Second Chance (5 page)

“Do you think we got away?”

He silenced me with a finger and leaned his head out the window. I could see that he was listening attentively. I did the same and couldn’t make out the sound of any cars on the road. Several minutes passed in silence. He finally turned toward me with a look of concern on his face.

“You want to tell me what the hell happened back there?” he asked sharply. “Ambler said you were just dropping by for a quick look-see.”

“This creep named Donovan spiked a girl’s drink. You know him?”

“I’m familiar with the gent,” Rick replied. “Continue.”

“I had to warn her.”

Rick shook his head. “What makes you so sure that she wanted to be warned?”

I glared at him. “Well, let’s see.” I pretended to be contemplating. “Oh, that’s right … she was going to be
raped
, and I thought I’d give the poor, unsuspecting girl a friendly heads-up. You know,
before
the fat man defiled her and tossed her aside like a piece of trash.”

“Any woman that finds her way to Donovan’s table is
not
unsuspecting. He’s known for being very generous with his women.”

“What you’re telling me is that she was willing? She wanted that fat, sweaty mess lying on top of her?”

“Poverty is rampant in the Jamaican community. My guess is that she conceded her body well before she ever walked into his club.”

I pretended to retch. “
Ugh!
That young girl with that ugly beast of a man?”

“I don’t think you understand true poverty and how far it can push a person. She may see Donovan as her only way out. It’s like when the doctor prescribes some nasty-ass medication and the warning label states, ‘Your doctor has prescribed this medication because he has determined that the benefits outweigh the consequences.’ You deal with the putrid taste because you know it will make you feel better, even though you know it’s doing God-knows-what to your body.”

A horrible thought crossed my mind: maybe the girl preferred being unconscious while that
thing
violated her. Maybe she wanted him to roofie her drink. It took a moment for me to absorb the scenario.

“That’s
just
great,” I said with contempt. “I was just trying to do the right thing.”

“I guess you couldn’t help yourself, but that bull-in-a-china-shop move could have cost you your life.”

Rick started the car, the air once again filled with its deep exhaust burble. “Where are we going?”

“There’s a small airport in Vero Beach. You can charter a flight back to New York tonight.”

“Tonight? Flight back to New York?” I said in disbelief. “You have got to be kidding.”

Rick was silent for a moment, and then he switched off the engine again. “I don’t think you understand. Donovan will kill you if you stay. These people … life means nothing to them. If for no other reason, he’ll kill you just to demonstrate his authority to his underlings. You can’t just waltz into his place and disrespect him the way you did. Any display of weakness would prove fatal for him.”

“Survival of the fittest?”

“These Jamaicans are like a pack of rabid hyenas. Donovan stays on top only as long as the others are afraid to challenge him, and believe me, they’re not exactly a shy group. And there’s more.”

“I’m listening.”

“Donovan’s a sadistic, malicious animal. He delights in the misery of others.” He reached for the key. “So what do you think, Vero Beach?”

“Did Ambler mention that I’m a cop?”

“Of course he did, but the last time I checked, cops bleed just like anyone else. A gun and a badge don’t make you invincible. Besides, you’re a tourist down here. Did you even bring your firearm with you?”

“I never leave home without it. It’s back at the hotel.”

Rick had an old scar across his chin. His skin was a little leathery but it didn’t detract from his bad-boy good looks; in fact, it added character. “So what’s your story? FBI?” I asked.

“Me? I don’t
think
so.” He wasn’t just replying in the negative; he was also making a statement about himself. “I served with Herb during Desert Shield.”

“So you’re not in law enforcement?”

“Law enforcement? Me? No. I’m not exactly police-officer material. Herb carried me out of the battlefield and saved my life. He called me, texted me your photo, and told me to get my ass over to Donovan’s place pronto. Apparently, he found some intelligence on Donovan and didn’t like what he read.”

“You seemed to know your way around his club pretty well.”

“The beer’s cheap and the women are pretty. I’ve been there before.”

“I guess you’ll have to find another watering hole.”

“Another watering hole? Honey, after I get you safely out of town, I’m going to have to find another planet to live on.”

“And I thought you were some kind of hero.”

