Door Number Two: The Mike McDonald Action Adventure Saga, #4

By David Donaghe

Bill Caldwell's life sucks. When he goes home from work early one day and finds his wife having sex with his best friend, Bill heads to the local bar and pours out his heart to his friend, the bar's owner. His friend tells him that there is no door number two, meaning that there is no magic door that leads to the perfect life. He says that if your life suck then change it, so Bill sells his used car lot in a dreary little desert town in Southern California and buys a Harley Davidson motorcycle. He heads east working odd jobs as he works his way to the East coast.
In Jacksonville Florida, three of Mike McDonald's detectives who are working a divorce case are murdered. With the help of his brothers in the Green River Boys motorcycle club, Mike goes to war with a Cuban drug cartel. Bill Caldwell and Mike McDonald meet at Daytona bike week in Florida and a bond of friendship forms. Caldwell joins McDonald in his war with the drug cartel. After the last body falls, when they attack the drug king pin's hacienda on the island of Big Pine Key, will Bill Caldwell find his door number two, and will Mike McDonald finally be able to leave the death and violence behind and live a life of peace?

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Donaghe
• Release date: Jan 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393518600

David Donaghe

Hello. My name is David Donaghe and I write short stories and novels. I live in the high desert of Southern California with my wife and family. When I am not writing, I enjoy riding motorcycles with my brothers and sisters in The American Cruisers MC. This is where I get some of my ideas for my writing. I also enjoy practicing martial arts. I have several eBooks published so far. Please feel free to browse my profile page and check out my other places on the internet. Please click the link to sign up for my author alerts. Also, I love to hear from my readers. Click this link to my author web page, click on contact the author and sign up to my email list to get my author news letters. If you download any of my books please post a review. I would love to hear what you think. to email me directly mail to: [e-mail] you are in the US military shoot me an email and I will send you a coupon code for 50 percent off on all my eBooks priced over .99 cents. If you want one of my short stories I will send you a coupon so that you can get it free. I enjoy hearing from all of my readers so send me an email and sign up for my Newsletter so I can give you updates on my new releases. If you'd like to review any of my books send me an email and I will send you a coupon code so you can download one of my book for free. Thanks a bunch. I look forward to hearing from you.

Book preview

Table of Continents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

The House on Maple Street Sample Chapters

About the Author

Other books by David Donaghe

Chapter 1

Life sucks. That’s the way I felt that morning setting in my shabby little office sweltering in the heat. The fan osculating above me was of little use. It couldn't even put a dent in the one hundred fifteen-degree temperature. A bead of sweat tracked down my face. Glancing about I took in my family photos hanging on the wood-paneled walls. I took in my faded business license hanging next to a picture of Beth and me. We were smiling in the picture: a remnant of happier times. What do I have to show for myself? I wondered.

I had a used car lot in a desolate town near the California Arizona border. It almost didn't make payroll. I had a trophy wife that didn’t love me anymore. If the rumors were true, she wasn’t faithful. I tried not to believe the rumors; I wished she wouldn’t yell so much. We had two grown kids that didn’t come around and a big house with a huge mortgage in the ritzy part of town. It was her house and if it weren’t for her real estate business, we couldn’t afford the payment.

In the service area, a mechanic used an impact wrench. The noise pounded through my brain making my head throb.

Fuck it. I’m taking the rest of the day off, I said. I’ll call up Ray and we’ll take in a round of golf I thought. Ray was my best buddy from high school. I picked up the phone and dialed the number.

Judy, Ray’s secretary, answered on the third ring. Cunningham’s Hardware, she said.

Judy. This is Bill Caldwell. Is Ray in? I asked.

She paused and then said, No Bill. He’s not. He went home early.

She’s acting wired, I thought.

I was thinking about doing the same. I’ll see him on the golf course. Bye, now, I said Hanging up the phone. I punched my secretary’s extension on the intercom.

What’s up boss? Brittney asked, her voice sounding seductive.

Hey Britt, I’m taking the rest of the day off. It’s too damn hot. Tell the crew that they can have an early quit, I said.

They’ll like the sound of that.

Tell ’em not to get used to it, I said then turned off the intercom.

Grabbing my suit coat off the back of my chair, I crossed the room to the door. I strolled down a narrow hallway passing between tiny offices with glass windows. Two of my salespeople were in one of the offices shooting the shit; one of them laughed.

