Summer's Landing (A Loving Summer Standalone Novel Series): Loving Summer Spinoff (Loving Summer Series Book 9) (8 page)

Chapter 13

Summer

T
he moment had arrived when Nat would drive me
to the tavern, and the guys – Hector and Luis would follow, arriving separately
in a different car.

We
were dressed in the outfits Nat had laid out back on the plane, but we also had
with us, guns strapped onto a holster underneath Nat’s leather jacket, and a
gun hidden in my inner coat pocket.

One
thing I’ve learned from being the significant other and even close friend of
the Donovan brothers over the years was how to shoot a gun. Between Nat’s
undercover work and Drew’s public image as a billionaire, making him a target
for some bad elements; there would be a chance I would get pulled into any kind
of danger with them. Looking at my history, it had happened before. Too much so
that I took it upon myself to learn how to shoot a gun, how to throw a knife,
how to wield a knife and a sword, how to wrestle a man twice my size to the
ground, and yes, how to break someone’s neck.

Not
to mention how to perform a lobotomy on a guy like Dr. Frankenstein did to
Frankenstein, if I had to.

I
was known for my precision and speed with a knife…making me one of the most
sought after young surgeons. What people didn’t know, however, was how lethal I
could be with it, if I wanted to be. I knew every part of the body of a man
physically outside, as well as inside. I knew how every part of a body worked,
how sensitive one part could be compared to the other, how much pain one part
could endure more than another, and where to give the most pleasure, as well as
where to give the most pain.

The
tavern, according to Nat, would be crawling with the lowest form of human life
around.  It was the black market after all, not Sotheby’s, and some of these
men sold body parts there like they did back in Dr. Frankenstein’s days. Probably
even their own mothers.

We
were close. The tavern was just outside the edge of the forest about 10 miles
away from Summer’s Landing. While Summer’s Landing bordered on the sunny
beaches along the French coastline and forest, securing the prime lands of the
area; the tavern sat forlorn in a dark shady part near the rocky coastline
drenched in mystery and mischief.

For
hundreds of years, the tavern was a meeting place for crooks, pirates,
bootleggers, slave traders, highway men, and murderers. Looking at its shadowy
rotting figure, hidden among the trees, nothing had changed since it first
opened back in the 1500s.

I
looked over at Nat. What a huge contrast between the lap of luxury and
splendors of Summer’s Landing and this tavern. I was expecting rats to come
flying out of the door when we walked up to it and knocked using the rusted
iron knocker hanging on the splintered wooden door.

A
large man in his early 20s wearing a baseball cap and grey hoodie opened the
door. He could’ve been from Brooklyn for all I know, and we could be standing
in front of a drug dealer’s home in East L.A. The feeling of looming danger and
nervous tension was the same.

“You’ve
got the wrong address,” he said, looking at me from head to toe. “The Ritz is
down the other highway.”

“I
think this is the place I’m looking for,” I said confidently, looking at him
square in the eye. I showed him my business card, and said, “I came to buy.”

He
looked over at Nat and said, “He’s with you?”

“My
husband,” I said.

“Any
arms?” he asked. “Nah never mind. You wouldn’t tell me if you had any on you
anyways. You don’t like the type.”

Nat,
wearing a pair of glasses, and a Burberry scarf around his neck against his
leather jacket, looked like a doting and tamed husband of a woman he wanted to
please.

The
young bouncer said, “Go in. Auction begins in a minute.”

Nat
and I walked into one of the most foul-smelling places I’ve ever been to…the
combination of urine, beer, mildew, sweat, body odor, and even old cheese made
me want to gag. Nat pulled off his scarf and wrapped it around my nose, mouth,
and face. He whispered. “Breath in deep. It has lavender oil and mint. It’ll
keep you alert, and your eyes from burning. Places like these tend to lessen
your senses. It’s a great place con men like to meet other con men, so they can
rob them blind.”

I
nodded. It made sense. A place as dark, damp, and smelly like this one was the
perfect place for dirty rotten dealings to take place amongst thieves. Even
murder.

