Epilogue
“Hey, that’s my nephew’s guy, break his balls,” Cuccia said. “It’s almost a week now I haven’t heard from that one.”
He downed half a glass of white wine as he dropped into a chair. He watched a woman racing on Jet Skis make a third pass by the boat. The woman removed her bikini top this time. She held it in one hand as she passed alongside
“I don’t care there was DEA there,” Cuccia said into the cell phone. “That’s got nothing to do with me, my friend. I’m on this boat all week. Now you tell me this, I’m not getting off.”
The jet skier had turned around and was on her way back. She slowed alongside
“Can I use bathroom?” she asked with a Russian accent.
Cuccia heard the accent and immediately hesitated. He noticed that a wallet belt was tied to a steering handle and that the woman was wearing sandals. He glanced at her bare breasts and shook his head.
“Can I use?” the woman asked. “Please.”
“I’ll call you back,” Cuccia said into the cell phone. He turned it off and waved at the woman to come aboard.
The woman smiled as her top fell from her neck. She grabbed it off her leg and held it up for Cuccia.
“Nice,” he said and dropped a rope ladder over the back of the boat.
The woman brought her Jet Ski up against the back of
“What the hell…” he said just before a bullet tore through his neck.
He fell backward onto the floor of the boat and clutched his throat. As he rolled on the deck, he saw the woman level the gun against the top of the transom. He tried to roll away as the next bullet entered his stomach. He coughed up blood before the next bullet pierced his heart.
Charlie Stella
