Duty Bound (1995) (26 page)

Bonita spun around and looked out the huge windows toward the pier. She spun again. "You take Baby and get the boat ready. I'll be down once I slow them down. I'll be doming on the run so be ready to haul ass."

"Not with that little peashooter you ain't," Duwane said.

He pulled out his nickel-plated .357 from his shoulder holster.

"You take this. It's got the kick of a horse, but it'll stop an elephant. Pump a few rounds into his car when he pulls up.

That'll make him stop and think."

Bonita took the big weapon from Duwane's hand. "Get going!"

The Fat Man eased the Buick to a stop and spoke calmly.

"Okay, it's party time. I don't see anybody yet. I'm going to get out and meet whoever comes out. You two stay down but be ready to move."

Bonita had opened the front door a crack and held her breath, seeing the Buick's front driver's door open. Oh God, please help me do this, she prayed. The driver, a large, obese man, stepped out of the car and lowered a pistol to the side of his leg. Bonita exhaled slowly, pushed the door open with her foot, raised the heavy pistol, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. The heavy weapon bucked in her hand. Oh God, she thought, Ted was right; you hit them in the face and they go down.

Lowering the pistol to her new target, she fired again and again. The Buick's front windshield spider webbed. A rear door opened. Bonita shifted her stance, fired into the door, and heard a man grunt. The other passenger door opened and a large man jumped out with a small submachine gun resembling those she'd seen in the movies. I'm dead, she told herself. Suddenly there was a thunderous ka-bloom sound and the man was flying toward her. Too scared to move, Bonita watched in fascination and horror as he crumpled onto the steps in front of her.

Duwane stepped away from the corner of the cabin holding a shotgun. He approached the Buick cautiously and barked, "Don't move, shithead, or I'll blow your ass away!

Get your hands where I can see 'em!"

Getting no response, Duwane stepped closer and looked into the backseat. He shook his head and backed up. "Looks like you got him in the neck. He ain't gonna make it by the look of the blood he's losin' ."

Too weak to stand, Bonita sank to her knees and found herself looking into the lifeless eyes of the man on the steps.

The expanding pool of blood beneath his head sickened her, and she closed her eyes for a moment to try to regain her strength.

Still holding the shotgun, Duwane sat down on the steps beside her. "It didn't set well, me leavin' ya-thought maybe I should help ya. Didn't think that damned ol' boat motor would start anyway. So, you gonna tell me what the hell I got myself into?"

.

8:00 P. M., Days Inn motel, Dahlonega, Georgia.

Ted pointed at the large sketch on the bed. ". . . and once they're all down, I call Ramon, who books to the truck and brings it in. We load it, then skate. Any questions?"

Ramon yawned and leaned back in his chair. "We've gone over it a hundred times, man."

"Yeah, well, that's the way we SEALs do things." Ted glared at the Cuban. "Virg, you got any questions?"

"Nope; it's a piece of cake."

"Glenn, you have any?"

"No; it looks good to me."

Ted nodded. "Okay, then, we'll allow ourselves an hour and a half for chow, then come back and rest for an hour, then leave. We'll dress out in our gear at the base camp and recheck all our equipment. I want all radios working five by-five and us in position by one."

Key Biscayne, Florida.

Carlos Mendez sat behind his ornate desk and pinned Raul Ortega with a questioning stare as he entered the office. "Well?"

Raul shook his head. "It's not good news, Colonel. The Fat Man and his two associates are dead. One of our representatives confirmed it a few minutes ago with local authorities."

Mendez bolted out of his chair. "How could this happen?

Where is Bonita?"

Raul backed up a step. "Colonel, it appears a security guard was guarding her and--"

"Where is she?"

"She's gone, Colonel. The local authorities are looking for her. The guard told the police she was taken by the Italians. It appears the guard believes the Fat Man and his associates were working for them as well."

Seething, Mendez slammed his fist on the desk. "Find her!"

