Page 47 of Stone Coast (Tyson Wild Thriller)

T J banged on the hatch to my stateroom at the ass-crack of dawn.

“You alive in there?” he said in that Texas drawl.

I yawned and squeaked out, “I think so.”

“If you want breakfast, this train’s a rolling. I don’t have jack shit around here.”

I didn’t want to move. My body was fused to the mattress. My neck and face ached. “Okay. Give me just a minute.”

“That means a minute, not sixty.”

“Gotcha!”

I lay there like a teenager that won’t get out of bed.

I finally took a breath and forced myself.

I staggered to my feet and stumbled toward the en suite.

I shrieked with horror when I looked at the monstrosity in the mirror.

It was worse than the night before. My eye was a tiny slit.

My face and cheek had taken on all the shades of the color wheel—black, blue, purple, green.

There was nothing I could do about it. I didn’t have any makeup. No concealer. My hair looked like birds could nest in it.

I splashed cold water on my face and washed some of the crusted blood away that had oozed from my lip during the night. I ran my fingers through my hair and did the best I could. This was going to have to be good enough.

TJ jumped with fright when I stepped into the salon. “Holy Jesus!”

“Thanks. You look good, too.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

I shook my head. “I’m an easy target in a hospital.”

TJ agreed. “I can’t take you out looking like that. People are going to think I’m a domestic abuser.”

I gave him a flat look. “You got me out of bed. Now I’m hungry.”

He rummaged through a few drawers and pulled out a pair of oversized sunglasses. “Try these on.”

They were Chanel glasses.

“Who left these behind?” I asked as I slipped them on.

“She who shall not be named.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse. ”

I chuckled, careful not to split my lip again. “How do I look?”

“Better. But still needs work.”

I huffed.

He darted down the companionway to his stateroom.

I called after him. “Beauty is in the imperfections.”

He returned a moment later with a pink baseball cap that read Queen Bitch. He placed it on my head. “Then you, my dear, are beautiful.”

I sneered at him.

“There,” he said, looking over his handiwork. “Perfection. My work is done.”

He escorted me out of the salon.

“Perfection, huh? What about the lip?”

“Just tell everyone you’ve got herpes.”

I gasped and smacked him playfully.

We hit the dock and walked to the parking lot.

“So, tell me about the Queen Bitch.”

“Not much to tell. The hat says it all.”

“Is this a recent breakup? Is there a chance you might get back together? Spill the beans.”

“No, no, and no. Next subject.”

I laughed. “Okay. But obviously, there were signs going into the relationship. ”

“Well, she had certain attributes that clouded my judgment.”

“Apparently.”

“If I would have known you were this nosey, I wouldn’t have offered you room and board.”

“I’m just excited at the possibility that someone else’s life is more complicated than mine.”

“Trust me. You’ve got us all beat in the complications department.”

A sad chuckle escaped my lips. “Probably right.”

TJ clicked a key fob, and the lights flashed on his truck.

“That’s a sweet ride.”

“She gets me where I’m going.”

The candy apple red 1955 Ford F-250 was a resto-modded beast. Glorious curves, a lowered suspension, satin clear coat, and a supercharged 4.6L V-8.

TJ grabbed my door.

“A true gentleman,” I cooed, impressed.

“There are a few of us left.”

I slid into the bucket sports seats. The truck had been completely rebuilt and restored from the ground up.

TJ hustled around the truck and climbed behind the wheel. He twisted the ignition, and the Borla exhaust growled like a pissed-off lion. He put the 6-speed manual into gear, and we pulled out of the lot, the engine snarling .

TJ had style.

Calm and cool. Unflappable.

He seemed like the kind of guy that could handle anything life threw at him, and he’d dish it right back.

“Her loss,” I said.

He gave me a brief glance but said nothing.

“How did you connect with Xzavier?”

“Xzavier has a gift for finding people at the right time and pulling them together.”

“You believe in the mission?”

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“You believe in the method ?”

“I’m not going to say the ends justify the means.

It’s too easy to lose sight of things with that kind of rationale.

But let’s take the case of the Bay Butcher.

He killed 16 teenage girls. Did unspeakable things.

PBPD mishandled evidence, failed to secure crime scenes properly, coerced witnesses, and searched his place without a warrant.

Morons. To top it off, they planted evidence and got caught doing it.

” TJ shook his head in dismay. “Tainted the whole case. The guy got off. Do you think he would have just stopped on his own? How many more families should needlessly suffer such a horrific loss because the PBPD dropped the ball? I see my daughter in the face of every one of those victims.”

“I take it the team is responsible for getting him off the streets. ”

“I can neither confirm nor deny he’s at the bottom of the ocean. But the killings stopped.”

“How long are you going to do this?”

“Until I don’t need to anymore.”

We pulled into the lot at Waffle Wizard and TJ found a place to park. I stumbled out of the truck, my head still throbbing.

The hostess greeted us with a cheery smile as we stepped inside. “Table for two?”

TJ nodded.

The cute blonde grabbed two oversized laminated menus and escorted us across the checkered tile to a red vinyl booth by the window. We slid into the bench seats, and she dealt out the menus. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

Her skirt twirled as she spun around and returned to her station.

The diner was packed.

The scent of coffee, bacon, and maple syrup drifted through the air. Forks scraped against plates, and the murmur of conversation echoed. The greasy grill hissed, and bacon and eggs sizzled.

There were plenty of faded trucker caps, sunburned tourists, and bleary-eyed college students nursing hangovers. Overworked waitresses slung waffles and hash browns, pretending to enjoy it.

With my Queen Bitch cap and dark sunglasses, I wasn’t out of place at all. I didn’t garner a second look from our waitress when she sauntered to our table. And if she did, she knew better than to ask. “You know what you want, or do you need a minute?”

TJ looked at me, and I nodded.

“I’ll take the Wizard Special,” I said.

“Steak and egg special for me,” TJ said.

The waitress smiled. “Coming right up. I’ll be right back with some coffee and orange juice.”

Valerie collected the menus and darted away.

She returned a few minutes later, poured steaming coffee, and set down a pitcher of orange juice.

TJ and I shot the breeze, and I pestered him for more details about the organization and Xzavier.

Valerie returned with our entrées and clanked the plates down. It smelled divine. She set down maple syrup and various jams and jellies. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can get you.”

We smiled and thanked her, and she stepped away, then she hesitated a moment. She stepped back to the table, and her eyes narrowed at me. “I don’t mean to bother, but you’re that girl, aren’t you?”

I didn’t think she had recognized me, but maybe my disguise was a little too obvious.