Authors: Eric Pete
Frostbite (4 page)
4
Just as the last bits of awareness were leaving me, the water around us sprung to life with new activity. The hotel staff had jumped in, finally doing their job as they swarmed over us in an attempt at breaking up the one-sided scrap. As the big ham-hock loosened his grip in response to the tiny people pulling with all their might, I rolled away from him. Successfully removed my neck from his clutches as I gagged and gasped my way to freedom.
As I struggled to the pool’s edge, a familiar hand reached out to me. I crawled up, like some slowed creature washed ashore, coughing and spitting up the water I’d swallowed. Rolling onto my back in exhaustion, I breathed in the air, o sweet air. Sophia bent over me. Held my hand.
“This ... this is my husband! That man tried to rape me!” she screamed convincingly at the man hotel security was still trying to bring under control. Even in a soaked suit, he was proving elusive. He’d exited the pool too, but on the opposite side. Same position we’d been in earlier today at the compound. But he was determined not to let the two of us slip away this time.
“They’re crazy. That man tried to rob me. And she was in on it,” he countered calmly. Just enough to cast doubt with the hotel staff who didn’t know who to believe. Dripping wet and locking his gaze on the two of us, he breathed evenly. As if I hadn’t even given him a decent workout. None of them had flashed a gun yet, so must’ve had orders to take Sophia alive.
And that one saving grace was all I needed.
“More of them downstairs. We gotta go,” I repeated to Sophia through raspy vocal cords. This time she was ready to heed my warning. At least the remaining tracking device rested at the bottom of the neon-lit pool.
Could hear the police sirens now. Probably from the station over on Seventeenth Street and Convention Center Drive. Less than a mile away, so their response time was to be expected. The conscious one downstairs would either be scared off by them or on his way up toward us to retrieve his partner.
More of the hotel’s staff had gathered round. Had all three of us circled nice and tight. A thin pole of a man in a pinstriped suit spoke for all of them.
“We need all of y’all to come downstairs ... to the office. Need to file a report. The police will get everybody’s version. And can sort this shit out,” he said with marked irritation in his eyes. With a snap of his fingers, he was gone to handle whatever VIPs needed their dicks polished.
Sophia helped me to my feet. Steadied me while I coughed out the remaining pool water, her eyes thanking me for having her back (again) as we trailed the majority of the hotel staff in search of answers. A sufficient number of them were between us and the prince’s
Head Monster in Charge.
Head Monster in Charge.
“Remember what happened in Monaco? In the end?” I asked Sophia, as I motioned for her to slow her pace even more. Then I looked past her at something. Waited for her to look as well.
“Yeah? So?” she replied quizzically, the final memory of Jason North coming to mind. Then, catching my drift, she gasped, “You’re not saying ... We can’t do that. You almost drowned just now.”
“So,” I mumbled. “Cops coming. Much worse if we get taken into custody. Go. Check it out.”
I stumbled a few steps then bent over, hacking up some more to distract our escorts while Sophia snuck a peek over the balcony that we were passing. When she nodded without that much confidence, I made the next move.
“He’s got a gun!” I yelled out, pointing at the big sumo who lumbered in front of me. Just now realized that he was Polynesian, Tongan maybe. Hotel staff already stressed, some rushed him while others scampered for cover.
Just as me and Sophia took three steps to the side.
And hurled ourselves over the side of the glass balcony railing.
For a moment, we hung suspended in air. Daring to fly, but doomed to failure just like Jason North’s already lifeless body back in Monaco all those years ago. Arms and legs flailing as we rushed toward the hotel’s second level below, it was a relief nothing sharp or protruding waited for us. Nevertheless, this was going to hurt. I kept Sophia as close to me as I could, letting my body take the brunt of the fall as we slammed into sunshades, umbrellas, and several glass tables beneath us.
