Free Smugglers 4 - South Beach Heat by Gerald McCallum Page A

He wrapped the other end around his hand, then he hit Nikki on the shoulder really hard. The soap wouldn’t break bones, but it would hurt like hell and leave big nasty bruises. She moaned and screamed, so he turned up the stereo and glanced over at Mercedes. Her eyes couldn’t get any bigger. She was very frightened by what she saw. Glenn hit Nikki again and again then asked where his money was.
    “If you give it to me now I won’t shoot you both. Where’s my money?” He hit Nikki with the sock three or four more times. Nikki was black and blue and writhing in pain.
    “You’re next Mercedes, except I’m going to beat you to death in front of your girlfriend here. Tell me the truth, or do you like being tied up?” He raised the sock over Mercedes’ head.
    “Don’t hit me! It’s in my apartment. There’s a million behind a picture of a sail boat on the wall. I don’t know where Nikki’s money is. That’s the truth!” Mercedes yelled out.
    Glenn went to Mercedes apartment and took down the picture. The wall had a hole cut out, and inside was a gym bag full of money. He went back to Nikki’s place.
    “Mercedes, how much is in the bag?” he asked.
    “About nine hundred eighty five thousand dollars,” she replied.
    “You asshole! You spent fifteen thousand dollars in one month? Okay, Nikki, Where’s yours?” said Glenn.
    “In the bank in a safe deposit box,” Nikki said, having trouble forming the words.
    Glenn hit Nikki with the sock a few more times, on the ass this time, so the bruises wouldn’t show in case she was telling the truth. He asked her again where his money was, and she said the same thing, in the bank.
    “I’ll be back next week, so get my money tomorrow, and Mercedes, you move out of here tomorrow or die. Move far, far away. Miami is too close.” Glenn cut Nikki’s hands loose, told her to get his money, and left.
    Nikki and Mercedes got untied and started to cry. Mercedes tended to Nikki as best she could. She had no cuts or broken bones, just big black and yellow bruises and was stiff as all hell. In fact, she could hardly walk.
    “What should we do?” asked Mercedes.
    “I’m getting his stinkin' money, and you’d better move! I can’t run. I have the marina. He will kill us both. If I stay here, I have to give you half the money, and he will still kill us both!” replied Nikki.
    Nikki gave Mercedes five thousand dollars. Mercedes packed her car and drove off. The next day Nikki went to the bank and got Glenn’s money, all one million dollars. She knew that it was impossible to call the cops. What would she say or what would she say about the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars he had given her, and the stealing of the million dollars? What would come out if they didn’t kill him, and he went to court?
    After Glenn was gone for three days, he called Harbor Marina on a Trac phone from the woods across the street to see who was in the office. Nikki answered, and Glenn asked if she had his money. She said yes, and he hung up. He took the Sim card out of the phone, buried it, and then threw the phone in the swamp. Later that night he went to Nikki’s and got his money in a briefcase. He asked her how much was there; she said one million even, and he left.
    Glenn drove home, got on his boat, hid the money, and then went to the local hangout for drinks and eats. He met some high school friends. Some that were and some that weren’t in the business, but friends all the same.
    Nikki was sitting at her desk trying to figure her next move. She now had less than four thousand dollars to her name and six empty slips but was finally divorced from Bill. She wrote an ad to appear in the boat trader for Southeast Florida and the marina paper for live-aboard slips. No matter how many times she figured the money and payments she always came up short. She dropped the price if the slip rental was for six or more months and the seventh month would be free.
    It was Wednesday or Thursday