“What do they pretend to be?”
“Ancient Romans. Movie stars. Anime characters.” She sighed. “And vampires.”
Chapter 14
Chris made sure she would reach Key West before Jamys did by driving there as fast as she could without stopping or getting caught in any of the tourist speed traps. Crossing the Seven Mile Bridge that connected Marathon with the Lower Keys was considered passing the halfway mark, but she wouldn’t relax until she hit mile-marker zero.
She hadn’t lied to Jamys about Stryker; she simply hadn’t volunteered certain details. While she didn’t know exactly where Stryker himself was, she knew precisely how to find out.
Once Chris drove into the downtown area of Key West, she parked the Lexus in a metered lot and from there walked three blocks past the open bars and the closed gift shops to Free Wheeling. Although the front windows of the garage were dark, and the doors locked, she knew the owner kept the place open twenty-four hours a day.
Chris made her way around to the back lot, where rows of cars and bikes in various stages of repair sat parked behind a razor-wire-topped chain-link fence. The warped sheet of plywood that currently served as the garage’s back door hung slightly askew on its hinges, but it opened shortly after she rapped out an SOS on it.
The grizzly bear of a man who peered out at her didn’t offer a welcome. He did take a pull from his beer bottle before he demanded, “What the fuck you want?”
“It’s me, Bug.” When he didn’t react, she added, “Chris Lang.”
“Well, well. Little Christi Lang, all growed up.” He drained the bottle in his hand and tossed it in the garbage barrel to her left. “Your old man owes me two hundred bucks.”
Good luck collecting, she thought. “I need to find someone, and I’ll pay you four hundred to help me.”
“Cash?” When she nodded, Bug shoved the plywood out another foot. “Come on in.”
Chris followed him through a dirt-and-grease-encrusted labyrinth of car parts, toolboxes, and motors to a card table with four folding chairs, two men inspecting the cards in their hands, and several mounds of poker chips.
“You remember Cody,” Bug said, nodding to the rail-thin mechanic in filthy coveralls on one side of the table. “Loot you don’t.”
Chris eyed the man in the polo shirt, whose appearance was so clean and neat that next to Bug, Cody, and the garage around him he resembled an alien life-form. “Hello.”
“I’ll see the cash first,” Bug said.
As a gesture of good faith, Chris took out her wallet and counted out eight fifties onto the table. That left her with a couple of twenties and change, but if she needed more money, Jamys could convince a mortal to donate to their cause.
Bug picked up the bills and held each one up to the light to see the embedded security strip before he shoved the money into the front pocket of his bib overalls. “Who’s worth this much to you, little girl? Not your daddy.”
Chris tucked her arms around her waist. “I need to find Stryker.”
“Shit, no, you don’t.” Bug went over to an ancient cooler and rummaged around in the floating ice until he pulled a fresh beer bottle from it. “Here.” He held it out to her, but when she tried to take it, he pulled it back. “You old enough to drink this, now, right?”
“You got wasted with my dad at every one of my birthdays,” Chris reminded him. “So, what, you can’t count now?”
Bug chuckled and gave her the bottle. “Still a mouthy little twerp. I always liked that about you, Christi. Forget about that ass-peddler and play some cards with us.” He sat down and picked up his hand. “Go on. Deal her in, Cody.”
“Bug.” Chris sat down in the chair beside him. “I’m not a little girl anymore. A lot is riding on this. Tell me where he is.”
Bug regarded her over the fan of his cards. “I’ll tell you after you play a hand. Bitch, and you’re outta here.”
Chris took a swig of the icy beer and sighed. “Deal me in, Cody.”
She hadn’t played poker since Frankie had taught her how during one of the summers they’d spent in the Keys. Still, it was like riding a bike, and in no time she had assembled a full house.
“I’m done.” Loot tossed his cards down. “You’ve known Bug for a while, Christi?”
“It’s Chris.” She parked the rest of the chips they’d fronted her in the pot. “And yeah, I’ve known him since I was in diapers.”
Loot leaned forward. “Do you know how he got his name?”
“No one does,” Cody put in. “But they think it’s because he won’t wear a face shield when he rides.”