Came to rest with a stabbing pain in my lower back. Broken glass was beneath me and Sophia lay atop me. Her lovely mouth agape; still in shock and afraid to move. Above by the pool area, I could hear the commotion as our pursuer probably made his move as well. Imagined his large heft flying over the rail and squishing us like bugs. When it didn’t come, I was relieved.
“C’mon. Up,” I grunted, spurring Sophia into action again. Getting back on our feet, we ran for what we hoped was our final drop. Off the retaining wall, we leaped. Fell more controlled this time knowing what lay below. The two of us slid down an awning before landing beside a couple who were fucking like beasts on the beach. We didn’t stay around long enough to disturb their groove or admire the woman’s bouncing implants, for I was already dragging Sophia by the arm through the sand for a serious sprint.
We swiftly trudged north along the coastline, a map of the area in my head, guiding me past the distractions and attractions of beach chairs, merengue, couples, and tourists. Every five minutes or so, we’d stop on the dime, giving me time to assess our surroundings or look for a pattern. Patterns, or the absence of them, spoke to me. Sophia knew how I was when I got like this. Knew not to gripe or question.
For I’d proven to be a survivor far too many times.
Three hotels up, we scampered from the beach over the wall into their parking garage. Told Sophia to keep her head low so as to avoid any later ID by the security cameras. Casually, we strolled through the garage, me in a damp suit and she in a bikini top and sarong, while pretending to look for our car. I found one on the employee level in the form of a raggedy old Dodge pickup. Not the nicest option, but an easy one to steal. I removed my jacket, wrapped it around my arm, and promptly busted out the door window.
Before jumping in, I ditched my dress shirt then tore loose a sleeve from it.
“Here,” I said as I tossed the makeshift rag underhand at Sophia. “Put your hair up and wrap it with this. Need to change up a little. Look like we belong in this truck.”
Coming to the parking garage exit of the Hotel Soku, we rammed the security arm rather than slowing down to pay or risking interaction with someone. With Sophia holding on for dear life, I maneuvered the rocking, rusting husk of a truck onto Collins Avenue to take A1A away from the area.
“Whooo! Just like old times!” Sophia cheered as she looked back at the scattered traffic honking madly at us from our near miss with them.
But that was her.
The wild, fiery risk taker to my cold, calculating self.
“Thank you ... again,” she allowed herself to say as we came to a red light by Bal Harbour, trying to pretend all was normal. “I ... I don’t know how they found us,” she mumbled as she allowed her weary head to touch the truck’s worn, peeling headrest.
“You’re being tracked. That’s how,” I said gruffly, allowing my anger to bubble up. I checked the rearview mirror, searching for the Audi with diplomatic plates or anyone else who might be in pursuit. Nothing. Yet. “Want to tell me why they want you so bad?” I asked as I shifted the old truck, straining its gears to move through the light that was now green. Knew I should’ve left South Florida when I had the chance.
“I dunno,” she replied, busy pretending to admire the Trump Grand in the distance up the road. As if she hadn’t seen more opulent places in her lifetime. Wanted her to be honest. Instead, she remained opaque. Should’ve left her, just like this state, when I had the chance.
“Talk,” I prodded. Even more sternly this time.
“I said, ‘I dunno,’” she repeated.
Thinking back to the trackers being used at the hotel, I asked, “What did you bring with you from that place?”
“Nothing. Shit. When you sprung me, I didn’t have a chance to grab anything.”
“Not even earrings or a necklace or something?”
“What part of ‘No’ don’t you get? I was completely naked when we left. Remember?”
“Yeah,” I replied. Not that I believed her. I still gave her lovely body a once-over. Nothing obvious to my eye. “Still ... they’re tracking you somehow.”
“What do we do then?”
In response, I made a sudden U-turn on Collins Avenue then turned into the parking lot of a 7-Eleven on our right. We were in Sunny Isles Beach now. Maybe we had an hour or two, maybe minutes.
“I need to check you,” I said as I turned the radio off. Just as the rapper Pitbull was saying his call phrase, “
Dale!
”
Dale!
”
“You heard him,” Sophia teased. “
Dale.
