Caught in the Surf Read online

  "Not gonna happen, Old Man," I said, shaking my head and walking toward the pair. "Sorry, but it's just not in my nature."

  This seemed like a bit much honestly. I had a been a police officer for over a decade now. I had been a detective for the better part of that time. My grandfather had heard about more than a few of my cases, and I'd never been one to shy away from the more dangerous details. Certainly, he knew I had tangled with things a lot crazier than some washed-up cage fighter. So why the hell was he so intent on keeping me away from this?

  "This isn't your business," Mikey said, sparing a terse glare in my direction. "This is a family matter."

  "Don't flatter yourself, you lunatic," the man I now knew to be Marcus shouted, breathless as he circled the man. "You were never my family."

  "And whose fault is that?" Mikey asked, swallowing hard, his shoulders falling almost limp. As they did, I caught sight of his left hand. An object in it, a switchblade, glistened in the living room light. Now it made sense; the way Charlotte screamed, the way my grandfather was so wary of my getting involved. This man was armed.

  A jolt of recognition ran through me, and is did, my eyes instinctively met Boomer's. It wasn't just that he was my commanding officer. Though, as the Collier County Chief of Police, he technically was. No, the reasons I looked to Boomer went back way further than that.

  We had grown up together. Boomer and I were brothers in everything but blood. I would trust him with anything and, with the chips down and danger splayed out in front of me, it was little wonder I looked to him for support.

  There was also an unspoken agreement between us. Without a word, I knew what we would do. The two of us would work together to take this guy down, and we'd do it before he could hurt Marcus.

  "Whatever's going on here doesn't need to escalate any further," I said, nodding slightly at Boomer and placing myself between Marcus and Mikey, much to the chagrin of my grandfather.

  "This isn’t me!" Mikey said, shaking his hand, knife still in hand, but pointed downward. "I didn't want this to happen!"

  "You could have fooled me, bud," I answered, my eyes glancing down to the blade before shooting back up. Mikey might have thought I was looking at him, but my attention was actually trained on Boomer. My friend, standing behind the man, was readying for my signal. Another nod and he would plow into the hulk of a man in an attempt to knock him down.

  I would need to get that knife first, if I could.

  "This?" Mikey asked, looking down at the knife, his hand tightening around the hilt. "I only took this because I had to! He has a damned gun on his hip! He told me he'd use it if I came near her again!"

  "And you should have listened!" Marcus said from behind me.

  I didn't turn back to verify the whole 'gun' thing. It was troubling, if he did. Still, this was America and, if this guy wanted to bring a gun in Daisy's house- so long as she was cool with it- I didn't have a problem with it. Besides, he didn't have it brandished right now, which was more than I could say for Mikey.

  "I get that," I said, trying to sound like I understood what this guy was getting at, which was only partially true. From what I could tell, he was taking a breakup with the girl in the kitchen way too hard and- as a result- found himself doing something really stupid.

  "That being said, you need to be the bigger man. You need to be the one to end this," I said, clearing my throat. "I promise, I won't let him hurt you."

  Immediately, I knew I'd said the wrong thing.

  Mikey's face scrunched up. "Do you think that's what I'm afraid of?" He asked, huffing loudly. "Have you seen the size of me? Even if I wasn't a walking goddamned house, Marcus would never hurt me. He doesn't have it in him, not after everything that's happened."

  He looked down at the knife.

  "What the hell am I doing?" Mikey asked and, just like that, he dropped the knife.

  I looked over at Boomer, nodding at him slightly and giving him the signal.

  He collided with the man, knocking him forward but, because of the size of him, not down.

  I jumped into action as well, running forward, throwing an elbow into his face and then a right hook across his jaw. That was enough to send him to the floor.

  I pulled the cuffs from the holster in my belt. Even off duty I kept them on me. You never knew when you would need them...obviously.

  "Wait!" A female voice shouted from behind me.

  I turned to find the girl from the kitchen standing there with Rebecca by her side, staring at Mikey with tears in her eyes.

