Chapter 5
KAI
With the painting tucked under my arm, I hustled around to the passenger side of the Uber to yank the door open for Jasmine.
She gave me a curious look that hovered somewhere between impressed and annoyed—I couldn’t tell which.
Story of my life. Women were an enigma, every look layered with meanings I’d never decode.
I didn’t bother trying to unravel them anymore; I stuck to what I could see—she was coming back to my place with me.
That much was certain, and it was all the clarity I needed.
At least I had the chance to know her better.
By the time I twisted the key in the lock of my apartment, my brain reminded me that the dogs weren’t here. “My brother has our labs, Fisher and King, at his place,” I said as the deadbolt clicked. “So you won’t be mauled with kisses.”
“I like doggy kisses,” she said as she stepped over the threshold, the words warm and unguarded.
Of course she did. Just add that to the list of reasons I thought she was awesome. “Next time.”
I dropped the painting into the chair just inside the door, reaching around her to flick on the lights.
My hand was halfway to her waist, already imagining the brush of contact, when my entire body seized.
My heart tried to crawl out of my throat.
The air itself seemed to snap, every hair on my arms standing on end. Something was wrong—bone-deep wrong.
A man was sitting on my couch.
Big. Silent. A gun resting easy across his thick thigh, finger coiled on the trigger like it lived there. The barrel gleamed dully in the low light, and the smell hit me—a faint tang of sweat that turned my stomach.
My body reacted before my brain could. I shoved Jasmine behind me so hard she stumbled. “Who the fuck are you?” I barked, my voice louder than I expected, rough with the kind of fear that pretends to be fury. My throat was raw, my chest tight. If I stopped sounding angry, I’d sound terrified.
But before I could take another step, Jasmine shrieked—high and terrified—and was ripped away from me.
I spun to see another man, even bigger, materializing from the shadows like a nightmare.
One massive hand clamped over her mouth.
The other pressed a gun to her temple. Her muffled cry froze my blood.
I saw the whites of her eyes, wide, wet, locked on mine. The fear in those green eyes broke me.
Rage boiled up so fast I nearly choked on it. Despite the terror clawing my ribs, all I could think was: he’s touching the lips I’ve been imagining kissing all damn night. How dare he.
I lunged at him, chest heaving, fists clenched. “Take that gun away from her head, right fucking now.” My voice broke like a whip.
The bearded goon—biceps stretching black sleeves, tactical cargo pants stuffed with God knows what—only smirked. His beady eyes full of confidence said he’d done this before, too many times, and it had always ended his way.
Behind him, the man on my couch let out a laugh so dry it chilled my bones. “Tell us where the coke is, right fucking now.”
“Coke?” My brain stuttered. I latched onto the first thing that made sense. “If this is about the bale, the Coast Guard has it. Haven’t you seen the news?” My voice was steady, but my knees had gone soft. I locked them to keep from buckling.
“Oh, we have.” His eyes darkened as he leaned forward, raising two fingers.
“They recovered 10 kilos. Thing is, that drop was 20 kilos. I’m guessing it was two bales packed together, and only one was reported.
And since you’re the one who found it, we thought we’d ask you. WHERE IS THE FUCKING COKE?”
His roar shook the room. My ears rang. Jasmine whimpered against the hand over her mouth. The sound was thin, broken—and it hollowed me out worse than the gun pointed our way.
I flinched, but forced my voice out steady. “I have no idea. We didn’t touch it. I called it in, and then answered nine thousand questions when the Coast Guard got there to take it. That’s all I know.”
“You better come up with something better than that,” Couch Guy sneered, hand dropping back to his pistol like he was itching to use it. The weapon twitched in his grip the way a predator’s tail flicks before a strike.
The second goon pressed the barrel harder against Jasmine’s temple. My chest cracked open at the sight of her squeezed-shut eyes. Sweat stung my own, blurring her outline—a mercy, maybe, because seeing her like that felt worse than death itself.
“I told you everything I know,” I said, my throat raw. “I swear on my mother’s grave, I never touched the bale. If something’s missing, I don’t know about it.”
The bald man in the fitted black tee stood slowly, deliberate as death. He wagged his Glock as he closed the distance, each step a countdown. “Are you suggesting someone else found the bale intact, took half, and just…left the rest floating for you to find?”
His bulk herded me backward until the sofa hit the backs of my legs. His accomplice shoved Jasmine forward. We landed hard, side by side, shoved onto the couch like criminals instead of victims. The leather cushions hissed as the air left them, a grotesque sigh at our helplessness.
A sick irony hit me: I’d hoped we’d end up on this couch tonight, making out, maybe more. This was not the scenario I’d envisioned. The thought twisted in my gut, bitter enough to choke on.
Before I could shift, the bigger of the two crouched down, yanked my wrists together, and cinched them tight with a zip tie.
The sharp plastic bit into my skin. Jasmine gasped as he did the same to her, binding her hands in front before shoving her back against the sofa.
The sound of the plastic locking shut was sickening.
“I’m not suggesting anything,” I said, with a laugh that came out harsh, brittle.
“I don’t know if the bale was intact when I spotted it.
I never touched it. But are you suggesting I fished it out, opened it, nicked half, threw it back, then called the Coast Guard—all while my paying charter customers were onboard? ”
It sounded insane out loud. Which was the point.
“I don’t know how you did it,” he snarled. “Don’t even care. Just give me the fucking coke.”
“There is no fucking coke,” I shot back, desperation scraping my throat. The words tore out like glass, and for the first time I wondered if this was it. If we didn’t give them what they were looking for, why would they leave us to tell the story?
Beside me, Jasmine’s face was pale, her hands trembling.
“Oh, but there is,” he said, voice rising. “Somewhere, there is. And we’re not leaving without it. Drop the act, Rodman. Hand it over.”
Exasperation left me empty of everything but logic. “Listen, I get it. Your ass is on the line. You have a job to do right now. The thing is, I don’t have your coke. But I can probably help you find it.”
The bald man paused mid-step. “How’s that?”
“I know just about everyone from Key Largo to Key West. I’m extremely well connected, especially among the people who’d know if a large quantity of premium product suddenly hit the market. I can put out feelers. But I’m going to need some time.”
His lip curled. “So you can go straight to the police? Fuck off. That’s not how it works.”
I forced a sharp laugh. “Why would I go to the cops? I don’t care about your coke. I would’ve left your goddamn bale in the Atlantic if it were up to me. I don’t feel any civil duty to try to stop you from moving it. I’m a ‘live and let live’ kind of guy.”
“I’m not,” he growled.
“Well, here we are,” I countered, voice steadying on the bluff. “I don’t have your coke. You don’t know where else to look. Let me try to help you. I won’t go to the cops. You have my word.”
My word wasn’t worth shit. I didn’t know a single dealer. I avoided people who I knew messed with that scene. But he didn’t know that. It was my only bargaining chip. My pulse thundered so loud I half-believed he could hear it, and that any second he’d call the bluff.
Thank God, he bit.
“We’ll give you three days.”
Jasmine let out a breath beside me. Relief washed through me like a wave.
“How can I contact you?”
The man’s smile was sharp and humorless. “Don’t worry. I’ll find you, Rodman.” His tone made the promise feel like a curse, and the chill of it hung in the air long after they’d gone.