Hit it. Let’s go. If you’re gonna check me for hidden objects, might as well make it fun. Give ’em a show inside the store.”
Dale.
Hit it. Let’s go. If you’re gonna check me for hidden objects, might as well make it fun. Give ’em a show inside the store.”
She turned toward me, sliding across the dingy bench seat until our bodies contacted one another. Remembered a similar seduction back when Sophia was pretending to be something she wasn’t. And as she leaned over, coming face-to-face with me, her back to the steering wheel, that didn’t make me any less reluctant to play her game for a moment.
Didn’t stop me from kissing her. Plunging my tongue between her parted lips. And tasting her thrills once again.
She placed my hands on her exposed stomach, letting me feel there first. Without finding anything and before I lingered too long, she moved them up to her sides. Still nothing felt other than the tingles her flesh gave me. I moved my hands inward, traipsing lazily over the curves of her breasts. The only objects I found there were hidden no more. I stayed there awhile, her moans goading me as I massaged and pinched her hardened nipples between my fingers. Our kisses grew, a fire threatening to ignite the truck’s cabin. From her lips, I moved to her ear, blowing in it softly while tracing the edges with my tongue.
“Mmm. That’s it. I want to fuck you so bad, Truth. Right now.”
“No. Not now. They might be coming,” I responded, fighting to get back on track.
“The only one I’m thinking about coming right now... is you,” she stressed.
Sophia began pulling on my undershirt, kissing me on my chest as she threatened to go down on me. As I opened my eyes, I spied something peculiar. With her hair up, I could now see a tiny tattoo at the base of her neck.
“When did you get this?” I asked.
“The prince. Gave us all one. Why?” she asked, annoyed by my questions when she had dick on her mind.
I felt over the inked area with my fingers this time ... as Sophia began unbuckling my belt. Two people inside the 7-Eleven could see the top of Sophia’s head and were joking among themselves.
“Stop,” I ordered softly. There was something there. Had to be. I pulled Sophia back up, looked her dead in the eyes. “There’s something in there. And I need to cut it out. Now,” I stated intently.
“Huh? Like hell!” she said, slapping my hand away from her neck.
“Look. You’re being tracked. Not me. I can leave you if you want. But they will find you again. Soon.”
“And I said you ain’t cuttin’ on me. Look ... Get me to a hospital.”
“And tell them what? And what if they find us before we make it to a hospital?”
“Then I’ll just take my chances. Go. You sprung me, so I can’t be mad.”
Inside the truck, I looked behind the seat. Found a set of jumper cables. Something in mind, I started the truck back up then got out, raising the hood.
“Need a hand?” one of the men from inside the convenience store asked as he stuck his head out the door.
“Nah. I got this,” I replied to the disheartened wannabe Good Samaritan. He went back inside to continue his conversation with the store attendant while Sophia joined me outside the truck.
She walked slowly, cautiously toward me at first. Probably afraid I’d pull out a knife from somewhere and jam it in her neck. As I clamped down one end of the jumper cable pincers on the truck’s battery terminals, she remarked, “I thought you used those when you had a dead battery.”
“Right,” I stated, clacking the other two ends together. Black and red lines touching resulted in a cascade of sparks at my command. That clock was still ticking in my head. We were only mere miles away from our pursuers. And I didn’t know the range on the remaining trackers I was sure they had.
“Sooo?” Sophia mumbled, trying to read my face.
Before she could react, I quickly grabbed her with one arm. Held her as she protested and squirmed to get free. “I’m sorry,” I uttered to her before placing the red and black clamps together on her neck.
It was ever so briefly. But still enough for her to scream to holy hell from both the emotional and physical jolt she was experiencing. Could feel her body twitching as the truck’s current passed through her. After counting down a few seconds, but what seemed like an eternity, I let her go. Jumper cables dropped onto the parking lot as she staggered a few steps away, but no farther. Her muscles were still twitching from their signals being jumbled. Probably felt worse than a Taser.
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