JD and I sat with Denise at a patio table by the outside pool, watching scantily-clad beauties frolic. The smell of piña coladas and strawberry daiquiris drifted through the air. Girls splashed and giggled, their soaking wet bikinis clinging to sumptuous mounds, the fabric almost transparent.
"You’re pretty quick with that pistol," I said to Denise. “Is that the one I got you for Christmas?”
She grinned, and her emerald eyes sparkled. "It sure is. And just because I sit behind a desk all day doesn't mean I don't know how to use it."
"You could have gotten yourself killed," I said.
She frowned at me. "What was I supposed to do? Sit there and do nothing?”
I shrugged. "It's a good thing his buddy didn't start squeezing off rounds at you."
She made a pouty face. "Aw, is someone concerned?"
"I'm just looking out for my fellow deputy."
She rolled her eyes. "If anyone needs to exercise caution, it’s you two."
"Don't look at me," JD said. "He's the wildcard. Not me."
She scoffed, knowing better. "You’re both wildcards."
A guilty smirk curled on Jack’s lips. "No risk, no reward."
“Well, I took a risk, and it paid off.”
Jack lifted his glass, and we toasted.
We sipped our drinks and took in the atmosphere.
"Are you guys going to the fundraiser?" Denise asked.
"Hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought," JD said.
"It's black tie at the Seven Seas. Free drinks," she said in singsong.
Jack perked up. "Well, in that case, I might have to consider it."
"Stella Turner puts it on every year. I figure it's a good excuse to get all dolled up. I could use a chaperone or two."
Any excuse to see Denise in evening wear was a good thing. She cleaned up well. I imagined she dirtied up well too.
"I believe we can provide you a security escort," I said.
She chuckled. "I'm sure you can."
"What charity is this benefiting again?" JD asked.
"It’s that Coconut Key Forward Fund that the state attorney is involved with. They give grants to youth organizations, rehabilitation programs, that kind of thing. Community building."
"Get potential donors liquored up on the free drinks and have them open their checkbooks," JD said.
"Something like that."
"I'll be sure to leave my checkbook at home."
Denise scowled at him playfully. "Don't be a miser. You can give back to the community."
JD's face crinkled. "I give back to the community. I don't take a salary to do this job, and we put our lives on the line every day."
Denise rolled her eyes. “If you guys didn't do this, you'd invent new ways to skirt death on a daily basis.”
JD and I exchanged a sheepish glance. There was no argument there. We were both adrenaline junkies. The job fulfilled that need and had the added bonus of actually doing some good.
"When is it again?" I asked.
“Saturday night. 7 PM."
"It's a date," I said with a grin.
The sultry redhead gave me a suspicious glance. "I wouldn’t go that far."
“Can I get you guys another round?” a waitress asked as she sauntered by.
It didn’t take much persuasion.
“One more, then I turn into a pumpkin,” Denise said. “I gotta work tomorrow, and some of us actually need this job.”
The waitress returned a moment later with our drinks, and JD picked up the tab. We nursed the drinks for a while, then JD and I escorted Denise back to her banana yellow SUV.
Lights from the bars and restaurants bathed the street. Tipsy tourists wandered up and down the strip. Palm trees lined the avenue, and the smell of pizza and fajitas from street vendors wafted about. Music from live bands spilled onto the street. There was an average crowd for a weekday, but not the madhouse of the weekends.
We found Denise’s SUV parked on a side street. She gave us both a hug, and the sweet scent of her perfume filled my nostrils. She was definitely a good hugger.
"You boys behave," she said before hopping into the SUV.
“Not a chance,” JD replied.
We watched her pull away, then walked down the block toward Jack’s Porsche. He took a deep, contemplative breath. "You know, Chuck's retirement has got me thinking…"
"You’re not thinking about hanging this up, are you? You're not that old," I teased.
He gave me a friendly scowl. “No. I'm thinking you should retire before the fundraiser. Then you're free and clear to let the magic happen. I see the way you two look at each other. There's a palpable energy in the air when you two are in the same room together. Life is short. Screw departmental policy. You need to make it happen."
"She doesn't want a guy like me."
"Oh, yes, she does."
I shook my head. "No, she doesn't. You see what happens to the people that are close to me. There are people out there that want me dead. Elias Fink by way of Sophia Breslin."
"Denise is a big girl. She can take care of herself. She proved that today."
"Not taking the risk."
"How about you let her make that decision? What are you going to do? Keep everybody at arm's-length the rest of your life? Push away the people that care about you the most?
"If it keeps them alive, yes.”
“You do a damn good job of it. Or maybe you're just afraid to commit?"
I laughed. "You're one to talk."
Jack shrugged innocently. "I've committed six times."
"If you committed six times, then you didn't really commit, did you?”
His face crinkled. "Don't twist this around on me. We're psychoanalyzing you."
I laughed. "No we’re not.”
We hopped into the Miami Blue convertible 911 Turbo. JD cranked up the engine, and classic rock blasted from the speakers. He put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. The night air swirled around the cabin, blowing his blond hair as we cruised across the island to the marina at Diver Down.
I thought about what he said. It brought up a complicated range of emotions. My past was out there stalking me. It would likely haunt me forever. At any moment, an assassin’s bullet could find me. And it wasn’t
