Doing as she bid, she took a deep breath and slipped the white Michael Jackson T-shirt over her head, exposing her very modest bra, which certainly, compared to the three young girls, might as well have covered her like a turtle-neck. She took her chances, loosening her hair from the top of her head and shook out her long dark mane, banking on what she always thought about men. Men were stupid.
Her father used to tell her a story about a dog crossing a bridge and seeing another dog in the water with a bone. The dog was so greedy he opened his mouth to intimidate the other dog and ended up losing his bone in the water because the dog and bone he saw was none other than his own reflection.
“Are you lost?” asked a man coming from the pier. He wore a pair of Hawaiian shorts and a white A-line shirt which hid the black gun horribly in his waistband, or that was the point. “Parasailing’s closed today.”
Harley’s eyes darted toward the customer-free pier and then to the oiled up man. “Really?” she asked with wide eyes. She didn’t stop. If she could get the man to follow her under the pier she could take his weapon without making too much of a scene. He began to walk backwards in hopes of stopping her from crossing the other man’s path. “I just need to go over there.”
“Take the boardwalk,” he countered with a pointed finger to the area crowded with teenagers on skateboards.
“The sand is hot.” Water danced through the air toward the bodyguard when she lifted her foot to show her bare feet. She draped her T-shirt over both shoulders and hung onto the sleeves with both hands and continued walking, ten more feet.
The man, still walking backwards reached for his waistband to brandish his gun.
Five more feet.
“I’ll be out of your way in a second,” Harley said.
“No, go back.”
Harley shook her head and giggled, “No silly, my friends are right over there.”
His mistake was to turn and look over his shoulder. Harley raised her foot again, lifting the wet sand toward his face. Long lanky arms shot up in the air while he tried to cover his face from the debris and Harley took a step forward landing a punch in the center of his stomach. He doubled over but reached for his gun. With his arm extended out but the wind knocked out of him, Harley unraveled her T-shirt and wrapped it around his wrist, stepping into his frame. A crack sounded under the dark pier when her elbow connected with his nose. Warm liquid spilled onto her sh
oulder. She looked down as blood soaked the right bra cup. Irritated by the stain, Harley spun with a right hook and swept his legs. The bodyguard fell to the sand with an oomph. Harley stood over him, his gun in her hand.
“Thanks,” she breathed heavily, now feeling the pang in her ribs. It wasn’t her smartest move, but hey, she was desperate.
“What are you doing here? This area of the beach is closed.”
Harley rolled her eyes, tucking her new toy in her T-shirt. The Speedo man stood in the sunlight just at the start of the docks. “Oh my God, I’m so glad to see you.”
“Me?” he asked in bewilderment. “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes sir,” Harley winced against the throbbing pain and cradled her ribs. “I know exactly who you are Mr. Marchette and I need to talk to you about your son, Leonardo.”
Chapter 15
As time ticked away, so did Dante’s patience. He resisted the urge to punch the kid next to him, reminding himself Javier was still a boy. Traffic blurred by in the backseat of the vehicle.
“You knew the men in the photograph I showed you.”
Javier shook his head then clasped his hands over his ears. He reeked of cheap vodka and tropical punch. No one in the SUV wanted to get too close to him on account of his stench of vomit.
“Okay, I spotted Christopher Alfaro at the club. I blame him for being with the guy who killed Gaston.”
Even though he needed an eyewitness account to put Leonardo away, which he now had, Dante sighed with a mixture of frustration and relief. He hated to have Javier as his witness. Not only did Javier put his life in jeopardy, he placed Hannah’s in danger, as well. His brother paid the price with his life and Dante understood the overwhelming desire for revenge.
“You can’t let your feelings overrule you, Javier.” Dante placed a hand on his shoulder. “If you testify, we can put him away for a long time.”
“I’m not testifying!” Javier shrieked, “I don’t want what happened to Gaston to happen to me. I’m not giving him or his goons a chance to do anything to me, I’m going to kill him.”
“Kill him and then what?” asked Dante. “What about Hannah? What good are you going to do to her in jail?”
Javier shrugged off Dante’s hand. “She’ll understand.”
The tension in the car broke. Tito slammed his hand on the dashboard and the car came to a skidded dusty stop on the side of the road. He spun around so fast even Dante jumped back in his seat. “Look, you little piss-ant, we’ve been busting our ass trying to find this guy and ain’t no way in hell you’re not turning states evidence.”
“I’m not a snitch.”