The Cartel Lawyer by Dave Daren (ebook reader below 3000 TXT) 📕

“Do you need me to come get you?” I questioned as I sat forward and closed my laptop.

I could be in the warehouse district in ten minutes flat at that time of night, and the cops could be there sooner if she needed them.

“Oh, no,” the reporter giggled. “He wasn’t bad. Just kind of creepy. He’s gone now.”

“Good,” I said, and I let out a sigh of relief that she wasn’t in danger.

“There’s this awesome little bar near here,” Eloa said as a change of subject. “They’ve got a few tables and they’re open until sunrise.”

“Okay,” I replied. “I can swing by the party and pick you up.”

“Not necessary,” the cheerful woman said. “My friend is about to get off. She’ll walk me over. I will need a ride home, though.”

“I think that can be arranged,” I said with a smile. “Thanks in advance for your help.”

“Of course,” the reporter said. “This story is going to get me to an anchor’s desk… I can feel it.”

“I hope so,” I chuckled. “I’ll see you in half an hour?”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Eloa said. “The place is called the Anchor. It’s over by the docks.”

“Okay,” I said. “Call me if you decide you want me to pick you up.”

“Will do,” the chipper woman said before she hung up.

I shook my head as I set my cell phone down and began to pack up all of my stuff. I tossed the water, empty paper coffee cup, and the plastic container from my wrap into the trash, and then stretched one more time.

“You heading out, man?” the barista asked as I clicked my briefcase closed.

“Yeah,” I said with a wave. “Good luck on your exam.”

“Thanks,” the college student said with a grin so bright it almost blinded me. “See you next time.”

The goon rose from his seat, gave a respectful nod to the barista, and turned his attention to me.

“Was that your girlfriend at a club?” he asked with a glance at the cell phone in my hand.

“No,” I said as I walked out into the night. “It was the reporter that’s helping me with the juvie center.”

The thick, muggy Miami air clung to my skin the second I left the cafe, but at least it was a few degrees cooler than the daytime highs. A gentle breeze wound through the buildings to wrap me in the smell of the ocean as well, and I almost felt human.

“She sounded cute,” my human shadow said with a motion to his car.

“She is,” I said with a shrug.

“Are you going to hook up with her?” he asked with a sly grin as we climbed into his black car.

“I’m going to a work meeting,” I responded.

“No reason it can’t be both,” the goon shrugged. “I’ll try to give you some distance. You know… just in case.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

It took him less than a minute to drive me to my car, and I gave him a small wave as I switched vehicles. I pulled out my phone to look for the address, but the place was so small that it took a few seconds for Google Maps to find it. After trying to send me to a similarly named bar in Portland, Oregon, it finally came up with a route to the one near the Miami docks.

The night air was cool enough that I rolled my windows down a little, not enough that it would make my hair a mess, but enough that I could have some fresh air. I could smell the salt and brine of the ocean as I drove toward the shipyards as well as the scent of fish that hung permanently in the area. I saw a few fishermen on their way to their boats and others who were just returning from a long night on the water.

I turned down a street that ran behind the docks and shipping companies, and as I passed Fuentes Shipping, I glanced toward the loading yard. There was a large crew unloading a massive cargo ship stacked high with metal shipping containers while another group organized the arrival of several semis.

“Your destination is on your left,” the soothing feminine voice of my GPS announced.

My attention swivelled away from the shipyard to the buildings on my left. All but one of them was dark, and the one that was open was squeezed in between two looming warehouses. The windows that looked out over the street were so dingy that it was hard to see inside, but a small amount of buttery light managed to cut through the dirt to show a parking spot right out front.

I parked, grabbed my briefcase, and then climbed out while I looked around to see if Eloa was outside. The beautiful reporter was nowhere to be seen, though Osvaldo’s hired goon had parked nearby and was on his phone. He gave me a quick nod to let me know he’d seen me, and in the eerie streetlight, I was glad that I wasn’t alone.

The heavy wooden door swung outwards before I could grab the handle, and two drunken sailors stumbled out. They held each other up as they laughed and hiccuped. Neither one paid much attention to me, just a cursory glance, and a frown that made it apparent that I wasn’t the kind of person they were used to seeing at the tiny bar.

I caught the door before it closed, looked around one last time to see if I could spot Eloa, and then scooted by the two men who still stood just outside the swing of the doorway.

The inside of the bar was not much cleaner than its windows. The smell of beer permeated every surface, and I was surprised that it didn’t have a cloud of smoke from the sailors that gathered around