Hey, Bill. Thanks for the early quit, a young red-headed sales clerk said and waved.

I waved back. At the reception area, I caught a whiff of Brittney’s perfume. She leaned forward offering me a view down the front of her low-cut black dress. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back. It glistened in the sunlight coming through the window. When Brittney first came to the office, she made it obvious that she was available.

It’s tempting, but I’m married, I said showing her my wedding ring.

Nobody’s that married, she said. The first time Beth came to the office after I hired Brittney, they both took an instant dislike to each other. The hackles on their necks stood up and I thought they were going to have a catfight, so I hustled Beth out as soon as I could.

You could do better, Brittney said after my wife left.

Don’t work too hard. You can have an early quit too, I said stepping up to Brittney’s desk. I’ve never cheated on Beth, but Britt sure makes it tempting, I thought.

I’m going to leave in a few minutes. If you’re ready to leave that bitch that you live with and run away with me, I’ll get my purse, she said then giggled.

You keep that kind of talk up and you’re gonna get me shot, I said.

Go on. Have fun at the golf course. I’ll lock up after everyone leaves, Brittney said rolling her eyes.

You’re a jewel, Britt. I don’t know what I’d do without you, I said.

How about a raise? Her bubbling laughter followed me out the door.

The sun hit me like a blowtorch making me sweat. Crossing the parking lot, I headed to my ten-year-old Cadillac. Its paint was old and faded, but it ran well. It was Beth’s car first. I take possession of her hand-me-downs. I drive them until they’re ready for the scrap heap, then give them an overhaul and put them on the lot. A hot breeze bit my face making my eyeballs burn. I tossed my suit coat into the passenger seat and sat down behind the wheel. Slamming the door, I turned the ignition. The engine turned over slowly but started after a few seconds. This old girl is getting tired, I thought. A knocking sound came from underneath the vehicle when I backed out of the parking space. The old Cadillac belched out a puff of blue smoke from the tailpipe. It filled the driver’s compartment with the smell of exhaust. I waited for an eighteen-wheeler to rumble by and then turned left. I headed west through downtown Tortilla Flats.

I passed a drug store, a gas station, Cunningham’s Hardware, and a Bank. Glancing about, I took in the dilapidated buildings. Every other store building set empty and the occupied buildings had seen better days. The paint on the storefront walls was starting to fade. Some of the bricks on the brick buildings looked chipped and in needed mortar. I passed a boarded-up building. The town needs a make-over, I thought.

Turning left on Crestview Lane, I headed south. Shaking my head, I couldn’t believe that I lived in the High Desert Estates. I came from the other side of the tracks. The road curved winding through two to three hundred thousand dollar homes. The houses sported stone pillars and manicured lawns. The people with money liked living here in what people called the Heights, but I hated it. It is one of those Gated Communities. You have to pay dues to the planning committee and you can’t even fart without asking for permission. I turned onto Jack Rabbit Road heading home.

Oh shit, she’s home, I said when I pulled into my driveway and parked next to my wife’s Beamer. Something’s got to be wrong, I thought. Sitting behind the wheel, I stared at my luxurious white stucco two-story home. I felt nauseous. I wanted to run in, get my golf clubs, and head to the golf course without getting into a fight with Beth. I hope she’s calmed down by now? God, I hope she doesn’t start yelling again, I thought. Climbing out of the Cadillac, I hurried across the lawn to the front door. The neighbor’s French Poodle’s barking made my throbbing headache worse. Come into my yard, you little shit. I’ll pinch off your head and roll it down the street. God, I hate that yappy mutt, I said to myself. Honey I’m home! I said when I stepped inside the front door.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. For a few seconds, I stood on the piece of Marble tile at the entranceway taking in the room’s essence. Things didn’t feel right. The large wide-screen TV blared assaulting my ears, but nobody sat watching it. Beth’s purse was on our leather couch along with a pair of sunglasses: men’s sunglasses. Breathing in the smell of Beth’s perfume, I crossed the beige carpeted living room to the stairs.