Covered
up with the scarf around my face, I felt a little bit more secured. It helped
me look around the room, my eyes adjusting to the dark. The room was lined
mostly with men, and a few women. Many of them looked like the shadowy people
you wouldn’t want to meet in the middle of an alleyway at night.

Nat
found a place along the wall for us in the back. I accidentally leaned against
the wall and felt something slimy against my gloved hands. I shuddered to think
what it was. Old tobacco spit? Grease from food thrown against the wall? Blood?

Nat
saw me shuddered and pulled me away from the wall and into his arms. “Don’t
think about it,” he whispered. “Don’t about why we’re here. Focus.”

Again,
I nodded. I concentrated on the mission, and the people in the room. People
were sitting in chairs at tables, while the rest were against the wall and near
one facing a large black oak bar. Amber low-glowing lights along the wall
replaced candles where they once burned.

Above
the bar was a large rusted iron spike staked into the wooden pillar, as though
it was a talisman to warn away giant vampires.  I watched the crowd intently.
Was the Yeti here?

A
girl with black curly hair piled high on her pale blood-drained face came by
and stopped in front of me. Her lifeless black eyes barely looked at mine when
she asked. “Beer?”

I
looked at Nat. So there was drinks and food served here after all.

I
wanted to try the beer, but Nat gestured “no”. The girl almost snickered but
moved away to the next potential customer.

“I’ll
take you to another place for beer,” Nat whispered. “Here, you never know what
they put in it.”

“Why?”
I asked.

“The
tavern’s owner runs the auction. It could get rowdy so I suspect they put a
heavy dose of alcohol in there mix with sleeping pills to get these guys under
control.”

“No
wonder why that waitress looked like some kind of zombie.”

“I
doubt she drinks the beer. She just looks like that,” Nat said. Nat then
pointed to the front of the room where the bar was, and a large man with a
bushy beard stood in front.

“Since
many of you are from outside of France,” he said slowly, “I will try to speak
English. It’s not so good, so try to forgive. You know the rules here. Try to
stand by it, and buy lots of beer.” There was a small chuckle in the crowd, as
the man laughed at his own joke.

“Now
the auction begins! You see first up, we have this pen. Not an ordinary pen.”
He moved the pen around. “But a pen so small, it can be carried everywhere. So
inconspicuous, it is unnoticeable. This pen…what does it do?”

He
twisted the top, and the pen began steaming up. He dropped the pen into a glass
of ice water, and the pen brought the water to a boil, breaking the glass into
tiny pieces. The crowd started chattering excitedly, as the man said, “It is an
instant heat pen. Think of the many uses. Place it against the windshield of a
snowy car…Bam! The windshield is no more. Place it against the window of a
store. Bam! No more store window.”

“I’ll
take it at 1000 dollars!” a man shouted from the crowd.

“2000
dollars!” another man shouted.

“Now
now,” the Tavern Owner said, “Something this useful, can net you more than 5000
dollars in one night, if you know what to do with it, is worth over 5000, don’t
you say? The bidding starts at 5000.”

I
looked over at Nat, and he was as enthralled by the scene in front of us. But
he kept his hand on my hand. “I’ll let you know when to bid, and what for,” he
whispered. “This isn’t The Yeti’s work.”

“Next
up,” the taven owner said. “An air freshener that can hide the smell of
anything. Including drugs. Spray this on your bags, your shipments, your cars,
and yourself; the best of the drug-sniffing dogs won’t be able to detect
anything. Now let’s start at 5000 dollars! Who’s bidding?”

“6000
dollars!” a woman’s voice tinged with some kind of Spanish or European accent
shouted out.

“7000
dollars!” a young man’s voice cried out.

“20,000
dollars!” a gruff old man’s strong clear voice shouted from the back, a few
people from me. People in front turned to look at him as the Tavern Owner
looked and said, “20,000 dollars going once. Going twice…”

Nat
squeezed my hand then. “The Yeti,” he whispered. I turned to look at him, and
then recognized him from the photo. He didn’t come to the auction to sell, but
to buy.

“Why
would he want the freshener?” I asked Nat.

“To
hide his experiments, the medicines he is transporting so he could lay low. So
the bad guys who want him could not find him from the smell of his experimental
drugs.”

