Sin rolled her eyes. “Here it comes,” she said. “I’m a big girl, Frank, just tell me what you need to tell me so I can go back to my hotel and get some sleep.”
Frank leaned in and lowered his voice. “The last message we received from the agents was a transmission that said, ‘there is a mole and we need help.’ The next day, their bodies were found washed ashore in Tumbleboat. The timing is a bit suspicious to say the least.”
Sin sat expressionless.
“Because of the breach, we can’t take any chances; you will be on your own on this mission. You are the only person I can think of who can gain access to the island without raising alarm, and you are not allowed to bring your militia.”
Sin opened her mouth to speak, but Frank cut her off.
“I mean it, Sin, no one. If you accept this op, you are totally on your own.”
“How do I keep in touch?”
“That’s the thing,” Frank said. “You don’t.”
Sin squinted and cocked her head.
“We will know where you are at all times because you will be microchipped.”
Sin’s complexion went from a caramel tan to a stovetop red in seconds. “Like someone’s pet! Are you out of your fuckin’ mind,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Just listen before you blow,” Frank said. “Because of the mole, we can’t risk being in contact with each other. This is the only way I can monitor you and keep you safe.”
“How is that going to help keep me safe when all you’ll be able to see is me as some blip on a screen?”
“Because,” Frank said, “if you need backup, and there will come a time when you do, you will have to cut the chip from your wrist. It will set off an emergency signal when it is not in contact with your body.”
Sin stared at Frank. “You’re a piece of work, you know that.” She wiped her mouth, stood up, and started walking away.
“Does that mean we have a deal?” Frank said.
Sin gave him a middle-fingered salute. “See you in the morning, Kemosabi.”
5
It was late afternoon of the second day when Sin reached the Lower Keys, the area from Marathon to Key West. Tumbleboat was about half way in between. Just before the boat launch to Tumbleboat, she pulled her bike up to the Lower Keys Saloon, a ramshackle, broken down bar that sat off U.S. 1, a popular hangout with the locals.
She shut off her Harley and shook out her long, braided hair. Stepping off her bike, she heard a familiar voice.
“Damn, I would know that ass anywhere.”
Sin’s curves had always been a cursed blessing.
The voice made her cringe.
“Well, looky here boys, it looks like the prodigal bitch has returned home.”
She turned to see Billy Bob Miller, better known as Bubba, standing next to a beat up Ford F150 pick-up truck with three of his cronies.
“You tapped her before, didn’t ya, Bubba?” said one of them.
Sin lit a cigarette and walked toward the foursome. She stood close enough to blow smoke in their faces. With her free hand, she slapped her own ass. “He’s never tapped this and he never will.” She looked at Bubba with disgust. “The only thing Bubba, here, has ever tapped is a keg.” She eyed the four of them before settling on Bubba. She reached out and poked him in the belly. “By the looks of things, you’ve tapped quite a few since I’ve been gone.”
By now, a group of locals had gathered around to watch. She could hear muffled, nervous laughter when she insulted Bubba.
His round face, which sat on three chins, looked like a storm cloud when he heard the chatter.
He spit as she retracted her hand. Without further provocation, he swung at her, meaning to backhand her across her face. Sin was faster than he was. She grabbed his wrist and bent it backward. The pain dropped the big boy to his knees.
“Get the bitch,” he grunted as he hit the ground.
The other three closed ranks. One pulled a rubber club—a black jack—out of his back pocket while the other two clenched their hands into fists ready to strike. Without letting go of Bubba’s wrist, Sin twirled and side-kicked the closest one in the crotch. With her free hand, she drove the butt of her palm into the throat of the second. That left the one with the rubber club. He lifted his arm back and went in for the strike. With a jerking motion, she lifted Bubba off the ground causing the club to strike him on the top of the head.
The crack of the club smacking his head caused a collective ‘ooh’ from the crowd that had gathered. She dropped his wrist and bent forward slightly to help catch her breath.
Composed, Sin turned to walk inside the saloon. The man still standing reached behind him and pulled a semi-automatic from his waistband. Before he could level the gun, Sin spun and held the 1911 directly at his head.
A voice rang out from behind Sin. “I don’t think that would be a smart move, Joey.”
Joey’s gun hand shook as he looked past Sin and smiled. “You saw everything, didn’t you, Deputy? She pulled a gun on all of us and pistol whipped Bubba and the boys.”
Sin knew the voice and sighed in disgust, knowing it belonged to another of the good ‘ole boys from high school.
“Yep, saw the whole thing,” he said.
Sin could hear his boots making a crunching sound in the shell-rock parking lot.
She could feel his breath on the back of her neck as he spoke.
“What I saw, was this young lady ride up, get off her bike, and get attacked by four grown men. Then I watched her take you apart like you were a bunch of pussies.”
The gun in Joey’s