  "Tanya?" Mikey said, looking up at her from his place on the floor. "You were here the entire time? Your father told me that—”

  "I told him to, Mikey," Tonya said, swallowing hard. "I can't do this with you anymore, okay? I just can't."

  There was an exhaustion in her tone that cut through me, but there was something else too... a hesitation. She might have been done with this relationship. Hell, she might have even been done with the man, but there was something else here, something that was giving her pause.

  "I just wanted to talk," Mikey said, blinking at her. "It's not fair, you know? I deserve an answer. I at least deserve to know why things ended the way they did."

  "Maybe," Marcus said from behind me. "But this isn't the way to do it."

  I moved forward, letting my cuffs dangle in my hand. "I'm afraid you're under arrest, Mikey."

  "No!" Tanya said, taking a few steps in my direction. "Don't do that. He didn't mean anything by it, and he would never hurt anyone. Just please, let's forget all of this happened."

  I looked over at Tanya, sympathetic pain running through me. I had a job to do though, and sympathy couldn't get in the way of that.

  "That's not your call, ma'am," I said, shaking my head. "This man forced his way into another person's home, brandished a weapon, and caused a disturbance."

  "I don't mind," Daisy, an older woman with blond/gray hair swept upward and a bright smile said, settling beside my grandfather, Isaac, and Charlotte. "I've known Mikey for years. He's going through a rough time now, obviously. This isn't him though. He's a good man. Besides, it's not like he broke in. I let him in." The woman looked over at Marcus. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it would be a problem. I had no idea he and Tanya were—” She stopped short, shaking her head. "Besides, he didn't come in here with the knife. It was on the table, for the cake I have for your grandfather's party. He didn't grab it until things started going south."

  "He did grab it though," I answered. "And that makes this a job for the police."

  "For the Vero Beach Police Department," Marcus said, sighing hard. "And, as chief of police there, I can speak for them." He looked over at his daughter. "At least in this regard. Are you sure, sweetie?"

  "I'm sure, Dad," Tanya answered. "I just want this to be over. I don't want either of us to hurt anymore."

  "Then let him go," Marcus said. "Just- just let him walk away."

  I shot another look at Boomer. Like me, he was apprehensive about this. If he had pulled this in Naples, he'd be warming a cell bench right now. Marcus was right though. This was his turf and that made it his jurisdiction. If he wanted to let this go, who were we to stop him?

  "Fair enough," I said, stepping backward.

  As Mikey got up, I gave him a stern look.

  "Let me give you a piece of advice though," I said. "Keep your distance from Tanya."

  Mikey didn't look at me as he answered. His eyes were trained right on the woman he came here for.

  "That won't be a problem, will it?" he asked.

  "I'm sorry, Mikey," she said weakly.

  "So am I," he answered, nodding and heading toward the door.

  As he walked out, a sense of uneasiness filled me, like stronger tradewinds warning for a coming storm.

  I didn't listen to it, but Lord knows I should have.

  Chapter 4

  “Beautiful over here, isn’t it?” a voice called to me from the dock.

  I was back on The Good Storm
, watching as stars twinkled like diamonds over the Atlantic. The tide was low tonight, providing nothing more than the gentlest of sways and the slightest of breezes. Warm and calm, it certainly was beautiful.

  Of course, that didn’t mean I had to admit that to my grandfather.

  I didn’t need to turn around to tell who was speaking to me. I would recognize the old man’s voice in a thousand years, should the good Lord spare me that long. I also didn’t need to look to know he was walking toward me. Breathtaking ocean views aside, I was the reason he had come out here.

  “I prefer the other side of the state, but it’s okay, I guess,” I said, my elbows resting against the railing as I looked out into the vast, dark, and endless space that was the ocean.

  “Okay?” Grandpa asked, settling beside me on the bow. “I don’t remember you ever being so hard to please before.”

  “What can I say?” I shrugged. “I spent enough time away from home already. I guess I just want to stick around it as much as possible.”

