Secretariat Reborn (20 page)

The loan shark business must be booming
. The house was easily worth five million. He left his SUV and walked to the ten-foot-tall front door.

Before he could ring the bell, the door opened. Vince met him with a wide grin. “Saw you pull in on the security cameras,” he said. “Come in, come in.” His smile melted away, and he knitted his brow, looking beyond Christian.

“She couldn’t make it,” Christian said before Vince could ask.

Vince’s eyes flashed mean, his black saucers studying Christian.

Christian didn’t flinch and stared defiantly back at him, communicating that if there were consequences, let’s get it over with.

Vince’s expression softened, and his mustache curled upward with a grin. “She couldn’t make it, then she couldn’t make it. Maybe another time.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, come on, the fellas are waitin’ out back by the pool.”

“The fellas?” Christian questioned.

“Yeah, Sal and some of the guys wanted to come along for the maiden run. None of us know shit about boats.” They walked through the living room, and Christian glanced up at high vaulted ceilings surrounded by balconies that led to other rooms.

“Nice house,” Christian said.

“Yeah, I picked it up for a song from a guy who owed me money. Besides owning and racing horses, I dabble in real estate and have some businesses in New York.”

“I see,” Christian said with a raised eyebrow. They reached the back door and walked out to the pool and patio.

“Hey, boys,” Vince called. “Our captain is here.”

Christian walked toward the poolside bar and four other men with dark hair who also appeared Italian. They held cocktails and were smoking long cigars. Sal, wearing a loose floral shirt, sat in a chair. His shadow was equivalent to several men. Two lean, thirtyish men stood behind Sal. Their black shirts matched their surly expressions. One man with a pockmarked face, high cheekbones, and a tight ponytail, seemed especially hardcore. His black soulless eyes followed Christian as if he were prey. The fourth man sat opposite Sal and was a short, curly-headed guy.

Although the men were well dressed and clean shaven, they had a sinister aura of grime. Christian had plenty of Italian friends, but these men gave him the willies.

“Hello,” Christian said.

“Hey, kid,” Sal said with a grin. “Where’s the girl?”

“She apparently couldn’t make it,” Vince answered in an irritated tone. Sal became long-faced, and the other men’s mood darkened into deadpan serious with all eyes focused on Christian.

Sal rocked his huge bulk out of the chair and stood. “Kid, maybe you don’t understand. If you want to stay healthy, you’d better do what Vince says. Next time you’re told to bring her, you’d better damn well do it.”

For a moment, Christian stared at Sal and then shifted his gaze to Vince. “I’m not bringing her, not now, not ever. I don’t want her involved. The deal and loan concerns only me, Vince.”

The ponytail man clenched his fists and started toward Christian. Vince raised his hand, and the man halted.

Vince walked a half circle around Christian, stopped and kneaded his mustache. “Seems our boy is somewhat of a Johnny Reb. Let me straighten things out for you,” he said. “When you took my money, your girl and the rest of your family became involved in our little deal.”

Christian scowled. “My family?”

“Yeah, the mother and stepdad on Siesta,” said Vince, “and your grandparents off Orange Avenue, or is it Lemon? I get these fuckin’ fruit streets mixed up.”

“Orange,” said Sal.

“I like to call these people leverage,” Vince continued, “in case you don’t behave. You run, talk to cops or cause me problems then somethin’ bad might happen to them. You got it now?”

“I got it,” said Christian.

Sal patted Christian’s back so hard he nearly fell over before he got his footing. Sal placed his weighty arm over Christian’s shoulder, clutched him close, and leaned into his ear. “Look, kid. Just do as you’re told, keep your mouth shut, and everyone will be fine.
Capisce
?”

“Sure, Sal,” Christian said, and Sal freed him from the crushing hold. Christian stepped back and produced a Cheshire-cat smile. But beneath his affable appearance, he fumed.
How dare these sons of bitches threaten my girl and family
.

“Sal’s right,” said Vince. “We’re always looking to adopt new talent, and you fill the bill.”

It occurred to Christian that they were counting on his inability to pay back the loan. “It’s getting late,” he said. “Let’s get this boat ride over.”

