The sand and water were great to look at, too.
“Sweet gelato,” Jones said to himself as he stared at the parade of ladies that overwhelmed the stretch of beach near the Palm Pavilion. It was as if all the modeling agencies in Tampa Bay had arranged a field trip to Clearwater to guarantee every model in the area had the same amount of tan lines.
Whatever the reason for their presence, Jones viewed it as a gift from a loving, benevolent god, who was obviously a horny man or lesbian. Not wanting to insult this free-spirited deity, Jones decided to investigate the women sprawled before him.
This, of course, made perfect sense considering his line of work.
A graduate of the U.S. Air Force Academy, Jones had served as Payne’s second in command in the MANIACs before leaving the military to set up a private investigations firm in Pittsburgh. It had been a lifelong dream to become a detective, and Payne had helped Jones achieve it by arranging the necessary financing and giving him an entire floor of prime real estate in the Payne Industries complex atop Mount Washington.
To Payne’s financial advisors, the transaction had seemed far too generous, but what the pencil pushers had failed to realize was the fraternal bond the men had forged while fighting side by side behind enemy lines.
Payne and Jones were more than friends.
They were brothers.
After losing the only legal relative in his life — his grandfather — Payne had realized the best way to keep his sanity while transitioning into the real world was to keep Jones nearby. And Jones had been more than happy to oblige. Although Payne was white and Jones was black, the two of them were like twins. The duo had a connection that few people in the world would ever get to experience, and though neither of them would admit it, they realized they’d be foolish to take their friendship for granted.
That said, their friendship was far from perfect.
The two of them constantly got on each other’s nerves.
And this was one of those times.
Payne growled when he glanced at his phone.
No messages, no missed calls, no updates of any kind.
His best friend was M.I.A.
“Now who’s growling?” Cobb teased.
Payne laughed. “Sorry about that. Sometimes DJ pisses me off. We fly all the way down here to see you, and somehow he gets lost in the parking lot. He probably saw a balloon or something shiny. I swear, he has the attention span of a toddler.”
“No worries,” Cobb assured him. “I prefer this for the time being. It gives us a chance to speak in private. As I mentioned, I planned to give you a call this week.”
“About?”
“As much as it pains me to admit it, I need a favor.”
Payne grinned. “No problem, man. Whatever you need. As a former Naval officer, I’m used to bailing out Army personnel on a regular basis.”
Cobb rolled his eyes. “Go on. Get it out of your system.”
“But it’s true. If you’d like, I’d be more than happy to rattle off a list of a hundred missions where I swooped in and saved the lives of Army grunts.”
“No thanks. I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Positive!”
“You know what else I’m used to?”
“Sex with DJ?” Cobb joked.
“Beating West Point in football. Seriously, man, when was the last time the Cadets beat Navy? I think Roosevelt was president.”
“Ouch. That hurts.”
“Teddy,” Payne stressed, “not FDR. I’m talking about Teddy.”
Cobb tried not to laugh. “Are you done?”
“For now. But I reserve the right to tease you again later.”
“Screw you. Permission denied.”
“Really? Not even—”
“No,” Cobb said as he grabbed the pitcher, “not if you want to keep drinking for free. My beer, my rules. Got it?”
“Fine. I’ll play nice. But only ’cause I’m thirsty.”
Cobb nodded and pushed the pitcher toward Payne, who quickly refilled his mug. Payne didn’t imbibe often, but when he did, he could drink almost anyone under the table thanks to his size and remarkable metabolism. If he didn’t consume eight thousand calories a day, he would lose weight.
“So,” Payne said, “what kind of favor?”
“I need a job.”
“Done! You’re hired.”
Cobb shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant.”
Payne stared at him. “Do you have a job?”
“No.”
“Do you need a job?”
“Yes.”
“Well, now you have one. Welcome to Payne Industries.”
“Jon, I’m flattered, but—”
“Can you type? How are your filing skills?”
“Jon—”
“Oops! I forgot. You went to West Point. You probably don’t even know how to read. Not to worry. We’ll find something you can actually do. How are you at mowing?”
“Jon!” Cobb blurted with a smile. “I’m flattered! I’m truly flattered by your faith in me. I can’t stress that enough. But I wasn’t asking for a job.”
“You weren’t? Because it sure sounded like it when you said, ‘I need a job’.”
“Well, I do need a job, but I wasn’t asking you to give me one.”
“Then what were you asking for?”
“A letter of recommendation.”
“That’s it? That’s all you want? A letter of recommendation?”
Cobb nodded. “Considering my situation, I think a letter would open a lot of doors. As much as it pains me to admit this, your name carries a lot of weight in our industry.”
“What industry is that?”
“Soldiering.”
“Not to sound cocky, but it carries a lot of weight in other industries as well.”
“I’m sure it does, but…”
“You want to be a soldier.”
Cobb nodded. “It’s who I am.”
“I get it. Trust me, I get it. When I left the MANIACs to run Payne Industries, I felt like half a man — like I’d left a vital part of me behind. Some days I still feel that way, and when I do I find something to fill the void. Why do you think DJ and I are always running off on our little adventures? It’s not because we need the money.”
“I’ll be honest, some adventure sounds pretty good right about now.”
“Well, next time we stumble across something we’ll be sure to give you a call.”
“How often does that happen?”
Payne laughed. “More often than you’d think.”
Chapter 5
Never one to waste an opportunity, Jones left the blistering heat of the parking lot for the cool, white sand of Clearwater Beach. Though Payne was expecting him inside, Jones knew if his plan worked to perfection, all would be forgiven.
Dressed in a white tank top that showed off his arms and light-blue board shorts, Jones headed for a trove of ten beauties sprawled before him. Most were lying on colorful blankets or reclining on folding chairs. Other than sunglasses and bathing suits, the only other thing they were wearing was lotion.
The wind was starting to pick up, and the sky was turning gray. Thunder boomed in the distance, like it always did this time of day. Jones knew he could use all of that to his advantage. Still, he knew the odds were stacked against him. He had picked up women before, but never so many at the exact same time.
This would take some finesse.
He surveyed the scene for an opening — something to get the conversation started — when he spotted a peculiar item next to a stack of towels. One of the women had brought a shovel to the beach. Not a plastic toy shovel to build sandcastles, but a metal shovel with a large wooden handle that looked like it belonged on a construction site.