Raul held his ground. "Colonel, I've already notified all our friends and given them her description. If she tries to leave the country we'll have her."

Mendez closed his eyes and took in a deep breath to calm himself. Exhaling, he stared at the glass doors leading to his Green Heaven. "I am becoming concerned about this, Raul.

I don't want to feel the feelings I'm having. My stomach is upset, my blood is running cold through my veins. Find her.

It is the medicine I need."

Raul nodded. "We will, Colonel."

Tinker's Bar and Grill, Dahlonega, Georgia "How's your salad, Sutton?" Eli saw that she was only picking at the bowl.

"I told them a little dressing, and look at this. It's soaked.

And it's the cheap, bottled stuff."

Faraday looked across the small table at Eli. "Does she always complain like this?"

"She's usually worse, Ed. She's really been kinds quiet tonight."

"Knock it off, you two. I can't believe you're both having ribs. You always have ribs; it's all you two ever talk about.

Haven't you ever heard of variety in your diet? It's not healthy, always eating meat."

Eli rolled his eyes. "Here she goes on the health thing now, Ed. She'll start in on the harmful effects of barbecuing, then quote us chapter and verse on the most recent findings from some new health book she's read."

Ashley folded her arms across her chest. "I'm not saying another word to you two."

Eli raised his hand to a passing waitress. "Ma'am, could you please get the lady another salad? And please put the dressing on the side."

Ed nodded. "And ma'am, we ordered drinks ten minutes ago and still haven't got-"

"Have you looked around, hon? We're kind of busy tonight. If I was y'all, I'd get them drinks myself. The bar is right over there. I got six orders up and only two hands."

The waitress kept walking.

Eli stood. "I'll get us the drinks. Ed, watch out for her; I bet she tries to make you into a vegetarian while I'm gone."

Ashley glared. "I'm not talking to you two, remember?"

Eli waved his hand. "Yeah, yeah." He weaved around the tables and approached the crowded bar.

Minutes later he returned to the table with three bottles of Dr Pepper. Ashley glanced at the bottle in front of her, then pinned Eli with a stare as he sat down. "What's this?"

"What it looks like, Dr Pepper."

"Dr Pepper? You know I only drink Diet Coke."

"They didn't have any Diet Coke, Sutton. Guess people up here aren't worried about their weight. It was Dr Pepper or an RC Cola; I opted for the Dr Pepper."

The waitress walked up with a tray. "Who gets the ribs?"

Eli was about to motion to himself when another woman walked up to the table. "Hi, Eli. What brings you up here?"

Eli rose with a smile. "Hi, Miss Starr. I might ask you the same thing."

"Rib dinner here, and the pasta goes to the lady," Faraday said to the waitress. "Put the other ribs in this guy's place."

Eli turned. "Miss Starr, I would like you to meet Detective Ed Faraday and Special Agent Ashley Sutton."

"We've met," Faraday said, sticking his napkin under his chin.

Ashley just dipped her chin. The reporter didn't have a hair out of place. It was bad enough that Starr looked as if she'd stepped out of Vogue magazine, but the way the woman was looking at Eli really upset her. It was a look that said, Come on, invite me to join you.

Stacy returned a nod to Ashley. "A pleasure to meet you, Agent Sutton."

"So, Stacy, what does bring you up here?" Eli asked, feeling uncomfortable with his tablemates' reception of his dream.

"Work, of course. It seems this is where all the action is on the case, but you all know that, don't you?"

Eli shrugged. "We can't comment, Miss Starr."

"That's all right, I know it is. We did a forty-second live spot in front of what's left of the Yona Group headquarters at six. Did you see it?"

"We were busy."

"Too bad, Eli. You would have been proud of me. Well, I can see your friends would like to eat so I'll let you go.

I guess I should warn you, my arm is feeling much better.

I'll be calling soon about that game you promised to play with me. Nice to see you again, Ed. Agent Sutton, please take good care of your partner; he's special to me. Goodbye, Eli."