“Right,”
I said. “So now…”

“Bid
on it. 25,000 dollars,” Nat whispered to me.

“25,000
dollars!” I said loudly.

The
Tavern Owner looked over at me and said, “So the bidding continues.”

The
Yeti looked over at me and huffed. “30,000 dollars,” he shouted.

I
looked at Nat. He squeezed my hand.

“35,000”
I said, looking over at the Yeti.

“40,000”
he shouted.

“100,000”
I countered.

The
Taven owner looked over at The Yeti, waiting for him to shout out.

The
Yeti stood silent.

“Sold
to the lady in back,” the Taven owner said.

“Now,”
Nat said. “Make your move. Go up to him and said you have buyer’s remorse.
Caught up in the moment. Tell him you didn’t really want it, so you will sell
it to him for 40.”

“Gotcha,”
I said.  Following Nat’s direction to a T, I approached the Yeti, offered him
the freshener for 40, and waited for the Yeti’s answer.

“What
were you hoping to get here?” the Yeti asked.

I
handed him my business card and said, “Something very unique for my beauty
line. A cream or lotion that would do something more than other kinds out
there. Something even miraculous.”

The
Yeti chuckled. “You came to the right place. Not here. Not tonight, though.
Nothing being auction here fits what you want. I happened to know someone who
you’d want to meet to get something miraculous.”

“Oh
really?” I asked.

“It’ll
cost you, though,” He said. “How about a serum for your scalp that not only
moisturize your scalp, the roots of your hair, your hair; but also helps you
get smarter as it is absorbed into your brain?”

My
eyes lit up from excitement. I was genuinely interested in this serum. “I would
buy it instantly,” I said.

“I’d
give it to you for 100,000 dollars,” The Yeti said.

“Oh,
that’ll be great,” I said.

“You
could exchange your freshener with me for the serum. How’s that, an even
exchange.”

“Deal,”
I said. I gestured to Nat to come over.

When
he did, I briefed him on the exchange, and he said he’d take care of the
transactions for the freshener. He walked up to one of the Tavern men and
talked. After a bit, he came back with the freshener, handed it to the Yeti,
and waited with me for the Yeti to deliver on the serum.

“It’s
out in my car,” the Yeti said.

Nat
and I exchanged looks but followed the Yeti out the tavern and into a dark area
in back where cars of all kinds were parked.

“So
you’re Americans?” the Yeti asked. “I could tell…”

“Yes,”
I answered.

“I
don’t see and come into contact with many these days,” the Yeti said.

“That’s
too bad,” I said, wanting to know why. “Why? Don’t care for them?” I tried to
make a joke while looking into his eyes as I walked up next to him. Something
about him seemed very familiar.

“I’m
here in France today, and tomorrow, it’s another place,” the Yeti said. “Never
too long in one place. Never too long to set down roots, not if I want to keep
my head.”

“That
much danger?” I asked.

“Most
of the guys who sell at the auction don’t show up in fear of being followed. In
fear of being traced. Some of these guys would stop at nothing to get what is
sold here.”

“That’s
why you came as a buyer,” I said.

“Yes,
plus that freshener will help erase my trace amongst these guys.”

“You
want to stop having to move around all the time,” I said. “You want to settle
down.”

The
Yeti stopped walking, and looked at me. “You look like what you are,” he said.
“A Marie Teller.” He looked away. “Because of a few experiments. Because of my
passion to save the world once, I lost my family. Haven’t seen my own kid since
she was a girl. Now…she must be close to your age.”

He
couldn’t see me clearly in this light, and I couldn’t see him clearly, being
covered up by his shaggy full grey beard, long grey hair, and woolen cap.

“Now
what I’m about to give you…it works. This serum actually was tested several
times, even on me! See this hair, it’s nice and shiny and longer because of
it,” he chuckled.

“I
bet!” I said moving up to his truck.

He
opened the passenger seat and pulled out a box. “Now this serum,” he said. “I
probably won’t get killed over it, but some of my other products…got knocked
over the head for one…my medicine to help revive people from comas…”

“Nat!”
I called, who was a few feet behind me, “come here.”