The guys spent the day talking about the drug cartel pirates. During the post-op briefing, they’d learned more about Abduwali Ali and how he’d come to work for the Los Zetas. The DEA was very appreciative of the Gray Fox team’s efforts. This had struck a major blow to the cartel’s cash flow and led to valuable intel about their organization. They’d even agreed to look the other way concerning Bear’s boat acquisition.
Gunner had received an email directly from the congressman and his wife, thanking him for saving their daughter, his sister, and his niece. Over the years, Gunner had earned the respect of pro-military political leaders on Capitol Hill. While their operations were off the books, their funding had to be maintained by Congress. Saving Jenna Larkin was a win in many ways.
“Who’s hungry?” asked Gunner.
Howard howled and Bear barked, “I am!”
Cam laughed and rolled her eyes. She looked at Gunner. “Seriously, this is a question you had to ask? These two would eat you out of house and home if you didn’t keep them on a leash.”
Gunner finished his beer and fist-bumped his friend. “I’ll feed Howard a snack, and you guys get ready.”
“What are you fixin’?” asked Bear.
“I thought we’d walk into town and try the new place,” said Gunner. “We’ve been so busy between moving and the Victory that I still haven’t checked the place out. Hell, I haven’t seen the town since the Realtor showed me around months ago.”
“I’m game,” said Cam, who was the first to hustle off to freshen up.
“I’m down, too,” said Bear, who gathered up the empties and took them to the kitchen trash can.
Fifteen minutes later, the trio was walking down the packed-sand path leading through the marshy west end of Tangier Island toward town. Gunner lived half a mile from everything, so there was no need for a car. Dog Island had been long and narrow. His home in Florida was on the complete opposite end of the marina and the airport. Tangier Island was different. It was short, wide and, as the locals say, heart shaped. He was able to get everywhere by walking.
After ten minutes of cracking jokes and bustin’ Bear’s chops over the Weight Limit 2 Tons street sign found at the entrance to the wooden bridge leading to the main business district, the three of them arrived on the main street of the quaint fishing village.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Tangier Island, Virginia
Bear was sweating profusely as they reached the main drag of the tiny island town. He wiped the sweat off his brow with his tee shirt. “Man, we’ve gotta get one of those golf carts or a moped or somethin’.”
“Because dropping a few L-Bs is not an option?” Cam asked with a grin. She playfully slapped Bear’s stomach. His abs were solid like granite. The man wasn’t overweight. He was just big.
“Yeah, yeah,” replied Bear. “First thing on Monday morning. I’m gonna hit it hard. Cut out the carbs, you know?”
“Right. But today, we eat!” exclaimed Gunner, who picked up the pace as they entered the town. The business and tourist district consisted of simple rectangular buildings with gable roofs in a variety of colors. Once private homes, they had been retrofitted over time to become small shops, restaurants, and now two bars.
One of the eating and drinking establishments was located near the docks across from the wooden bridge. The other, the new place, was on the far end of the shopping strip, a quarter mile away. It was off the beaten path behind the post office.
Gunner checked his watch and saw that it wasn’t quite eleven that morning, so he took the group on a casual walk to check out the shops. The town of Tangier wasn’t that different from Apalachicola, only much smaller. Because it was truly an island and didn’t have access other than by boat and small plane, the town’s tourist trade was sparse. The only thing keeping most of the businesses open was the fact the buildings most likely doubled as the shop owners’ residences.
“Down this way,” said Gunner, pointing to a long wooden walkway winding through the marsh next to the post office. A hundred yards ahead of them sat a simple square building on pilings overlooking Pocomoke Sound all the way to the peninsula where Wallops Island was located.
“Okay, I really love this whole concept,” began Cam. She looked around for signs of life. “And I know this guy’s place is new. But how can he possibly support himself? This is so out of the way. He doesn’t have any signage by the street. You get the feeling you’re lost as you—”
Cam cut her sentence short as music could be heard across the marsh in front of them. Uncle Kenny belted out a tune, telling his adoring fans that the key to life was no shoes, no shirt, and therefore no problems.
The sound of chatter filled the air as they approached, and Cam instantly realized she was wrong. The small bar appeared to be filled with customers, and it had just opened.
They walked up the wooden steps and reached the wraparound porch. Cam noticed a sign over the door and read it aloud. “How do you make the pain of a broken heart go away? Beer, oysters, and country music!”
“Can’t argue with that,” added Gunner.
“Damn straight!” said Cam.
The three of them entered the bar and immediately noticed the wood floor was covered with pristine white sand mixed with a smattering of dry-roasted peanut shells. In a pile on both sides of the door were peoples’ shoes, socks, and flip-flops. Apparently, the bar’s patrons took Uncle Kenny to heart. As did the owner, who’d named his place the Broken Hart Raw Bar, a nod to the shape of Tangier Island and the local folklore that it resembled a broken