“Hero? No, I’m no hero. Like I said, Herb saved my life, and we’ve been close ever since. I was just returning a favor. Now for the third and final time, can I drive you to Vero Beach?”

There had to be more to him than he was letting on. Friendship is one thing and being an ex-GI is another, but it took a real pair of stones to do what he did back at Donovan’s club. It wasn’t the time or the place to push the issue. If he was Ambler’s pick, then he was all right with me. I imitated his earlier comment with the same inflection he had used. “I don’t
think
so.” I thought about my Mustang convertible—it would be sitting alone in the parking lot when morning came. It wouldn’t take very long for Donovan to add two and two. He’d pay off someone at the rental car company to find out who had rented it complete with my home address and other personal details.

“Oh shit!” I shrieked.

Rick jumped. “What?”

“Start the car. We’ve got to get back to Miami.”

He folded his arms. “No can do.”

Tay was listed as a second driver on the rental agreement. “Now!”

Chapter Eight

“This is a bad idea,” Rick said.
He looked pissed off … more intense than that actually. He looked downright angry. “Donovan’s men will be crawling all over Miami like cockroaches.”

“Don’t you mean palmetto bugs?”

Rick snapped his head in my direction, scowling. “It’s not funny!” He shifted gears and the Grand National shot out an exhaust note that sounded like a snort from the nostrils of a T-Rex. He had the car under the speed limit, but it was still as conspicuous as a goat spit-roasting on a Beverly Hills front lawn. Yeah, it was that loud, an old-school Detroit muscle car rumbling along and belching exhaust in an era of efficient low-emissions vehicles. Other motorists were staring at us as we cruised along. They all looked annoyed, as if a schoolyard kid had begun dribbling a basketball in church during Sunday mass.

“I’m a big girl, Rick. Just get me back to Miami, and then you can take off.”

His expression changed; he gave me the stink eye. I didn’t know much about Ambler’s army buddy, but it was apparent that I had offended him. He turned his focus back to the road and grumbled something, which didn’t sound like flattery. He was still grumbling when he asked, “Where are you staying?”

“The Perry.”

“I could live a year for what it costs to stay at that place for a week. I guess NYPD pays better than it used to.”

“I don’t get away very often. I wanted this vacation to be memorable.”

“Oh, I doubt you’ll forget this one,” he snapped. “This may end up being the thrill of your lifetime. Maybe you’ll get a reality TV show deal out of it.” He opened the center console and pulled out an amber-colored prescription bottle. He shook a tablet into his mouth and washed it down with a bottle of water.

“What did you just take?”

“Seroquel.”

“While you’re driving? You’ll nod off.”

“It might put
you
to sleep. It might put an elephant to sleep, but for me it only takes the edge off. PTSD. You don’t want to be around me when I get stressed.”

“Post-traumatic stress disorder?” I asked.

Rick nodded. “I hear a round being discharged and I turn into the Incredible Hulk.”

“Really? You get big and green?”

“Size and color are the least of your worries.”

I had this vision of Rick’s chest expanding and his shirt shredding over his pecs as his biceps and shoulders grew to mammoth proportions. I wondered what happened down below—would little Rick grow tenfold like the rest of him? Okay, that was a little perverse.
Focus, Chalice, focus! Pretend that Ma is grilling you on your dating habits and any wrong answer might prove fatal.
Post-traumatic stress disorder is a very serious condition that affects many members of the armed forces. I know Rick was just kidding with his Incredible Hulk analogy, but the condition has been known to manifest itself in many dramatic ways.

“I have to make sure my roommate is safe. I think she’s okay until Donovan realizes it’s our rental car that’s been left in the parking lot.”

“His club will be rumbling until dawn. I’m sure she’ll be safe for the night.”

My cell phone buzzed. Flynn had just texted me his room number at the Perry Hotel. I hoped that he was okay. I had definitely poked the hornet’s nest when I tried to warn Donovan’s conquest du jour as to her imminent plundering. I hoped that too many people didn’t get stung because of it. I’d check in on him right after I took care of Tay.

“So tell me more about you and Ambler,” I said.

“I told you what there is to tell. We were in the same unit overseas. Ambler saved my life. It’s a short story.”