My heart jackhammered inside my chest and my breath came out in short little gasps. Grabbing the banister for support, I started up the stairs. I ignored the family photos adorning the walls. A moaning sound wafted down the staircase from my bedroom: the bedroom I shared with my wife. A sharp pain shot across my chest and I stopped gripping the banister for support. My knees sagged and I didn’t want to go on. Part of me wanted to turn around and run, but another part of me wanted to see who was up there in my bedroom with my wife. Stumbling along, I continued to the top of the stairs making every step deliberate. Stopping at my bedroom door, I peered into the room. My eyes widened, my bottom jaw dropped and my hands balled into fists at my sides. I felt the heat rising in my cheeks.

Oh, God! Oh Fuck! my wife squealed. She was in the middle of our California King-sized bed on her hands and knees. My best old ex-friend Ray stood behind her taking her doggy style from behind. For a fraction of a second, I watched his big hairy ass pumping away and then glanced at Beth. Her belly was turning to fat; her breasts jiggled back and forth reminding me of a Guernsey cow. Breathing in the smell of hot sweaty sex, I thought about putting a bullet in both of them. I hadn’t killed anybody in over twenty years, but, but that was back in Nam.

***

At six PM that evening, I stumbled into the Trail’s End Saloon. After finding my wife, and Ray having sex in our bedroom, I drove around with no destination in mind. The car’s air conditioner labored against the heat. Sweat beaded up on my forehead and soaked my shirt. Stopping at a Quick Mart, I bought a six-pack of Bud and parked by the Little, Colorado, a river north of town. I killed the six-pack watched the river flow and let the tears stream down my face.

The Trail’s End Saloon was your typical cowboy bar. It had sawdust on the floor, antique barstools, and pictures of various rodeo events. There were pictures of cowboys on horses and pictures of the town dating back to the early twenties. There were a few pictures of an old fire brigade and pictures of the founder’s day parade from 1950. There were also pictures of the fire that burned the town in 1920 hanging on the wall.

Above the mirror, a fluorescent tube provided a backlight for the area behind the bar. On both sides of the mirror hung two Confederate flags. Two sets of crossed swords were set on display above the flags. My buddy, Bob Drayton was an old rebel at heart. Stopping to let my eyes grow accustomed to the dim barroom. I breathed in the smell of tobacco smoke and stale alcohol. A few drinkers lined the bar and a few couples sat at the tables throughout the room. A crowd of young people gathered around a dartboard making noise. The Jukebox played George Straight’s, All My Exes Live in Texas. Staggering to the end of the bar, I found a seat and took a pack of Marlboros from my coat pocket. I shook out a cigarette, grabbed a book of matches from the bar, and attempted to light the smoke. I put the wrong end in my mouth trying to light the filter.

Shaking out another cigarette, I managed to put the right end in my mouth this time. A flame from a lighter, flared in my face. Bob Drayton stood behind the bar holding his lighter. After lighting the cigarette, I tossed the matches on the bar. Bob, a tall lanky fellow with gray hair and a graveyard complexion, peered into my soul.

Who pissed on your Corn Flakes?

I shook my head. You don’t want to know.

Bob rubbed his hawk-like beak, and then wiped the bar down with a towel. Let me guess. You found out about your wife and Ray?

Jesus H. Christ! Did everyone know but me? I asked.

Bob took two bottles of Budweiser from below the bar and popped the tops. He set one down in front of me then pulled up a stool. You knew. You didn’t want to believe it. I never liked Ray Cunningham. Even in school. I never did see what you saw in him. He seemed phony to me.

Hey, Bob! How about some service down here? someone yelled.

Blow it out your ass! Bob yelled back. He motioned for a barmaid to see to the customer.

I would have called you on that, up until a few hours ago. I caught the son of a bitch fucking my wife, I said and took a pull from the bottle.

Bob paused for a moment. Did you guys throw down?

No. I thought about putting a bullet in both of them, but I backed out of the room. They didn’t know I was there, I said and then snuffed out my cigarette.

Bob lit a cigarette of his own and tobacco smoke hovered in the air. He brought out two more beers, popped the tops, set them on the bar, and leaned back in his chair.

There is no door number two, Bob said.

I took a pull from my beer thinking my friend had lost a few cards from his deck. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Haven’t you seen them old game shows? Behind door number one is the new car. Behind door number two is the vacation to the Bahamas, only you don’t know which door to choose?

Yeah, so what? I said.

