Low Tide Bikini (A Pleasure Island Romance) (34 page)

The chase was getting real old, real fast. Normally, he'd have his guy in a day or two at the most. The more criminals he could bring in, the more money he made. This slippery thief was the biggest challenge he'd ever had. And it had stopped being fun a week ago, when Trent lost his ranking to his nemesis Stan Harris. All because of Squirrel.

Trent dropped his head to the steering wheel and closed his eyes, actually relieved Earl had survived the reckless stunt unscathed.

This past year had been hell. Divorce and medical discharge from the Army. Now he was forced to add slow and soft to the list. Two labels a man couldn't wear with pride. He'd turned thirty, and his life turned to shit.

But he was good at his new job. He was the top dog bounty hunter. The man. 'Til that scrawny Earl caused him to lose his title. Now, Stan was the man. Stan the man? Jesus.

The more he thought about it, the madder he got. He knew Pleasure Island was Earl's hometown and that his sister Mazy lived there. When the bridge lowered, Trent stomped on the gas. He had a slippery squirrel to catch.

#

A MOTORCYCLE SPED down the driveway, and Mazy Washington rolled out from under the jeep she was working on. Her brother roared into the garage, skidding to a stop mere inches from here head. "Earl! Damn!"

He climbed off the bike. "Holy hell, I didn't see you there. Sorry, sis."
 

"What's the deal?" Mazy hadn't seen Earl in months, and here he was plowing into the garage wild-eyed and hassling for breath. She pushed to her feet.

 
"Got a bounty hunter on my ass. That's the deal." He paced, hands on hips, cursing under his breath.
 

"I thought you cleaned up your act. You promised. What did you do now?" Mazy's heart went into her throat. Earl had gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd during their senior year of high school, right after their mother died. He'd dropped out of school and joined a roughneck group of thieves who broke into rich vacation homes on the island while the owners were away. When Earl landed himself in jail, it had torn her apart. Their dad stayed on the road, biking with his buddies, attempting to escape his grief after their mom's death. He didn't even bother to come home when Earl got in trouble. Mazy stayed put in the trailer she grew up in and tried to make a life for herself. She was determined to make good on the promise she'd made her mother to keep this family together by making sure the guys had a place to call home.

Earl removed his helmet, his curly red hair soaking wet and plastered to his head. "I did clean up my act. I've been installing duct, crawling under houses, climbing into hot attics. I ain't done nothing illegal."

Earl was a pot head. She gave him a smirk. "
Nothing
illegal?"
 

"Nothing! I have to take the piss test for work."

His eyes were clear, and he held her gaze without wavering. If he'd been lying, he would have looked away. She knew how to read him. He was telling the truth.

"Mazy, you gotta believe me. I didn't do it this time. I swear. Some thugs are trying to pin me for larceny, and I think they're gonna try to frame me for murder too, at least that's what my buddy said."

"Murder?" Crap, that made her dizzy. She put her hand on the hood of the car to steady herself. "What the hell, Earl?"

"I didn't do it." Earl grasped her arm, his face dialed to
Help Me
.

She sucked in a deep breath and blinked away the blurriness until she could focus again. "I know. You'd never kill anybody. Tell me everything."

"No time. You gotta trust me. This bounty has been sticking to me like glue. I ain't never had this much trouble losing a tail."

Earl's terror was contagious. They had that twin connection. Whatever was going on, he needed her help. And she wasn't going to let him down.

She noticed he was in jeans and a white tank just like she was. They both had the same tat on their right bicep in honor of their mother. Earl was skinny and so was she. They both had curly red hair. She wore her hair short for years, but had recently let it grow out. Today, she hadn't straightened it, and it was pulled into a ponytail.
 

She said, "Give me your vest and helmet."

He handed them over. "What you got in mind?"

"I'm gonna lose your tail for you."

"You think you can do it?"

Earl would never admit it, but Mazy had always handled a bike better than he did. Sometimes she'd let him outrun her so his ego wouldn't be bruised in front of his friends, but she knew he was well aware she could ride circles around him.

"I know I can. Take the VW sitting out back. I got it running great. It's gassed up. Keys are on the pegboard. Peace sign keychain."

