Wreckers: A Denver Boyd Novel by George Ellis (ebook reader ink .TXT) 📕

my pick of the crew. “Everybody who works at Port Lauderdale is available for hire, including myself,” he told me. “We are very skilled.”

I thanked him for the offer, but said credits would be fine. He was disappointed. He got over it quickly, however, and immediately transferred the credits into my account, including a generous 15% tip for getting the job done sooner than promised.

Having collected payment, I was feeling pretty good about my first completed job. I thought my uncle would be proud of me. I was enjoying that feeling of accomplishment when I saw the blue suit standing between me and the Stang.

It was the same guy that had given me a hard time earlier. The one with the raccoon eyes. He had a grin on his face that spelled trouble.

“Come with us,” he said. That’s when I noticed the other two feds standing behind me.

They escorted me onto the 405 Cruiser. I wasn’t being detained, they assured me, but they did want to discuss something with me. I could already tell I wasn’t going to like the subject of the conversation. The main asshole who did all the talking introduced himself as Chief Waters. The other two didn’t say a word. They just kept sipping from their oversized Port Lauderdale plastic cups.

Great, I thought. They weren’t just feds – they were buzzed feds and clearly not worried about their superior officers at the moment.

“So, Denver, it seems you’ve been operating without a proper license,” Waters said as we reached the ship’s kitchen. “Your ship has the proper credentials, but the wrecker license belonged to your uncle. We could fine and detain you for that.”

“But you’re not because?” I asked.

He motioned to the kitchen. It was a mess. There was food everywhere. Some of the appliances were knocked over. And I was pretty sure that was a streak of blood on the wall. I put two and two together and realized there had been a brawl of some kind on the ship.

“Need you to fix the recycler and the fridge for us. Do that and we’ll ignore the license issue,” he said.

“I’m not exactly an expert on recyclers or kitchen appliances,” I explained. “I fix engines.”

“Then that sucks for you, because our engine isn’t what needs fixing,” Waters said. It was clear if I didn’t do what he wanted, I was going to owe the feds a decent amount of credits.

“I’ll take a look.”

“Perfect!” he said, slapping me on the back, hard. “Hey maybe clean up a bit when you’re done, too, kid.”

I steamed as he strutted out of the kitchen. The two silent feds sat down at a table in the corner and lazily sipped their fruity drinks, watching me with satisfaction.

The fridge was simple, but by the time I got done fixing the recycler, I was too tired to deal with the mess. It had taken four hours and a lot of research in addition to the manual labor. One of the feds had gone back to Port Lauderdale to party, while the one that was left to supervise me was half-asleep.

“It’s done,” I said. “You can find someone to clean the damn mess.”

The fed was about to object, but he was pretty woozy, so I just walked past him, not giving him a chance to object. “I’ll show myself out.”

When I stepped off the ship, the party barge was back to nearly full capacity. Once I’d fixed the engine earlier in the day, Sky must have immediately begun ferrying revelers back to the barge from Roman Landing. I was going to just head straight from the 405 to the Stang and get the hell out of there, but as I walked toward my ship, I heard a commotion nearby. Two feds were arguing with a girl about my age. One of the soldiers was holding her by the arm. She was trying to wriggle free but he wouldn’t let go, despite her repeatedly smacking him. Finally, he smacked her right back, a glancing blow across the face.

Before he had a chance to hit her again, I planted my boot in his back and sent him flying into a nearby wall. His buddy turned and swung at me, but I took it on the chin (it was a weak punch) and swung my entire toolbox across his face. I actually saw a few teeth fly loose when he spun to the ground.

“Look out!” the girl shouted as the first fed grabbed me from behind. Luckily, the girl was ready this time. She told me to duck, which I did, and then she unleashed a full two seconds of pepper spray directly into the guy’s eyes. He instantly let go of me and clutched his face, staggering backwards in pain.

I grabbed the girl’s hand and pulled her a few steps toward the Stang. Then I stopped. Amidst the throng of partiers, I could see a group of blue suits looking right at us. They were standing by the gangway to my ship.

“C’mon, this way,” I said, urging her to follow me into the beer hall.

“Wait, who the hell are you?” she asked. A fair question, of course.

“Name’s Denver. You coming with me or you wanna deal with a whole swarm of those assholes?”

“Let’s go. I’m Debra,” she said with a toss of her dark brown hair and a gorgeous smile.

Together, we made our way through the throng of people and into the hall. The place was packed and the dim lights made it a little easier to disappear. We pushed our way through the crowd, passing a couple feds who obviously weren’t looking for us yet.

“Why are you here?” Debra yelled in my ear over the din.

“I’m a wrecker,” I said without turning back to see her reaction. That job title usually didn’t impress people much.

“Cool!” I heard her say. I looked back, surprised, and she was smiling again. She had a little blood from the cut on her cheek where the fed had hit her. I