There is no magic door that opens to the perfect woman, the perfect job, or the perfect life. Life is what you make it. If your life sucks, change it.

I thought it over. What about you? You don’t have a perfect life.

No one does, but mine is as close to perfect as I can make it. Do you remember when I worked at the gas station before I bought this place?

Yeah. I remember, I said.

I hated it. Always getting dirt under my fingernails, but I hung in there and saved my money. When this place came up for sale, I put every dime I’d saved on the line for the down payment and I haven’t regretted it since. I love this bar, and I enjoy my life. It’s not perfect, but it’s mine.

I fired up another smoke. You’re a rare breed. Most men I know don’t enjoy their work, I said blowing cigarette smoke across the bar.

Make your own door number two. Sell that car lot; leave that bitch that you’re married to and get out of this shit bird town. A third of those ritzy houses where you live are setting empty and another third of them are for sale. Why do you think that is?

I shrugged. The town’s in a slump, but it’ll come back.

My ass! The town’s dead and it doesn’t know it. Have you noticed all the empty buildings on Main Street? There’s a big world out there and somewhere there’s a woman who will make your sun, shine. Somewhere there is a job or business that you will enjoy. Buy that Harley that you always wanted, but Beth wouldn’t let you have. See the country.

It hit me. Bob is right. I could blow this pop stand. What do I have to lose?

It’s like when we were kids. It’s a do-over. My life’s a do-over. I can leave this town and start over somewhere else. Jack Ryan has been trying to buy me out for years. I started to feel better.

Bob took a pull from his beer, leaned forward placing his elbows on the bar. Outstanding. Send me a postcard when you find your door number two.

I thought you said there was no door number two? I said laughing.

There isn’t. You have to make your own. Do me one favor before you leave.

What’s that? I asked.

Knock Ray Cunningham on his ass.

You can count on it, I said.

***

At nine AM the next morning, I rolled into the parking lot of my used car lot. Sweat beaded up on my forehead and rolled down my face. Other than for a hangover, I didn’t feel too bad. After closing down the bar, I went home and crashed on the couch. Beth had an unwritten rule; when I come home drunk, I sleep on the couch. While Beth was busy getting ready to go into the real estate office, I pretend to be asleep. When she left, I packed a gym bag. I filled it with a change of clothes, my shaving kit, my forty-five caliber handgun, and a box of bullets. After a quick shower and shave, I paused in the front doorway giving the living room one last look. Breathing in the scent of Beth’s perfume, I closed the door and headed into my used car lot.

In the reception area, Brittney sat at her desk looking as sexy as ever. I looked down at the deep valley of cleavage between her breasts. Then my eyes moved to her deep blue eyes breathing in her fresh scent. She gave me a curious look.

You. In my office, I said then sauntered down the hallway.

Yes sir, Brittney said, giving me a mock salute. She opened the door and stepped into my office behind me. What’s up boss? she asked.

Turning, I grabbed her by the waist, picked her up, and spun her around. She let out a little squeal when I sat her on my desk and kissed her. Her lips tasted like fresh strawberries.

Don’t tell me. You found out about your wife and Ray? Brittney said letting out a short gasp.

It seems I’m the last to know. You’ve been dropping hints since I first hired you. You still interested?

Hell yeah, Brittney said.

I kissed her again, unbuttoned the front of her red dress, and fondled her for a few seconds. I enjoyed the softness. I reached under the hem of her dress, pulled her panties down, dropped my trousers, and took care of business.

Britt. Go out to your desk. Get on the PA and tell everyone that I’m calling a staff meeting in a half-hour, I said after we finished.

Okay, boss. Can I tell them what it’s about?

You’ll all find out in a half-hour, I said.

When Brittney left, I dialed Ryan Motors and an elderly woman answered the phone.

Hello. This is Ryan Motors, your friendly Ford dealer, she said.

Hello, Louise. This is Bill Caldwell. Is Jack in?

Hi, Bill. I’ll transfer you, she said.

The noise of one of my employees using a sledgehammer reverberated into the open window of my office.

A rough gravelly voice came on the line. Hello, Bill.

Jack. Do you still want to buy my place? I asked.

Yeah if you’re willin’ to sell. Name your price.

How does four hundred thousand sound? I said.

That includes your entire inventory?

Everything on the property, I said.

