a moment later poured the drinks and slid them across the counter. "Enjoy, gentlemen."

  We clinked glasses and sipped our whiskey, watching the horde of revelers dance to the beat.

  "What do you think?" I asked.

  JD shrugged. A beautiful blonde in a red dress squeezed past us, her bosom sliding against JD as she squeaked by. "I think I like this place. We should spend more time here."

  I scowled at him.

  "I think Big Tony's daughter has some serious issues,” Jack said. “Maybe she did run away from the rehab? Maybe she is holding up in a hotel, blasting her mind out with drugs? It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility."

  Frustrated, I glanced to the dance floor. What I saw infuriated me. My hands balled into fists, and I clenched my jaw.

  I handed my drink to JD. "Hold this!"

  16

  A woman on the dance floor moved to the beat in mesmerizing ways. Her dangerously short black skirt hugged her luscious form. She jiggled her sweet assets against a man’s crotch in rhythm to the music. A woman with talent like that could turn any man into a two pump chump.

  The dude she was grinding against was Ryan—my sister’s boyfriend.

  His hands slid up her gorgeous thighs and lifted her skirt, revealing her frilly black lace panties. He slipped his hands inside the silk fabric and his fingers went spelunking.

  Ryan licked the back of her neck and nibbled at her ear.

  I was pretty sure Ryan wasn’t an OB/GYN, and this wasn’t a bonafide medical exam.

  My temper flared. The veins in my neck bulged. He was dating my sister. He had knocked her up. I was pretty sure that she wouldn’t approve of his behavior.

  I knew the guy was a scumbag from the minute I saw him. I bit my tongue, for the most part. I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

  Until now.

  With my phone, I clicked a photo of him all over the girl. Then my fingers tapped his shoulder.

  His drunken head swayed toward me, and it took his red glassy eyes a moment to recognize me. Then they widened in horror. "Oh, hey, Tyson. This is just a friend of mine…"

  My fist careened towards his face.

  It did so all on its own. I had no control over it. It just happened.

  Before I knew it, my knuckles connected with Ryan’s cheekbones. The blow twisted his head to the side. My fist smacked his flesh like a 2 x 4 slamming into a side of beef hanging from a rack. You could hear the meaty slap over the deafening music.

  The hot girl screeched and began smacking me.

  Ryan twisted around and hit the floor, out cold.

  I regretted it the moment it happened. I knew I was going to catch hell in some way, shape, or form.

  After a moment, Ryan came to and tried to sit up. He had a dazed look in his eyes. I'm pretty sure he didn't know where he was, or how he got here.

  I backed away from the dance floor and left him once I knew he wasn't dead. I plowed through the sweaty crowd and found JD. "I think it's time for us to leave."

  "And I was just starting to have a good time," he whined.

  We left Red Dragon and stepped onto the sidewalk. The line to get in still wrapped around the corner. The booming dance music spilled into the street. People staggered up and down the avenue.

  I looked at my watch. "I should get back to the boat and take Buddy out for a bit."

  "We need to take Buddy out with us one night. Can you imagine the attention he'd get?"

  "I think the crowds might freak him out."

  "Are you kidding me? He'll love the attention."

  I looked at him flatly. "We are not using my dog to pick up women on Oyster Avenue."

  A bewildered look washed over JD's face. "Why not?"

  "I think we're doing just fine on our own."

  "Yes, but that would take our game to a whole new level," JD said with a sly grin.

  A drunk staggered toward us. His eyes widened when he saw JD, mistaking him for the infamous rock star. “Holy shit, man!”

  He high-fived JD.

  Jack was more than happy to play along.

  “You guys rock!” the man slurred. “Can I get a photo.”

  “Sure thing.”

  He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and threw an arm around JD’s shoulder and framed up a selfie.

  JD made the heavy-metal hand sign and pretended to scream into the camera.

  The guy clicked the shot, and the camera flashed. “Awesome, man!”

  The two shook hands, and the drunk staggered away down the sidewalk.

  It was not an unusual occurrence for JD, and he reveled in it.

  We went back to the marina and had another beer in the cockpit of the Wild Tide after I let Buddy stretch his legs. I sat in the mezzanine, looking out over the water. Buddy nosed his snout under my hand, looking for some affection. I petted his head and scratched his chin, then he climbed into my lap.

  “It feels so empty around here,” Jack said.