“Listen, Herb’s like my godfather. He wouldn’t reach out to just anyone, not where it involves me. He’s probably tight with dozens of law enforcement agents down here; yet, he called you. So what’s the deal?”

“The deal’s whatever you want it to be. Ambler asked me to watch over you, and that’s what I’ll do, no matter what.”

“No matter what?”

“No matter what! So do me a favor … don’t get the two of us killed. I don’t lead an exciting life, but it beats the hell out of spending eternity in a pine box. I don’t even want to get started on my beliefs regarding the afterlife.”

“Meaning?”

“A soldier does what he’s ordered to do. It doesn’t mean he feels good about it. You catch my drift? I mean sooner or later, the piper’s got to get paid.”

I nodded. So that was the deal. This guy would go the distance no matter what I put him through. Ambler knew that Rick was lionhearted, and that’s why he reached out to him. “No worries. I have no intention of going out in a blaze of glory. I just want to make sure my gal pal is safe, and then we’re good to go.”

“What about the kid you told me about … Flynn?”

“He’ll have to go to Miami Metro. If Donovan’s as dangerous as everyone says he is … I mean, what am I supposed to do about it?”

“Good. You’re sounding smarter every minute.”

A black SUV pulled up alongside us. I recognized the driver; it was Lyndell, Donovan’s muscle. He grinned at me, exposing a mouthful of pearly whites. He wasn’t alone—there were others in the car. One was the nasty-looking little werewolf, Scruff, who’d asked me for a kiss when I entered the club. He was seated behind Lyndell and grinning as if he had just won the lottery.

“This is bad,” I said.

Rick followed my gaze. “Oh balls!”

We were doing sixty when he shifted gears. The tires chirped, and the Grand National left rubber. My heart pounded just twice before I checked the speedometer and saw that it was past one hundred and climbing. “You think this is a good idea?”

“It’s the only one I’ve got. What do you think will happen if they catch us? You think they’ll convene a session of the UN General Assembly? They’ll cut me up into fish bait. I’m afraid you won’t be as fortunate.”

The Grand National was over one hundred ten, and the black SUV was keeping up with us. Lyndell narrowed the distance between the two of us. He flashed his teeth again, and then he bumped us. There was only a guardrail between the Grand National and a gulley. He bumped us again, and sparks flew as our car sheared metal off the guardrail. I looked down into the gulley. It was steep and led down to the shore. He bumped us again.

“Oh shit!” I braced for impact.

Rick fought to keep us from going over as the guardrail buckled. The werewolf was grinning at me as we edged toward disaster. I was ready to say the Our Father when Rick slammed on the brakes and downshifted. The SUV shot past us. Rick spun the wheel hard to the right, cutting across three lanes of traffic and onto the exit ramp. I heard brakes screech, followed by a series of thuds. I looked back as cars collided to avoid us. But the SUV was gone.

I sighed deeply and turned to Rick. “Man, I’m starting to like the way you drive.”

Chapter Nine

Flynn could sense Donovan’s presence before he opened his eyes.
Consciousness was returning, that acute awareness that he was still alive. His head throbbed, and he could taste blood in his mouth. His spirit fought through the pain—he was alive. He still had a chance. For the moment, at least it gave him something to cling to.

Donovan was seated in a chair in front of him. He nodded to his men the moment Flynn’s eyes flitted open, sending them into action. They grabbed Flynn by the arms and lifted him off the floor and into a chair facing Donovan.

The hotel suite was under construction. Walls were open—pipes and wires exposed. Sheetrock panels were piled atop skids. Workmen’s tools were everywhere. Donovan wore a linen suit that fit loosely. His big belly covered his lap as he leaned forward and pressed the nail gun against Flynn’s hand. Flynn tried to pull away, but one of Donovan’s men held his hand in place over the arm of the chair. Flynn screamed as Donovan nailed his hand to the exquisite Moller rosewood side chair. The duct tape over his mouth attenuated Flynn’s scream so that he emitted a noise only scant decibels above a whisper. His other hand was held in place, and it too was nailed to the arm of the chair. They waited until he stopped screaming, and then the duct tape was ripped from his mouth.

“Who is she?” Donovan asked. “The one you brought to my club.” His voice was controlled and soft.