Crystal Blue (Buck Reilly Adventure Series Book 3) by John Cunningham (best manga ereader .txt) 📗

he and Valentine were friends. Hell, they were probably relatives.

Valentine’s Crown Vic was on the street in front of the Customs office.

“Makes us look like cops,” Boom-Boom said. His teeth gleamed in the moonlight.

Valentine fired up the v-8 and popped it into gear. The tires chirped as we set off for the north shore.

CARS WERE PARKED WELL up the road before the Bomba Shack was even visible. Valentine parked at the end of the line.

“What’s the plan, Buck?”

“You point Baldy out, I talk to him.” My palm was sweaty on the door handle, and adrenalin pumped into my system like floodwaters through a New Orleans’ levy. Less than an hour before the concert was set to start.

From the back seat I heard a clip being ejected from a gun, then shoved back in.

Diego grinned. “I’m not so popular over here.”

Boom-Boom pulled a long black knife from inside his shirt.

“Me neither, brudda.”

Valentine craned over to look at me in the passenger seat.

“Fuck-up or not, Baldy is my nephew, Buck. Don’t nobody hurt him.”

“We need answers,” I said. “We’re out of time.”

My stomach rolled. Guns, knives, smuggling, kidnapping—I needed to raise my charter rates.

“Let’s go,” Diego said as he popped open the doors.

From inside the waterside party spot, a throbbing bass rattled my head. Several dozen people were packed around the bar, on the beach, in the street.

The full-moon party was in full swing.

“Bomba normally stays on the other side of the road,” Valentine said. “Let’s check with him first.”

It had been years since I’d been to the Bomba Shack. It hadn’t weathered well, but given the big crowd, its popularity had only increased. We crossed through the chain link fence, where Bomba’s old abandoned Cadillac sat engulfed in weeds. I nearly tripped over the sculpture of a crazed-looking dog painted in psychedelic hues and perched at the gate as if to ward off evil spirits—or to greet those embarking into the world of mushroom tea-tripping. Either way, the ceramic mutt sent a bad vibe dancing up my spine.

Just ahead, Valentine hugged a man slightly younger than himself but heavier, sitting in the shadows under a broad Tamarind tree. They spoke in hushed tones, and the old man, who I presumed to be Bomba, glanced at Diego. His eyes grew wide—then he spotted Boom-Boom and did a double-take. Valentine was talking, but it didn’t look like Bomba was listening. He nodded toward us and said something I couldn’t hear. After another moment of hushed conversation, Bomba nodded again and slipped back into the shadow of the Tamarind’s broad reach.

“Baldy’s here,” Valentine said. “Inside by the bar, buying tea for the ladies. Knew he would be.”

“Time to find out who been raining hell on us,” Diego said.

“I’ll get him,” I said.

“No, Buck, Baldy see you he’ll get trippy,” Boom-Boom said. “I know him and owe him some money, so I can get him outside, then we can talk.”

“What if he takes off?” I said.

Diego laughed. “Where to? You got beach in both directions, ’less he got another boat out there.”

My heart rate escalated along with the bass beat. After everything that had gone down so far I didn’t want to trust the success of this moment to Boom-Boom, but he did have a point. I glanced both ways up and down the street.

“Valentine, why don’t you go get the car. If we need to take him out of here, we will. Diego, you go down to the far side of the bar by the beach in case he takes off—”

“He ain’t going nowhere, Buck,” Boom-Boom said.

“I’ll get the car,” Valentine said. “Remember what I said about not hurting him, eh?” He left without looking back.

I rubbed my palms together. “All right, let’s do it.”

Boom-Boom walked toward the bar like Moses parting the Red sea. Locals who must have recognized him stepped back on either side of him. Tourists didn’t know who he was, but his size, bald head, and serious expression made them step back too. He disappeared inside. To my surprise Diego walked down the road like I’d asked, so I went around the other side of the bar toward the beach.

A commotion sounded from inside Bomba’s. A woman shrieked.

A blur shot out the side of the building—it was a man running up the beach.

I took off after him in a sprint. A group of women jumped as I passed. One of my boat shoes flew off—I stumbled but kicked the other up in the air and kept going.

Baldy wobbled as he ran, but he was still fast. I high-stepped it over the hard-packed sand with my fists pumping and quickly gained on him.

As I closed in he turned. Stopped, reached into his belt—

I leapt. He froze. I wrapped him around the chest like a linebacker and drove him down. Baldy squirmed as both of us rolled in the sand. His elbow caught my jaw.

High school wrestling moves still came as natural as flying the Beast. I spun behind him, twisted his shoulder down—

“Aaagghhh!”

Anger burst inside me, and within seconds Baldy’s shoulders were pinned beneath my knees.

I tried to catch my breath. Boom-Boom and Diego moved in.

“What you want with me!” Baldy choked out. He reeked of booze.

“Who…the fuck…are you working for!” I said.

“Can’t…breathe,” he said. “You on…my chest!”

I got off him and stood. Baldy sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees.

“This is fucked up, man, what the hell you guys want?”

“We need information, got it?” Boom-Boom said.

“About what, man? I ain’t done nothing against you guys! I ain’t crazy!”

His eyes were bloodshot. I looked right into them.

“That guy you grabbed on the beach in St. John a few days ago—”

“What the—whatchu talking ‘bout, man?”

“Don’t fuck around, Baldy!” Boom-Boom said. “Those mudda-fucking Russians moved in hard on our shit!”

Down on one knee, I leaned into to Baldy. He was shaking, his eyes darting back and forth from me to Boom-Boom to Diego.

“We know you picked up John Thedford on the beach in