“
Sì, andiamo,”
Vince said to the men.

The group walked down the lawn to the boat dock. When Christian saw the forty-foot Scarab tied to the dock, it all was adding up. The super-fast cigarette boats were high maintenance and gas-guzzlers. They were rarely used as pleasure crafts for fishing, but generally functioned as race boats, or possibly drug running.

The men piled aboard the open-deck boat with Vince taking the front passenger seat near the steering wheel. The other men got comfortable in the back seats. Christian stood alone on the dock, quickly realizing he was captain, deckhand, and tour guide. He untied the bow and stern lines from the dock cleats and tossed them aboard. He hopped on the Scarab and gave its bow a slight shove away from the dock.

“Key’s in it,” Vince said, lighting a cigar while Christian made his way past the men to the helm.

“So, kid, how’s the horse?” Sal asked.

“He’s doing fine. Should make enough to pay you back.” He turned the key and the four three-hundred-horse Mercury engines fired up with a rumbling roar and deafened all other sound. “Where do you want to go?” he yelled over the noise.

“Wherever,” Vince shouted with a wave of his cigar.

“It’ll be a bit choppy tonight.” Christian stood behind the steering wheel and eased the throttle forward. The sleek boat glided slowly past the wooden pole markers and entered the bay. As they reached the channel markers for the Intracoastal Waterway, he swung the bow north on the open bay.

Christian smiled at Vince, an illusory smile, as he thought about the man threatening Allie, his mother, and grandparents. Rather than intimidate Christian and make him behave with the leverage, they had enraged him. He shoved the throttle forward, and the boat dug in, nearly flying with the acceleration. With each ripple of a wave, the boat lifted, halfway out of the water, and crashed down hard, making for one rough ride.

Christian glanced back at the men, the crisp wind and sea spray blasted their terrified faces, the night beginning to close in as they clung to the handles and sides. The spilled cocktails and soaked cigars had already been discarded.

Sal screamed, “Slow it down.”

Christian cupped his ear, pretending he could not hear or understand. He turned back, looking straight ahead and increased the
speed. In minutes, they left Sarasota and were in Bradenton. He drove the boat with a vengeance and recalled Sal saying at the Ritz that Vince could not swim. In open water, Christian could easily spin the wheel, capsize the boat, and drown these rats. They had misjudged him. He would willingly die or kill for his loved ones. They also made the mistake of climbing aboard and entering his water world. Now they found themselves at his mercy.

Christian disregarded the no-wake zones, and the Scarab reached its maximum speed. The boat zipped under the Cortez Bridge, which was lined with glittering car lights.

“Slow down,” Vince yelled, but Christian ignored him.

They shot past Palma Sola Bay and flew under the Holmes Beach Bridge. Christian looked to his left and saw the tip of Anna Maria Island and its piers. The light of a vanishing sun slipped beneath the watery black horizon of the gulf when they entered Tampa Bay and its rougher chop. With each wave, the Scarab lurched completely above the surface, flying temporarily.

Christian made a beeline toward Egmont Key and a huge freighter that had left the gulf and was cruising toward the towering Sunshine Skyway Bridge.
Even if we survive, these pricks will rethink using me
. He swung the Scarab toward the freighter and took deadly aim at its massive side.

“Stop, stop!” Vince yelled, but the men couldn’t move or stop Christian. If they released their hold to get at him, they risked being tossed overboard. If they shot him, the boat would have no driver, and they would surely crash and burn. Christian had them by the short hairs.

Just before the Scarab collided into the freighter’s side and exploded, Christian throttled down, spun the wheel, and brought the Scarab coasting alongside the ship, ten yards away. The Scarab idled and rolled in the giant ship wake as the freighter motored past.

Christian turned and smiled at the wide-eyed men who were soaked, pale, and still clutched the boat handles. “Are we having fun yet?”

Sal leaned over and vomited. The man with the ponytail leaped to a stand and shouted in broken English, “I kill you, you bastard.” He stepped toward Christian.

“Try it,” Christian shouted, taking hold of the throttle and preparing to gun it. “I’ll flip this bitch in a heartbeat and kill all you motherfuckers!”

