Sharks - Matt Rogers (classic books for 11 year olds txt) 📗

and King could be bare-handed and he’d still win, given the guy was barely lucid.

Wayne straightened up, flecked with blood all over, a look on his face like he couldn’t believe he was alive. His bare ankle had the faintest scorch mark on it, but no real damage had been done. There’d be pain to go along with the broken skin, but it would come later. For now, adrenaline kept it at bay.

Wayne looked around, but there was no one in sight. The alleyway was deserted, the suppressed gunshots passed off as a car backfiring, or simply ignored altogether.

It was the age-old excuse: Someone else’s problem. Nothing to do with me.

Wayne said, ‘I can’t believe this guy’s still alive.’

King said, ‘I didn’t put my full weight into it. If I had, he wouldn’t have a skull anymore.’

The guy seemed to acknowledge he was the topic of conversation, and his dazed eyes swum murkily left and right, finding no fixed target. He wouldn’t be back to normal for a long time, maybe ever.

Wayne seemed to recall the guy’s face cracking off the top of the door. He shuddered. ‘That wasn’t your full weight?’

King didn’t answer that. Any response he could give would only be for the sake of puffing his own chest out. He wasn’t interested.

Slater had the gun tucked under his shirt, staring at Wayne.

Wayne relented. ‘I’m guessing you want to know more about me.’

‘No,’ Slater said. ‘What I want you to do is get behind the wheel of this car, drive those bodies somewhere discreet, and dump them. Then I want you to stick your head in the sand and never contact us again.’

The arms dealer hesitated, thrown off. ‘What—?’

‘You heard every word, Wayne.’

‘I don’t even know either of your names.’

King said, ‘Good.’

‘I deserve that much, at least. You saved my life.’

‘You didn’t do your due diligence and it nearly got you killed. We would have been next.’

A vein in Wayne’s neck throbbed, aggravated by all the emotions of a near-death situation. ‘Listen, if you think this job is easy—’

Slater said, ‘We didn’t make any comment on how easy or hard your job is. Whatever the difficulty level, you failed to do it properly. Shouldn’t have bitten off more than you can chew. Now get rid of these bodies and we’ll see you never.’

Wayne made to square up. ‘You got some lip on you, kid.’

Slater looked at him like a disappointed father scolding his toddler. ‘Don’t.’

Wayne didn’t.

He had the common sense to know when enough was enough.

He jutted his chin at the semi-conscious kidnapper. ‘What are you going to do with him?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘Then the bodies stay right here.’

Slater shrugged. ‘Okay.’

Wayne said, ‘You’re making things harder for yourself than they need to be. One nugget of information in exchange for clean laundry service. Come on.’

Slater relented. ‘We’re going to ask him a couple of questions about who sent him and then we’re going to do what you should have done a while ago.’

‘You don’t need him for that,’ Wayne said. ‘I can tell you exactly who sent him. Dylan Walcott.’

‘We know that,’ King said. ‘We’re looking for a way to get to him.’

Wayne laughed. ‘Good luck with that. I could have delivered every gun on planet Earth to your doorstep and you still wouldn’t get within ten feet of him unless he wanted you to. Believe that.’

He rounded the hood, got behind the wheel and gave a mock salute out the window.

‘See you never!’ he shouted, and spun the car away from the sidewalk.

King pushed the Glock a little harder into the kidnapper’s gut, and he doubled over and winced. The gesture almost toppled him. His equilibrium was gone.

King said, ‘Should we take him back and show him the view?’

‘It’s a short walk,’ Slater said. ‘No reason not to.’

21

Within an hour of touching down on Grand Bahama they had a hostage.

From the side porch Violetta watched King and Slater return from their paranoid quest to follow Wayne. She hadn’t approved it, but she hadn’t stopped them from going either. Anything they shared a suspicion of was worth a second look, and it didn’t hurt her either way. Now they had a special guest in tow.

She closed the laptop on her knees and lowered it to the wooden slats beneath her feet.

The hostage was a small man, both in height and frame, with tiny hands and rounded shoulders. He looked awfully sorry for himself, and the horizontal cut across his forehead didn’t do him any favours in that department. Blood that had previously streamed down his face was now dry from the sun, crusted to his nose and cheeks. He was European — maybe Italian, if she had to guess — but his skin was pale. This was a man who avoided the sun at all costs.

King and Slater shut the gate behind them and dragged the guy across the lawn. He offered no resistance.

Violetta got to her feet. ‘Who the hell is this?’

‘One of three people we caught trying to snatch Wayne off the street.’

She didn’t react, but inwardly everything sunk. Finally she managed to form words. ‘Jesus. You two really are magnets for trouble, aren’t you?’

‘Better that than the alternative,’ Slater said.

‘How’s that?’

King answered for him. ‘Best we catch everything than miss everything.’

Alexis stepped out of the bungalow, taking a break from unpacking the bags to check out the source of the commotion, and she froze in place. Like she’d been struck right in the heart. Violetta could see the fear plain on her face.

Because now it was real.

Alexis said, ‘Who’s that?’

‘A cooperative young man who agreed to an interview,’ Slater said, holding the guy by the back of the neck. ‘Isn’t that right?’

The guy mumbled something.

Slater slapped him. ‘What was that?’

Alexis said, ‘Stop.’

Slater looked up.

Alexis said, ‘You’re hurting him. He looks harmless.’

Slater was about to fire a retort but he refrained. His gaze wandered to Violetta, beside Alexis on the porch.

Violetta said, ‘She’ll learn.’

Alexis said, ‘Learn what?’

‘Looks mean nothing,’ Slater said. ‘If we didn’t