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A tiny part of Bones Bonebrake knew that a third bottle of Dos Equis in the span of a single hour might be a bad idea. He acknowledged that part of himself by raising the bottle to no one in particular and downing it in one chug. The bartender turned at the sound of the empty bottle impacting the huge slab of driftwood serving as the bar.
“You all right, Bones?” The bartender, a tall, lean man with dark hair, looked down at him, concern in his eyes.
Bones shook his head. “I don’t know, Mo. Lots on my mind.”
“You don’t seem yourself.”
“I’ll be all right, but you’d better switch me to Coke. Hold the Jack.”
He looked around the bar, his eyes drifting past the many banners recognizing popular college football teams to the cluster that honored branches of the military, Special Forces, and POW-MIAs. Sloppy Joes was his favorite watering hole in Key West. Rebuilt after the Dominion had unleashed a freak tsunami upon the island, it still felt like the same old place. A bright, cheery spot where the staff knew and liked him... And also knew when to cut him off.
His gaze reached a tall blonde who was resolutely slogging through the sawdust between the restroom and one of the battered tables in the corner. He caught her eye briefly and raised his eyebrows, but she quickly looked away and sat down. He’d spotted her coming in half-an-hour ago with a corn-fed linebacker type wearing a wife-beater at least a size too small.
The linebacker grabbed her by the arm and sent a brief glare in Bones’ direction. The girl’s face twisted in pain. Bones cracked his knuckles and moved to the table with strides only possible for a man six-and-a-half-feet tall.
The linebacker stood up as Bones arrived, but kept his fist wrapped around the girl’s upper arm. He didn’t quite match Bones’ height even with the inch long brown spikes which passed for a haircut. But the shorter man had clearly spent a lot of time with both free weights and performance enhancing substances.
The man’s face was halfway to crimson and toxic breath accompanied his words. “You got a problem?”
Bones’ voice betrayed a trace of humor. “Let go of the girl.”
“That’s none of your business, red man.”
Bones’ grin widened at the slur on his Cherokee heritage. “Don’t you know that’s racist?”
The linebacker let go of the girl and started to poke a finger in Bones’ direction. The finger never arrived. Instead, Bones redirected the finger, hand, arm, and shoulder behind the man’s back. At the same time he slipped a foot behind one of the man’s legs to prevent him from turning to relieve the pressure of the twisted arm. A quick move with the elbow over the man’s neck and he was face down in his plate of french fries.
“Right about now, you’re wishing you didn’t use so much ketchup. Am I right?”
The unintelligible sound emitting from the table conveyed pain and anger. The man tried to lift his head, but a slight increase of pressure from Bones sent the message that movement would result in a compound fracture. He turned to the girl.
“What do you see in this guy, anyway?”
For a second her face remained confused, then she stood up and glared down at the man. “I see an asshole.”
Bones laughed. “Same thing I see. Do you come here often?”
The girl squinted at him and smiled. “Has that line ever worked?”
“Sure, when I use it after kicking the ass of the competition.”
She giggled. “Fair enough. I could let you buy me a drink. But what are you going to do about him?”
“Him? What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know. It was our first date. Also our last date for sure.”
Bones put a hand on each side of the carotid and squeezed. Within about ten seconds, the man had gone limp. He smirked at the girl.
“Vulcan death grip.”
Her eyes showed surprise. “A seven-foot-tall guy quoting Star Trek? Don’t tell me you’re one of those crazy fans?”
“Hell no. Science fiction’s not really my thing. Reality is much more interesting. Let me tell you about—”
Bones stopped as the door to the bar burst open, swinging around to slam violently into the wall. A well-built man with light blond hair stepped through. He seemed to bristle with intensity.
“Maddock,” Bones groaned. “Hold on a minute.”
Dane Maddock was Bones’ business partner and best friend, though when they had had started out as Navy SEALS, the friendship had seemed unlikely. Years later, they had joined forces to become marine treasure hunters, and somehow they kept getting sucked into battles against forces which threatened to change the face of the planet.
He met his friend halfway across the room. “I know I’m hard to resist, but aren’t you and my sister supposed to be off in the mountains somewhere?”
Dane Maddock’s storm blue eyes were a Category Five hurricane, and Bones knew at that moment that any plans of getting to know the blonde girl better were out the window.
Maddock’s words were a growl. “Angel’s been kidnapped.”