“Sit down, Vito,” Vince said and released his hold on the handles. He glanced up at Christian. “You’re one crazy little fucker, pullin’ this stunt with me.”

“I am crazy,” Christian said, his heart pounding against his chest walls. “I get that way when my family and girl are threatened. We can keep this business between you and me, Vince, and things will be fine. But drag the people I care about into it, and someone’s going to die. And I really don’t give a shit if it’s me or you.”

For a long moment, Vince kneaded his thin mustache and studied Christian. Christian glared back, refusing to blink. Vince slowly grinned and turned in the seat to Sal. “Our boy’s got moxie, Sally. What’d ya think we should do with this punk?”

“Well,” Sal said and anxiously looked around at the choppy dark bay, “the kid knows these waters and can definitely drive the boat.”

Vince laughed, sudden and hard. “All right, we’ll keep him around and leave his girl and family alone.”

On the return trip to Longboat, Christian drove the Scarab at a slower pace. The fright had worn off, and the men relaxed and talked about the nerve-shattering ride. At Vince’s house, Christian guided the boat alongside the dock and cut the engines. He sprang onto the dock and nervously secured the lines. The playing field had changed. No longer having the upper hand, he wondered if he would pay the ultimate price for his defiance and putting them through the hellish boat ride.

Vito stepped off the boat and hovered near Christian. His intense glare conveyed he thought the same thing. Now safely on shore, he waited for Vince’s orders to wreak havoc on Christian.

Vince put the matter to rest when he asked Christian, “How ’bout stoppin’ by next week and takin’ me fishin’?”

“All right,” Christian said uneasily and glanced at Vince’s men. With raised eyebrows, they also seemed astonished that their boss was giving him a reprieve.

As the group walked toward the house, Christian said to Vince, “We’ll use my Whaler. It’s set up for bay fishing.”

“Bay fishin’?” Vince said. “I ain’t interested in dinky little fish. I was thinking more about deep-sea fishin’ and catchin’ grouper.”

Christian smirked. “Running thirty miles out and holding a pole over the side of a boat is for tourists, Vince. I’ll put you on big fish, even grouper, right off your backyard. There’re some decent artificial reefs in the bay off the John Ringling home and some great ledges near the bridges. The grass flats also hold good-sized reds and speckled trout. And you haven’t fished until you’ve hooked into a big snook.”

“Is that right?” Vince said. They reached the pool and walked in the house to the bar.

“They fight like a son of a bitch,” Christian rambled on, concealing his fears and hoping to further defuse the earlier tense situation. “And right now snook are in the bayous, channels, and off the flats, seeking the warmer water during winter.”

Vince fixed Christian a cocktail as he talked about fishing.

“I was standing on a high seawall,” Christian said, “and hooked into a monster snook, a forty incher, but I forgot my damn net. When I hoisted the fish up the wall, the line was frayed and snapped, but the snook was so played out that it just floated below me.”

Christian laughed. “I was so pissed I jumped off the seawall. Hell, the fish took off before I could grab its line, and then I couldn’t climb back up the wall. I ended up wading barefoot through oyster beds to a boat ramp. Man, my feet were all cut up.”

Sal laughed. “Dumb blond.” The other men chuckled, except Vito. The ponytail man’s somber fixed stare betrayed his loathing for Christian.

After a few drinks, Christian said good night. He climbed into the security of his SUV and felt relief wash over him like a warm shower. He had put on his poker face, played his best hand, and the gamble seemed to pay off.

Rather than treat Christian like a typical pigeon, Vince appeared to like him. But Christian wasn’t a complete fool. Vince’s friendly mood could change as fast as the Florida tropical weather, sunny one minute and storming the next. If cheated, Vince wouldn’t hesitate to hurt him.

Christian drove toward Myakka and thought about the evening. It reminded him of scuba diving and messing with sharks. He always tried to get close to them, sometimes touching their dorsal fin or tail, close enough for the thrill without getting bitten. He was now diving in an underworld and getting close to a two-legged shark, a loan shark. In the end would he climb out in one piece?

I’d rather fool around with a big tiger shark. They’re safer
.