Eli sat down again as soon as she walked away, and knew it was going to happen quick but didn't know from whom.

"Game you promised to play with her, Tanner?" Ashley asked. "What kind of game . . . or is that something Ed and I shouldn't hear about?"

"No, I wanna hear about it," Ed said with a wolfish grin.

Eli tore a rib off with his hands and shook it at Ashley.

"Sutton, she was talking about a tennis match. Drop it."

"Tennis?" Faraday repeated as if disappointed. "Hell, I thought we were talkin' about somethin' more . . . more .. . well, you know, somethin' involving physical contact."

Eli shook the rib at Faraday. "Don't you start on me, too, Ed."

"Okay, Tan, after all you are special to her."

"That's it. I'm eating at the bar unless you two let it go."

Ashley canted her head toward Faraday. "How do you know her? You said you'd met."

"Yeah, I know her all right. She steamrolled into one of my crime scenes once and I had to physically remove her. It wasn't all that bad, if you know what I mean."

Ashley shook her head in disgust. "You're as bad as Tanner, Ed."

"Hey, I just meant she's pretty darn firm for a little gal is all. I thought she'd be more soft, ya know?"

Ashley shifted her cold gaze to Eli, who was trying to ignore them. "Well, I'm sure it's probably the tennis that keeps her in shape. That and all the running she does after a story. I'm sure Agent Tanner can tell us what kind of shape she's in."

Eli decided he couldn't let that one go. "Nope, I can't. I haven't played her yet. Ed, pass me the sauce, will ya?"

Ashley picked up her fork and stabbed at her salad.

Ted came to an abrupt halt in the motel parking lot. The three men behind him saw what had caught his attention and froze.

Ted blinked, hoping his eyes were deceiving him, but she was still standing there in front of his room door with the dog at her side.

Bonita pushed away from the door. "Thank God, I thought you had already gone. I . . . I didn't know what I was going to do."

"Christ'a'mighty, what are you doin' here?" Ted said angrily.

"They found me, Teddy--I shot two of them and--"

"Oh shit," Ted blurted, feeling the questioning stares from his teammates.

Ted gave Bonita's shoulder a gentle squeeze before getting up from the bed. Seated on the other bed, Glenn looked up at his friend. "What are we going to do now?"

Ted glanced at Ramon and Virgil seated at the small table.

"We can't leave her here alone. . . . She goes on the op with us."

Glenn stood with a look of disbelief. "On the op? Are you nuts?"

"You got a better idea?" Ted said with a glare. "We wouldn't even be makin' this score unless Bonita had helped us."

Virgil stood. "Come on, Glenn. The way I see it, Ted's right. The lady has been part of the team--we just didn't know it till Ted explained it to us a few minutes ago. We can't leave a team member behind."

Ramon nodded. "Yeah, I say the lady goes, too, man. She can stay in the rental truck till it's over. Once it's done she gets her share and books."

Glenn stared hard at Bonita. "You guys don't get it-- she can make us all. If she talks, we'll never be able to spend a dime of the score."

Bonita stared back. "You want to kill me? Go ahead, get in line. I didn't want this to happen. I didn't have any other place to go."

"What about the security guard you said helped you?"

Glenn asked, hardening his stare. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him my ex was in the Mafia and the men we killed were his goons. I gave him all my jewelry as payment for the story he would tell the cops."

"What's the story again?" Glenn asked.

"The goons came and got me. He tried to stop them and even shot three of them, but others already had me in the car and got away."

"What about the computer you used?" Glenn asked.

"I deleted everything from it, completely wrote over the hard disk, then had Duwane drop it in the lake. I've got the disks here in my purse. The cops won't find anything about us."

"And how did you get here, walk?"

"Halley, the live-in cook, drove me up and dropped me off. Don't give me that look . . . I had her drop me at the bus station. She thinks I'm on a Greyhound to California. She got my gold Rolex and a twenty-four-karat bracelet for her trouble. She won't talk."