Jack paused and then said, That’s a fair price.

There are two things I insist on, or there’s no deal.

What’s that? Jack asked.

I need the money by five PM, and you keep all my employees on the payroll. Make it cash. I listened to a few seconds of silence.

The part about your employees is a given. You’ve got good people, but I don’t know if I can come up with that much cash so soon. Let me call my accountant. I’ll get back to you.

You do that, I said hanging up the phone. Next, I called my lawyer and arranged for him to meet me in my office at two PM. After that, I called the Gray Hound bus depot. Twenty minutes later, my phone rang. Caldwell Motors, I said after picking up the receiver.

Bill, this is Jack Ryan. You’ve got a deal.

Good. I took the liberty of having my lawyer draw up papers. He’s stopping by around two. Does that sound good to you? I asked.

That’s gonna be a little tight, but I’m sure we can make it.

Good. I’ll look forward to seeing you, I said then hung up the phone.

My employees filed into my office ten minutes later and I sat on my desk facing them. There’s no good way to say this, so I’m gonna come out with it. I’m selling out to Jack Ryan. There were a few sighs and a few gasped breaths. The good news is that he is going to keep you all employed. You might even get a raise. They have more capital than we do.

Brittney looked hurt. What about you? What are you going to do? she asked.

I’m leaving town. Most of you know about what was going on with Beth and Ray Cunningham. I’m done with this town and I’m done with Beth. I’m taking the Gray Hound out at midnight. My employees looked stunned and I saw tears in a few eyes. Brittney looked ready to ball. Cheer up. I want you to go back to work. Clean this place up. I want it in tiptop shape when Jack Ryan takes over. He’s a good man. You guys will do fine.

After my employees left, I tied up some loose ends. Finished with that, I did nothing for a few hours, but play a few computer games. I felt antsy and kept watching the clock, but then my lawyer came in at two PM carrying a leather briefcase. A few minutes later, Jack Ryan and his lawyer strolled into my office. Jack was a massive cowboy sporting a large handlebar mustache. His features looked chiseled from stone. Jack’s lawyer looked over the papers saying that all was satisfactory. Jack and I signed the papers and then shook hands.

I’m gonna miss you, Bill. I don’t know what I’ll do without a little competition.

You’ll do fine. What are your plans for the place? I asked.

I want to put my trade-ins over here. I want to branch out and start selling Chevrolets.

Whatever you do, you’ll do all right, I said.

After Jack left, my lawyer produced a set of divorce papers. Heaving a sigh, I signed the papers. I instructed him to file them in court as soon as possible and signed the deed to my house over to my wife.

Where can I get hold of you if I need to? my skinny little lawyer asked.

Fax anything you need me to sign, to my brother in LA. You filled out those power of attorney forms allowing him to sign on my behalf right? My lawyer nodded. You’ve also got my cell phone number if you need to get hold of me. When I shook hands with my attorney, I felt as if someone had punched a hole through my heart. For the rest of the afternoon, I sat at my desk trying to stay busy. I kept second-guessing myself, wondering if I was doing the right thing. At four-thirty that afternoon, I punched the intercom button on my desk. Hey, Britt. Tell the troops to take the rest of the day off, I said.

Wahoo. Two early quits in a row, she said, and then laughed.

Brittney and I stepped out the door together an hour later. We were the last to leave. After locking up, I handed Brittney my keys to the front door.

Give these to Jack Ryan in the morning, I said. Brittney nodded and started toward her car looking pissed off. What’s up with you? I asked.

She whirled around facing me. You come in here this morning, fuck me on your desk, and then out of the blue, you say you’re leaving town? I’m not supposed to get pissed?

I’m sorry, I said raising my hands. "But I got to get out of this shitty town. You could come with me,’ I said.

She paused for a minute thinking. You know I can’t. If it weren’t for my mother, I would consider it.

How is she? I asked.

About the same.

How about hanging out with me until my bus leaves at midnight?

Brittney paused and then walked with me to my Cadillac. Opening the passenger door, I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. Let’s stop by the Colonel’s and get a bucket of chicken. I thought we could go up to the Little, Colorado, and have a picnic, I said, pulling out of my parking space.

That sounds nice, Brittney said.

