Bad Blood: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Tropical Adventure Series Book 2) by Wayne Stinnett

Author:Wayne Stinnett [Stinnett, Wayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down Island Press
Published: 2024-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Rusty and Juliet listened intently as Jesse and Gina explained what had happened in Key West, about being chased all the way from the Saddlebunch Keys to Big Pine where they lost the car, and then what happened at the motel.

They left out the events at the old ferry dock on No Name Key.

“You’ll stay here,” Rusty said. “We got plenty of—”

“Whatever these guys were after me for,” Jesse said, “I’d rather not bring them here while I’m sleeping in your mom and dad’s house.”

“What’d they look like?” Juliet asked.

“One, the guy Jesse knocked out, was as big as a mountain,” Gina replied. “Long hair and a beard, same as one of the smaller guys, and the third one was bald and had a mustache.”

“Baldy rode a hardtail,” Jesse added. “The other guy rode a Sporty, and the guy they called Chuck rode an antique side-shifter.”

“Sideshift?” Rusty asked, looking quickly toward the parking lot entrance. “A guy taller’n you, and half again as heavy?”

“You know him?” Jesse asked.

“They call him Sideshift,” Juliet replied. “He was close with Bear Bering, years ago.”

“His real name ain’t Chuck, though,” Rusty said. “It’s Monte Brisco. He did time upstate with Bear.”

“Oh, great,” Jesse said. “That’s just perfect. So, who’s Chuck?”

“Somebody spotted you in Key West, bro,” Rusty said. “And they called Sideshift to let him know. This guy’s even more dangerous than Bear.”

“Not anymore,” Gina said. “We can stay on the boat, even take it out and anchor somewhere.”

Shorty came walking toward them from the bar. “Hey, kids,” he said, and waved. “Goin’ divin’?”

“We have to tell your dad either way,” Jesse whispered.

“Hey, Pop,” Rusty called. “Got a second?”

Jesse gave Shorty a Reader’s Digest version of what happened, including the name of the biker.

He nodded, one arm crossed, and the other hand stroking his chin in thought. “Did you get a look at the car?”

“A white, 1979 Chrysler Cordoba,” Jesse replied. “Never saw the tag, though.”

“Chuck Bering,” Shorty said. “This just keeps gettin’ deeper. He’s a cousin of Bear’s. They been in the pot-sellin’ business for years. It was his equipment you boys burned, up there in the Contents last fall.”

The squeak of worn-out suspension and brakes could be heard from the entrance, and as they all turned toward the sound, a police car pulled into the parking area.

Not just any police car, Jesse realized, noting the number 12 on the fender.

“Let me do the talkin’,” Shorty said.

“I don’t think that’s going to be an option,” Jesse said, stepping up onto the seawall, ready to be arrested.

“Hey, Bart,” Shorty said, as the sergeant and his son came toward them. “What’s brought you out here?”

Sergeant Johnson strode straight toward Jesse, his eyes locked on him like lasers. “I think this one here knows.”

“Brisco kicked in our door,” Jesse said. “He entered my and Gina’s room uninvited. I stopped him and decided it was better to leave in case the other two came back. I was just about to call you.”

“Were you now?” Sergeant Johnson glared up at Jesse for a moment, then turned toward Gina.

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