Page 96 of Alonzo

Tony shoots me a look back. “I wouldn’t exactly call them friends.”

“I guess not. But that town was his idea. Not ours.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s working out. We need a new town.”

“Hopefully we won’t need a town, at all, ever again.” I sigh. “Tara and Belinda are just… freak accidents.”

“Right.”

“What’s that mean?”

“How do you not see that this is all a fucking setup? I mean, what are the chances a girl from Long Beach and a girl from Key West would stumble into the same illegal operation on opposite ends of the country, then end up best friends in a new town, then one of them is your freaking fantasy girlfriend and shows up, out of the blue, during prep week, for an impromptu visit? Lonz, this whole thing reeks of a setup.”

“You think Tara is setting me up?” I almost laugh.

“Maybe not intentionally. But… yeah. I think we should postpone this job. I think we’re about to be busted.”

“We can’t postpone. That’s not going to happen. We are expected to pick up and deliver twenty live bodies. The consequences if we don’t? No. I’m not even gonna think about it.”

“Well, I hope your friend knows what he’s doing. Because it’s his fault we’re in this Tara and Rosalie situation in the first place.”

We cross the last street and I head into the marina while Tony keeps walking towards the dive shop to meet up with Dad. When I turn the corner near the marina coffee shop I can just make out Quint over near the office door. Waving to someone coming from the other direction.

And then the office comes into full view and I see who Quint is waving at.

Speak of the devil. There he is now.

I smile as I walk towards Quint and our partner from LA, extending my hand. “Diablo. Your name has come up in the most interesting ways this week.”

Diablo—my tattoo buddy from way back—takes my hand and gives it a firm shake, clapping me on the back and genuinely smiling with lots of teeth. “Lonz, my friend. Long time, man. Long time.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - TARA

I’m dead asleep until I feel the coolness of a missing Lonnie snuggled up next to me. I hear him tell me he’s going to work. Half hear him, at least. I think I manage to mumble something back. And I hear the front door open and close.

But I feel his… missing-ness the moment he walks through it.

I try to ignore it. I tell myself truths.

Tara… you have lived twenty-seven years with no Alonzo Dumas. You have lived twenty-five of them with no Lonnie Derringer. You have felt the weight and presence of this man’s body for a total of two days. There is no possible way you can miss him.

But I do.

Terribly.

So five minutes after he leaves I decide I’m going to spend the day with him. I’m sure there’s room on his boat. And I’ll promise to stay out of the way. I just want to be close to him today.

I get up, shower quickly, throw on a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt from his closet—note to self, I really need to go shopping for real clothes. I bought that one outfit yesterday because Jesse Boston is a shopper and I was trying to be his new best friend. But his taste is kind of expensive. So I only got one outfit to play Miss Sunshine in with Lonnie. I deflected last night with the junk mail scenario because that pretty much describes the day I had investigating Jesse Boston. We went a lot of places and he talked non-stop the entire fucking time.

And the only thing I learned about the guy had to do with clothes, and food, and yachts. It’s almost like he was deliberately taking me into every store and restaurant on Key West just to keep me occupied.

There were a few hours yesterday there I really suspected that he might be doing that. But then he’d say something stupid and I’d change my mind.

I brush my teeth, slip on my sneakers, and run out the door. I’m not real sure where his boat is located because it was dark the other night and I wasn’t paying attention. But Lonnie is a local. Someone will be able to point me in the right direction.

The sun is just barely coming up behind me and it feels good on the back of my neck as I cross the already bustling streets and make my way towards the docks. I stop at the first office I see with people inside it and poke my head.

“Excuse me?” Several men look in my direction. “Can you tell me where Alonzo Dumas keeps his boat?”