Mr. and Mrs. Rossi

Dante grimaced at the sight of Julio standing there with a rolled up piece of paper twisting between his hands. If he’d been a part of Hannah’s life, he would have known. He was willing to bet Julio left Harley high and dry when he learned of her pregnancy. The mental calculations already worked in his head the moment the news broke. At the age of her conception he was disgusted with this man who took advantage of a kid.

“Look,” Julio sighed, “we can sit here and have a pissing contest over Harley but it’s not going to help Hannah.”

“Hannah’s fiancé,” Dante reluctantly told him.

“Fiancé?” Julio sputtered, “She’s just eighteen.”

“And Harley was fifteen when she was born. Clearly you had no qualms then.”

Tired of the comments, Julio’s chest bowed out while he pushed Dante’s shoulders. Not expecting it, Dante took a small step back. He glanced down at his shoulders where Julio’s hands touched him. He growled and reached for the lapels of Julio’s jacket. Cole stepped between them.

“Now’s not the time. Rossi, release him.”

Dante let the man go. His knuckles ached with desire to punch the man. Cole was right. Now was not the time. “We’re not through.”

“I imagine not,” Julio hummed.

Cole cleared his throat and the tension. “What did you learn?”

“Hannah was checked out with a group of girls set aside to do work release without having to appear in front of the judge and keep everything off the record.”

“That sounds ludicrous,” Dante blurted.

“I know,” said Julio, “but the sheriff seems to trust this program. It’s being run by a counselor by the name of Moses Baez.”

“What?” Cole leaned closer.

Dante cut his eyes toward his friend, “What?”

“Do you remember when our system got hacked years ago?”

“Yeah, by our receptionist.”

“And then when Cano and Ibanez met up with…”

Dante snapped his fingers together remembering the explosion at a local mall in Alabama. Cole nearly risked his life to save Rosalind. At the time, the idea of risking your life for a woman was beyond Dante. He enjoyed bachelorhood. He’d had thirty odd years of it. Suddenly the thought of living a life without Harley frightened him. “Son of a bitch, Moses Baez put everyone in touch.”

“So you guys know him, it’s good.”

“No,” Dante and Cole said in unison.

“This guy is slippery and the slimiest bastard ever. He’s got a degree in psychology and business,” Dante explained.

“And is connected to some of the U.S.’s most wanted.”

“Well, now he’s on mine,” Julio tugged the lapels of his jacket.

****

Summertime on the sandy white beaches of Villa San Juan was so picturesque it wasn’t uncommon to find Hollywood directors scouting out the area for beach scenes for movies. Orange coolers anchored the corners of the spread out towels and blankets from the families. Depending on what side of the beach you wanted to hang out, metal lounge chairs forked into the sand. Closer toward the hotel lines, heavy plastic white beach chairs lined up in a row for an easy view of the crystal blue water and easy access for the white attired waiters serving tall icy beverages with little tiki umbrellas. Before buying a house on the other side of the island, Harley’s family hung out in the metal chairs with the frayed materials. When her boobs came in at fourteen, she hung out with the locals at the white beach chairs and sipped fruity drinks one after another.

Down from the lounging beach area you had your vendors selling piraguas to the kids playing even at nine in the morning. Harley passed by a set of twin boys, probably ten, running with the blue syrup already rolling down their arms as they licked at the shaved ice. She smiled, reminding herself to get one before she left. At the volleyball nets, a line waited for teams to go next. The temperature spiked to ninety degrees already. Hand fans bobbed back and forth and the blue gulf water was already packed.

Harley’s feet burned. In her haste, she didn’t get a chance to put on her shoes, not wanting to raise TJ’s suspicions. Without any money, she couldn’t stop at any of the shops for a pair of flip flops. She ignored the idea of snagging someone else’s who’d carelessly left their own behind while on a dip in the cool water but Harley did not want to take the risk. She was already close enough to where she needed to be. As a matter of fact, she made a b-line toward the water to position herself on the right spot. The water cooled her feet and the sun sizzled against her neck.

A patriotic parasail up ahead indicated her close proximity to her target. No one stood in line on the breezy cloudless sky day. Odd? Not knowing who was next in line. Her eyes darted back and forth along the pier. To her left in the water, a pretty metallic blue speed-boat sat in the slip while its crew laid out the red white and blue sails. To her right, an older olive complexioned man wearing a pair of black Speedos stood perfectly still while three young girls in skimpy thongs oiled him down with sun tan lotion. His salt and pepper hair complemented his tan skin and bare chest. Harley reluctantly thought of Dante and his hairy chest and immediately longed to feel his skin beneath hers.

Focus! A voice told her.