Broken Slate by John A Daly

Author:John A Daly [Daly, John A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781945448089
Publisher: BQB Publishing
Published: 2017-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

He lay under the cover of darkness in the midst of a wild tangle of grass and overgrown shrubs that had swallowed up the open area of land just south of the strip bar. His eyes were glued to the spectacle playing out before him near the entrance of the building. The large individual, whom he’d first met through a pair of binoculars from the yacht, had tossed a couple of grown men to the ground like rag dolls and now had a gun trained on them. He couldn’t make out what the brute was angrily demanding of them, but he was sure it had to be about the girl—the stripper.

Up until that night, Martin Schofield had never stepped foot inside Sunshine’s. He’d only driven Albano and Blake there a couple of times and hung out in the car while they inspected the package. No one would have recognized the twenty-four-year-old—who looked more like a teenager—from behind the tinted windows. That’s why Blake’s demand that morning had made no sense.

Blake was adamant that Schofield stay clear of the strip club, his tone threatening and absolute. At any other time, Schofield would have followed his orders, just like he had reluctantly done that fateful night. But with the growing standoffishness he’d been sensing from them all, he’d begun to suspect it wasn’t his safety or best interests that concerned Blake. He’d increasingly felt as though he had a target painted on his back, and the others were just waiting for the paint to dry before pulling the trigger.

At least Albano needed him for the yacht. He was the only one of his men who knew how to sail it and that made him indispensable for the time being. He had his late father to thank for that, having raised him in the tourist industry down in Jacksonville, Florida. As a teenager, Schofield used to tag along on outings at least three days a week, teaching wealthy travelers from across the country how to deep-sea fish. The wannabe anglers all seemed to like him and enjoyed teasing him for how quickly the sun would turn his skin the color of his hair.

That damn hair of his. He should have just buzzed it off. Its bright shade of red and floppy appearance was so distinctive that it had given him away the moment his hat had been knocked from his head. The stranger, who hadn’t recognized him previously, had identified him instantly; Schofield could tell by the look in the man’s eyes. He was sure that revelation would seal his fate. It would take only the big man showing up again at the house and saying something to Albano, and then all bets would be off. Schofield would end up as dead as the others—as dead as that stripper.

That’s what Blake hadn’t wanted him to discover at the bar—that the stripper was done breathing. She was the only outsider who could have tied it all together, not through some brilliant Sherlock Holmes detective work, but simply because of where she happened to work.

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