Page 23 of Walking the Bird

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“The locals call it Diablo.” Slate flipped the bag of white powder in his hand repeatedly into the air. He’d begun to believe he was chasing a ghost after weeks of coming up empty in his search.

“In its purest form, it’s more potent than Phenobarbital, the effects lasting longer than heroin, and it's cheaper to make than crack. It’s odorless, can be shot, snorted, or smoked. Until a few weeks ago, it was undetectable by the drug sniffing dogs.”

Logan rocked on the balls of his feet, anger building in his gut. As a physician, he’d seen first-hand how detrimental drugs could be to the abuser. “So, it’s a designer drug?”

Nodding, Slate leveled his gaze with Logan’s. “Produced by an individual who goes by the same name.”

“Individual?” Logan interrupted, unable to wrap his mind around the possibility of one man being responsible for everything they’d found.

“Yes. Diablo is faceless and hides his or her tracks like a motherfucker. Deals in US currency and, until recently, had government officials turning a blind eye.”

“What changed?” Aiden looked up from the tattered remains of the diving vest.

“Several things. One, the death rate from this shit surpassed human trafficking, decreasing the number of tourists coming in. And second, they found themselves unable to control Diablo, which is why they hired me.”

“You?” Logan challenged. The last time he’d laid eyes on the man in front of him was as they were lifting him into a helicopter, his life expectancy less than a few percent.

“Well, the company I work for.”

“Which is?”

Unable to hide the smirk forming on his lips, Slate was proud of the life he’d managed to build. “Ever hear of Keystone International?”

“Fuck yes, bastards are my biggest completion.” Alex snapped. He’d worked hard to build his security business, something he now wished he’d focused on instead of running around the globe for Trident Brotherhood.

Slate cut Alex a side-eyed glance. “Keystone is the third largest security company in the world, with legit brick and mortar offices around the globe. We also have substantial presence in Blackwater.”

Zach feigned indifference at the name drop. The Trident Brotherhood was no stranger to the underground security system for the rich. While he doubted they took on as many jobs as Keystone Securities, their reputation spoke for itself.

“I’ve spent a long time trying to figure out Diablo’s operations and, until today, I had little to go on.” Slate admitted, his instincts were telling him the team he’d once been an intricate part of wouldn't be able to walk away from their discovery. While he wasn't willing to part with his share of the bounty, he was open to their help in nailing this bastard.

Ryan crossed his arms over his chest, his focus drifting to the bricks of drugs stacked against the rail of the boat. He could hear the edge of desperation in Slate’s voice, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Having dipped into the Blackwater pool a few times himself, Ryan knew not only the severity of the situation, but the kind of money waiting for the pre-agreed proof of capture. “What’s the bounty?”

Slate inwardly cringed, rubbing the underside of his lip with his thumb. He could feel the invisible bond he’d created with these guys fill his chest, forcing the truth to drop from his lips. “Four million, alive or dead.”

Ryan dropped his arms, a whistle leaving his lips. “This Diablo fuck pissed off some deep-pocketed motherfuckers.”

Nodding in agreement, Aiden adjusted his stance, darting his eyes in Zach’s direction. He could tell by the look on his friends face this destination wedding had taken a sharp turn into helping Slate catch this bastard.

“I’ve known you a lot of years, Slate.” Zach began, the name still foreign on his tongue. “Enough to know you had a plan the second you got the call from Aiden.”

A chorus of hisses and oaths filled the deck of the boat, yet Zach knew the words waiting on his tongue were the same as the thoughts in the mind of every man on his team.

“What do you need us to do?”

Releasing the pent up breath he’d been holding since arriving, Slate swallowed thickly before laying out his plan.

Every musclein Alex’s body ached as he handed off the last of the bundles to the authorities. Having spent the past five hours cutting bundles of drugs free from their underwater hiding spot, he wanted nothing more than a hot shower to rinse off the salt water from his skin, and then find his wife and get his marriage straightened out. Dropping his tired body into one of the empty chairs, Alex watched as Slate shook the hand of one of the local cops who’d shown up with what Alex assumed was the equivalent of the Coast Guard.

“Motherfucker,” Matt swore, hooking his hands on his hips. “I haven’t dived this much since survival training.”

Zach stood at the bow, using the guise of watching the police pull away to scan the darkness for any sign of this illustrious Diablo. He could sense the eyes watching them, had since the moment he’d kissed Kennedy goodbye and climbed into Slate’s boat.

“Now what?” Aiden voiced the question on everyone’s lips. He, along with the others, had listened to Slate’s plan of handing off enough of the drugs to the authorities to give them something to brag about, while keeping the lion's share hidden in the fake deck of the boat.

Climbing behind the wheel of the boat, Slate fought the exhaustion blanketing his body. He watched as the lights of the police boat faded into the black of the night. There wasn't a doubt in his mind the twisted motherfucker he’d been chasing for weeks was sitting out in the dark watching them.

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