Turning left on Main Street, I weaved in and out of traffic. Three scruffy-looking bikers passed by going the opposite direction. They wore the Road Dogs patch on the back of their vest: They belonged to one of our local motorcycle clubs. I need to make a quick stop, I said and pulled into Cunningham’s Hardware.

You don’t have to do this, Brittney said sounding pissed.

Yeah, I do, I said pulling into a parking space.

Climbing out of the car, I hurried across the parking lot. Inside the hardware store, I ignored the hustle and bustle making my way to the employee area. Ray’s secretary said something about Ray being busy. She said that Ray didn't want anyone to disturb him, but I ignored her pushing his office door open. Ray sat in a red patent leather rocker on the other side of his desk with his back toward me. He was talking on the phone and looking out the back window of his office. He whirled around looking surprised to see me.

I’ll have to get back to you, Ray said to the person on the phone. His face looked as red as his hair and I wondered if he had been talking to my soon-to-be ex-wife. Bill what the-

Crossing the room, I gave him a right fist to his big nose, knocking him over backward. Charging around the desk, I took the sunglasses from my coat pocket and threw them in Ray’s face. You forgot these the other day when you were at my house fucking my wife! I yelled.

Ray stumbled to his feet crying that I had broken his nose, and then hollered to his secretary to get him a towel. Blood dripped onto the floor. The secretary stood in shock for a few seconds and then threatened to call the cops.

A big grin crossed my face. Tell them that I will be down by the Little, Colorado, I said and stormed out the same way I came in.

Do you feel better now? Brittney asked when I climbed back into the car.

Yes much better, I said and then smiled.

We headed down Main Street and went through the drive-through at Colonel Sanders. After that, we headed west. A mile outside of town, I turned right onto a dirt road leading north. A warm breeze blew sand against the car and a tumbleweed tumbled across the road in front of us. Traveling over a bumpy desert road, I drove through a sea of cactus, sagebrush, and Joshua trees. I stopped at our picnic spot in a turnout near the river. Cottonwood trees lining the riverbank offered shade.

We had our picnic on the hood of my Cadillac and the food tasted great; I love Colonel Sanders. After we ate, we spent the evening skinny dipping, making love in the back seat of my Cadillac, and drinking beer. The water and the beer were cold; a refreshing relief from the day’s heat and the conversation was good. I liked the smell and feel of the leather on my ass as Brittney rode me like a wild pony. Her breasts bounced up and down in my face threatening to blacken both my eyes. It was the best sex I’d ever had. The cops interrupted our party a while later and I had to explain about my dust-up with Ray. They said that Ray hadn’t pressed charges so I was off the hook.

Thank God, we had our clothes on when they showed up, I thought.

I wish you wouldn’t go, Brittney said when she dropped me off at the bus stop.

It’s something I got to do, I said, breathing in the smell of diesel exhaust. I kissed her long and hard on the mouth. A tear tracked down her cheek. You can have the car, I said tossing her the keys to the Cadillac.

Beth will love that, she said and then laughed.

Fifteen minutes later I sat on the bus, wondering what adventures awaited me. I leaned against the window and closed my eyes. The bus rumbled out of Tortilla Flats disappearing into the night.

***

Chapter 2

Jacksonville Florida

Joe Garcia and Jerry Simpson sat hunched down in the seat of an old blue Chevy sedan. They watched room fourteen at a rundown motel in a seedy section of Jacksonville Florida. The pealing yellow paint on the motel was starting to fade and potholes filled the parking lot. Across the parking lot set a swimming pool with two feet of stagnant water. Flies and mosquitoes buzzed the air above the pool. They had been sitting there all morning. Jerry took pictures of a busty blonde entering room fourteen.

Mother of God, it’s hot, Jerry, said wiping a bead of sweat from his face. I’ve taken two rolls of film. Do you think Mike will be happy? I want to get out of this heat. The humidity’s got to be over ninety percent.

You heard his orders. We stay here until Ramon leaves, then give Mike a call. You know how anal he gets about following instructions.

I know, but can you at least turn the engine on and run the air conditioner?

That I can do that, Joe said and started the engine.

That’s a little better, Jerry added. Now if we only had some beer.

Why did Mike even take this case? We’re a long way from Saint Charles. He usually tries to keep us out of the bigger cities.

You know why. When that Spanish chick batted her brown eyes he bit the hook.