  “It is.”

  Half of the slips were vacant after the hurricane. It would take a little while, but Coconut Key would bounce back. It always had before.

  My phone buzzed. When I looked at the screen, Reagan Mac
kenzie’s name flashed on the caller ID. It was after midnight. What the hell was she doing calling me now?

  17

  "Have you learned the identity of the victim yet?" Reagan asked.

  My face twisted. "No. And even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you until the next of kin was notified. You know the drill."

  "A girl can try, can’t she?" Reagan sighed. "What else have you learned?"

  "Isn't it a little late to be working on the case?"

  "I'm an insomniac. Might as well get some work done."

  "What do you do for fun Miss Mackenzie?"

  She scoffed. "Fun? What's that?"

  "You know, it's the thing you do when you're not working. How you blow off steam. You never know, you might sleep better if you had some."

  "Gee, thanks, Doctor,” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. "When I want a therapy session, I'll let you know."

  "If you want to get information from me, you have to be nicer than that."

  "Are you implying that I should exchange favors for information?" There was a sharp tone to her voice.

  "I didn't imply anything. I don't know what you inferred."

  She paused for a moment. "You want to know what I think?"

  "I have a feeling you're going to tell me."

  “I think Gabriella Atkinson is the victim. She went missing from –"

  "I know."

  "Can I take that as confirmation?"

  "No, you can't take that as anything. Merely speculation."

  "So, you feel the same?"

  "I'm just trying to put the pieces together."

  "There's a speakeasy on Clamshell Drive. Prohibition. You know the place?"

  "Yeah."

  “Meet me there in 20 minutes. It turns into a private club at 2 AM, and they serve till sunrise. We can discuss the case."

  I thought about it for a moment. "Sure."

  "See you there." She hung up.

  "What was that about?" JD asked.

  "I'm not entirely sure. Miss Mackenzie wants to discuss the case."

  "Are you sure that's all she wants to discuss?"

  I shrugged.

  "I'd be careful with that one. I wouldn't say anything you didn't want blasted out to the world."

  "I know when to keep my mouth shut."

  We finished our beers and JD went home. I took a cab to Prohibition. It was an old-school bar with mahogany wood panels on the walls. Black-and-white photos of old gangsters holding Tommy guns gave the place a vintage vibe. They were known for their selection of top shelf whiskey and had a wide variety of beer on tap. It felt like walking into a bar in Chicago in the ‘20s.

  You had to know the password to get in. There was no signage, just a black door in an alleyway. There was an old red phone booth next to the door. To get in, you had to pick up the phone, and it would automatically dial the bar. The password was Capone. A moment later, the bouncer would push open the door and you could slip inside. The private club aspect was a way to serve liquor after hours. It operated in a gray area, and for the most part, they were ignored by the authorities.

  I saw Reagan at the bar and strolled to her. She was already sipping on a drink, and she motioned for the bartender. He was dressed in a white shirt, black vest, black bowtie, and a satin garter on his arm.

  "What will it be?"

  “I’ll take a J&B on the rocks."

  He grabbed the bottle, twirled it, filled the glass, and slid it before me.

  "Thanks for coming," Reagan said.

  "Far be it from me to decline a midnight invitation from a pretty lady," I said with a flirty glint in my eyes.

  Reagan looked mighty good.

  "Let's get one thing straight, Mr. Wild. My interest in you is strictly professional. I have no desire to be another one of your conquests."

  “Professional. Of course," I replied, trying to hide my frown. "Call me Tyson."

  "You have quite the reputation, Deputy. I've done my homework on you. You have more officer involved shootings than anyone else in the Sheriff's Department."

  I shrugged. "What can I say? I attract bad people."

  Her eyes narrowed at me. "You date movie stars and models and you gallivant around the globe finding trouble wherever you go."

  "Some people have all the luck."

  "Your background before you joined the department is rather vague. What can you tell me about that?"

  I smiled. "Did you invite me here to talk about me, or are we talking about the Sandcastle Killer?"

  "So far, the Sandcastle Killer has only murdered one person. How many people have you killed?"

  I arched an eyebrow at her, then gulped the whiskey down and pushed away from the bar. "Thanks for the drink, Miss Mackenzie."

  Maybe she intended to write a hit piece about me, maybe she didn’t? But I wasn't going to give her any more ammunition than she already had. I spun around and marched toward the door.