  “Naples isn’t your home, Dilly,” my grandfather said, a statement so ludicrous that it caused me to spin toward him, eyes wide.

  “The hell it isn’t,” I said, my hands tightening around the rails. “I might have been up in Chicago for a long time, Old Man, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m a Naples boy, born and bred.”

  “It’s not your home because home isn’t a place,” he explained, patting my hard on the shoulder. “I know it sounds cheesy and you’ve probably heard this a thousand times over in every sappy movie that’s ever been produced, but it really is true. When you get to be my age, when the road ahead isn’t nearly as long as the one behind, you realize that home- your real home- is the people around you.” His hand, still on my shoulder, squeezed comfortingly. “You might be on the wrong end of the state, son, but home is right in that house.”

  He looked back at the guesthouse, the one we’d just run Mikey out of instead of having him hauled off to jail.

  “You about finished?” I asked, looking over at my grandfather and smiling. “Because I don’t have any wine to go with all that cheese.”

  “Is that right?” he chuckled, pulling his hand away from me and leaning, with me, against the railing. “You could have fooled me. Looks like whining is all you’ve been doing since you got here.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, a prick of irritation rising in me, gentle like this tide.

  “It means you’ve spent most of the day out here on this damned boat,” he answered.

  “I thought you liked ‘this damned boat’,” I responded. “Hell, it was your idea to sail it around the tip of the state just to get here. It turned a five-hour drive into a day and a half of sailing.”

  “I’ve never heard you complain about a boat ride before,” he said. “Besides, it’s not like we ever go anywhere in this thing. You’ve had it for over half a year now, and today is the most time I’ve seen you out on it.”

  I shuffled uncomfortably. “I’ve been busy, Grandpa.”

  “I know that,” he said. “You’ve had a lot on your plate … stopping bad guys, getting to know your new girl.” He nudged me playfully with his elbow. “She’s a good one. I like her.”

  “I do too,” I admitted. “A lot.”

  “Good,” he said. “That’s what life is about; spending time with the people who mean the most to you. That’s why I wanted us to sail over here instead of drive. I wanted to spend time with you while I still could.”

  “Don’t,” I said, instinctively turning away from him. I knew what he was doing. He was broaching the subject of what we were here for, of this damned ridiculous living memorial party. I absolutely did not want to talk about that. The idea of it was like a wrench beating around on the inside of my chest.

  “It’s the truth, Dilly,” he said flatly. “I know you don’t want to hear it, and I understand. You think I wanted to hear it when it was your mother’s time to go? I didn’t. I walked out into that garage every chance I got. I turned a deaf ear to what I knew to be the truth and, by the time I realized ignoring the truth wouldn’t change it, she was so sick it took all I could do not to cry every time we were in the same room.”

  The mention of my mother sent chills up and down my spine. I remembered the end for her. I remembered what she went through, what we all went through. Still, I didn’t remember what he was talking about. To my recollection, my grandfather had been a rock. He had been perfect and, when I needed him, he was there for me. The idea that it had been anything less was ridiculous, even if he was telling it to me himself.

  “It’s not your time to go,” I answered firmly. “That’s the difference. I remember when Mom passed. She was so much sicker than you. She could barely get out of bed.”

  “You’re right, Dilly,” he conceded. “But it’s not far off. Like it or not, my time is coming. I get that you don’t want to have to face that right now, and that’s okay. I just don’t want you to be blindsided though.”

  “So you figured the best way to make sure I wasn’t surprised was to invite me to your own damned funeral?” I asked, the irritated tide inside of me roaring to new heights. “You figured since I didn’t want to face the truth that you’d throw it in my damned face? Is that what you thought?”

  “Dilly,” my grandfather said, taking a few steps back to steady himself and probably get a good look at me. “I don’t know why you’re getting so upset about this. Do you realize you haven’t spent more than ten minutes at a time inside Daisy’s house? You’ve barely spoken to her. Hell, you didn’t even introduce yourself to Marcus and her daughter. Do you have any idea how rude you’ve been?”