He does have the ladies falling all over him. It’s hard to believe he used to be an insurance salesman in California, Joe said, glancing in the mirror.

It’s even harder to believe he used to be a Sunday school teacher. They both laughed.

Yeah, I walked in one time and caught him reading his Bible. I asked him how he could justify his lifestyle, with his Christian beliefs. Have you seen him when the shit goes down?

I know. He scares me. What’d he say? Jerry asked and then brushed a strand of sandy blond hair out of his face.

He said that God uses men as his sword of vengeance.

You heard about his wife?

A seagull flew over dropping a large glob of bird shit that hit the windshield.

Shit. Fucking seagulls, Joe said. Everybody’s heard that story. He and his wife were on vacation on his Gold Wing when they pulled into a bar so she could use the bathroom. Some outlaw bikers jumped them. The bikers beat the shit out of Mike then raped and killed his wife.

I heard that after he got out of the hospital, he killed every one of those sons of bitches. Thunder rolled and Jerry looked into the overcast sky wondering if it was going to rain.

You know what I find hardest to believe? Joe asked.

No what?

That Mike used to ride a Honda Gold Wing. They both laughed.

Me too. Mike McDonald looks like he was born on a Harley Davidson, Jerry said. How does he keep up with it all? He owns the detective agency, the charter fishing business, and the bike shop.

He relies on his employees. It’d be too much for me to keep track of, Joe said.

Joe and Jerry watched room fourteen for several more hours. A thunderstorm pelted the land. It only lasted about twenty minutes, but it left everything hot and sticky. The blonde left, a redhead took her place and a younger prettier brunet, in turn, replaced her.

Ramon sure has a hard-on for the ladies. That’s the third one today, Jerry said, taking a bite out of an apple.

They must be doing dope in there.

A heavyset Hispanic woman in a white cleaning uniform knocked on the door of room fourteen. Housekeeping, she said.

Jerry laughed. Lorrie looks different in her fat suit.

It’s hard to believe that under all that padding is a fine-looking long-legged Chicano.

The door to room fourteen opened and Lorrie stepped inside. A few seconds later, a black Lincoln pulled into the parking lot. Ramon Delgado stepped out of room fourteen. Jerry took pictures. Lorrie stepped out behind Ramon heading for the washroom. Ramon, a tall skinny Hispanic with arms filled with tattoos, glanced toward the street. He gave Simpson and Garcia a cold hard look.

Damn that guy has a big nose, Jerry said lowering his camera.

Oh shit. This doesn’t look good, Joe said, ignoring the comment.

I know man. Those dudes look Columbian.

Four Latin men climbed out of the car and laid briefcases on the hood. Ramon rubbed a thin scar that ran down his right cheek. He said something to the Columbians and then looked back at the blue sedan parked at the curb. The Columbians followed his gaze.

He's on to us, Joe said.

Let’s see what he does.

Ramon’s nostrils flared. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number. After talking on the phone for a few seconds, he put it away. Ramon gave Jerry and Joe another look and then followed Lorrie into the washroom.

He’s onto Lorrie! We’ve got to go help her! Joe yelled, grabbing the door handle. He reached for the forty-five ridding in a holster on his hip. Joe’s heart did a drum roll inside his chest.

I hear you! Jerry said, grabbing the stub nose in his shoulder holster. He opened the passenger door. A low rider Chevy Impala rumbled down the street behind them. The world erupted into the sound of automatic weapons fire. Bits and pieces of glass and metal flew through the air. Bullets riddled the car.

Joe took a bullet in the back of the neck. Blood spattered against the driver’s side window of the blue sedan and he fell into the front seat of the car. It felt like someone hit him in the back of the neck with a sledgehammer. He sat up and took two more rounds in the chest. Blood soaked his shirt and spewed from the hole in his throat.

Jerry dived out the passenger door, rolling to his feet. He crouched behind the car firing several rounds at the Impala. Lightning struck across the street. The sky opened up and a violent thunderstorm assaulted the land. A Latino wearing dark clothing jumped out of the low rider. He opened up with an AR-15, stitching Jerry down the body with bullets. Jerry cried out, falling into the gutter. His last conscious thought was, Mike is gonna get pissed about this one.

