CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Saturday, January 15

4:15 p.m.

Palm Beach

Parnell ran the stolen Zodiac to the swim platform at the stern of The Beachy Babe. He’d spent way more time than he’d meant to simply find an inflatable boat. He’d been forced to deal with too many niggling issues to dwell on, but he was finally here.

Fish had warned him they couldn’t take off after 4:45 p.m. He had fifteen minutes to do what he came for and get back to Travis Field.

The nine million was gone.

He’d accepted that.

But he still had time to make the bitch pay.

Which was exactly what he planned to do.

He left the Zodiac at the swim platform with a young kid from the deck crew.

“I’ll be back in twenty,” he told the kid.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Franklin. He palmed it over. “Keep my Zodiac right here, and I’ve got another one of those with your name on it. I can’t be late. My boss will kill me.”

The guy looked at the hundred-dollar bill and nodded. “You bet, mister.”

Parnell barely heard him. He was already inside and running to climb the stairs to the first deck.

At the door to the makeshift casino, he stopped to scan the room. Wall-to-wall bodies.

He didn’t see Pauling.

But he did see the closest big screen TV. The video feed happened to catch Pauling talking to two security guards twice her size.

“Gotcha,” he said under his breath. She was on the cabana deck, two flights up.

He paused.

Something about one of the guys seemed familiar. Big. Maybe six-five. Maybe two-fifty. Huge hands. Had he seen the guy before?

Parnell shrugged it off. Probably dumber than a box of rocks. Most of those big gym rats were. Steroids fried the tiny brains they’d been born with.

He returned to the stairs and hopped up, two at a time, to the second level and then to the third. When he reached the cabana deck, he was barely short of breath.

At the top of the stairs, he saw her. Standing at the end of the bar, behind a small table. Now she was chatting with a nearly naked young couple wearing bikinis too small to cover a Chihuahua’s privates.

He approached the bar and watched Pauling for an opening.

The bartender said, “What can I get you, sir?”

“Whiskey. Neat.” Parnell barely noticed when the bartender placed his glass on the bar. He pulled a five from his pocket and stuffed it into the tip glass before moving away to make room for the next guest.

The naked couple was still monopolizing Pauling. How long could they stand there?

Parnell glanced at his watch. “Come on. Come on, already.”

Five minutes passed. Parnell felt a trickle of sweat run down his temple. He wiped it off with his fingers.

The naked couple walked away.

Finally.

Parnell left the whiskey on the bar and made his move.

He approached Pauling as quickly as he dared. She didn’t see him coming. He sidled around the table and stood next to her. He grabbed her arm. Tight.

She glanced up at him. She seemed to recognize him somehow.

Her eyes widened, and she gasped.

“Let’s go,” he said, close to her ear. “And act normally, or I’ll kill you where your stand.”

He jerked her sideways, and she stumbled into him before she steadied her footing.

“We’re going down to the swim platform. Smile, say hi, but don’t stop.” Parnell spoke for her ears only.

They reached the top of the stairs before he saw a dumb ass security guy moving fast.

Parnell raised his right foot to descend.

Someone leaned in and shoved hard in the center of Parnell’s back.

At the same time, Pauling jerked her arm from Parnell’s grasp and stepped aside.

Parnell lost his footing.

He stumbled down, fighting gravity all the way until he succumbed at the middle of the flight. He tumbled ass-over-shoulders to the second deck.

“Stop! Stop him!” yelled a tiny Asian woman standing ten feet away from the bottom of the stairs where Parnell landed.

Parnell scrambled up and hurried around the corner toward the next flight of stairs.

The Asian woman came after him.

A tall, lanky guy hurried down from the third deck to follow.

Parnell ran hard. His head start and the crowds buffering his pursuers conspired to his advantage.

The distance between him and the Asian woman widened. When he hit the swim platform running, the kid was standing there next to the Zodiac, as promised.

Parnell ignored him as he shoved the Zodiac into the Atlantic and dived into the inflatable.

The motor started up immediately.

He opened the throttle and pointed the boat toward Travis Field. No time to go back for the SUV now. He couldn’t take it to Tortola.

Parnell was breathing hard. He looked back at The Beachy Babe. The people milling around the yacht’s stern grew smaller as the distance widened.

So far so good, but it wouldn’t last. They’d come after him. He didn’t have much time.

He pulled a disposable cell from his pocket and called Fish. “I’ll be there in five, ten at the most. Coming in via Zodiac from the Atlantic. Fire it up. Let’s go.”

Trout’s voice crackled on the line. “I’ve got your duffel on board, but what about the rest of your cargo?”

“Change of plans.”

Parnell tossed the cell phone into the ocean.