  “Rude?” I balked, shaking my head. “I saved Marcus from getting stabbed in the chest by some mountain of a man. I think introductions are the least of his worries.”

  “You did a good job in there,” my grandfather said, holding his hands up, palms toward me. “But there’s more to being a man than being a cop, Dilly. Isaac saw what went on in there. Have you even asked if he’s okay?”

  Oh God. My grandfather was right. Isaac had witnessed all of that, and I hadn’t so much as told him everything would be okay. I had been so wrapped up in the way I was feeling about this, in how trapped I felt by this party and what it represented, that I didn’t so much as consider what that little boy must have been thinking right now. He just watched a man with a knife walk away a free man, and he watched me allow it happen.

  “I-I didn’t—”

  “It’s okay,” my grandfather said. “I talked to him. He was a little confused, a little shaken up, but he’s okay now. He’s sleeping like a baby.”

  “But the party?” I asked. “He’ll miss it.”

  “He won’t,” my grandfather said. “I talked to Daisy, and we both agree that- with everything that happened tonight- it’s probably better to put the party off until tomorrow.” He arched his eyebrows at me. “That is, unless you think you’ll be too busy water gazing to attend.”

  I took a deep breath, feeling a little guilt and a little shame.

  “This is hard for me, Grandpa,” I admitted.

  “I know, son,” he answered, stepping toward me again. “It’s hard for me too. I didn’t realize that your mother had the easy job in all of this.” He gave me a closed mouth grin. “Dying is a piece of cake compared to watching someone you love die.”

  “You really didn’t react very well to what happened to Mom?” I asked, sighing.

  “Not at all,” he said.

  “I guess I must be more like you than I thought,” I answered.

  “Nah. You’re better than me. Always have been. Your mother was too,” he said. “That’s how I know you’ll be fine.”

  “Does tequila help?” I asked, grinning at him.

  “Depends on your temperament, but usually,” he said.

  “Good,” I answered. “Go get some sleep them. I’m going to see what kind of liquid assistance I can find in this gorgeous town you’ve dragged me
to.”

  Chapter 5

  Vero Beach at night was a sight to behold. Though the coastal city had a lot in common with my hometown of Naples- they were both in Florida, after all- there was a brighter sheen to the city that made the place all its own.

  This town was smack dab on a stretch of land know as Florida's Treasure Coast, and you could see it all over this place. The search for sunken treasure, specifically golden sunken treasure, was a big deal here. Stores lined the streets touting “treasure hunting supplies” and billboard after billboard touting the areas “most thrilling treasure hunting expeditions”.

  I didn't care about any of that. Treasure hunting had never been my thing. I wasn't the type of guy who went digging around for things other people left behind unless, of course, my job forced me to do it.

  I wasn't on duty tonight though, and I wasn't about to. That much had been made clear by Marcus when he let Mikey walk out that door without first being in handcuffs.

  Forget that though. I had decided to leave the issues to Vero Beach to Vero Beach's finest. My head wasn't in the right spot for any of that tonight anyway. In fact, my head wasn't in the right spot for much.

  My eyes glazed past the lines of shops, restaurants, and throngs of people who (even at this late hour) seemed to be intent on squeezing the most fun they could out of the night. My gaze rested on a rundown looking watering hole called The Thirsty Seagull. A dank looking square with the neon outline of a bird buzzing over a window advertising a “two-for-one” special on Bud, this place practically called to me like a siren.

  I pulled into the parking lot, using Boomer's car, given that I'd left my truck back in Naples in favor of The Good Storm. As soon as I opened the door in an attempt to walk into what looked to be a mostly empty bar, I heard the coastal stylings of Jimmy Buffet coming from inside. He was telling me that “Come Monday” it would be alright. And, just like that, I knew that- even though Naples was a long way away- I definitely belonged here.

  For the first time since I got to this city, I felt light. I felt like myself. I shook my head, smiling and walking toward The Thirsty Seagull. With any luck, next they'd play “Margaritaville”.