Ramon strolled from the washroom wiping blood from the blade of a folding knife on his pants. He hurried over to the car that Simpson and Garcia had been sitting in. Pulling a forty-five, he looked down at Jerry and fired two rounds into his head. He pointed the handgun at Joe and fired two more rounds. Empty casings flew into the air and landed on the sidewalk. The rain stopped as quickly as it started washing away the blood in a crimson stream.

Ramon squatted down and stuck his finger into the blood on Jerry’s chest. He wiped a spot dry on the rear door of the blue sedan and then drew a happy face on the side of the car door. After writing something in blood with his finger above the picture, he stood up. He hurried back to the Colombians.

Let’s do this before the cops get here, Ramon said. They exchanged briefcases full of money for two briefcases full of cocaine. The Colombians got back into their vehicle and sped away. Ramon jumped into his red Corvette. He backed into the street, spinning his tires, and then headed west.

***

Mike McDonald’s phone woke him from a deep slumber. Pulling his arm from beneath a naked blonde’s body, he removed his hand from her breast. He reached across her to grab his cell phone from the nightstand next to his bed. The naked redhead on the other side of him moaned in her sleep as the cabin cruiser rocked on its moorings. Shivering from the cold, Mike looked at the digital clock that was set on the nightstand. It displayed two AM.

Wide awake, Mike answered the phone. McDonald’s Detective Agency. Mike’s heart raced and his stomach churned.

This is Sergeant Donavan with the Jacksonville PD. Did you have people up here working a case? I found your card in the wallet of a shooting victim, a gruff voice said after a short pause.

Mike’s breathing accelerated. Oh, God no, Mike thought. Yes, I did. It was a divorce case. They were on a stakeout. What happened?

They got shot in a gang-related hit. They’re dead. I need you to identify the bodies. We have two male victims shot several times, plus a female with her throat slit.

Whoever did this? I’ll kill the bastards! Mike thought. I’ll be there as soon as I can, Mike said. He slammed the cell phone down on the nightstand causing the two naked women in his bed to jump in their sleep. Mike slid from between the two women and sat on the edge of the bed. Goosebumps formed up on his arms and legs. The blonde sat up, the blankets falling away from her chest.

Mike honey. Come back to bed. Her voice sounded sleepy.

No baby. I got business. You go back to sleep, Mike said.

The blonde lay back on the bed and fell asleep while Mike dialed a number on his cell phone.

This better, be fucking good, a sleepy voice coming over the phone said.

Jack. It’s Mike. We got some trouble. Get over here. Be ready to ride.

What happened? Jack asked.

I’ll tell you when you get here, Mike said. He cut the connection and then dialed another number. Another sleepy voice answered. Marshal. This is Mike. Meet me at my boat in fifteen minutes. Be ready to ride.

What now?

I’ll tell you when you get here. Haul ass, Mike said.

Mike dialed one last number and a deep gravelly voice answered on the fifth ring.

Do you know what time it is chief?

Elliot. Get your ass over here. We got some trouble. Be ready to ride, Mike said.

I’ll be there, Elliot said, and then hung up the phone.

Stepping over a black and tan German shepherd sleeping next to the bed, Mike threw on a pair of jeans. He put on a black t-shirt and his motorcycle boots. Dressed, Mike went into the head and took a piss. He stood looking at himself in the mirror. His features looked haggard and somehow he couldn’t believe that his people were dead.

Finished in the head, Mike went into the galley and started coffee. The dog padded in wagging its tail.

Good morning, Lucky, Mike said and then gave the dog a friendly pat on the head. He opened the door leading up to the deck and let the dog out to do his morning business. Lucky scampered up to the main deck, jumped over the gunwale, and onto the dock. While the coffee brewed, he went back into the cabin where the girls slept. He put on a black skullcap and took his leathers from the closet. For a few seconds, Mike stood looking down at the two naked women sleeping in his bed. They looked peaceful. Lucky jumped back onto the boat, Mike filled his food dish with canned dog food and watched him chow down.

Twenty minutes later, three Harley Davidson motorcycles rumbled up to the marina. Mike climbed up the steps leading to the main deck and stepped into the low-lying fog hanging over the harbor. Three hard-looking bikers sauntered up the dock appearing out of the fog. Lucky, now finished with his breakfast rushed up on deck to greet them.

"Come below and