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“Shit. Walk toward the road until you get one. I’ll see you back at the house.”
“Okay,” Mike replied, his eyes still on his phone as he started up the sand.
“Mike—look out—there’s a branch,” Roland yelled, seeing a hefty log directly in Mike’s path.
But the warning came too late. As Mike tripped over it and toppled to the ground, his phone flew from his hand.
“For fuck’s sake!” Roland yelled, throwing his arms in the air.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Mike shouted. “Go ahead. I’m fine.”
“I’m surrounded by fucking morons,” Roland snarled, moving to the hard damp sand so he could jog, but as he did, a ripple rolled to shore and lapped over his feet. “Goddammit,” he shouted, jumping back and pulling off his handmade Italian loafers, only to see the expensive footwear was ruined. “When I get my hands on that fucking guy for sending me down here, he and that slut of his will be fucking sorry!”
* * *
Still lying on the ground and watching Roland furiously hurl his costly loafers in the sea, Mike broke into a broad grin. He loathed the man, and the sight of him enraged over a pair of his fancy shoes had made Mike’s twisted ankle a little less painful.
Roland’s fanatical obsession about his clothing was bizarre and disturbing. From his socks to his tailor-made suits, he wore only the best, and if he found a spot on his perfectly pressed jeans, he’d change them and take them straight to the cleaners. But as his furious boss jogged away, Mike’s attention returned to the regrettable situation in which he unexpectedly found himself.
Limping all the way back to the house wouldn’t be easy, but there was something far more important weighing on his mind, and his dilemma might well be fortuitous. He’d been looking for a safe exit from Roland’s crew for a while, and lying alone on the sand, never had he wanted to get away more.
Mike knew he was no saint, but Roland’s heart was black and pumped ghoulish burgundy blood. His latest act of cruelty with Matteus Anderson had been merciless and unforgivable.
When Mike had joined the Albertini organization, he’d done so with his eyes wide open. While the job hadn’t been ideal, with a wife and three kids, he’d been struggling to make ends meet. He’d already been moonlighting for Lorenzo, and when he was offered a permanent role for triple what he’d been earning as a security guard, it was just too good to pass up. For the first couple of years he’d had no complaints, then he’d been promoted to Roland’s elite crew.
Now gazing out at the sun sparkling on the water, and hearing the squawking gulls, in spite of his painful ankle, Mike savored the moment alone on the deserted beach. He had to call Jimmy, but he took an extra moment to soak in the idyllic moment. Finally looking around and spotting his phone, he slowly rose to his feet, limped across the sand, picked it up and placed the call.
“Hey, Mike, what’s up?” Jimmy asked, answering on the first ring. “I’m halfway up the canyon.”
“Turn around. Roland is on his way back to the house. He thinks the couple next door aren’t what they seem and he’s pissed off.”
“No shit. Why is that?”
“He doesn’t think Bianca would have taken off down the beach during the storm, and the guy purposely lied to him. You know what that means,” Mike added with a sigh.
“Shit. Roland will pound him,” Jimmy muttered, “and God knows what he’ll do to the girl.”
“More like the devil knows,” Mike grunted. “Anyway, he wants you to meet him at the garage. I have a feeling the three of us will be paying this Vincelli guy and his girl a visit.”
“They’re not home. Before I left I saw them walking near the water heading up the beach, but they can’t get away. Once they get past that last house they’ll run into the rocks. Man, I sure wouldn’t want to be in their shoes, that poor bastard—and that girl. Damn.”
Mike caught his breath.
Even if the couple were completely innocent, which they probably were, Roland wouldn’t believe them—or care.
“Hey, Mike, are you still there?”
“Uh, yeah, Jimmy, I’m here,” Mike replied, a chill rippling through his body. “I tripped on a log and twisted my ankle. It will take me ages to get back. Can you pick me up?”
“Sure, where are you?”
“Look for the second lifeguard tower, but by the time you get here I should be up on the road.”
“Maybe I should call Roland and pick him up too.”
“By now he’ll be almost back at the house,” Mike said hastily, “and he’s in a mood. Best leave it.”
“Ah, right, okay. See you shortly.”