  She shouted after me, "Aw, and we were just getting to know each other."

  I wanted to flip her off, but I thought better of it.

  By the time I got back to the Wild Tide, I was more than ready for bed. I brushed my teeth, peeled off my clothes, and slipped underneath the sheets. Buddy curled up beside me.

  The gentle rocking of the boat lulled me to sleep. In the blink of an eye, the morning sun beamed through the portholes, and my head felt heavy from all the alcohol the night before.

  Scarlett called me bright and early. “Hey, are we still on for today?”

  I wiped the sleep from my eyes and racked my brain. “On for what?”

  She huffed. “I can’t believe you forgot!”

  18

  I had promised Scarlett I would take her to see Bree Taylor’s new movie. It opened today.

  I’d been dreading it for weeks now.

  It was such a weird sensation. I had known Bree for less than 24 hours, but somehow, she had a major impact on my life. It’s not every day you get to date a beautiful movie star. She was sweet, generous, and carefree.

  And she got killed on my watch.

  I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sit in a dark theater and watch her on the screen without getting upset. We didn’t know each other long enough to get emotionally involved, but I still had an attachment to her.

  “No, I didn’t forget,” I lied.

  Scarlett called me out on it. “If you can’t do it today, I understand.”

  “No. I’m good. We’ll catch an early matinee, if that’s cool?”

  “Fine by me. I’ve got the day off.”

  “Let me check times, and I’ll get back with you.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  I hung up, took a shower, and got dressed. A cheese omelette with mushrooms and onions called my name. I grilled it up and fried some bacon. The smell drove Buddy insane. I took him for a walk and let him run until his heart was content. Afterward, I took the bike over to Ray’s Cycle Universe and purchased an extra helmet, anticipating that I might have a passenger in the near future.

  "How’s she drive?" Ray asked.

  "So far, so good. I haven't taken her too fast yet, but I'll let you know."

  "Be safe," Ray cautioned as I left.

  I straddled the bike, cranked up the engine, and headed back to Diver Down. I hadn’t talked to Madison since my altercation with Ryan and was hesitant to step into the restaurant.

  The situation would have to be dealt with sooner or later.

  I pushed in through the main doors. Harlan was at the bar, as usual, sipping on a beer.

  Madison greeted me with a smile which meant she hadn’t talked to Ryan yet. I breathed a sigh of relief. It would probably be best if I was the one to break the news to her.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” she asked. “Listen, I need to talk to you about something.”

  I cringed.

  “Ryan was assaulted last night. He said he was mugged in the church parking lot. He was there volunteering for the fish fry. He doesn’t have any recollection of t
he event. He looks pretty bad. He’s got a black eye, and his nose is broken. Is there anything you can do? Maybe ask around?”

  Madison looked really upset.

  I took a deep breath.

  “Surely the surveillance cameras at the church would have caught something?” Madison asked.

  “He told you he was volunteering at the church fish fry last night?”

  “Yeah.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “What’s with you and him? He’s a good guy.”

  I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. “Madison, he’s a scumbag. He’s lying to you.”

  A scowl crinkled on her face. “You never liked him since day one.”

  “With good reason.”

  “You know, just get out. I’m tired of this!” She deflated. “I thought I could come to you for help.”

  “Madison, I saw him last night. He wasn’t at the church fish fry.”

  “Now who is lying?”

  “Have I ever lied to you?”

  She stared at me, incredulous. “A lot. You still haven’t told me the truth about the things you did in the military, or afterward.”

  “All of that is classified information.”

  “If he wasn’t at the church, where was he?” Madison demanded with her hands on her hips.

  “A bar called Red Dragon.”

  She arched a curious eyebrow. “Really? That’s totally not his type of place.”

  “It was his type of place last night.”

  “What was he doing there?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yeah, I really want to know.”

  “Well, when I saw him, Ryan was grinding on the dance floor with some hottie, and he had his hand up her skirt.”

  She looked flabbergasted, then she dismissed my account. “Maybe you mistook someone else for Ryan?”

  “No, I’m pretty sure it was him.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Well, I punched him in the face.”

  Her jaw dropped. Rage boiled under her skin. I think she wasn’t sure who to be mad at—me, or him?

  I pulled out my cell phone and showed her a picture of Ryan on the dance floor with the hottie. There was no mistaking who it was.