SS:TIE 008

Gator Bar used to be a popular tourist trap. It was always full of people. Rey never got a chance to see those crowds because the place was shut down while she was in the desert. It turns out that the people running the place didn’t treat the alligators very well. There was a big investigation and a significant scandal. Rey is all for being kind to animals, but she has opinions about all the time and money that went into the treatment of those reptiles, while the establishment has less than zero interest in helping any of the human beings who need it.

Not that Rey is such a philanthropist. Gator Bar’s massive parking lot is cracked and overgrown. The restaurant itself is still taped off. It looks as though the area is surrounded by deep swamp, but it’s really only five minutes to the highway.

Rey’s about to put the car in gear, but stops as her phone rings. She picks it up.

“Yeah?” she says.

“Rey, I just had a detective come round the restaurant,” Glynda says without preamble. “Asking about Cheese.”

Rey resists the urge to punch something. Calmly, she repositions the phone. “They’re onto Chica?”

“No. But they’re after Cheese, and that may well get them there.”

There are people in Miami who know Chica by both names. “What do you think?”

“This cop isn’t close. But she’s coming. What do you want to do?”

“What can I do? We’re committed. We’re out of Florida in a couple of days. I’m leaving the country. We just have to keep it tight.”

“All right.”

Rey puts the phone down and sighs. No need to pay anyone in the police now; they aren’t letting that dead biker go. But where did they hear that name? The two fucking live ones, that’s where. Rey takes a deep breath.

She puts the car in drive and pulls into the parking lot. The sun is bright on the gravel as she turns around and backs the car to the midway point between the exit and the restaurant. Minutes tick by. It’s still and quiet outside the car. She eyes the restaurant in the mirror and pictures it full of college girls and people having a good time without a care in the world. Someone like Kayla would look so at home there, holding a big margarita. She’s clenching her jaw hard enough to hurt.

“Got it. We’re done here,” Chica says through Rey’s earpiece. “Come on over. I’m at your three.”

Rey’s heart sinks. She turns off the car and climbs out, unsnapping the loop on her holster. The sun beats down on her as she strides across the parking lot and into the shade, where Chica kneels over her kill.

The man is flat on his back with an eye and part of his skull missing; Rey can clearly see how Chica must have shot him from behind.

Chica holds a pistol with a suppressor; her rifle is on her back. She looks annoyed.

“So much for easy money,” she says.

“Motherfucking Russians,” Rey mutters. “I got plastic in the trunk.”

“Bring the car over.”

“I am.” Rey rubs her face and heads back out. She’s twenty feet from the car when she hears an engine and looks up. A white van pulls into the parking lot.

It’s either the fake buyers or a cleanup crew intending to dispose of Rey’s corpse.

They spot her and gun the engine. Swearing, Rey sprints for her car as a man leans out of the window and opens fire with a submachine gun. Bullets pepper the ground, then the sedan as Rey slides into cover. She pulls her gun, then finches and ducks as all the windows dissolve, pouring broken glass on her.

“Oh, shit. Rey, move,” Chica says calmly.

Rey doesn’t question it, and she understands as she hears the roar of the engine getting louder. She rolls clear as the van slams into her car, sending it spinning. She fires through the windshield, but the big white cracks make it hard to aim.

A door slides open, and a man climbs out with a shotgun. His blood sprays the side of the van, and he falls as Chica shoots him in the throat.

Rey is on her feet and advancing, firing more shots through the windshield. She changes magazines and fires the fresh one as well, then slaps in her third and steps up to the open door.

There are two dead in the front and one on the gravel. A fourth man cowers in the back. Rey grabs him by his collar and yanks him out, sending him spilling to the ground.

“I’m unarmed!” he shouts, holding up his hands.

Unbothered, Rey raises her gun only for another shot from Chica to drop the man without a sound.

Rey sighs, the heat and exertion catching up with her. Her ears ring, and the shots are still dying away on the wind. She notices the glare of the sun and the temperature again as she stands over the corpse. Both vehicles are totaled. There are now five bodies to be disposed of. She uses the muzzle of her pistol to scratch her chin as Chica approaches, still holding her rifle.

Five bodies will be a lot more work than one.

“We’ll just burn it,” Chica says, reading her mind.

Rey grimaces. Should she tell Chica about the phone call from Glynda? Yes or no?