"Thanks, sis."

She hopped on his bike, tugged on the helmet and freed a few curls at the base of her neck. "Call me tonight." The last time he'd called her, he was heading to Mexico and using a disposable phone. Hopefully, he'd bought a new one.

"I will. Listen, don't try pulling no crazy stuff, just lead him around the island long enough for me to get out of here." He passed her his damp vest that reeked of sweat and gasoline.

She slid it on and cringed. This was love. Wearing someone else's stinky, sweaty denim vest. She caught Earl's concerned gaze with hers and gave him her best reassuring smile. "I got this."

The creases in his brow relaxed, and he blew out a breath. "I mean it, Mazy. I don't want you getting hurt. This guy is relentless. He's been chasing me down for two weeks, and he don't let up. He's got balls of steel." Earl straightened the collar on the vest. The look on his face made her chest tighten. His eyes said, "I love you." They weren't a mushy family. She and Earl
never
said they loved each other, but that didn't mean they didn't feel it.
 

She nodded.

Earl lifted his chin. "I'll call ya tonight." His voice was hoarse and emotional.

Damn it. A lump swelled in her throat. "You better."
 

Mazy pulled out of the garage then spun out of the driveway onto the dead end road that led to her trailer. A black SUV with a white top barreled toward her. That had to be the bounty hunter. She darted across the street and took the dirt road that led to the ostrich farm. She knew the bounty would follow. He didn't know this island like she did. This was going to be a piece of cake.

#

TRENT MCALLISTER LEANED forward when Earl's Harley peeled out from his sister's driveway. The redheaded, scrawny S.O.B. went off road. That was fine by Trent. His FJ could handle it.

Trent knuckled down and followed suit, zipping between the pines, keeping Earl in his sights.
 

Squirrel made a hard left and disappeared behind a shed. Damn it. The dirt path was well worn. There were so many tracks in the sand it was hard to tell which were Earl's. Trent spotted fresh tread marks, single file. They led to an opened gate.
 

In the expansive field beyond the gate, a dust cloud moved across the sand at top speed.
 

Sure enough, a red motorcycle was leading the cloud.
 

"I gotcha now, Squirrel."

Earl whipped around sideways, came to a stop, and whistled like he was calling a dog. Popping a wheelie, he continued toward a bright fuchsia house perched on a hill.
 

Trent drove through the gate into a patch of tall dry grass. Movement to his right got his attention. Five, monolithic birds sprinted toward him. Were those ostriches?
 

Struggling to not let the prehistoric-looking creatures distract him, he squinted and made out a flash of red on the other side of the field.

He kept driving, bumping over the rough terrain.

An ostrich ran in front of the SUV, and Trent slammed on brakes to keep from hitting the big ass bird. That thing was HUGE. My God. They didn't look so monstrous in pictures.

He was so busy gawking at Godzilla with feathers that he lost sight of Earl. Damn it.

Swerving to the right, he dodged the flock of ostriches. When he got to where he'd last seen Earl's dust cloud, he spotted a single tire track going off to the right.
 

He turned, and his front tires left the ground as he hit a bump. Next thing he knew, his whole front end slammed down into a ditch, and his airbags inflated.

Jesus. Because of the grass, he hadn't seen that coming.
Airbag in face...Can't breathe
....

He fought with the airbag until he could see out of his windshield.
 

Where did that Squirrel go?
 

Was that dust or smoke billowing out from the front of his vehicle?
 

He sniffed. Smoke. Sweet mother.

He flinched in horror. Orange flames licked his front bumper. Fire.
You gotta be kidding me.
 

The hot engine must have ignited the grass.
 

He wrestled and punched the airbag out of his way and got out of the SUV. Flames and gasoline were not something to hang around. He quickly moved to a safe distance from the rapidly growing fire before remembering he had important paperwork on Earl in the vehicle. For a split second, the urge to retrieve the documents tempted him, but Earl wasn't worth risking his own life over. He had most of Earl's information memorized anyway.

Car insurance probably wouldn't cover the fire. Chances were Trent would be charged with reckless driving, at the very least. But none of that hurt near as bad as watching his brand new SUV go up in flames. He still owed a hefty hunk of change on that ride.
 

The heat pouring off the vehicle intensified and Trent took a few blind steps backward. Something hard whacked him in the back of the skull.
What the fuck
? He spun around in time to see a beak heading straight for his face. His hands came up in defense. An ostrich pecked his hand, causing Trent to punch himself in the eye.
 

Ostrich wings unfurled and cast a shadow over him. Trent ducked, but didn't avoid another peck from the giant bird. This time the feathered beast nailed him good, right between the eyes, causing him to fall backward. Kicking up at the lunging ostrich, he heard himself scream like a girl as he rolled out of the way and scrambled to his feet.
 

He sprinted toward the gate on the other side of the field, as if the flames from his SUV had lit his ass on fire. Glancing back, the bird was inches away. The dang thing ran FAST! One of its large talons kicked him in the back of the leg and Trent went down. A loud explosion shook the earth. There went the SUV. He looked up at the bird from hell with a tuft of black feathers standing straight up on the middle of its head like a Mohawk. "Oh, God! This is it. I'm a dead man."

A strange whistle sounded and a man's voice called out, "Spike! You stop that! Git!"

The ostrich went still and looked in the direction of the voice.
 

With a quiet cluck, the bird sauntered away calmly.

Trent wiped blood and sweat out of his eyes, blinking.
 

A thin old man crawled off a green tractor and walked toward him. "You okay?"

Multiple sirens sounded in the distance, fire department, police, and ambulance.
 

"I will be." He sat up.

The old man waved smoke out of his face and surveyed the property. "I wish I could say the same for my farm. Mind telling me why you're trespassing?"

Oh shit. Trespassing, starting a fire, reckless driving, the charges were piling up fast. He'd be the laughing stock of the county and probably lose his bounty license.

Flashing red and blue lights flickered through the pines. "I didn't realize I was trespassing. The gate was wide open."

The old man gave him a disgusted look. "I suppose if I leave my back door open, that means you're welcome to waltz right in?"

"No, of course not." Trent scrambled to his feet, and a wave of dizziness overcame him. He placed a hand on his head. There was a huge lump forming on his forehead. "I might have a concussion."

"Hold tight, son. The ambulance is on its way."
 

Trent's vision blurred, then everything went black.

#

MAZY ROLLED EARL'S motorcycle into Louise Moore's garage. It was three o'clock. Louise would most likely be hanging out with her friends on the beach. Mazy winced at the thought of trying to find her in the crowd of naked seniors parading around Bare Point, but she needed to talk to her. There was no better way to get word around the island than to tell Louise Moore or Myrtle Pinkerton a juicy tidbit. Wherever Louise was, Myrtle was never far away.

"Fire department's on the way. You get ahold of Carl?" Louise sounded agitated.

"Yep. He's headed to the north end of the farm now. Said he'd already seen the smoke." Myrtle grunted. "No fair, you've hogged them thangs long enough. Let me have a look!" Myrtle Pinkerton's chirpy little voice was edged with irritation.
 

"Hang on, you ole hussy." Louise whistled like a construction worker ogling a pretty girl. "My oh my! He's fodder for wet-dreams."

"Let me see, damn you!" Myrtle groaned in a huff.

When Mazy reached the top of the stairs that led to Louise's deck, she spotted Louise and Myrtle, standing side by side, butt-naked, and they were fighting over a pair of binoculars. Louise's pudgy frame towered over shrimpy Myrtle. Louise had to be 5'10" at least. Her hair resembled Bozo the clown's, a shade of red not found in nature, or at least not on humans. Myrtle made of habit of teasing her about it, saying her hair was menopausal red, cause only menopausal women ever chose that particular hue.
 

Myrtle was thin and under five feet tall. Her hair wasn't much better. It was fuzzy, light blue like dryer lint after a load of blue jeans.

Little Miss Fuzzy Head looked up at Ronald McDonald's granny, who was gazing through the binoculars with a wicked grin on her face. Myrtle jabbed a finger into her friend's belly button and made Louise lean forward.