Unlawful Chase by C.J. Schnier (read ebook pdf .TXT) 📕

ruin his reputation? Or, how about when you killed a man with your bare hands, or when you orchestrated the death of another man by the same cartel that tried to kill you for stealing their money? No, Mr. Hawkins, I do not believe your moral compass is as unwavering as you think it is."

I clenched my fist. The bastard had done his research, but he was wrong. "I didn't ask to do any of those things. The entire chain of events was out of my control."

"Set in motion by your friend Remy's gambling debts to a certain Cuban drug lord, correct?"

"Exactly," I answered. "I didn't want any of this, it's given me nothing but heartache."

"No, Mr. Hawkins, you wanted exactly this. You could have gone to the authorities as soon as Acosta's men roughed you up. Instead, you went down this path willingly. You may rationalize your actions, but in reality, it was all a means to an end. You may have started off as an innocent coerced into the drug business, but after you stole that yacht and orchestrated the death of Raul Acosta, you became little more than a mercenary. A rather skillful one, but a mercenary nonetheless."

"No!" I spat, forcefully. "You're wrong. I stole that boat to get enough money to pay off the cartel and save Kelly's life. It wasn't for personal gain."

"What could be more personal than saving the one you love? Fine. Say I agree with you about the boat. What about Raul Acosta? Surely orchestrating his death wasn't necessary. Are you telling me vengeance wasn't your motive?"

"He was dangerously ambitious and greedy. I simply let his associates see how much of a threat he was to their interests. Besides, the slimy eel went back on his word and had Kelly killed, even after he knew we had the money. If there is one thing I regret about Raul Acosta's death, it's that I couldn't think of a way to kill him myself. I had to get someone else to do it. So, yes, vengeance was my motivation."

"Yes, vengeance can be quite a powerful motivator, but so can money. You have a talent, Chase, you're exceptional at pulling yourself out of sticky situations. But look at you. In the wake of your dear Kelly's death, you've blown what little money you had and reduced yourself to whoring about in seedy bars. That is, when you can pull yourself out of an alcoholic induced stupor long enough. You look like shit, and let's be honest, you smell like it too." He pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and waved it in front of his face theatrically.

"If I am such a lost cause, why did you want to see me? You call me a mercenary, but I've got you pegged as just another wealthy eccentric. A dandy who won't get his own hands dirty."

"Spot on," he said with a smirk. "As my father always said, 'use what you've got,' and right now I've got you Mr. Hawkins."

"Hah!" I snapped. "I may not have chosen to enter a life of crime, but I sure as hell can choose to leave it. Thank you, but I think I'll be leaving." I turned and headed for the path back to the helipad when a voice stopped me in my tracks. A voice I knew too well. My voice.

"I stole that boat to get enough money to pay off the cartel."

I turned back to see Pruitt holding a small recording device up in the air. He pushed a button and a moment later my voice rang out across the open air room again. "If there is one thing I regret about Raul Acosta's death, it's that I couldn't think of a way to kill him myself. I had to get someone else to do it."

Well shit. That wasn't good. One of these days I'm going to learn how to keep my mouth shut.

"I'm sorry Mr. Hawkins, I didn't want to resort to this, but you left me little choice. And besides," he added with sinister cheer, "Perhaps this will give you the justification you need to ignore that pesky moral compass of yours."

I clenched my jaw until my teeth hurt. Somehow I'd let this prissy richling trap me. I knew he had me right where he wanted me, and worse, he knew it too. "And if I refuse to do whatever you want, you'll turn that in to the authorities or something, right?"

"But of course."

"That is ridiculous," I replied, "You don't care about me anymore than I care about you. You're just trying to live out some dream of being a supervillain."

"Perhaps you're right. Perhaps you're wrong. Do you really want to find out?"

I thought about it for a moment. He had a point. I had a poor track record of making moral choices. And there was that genuine need for some sort of income. In the end, I chose money instead of starvation or jail. Besides, my life could do with a little purpose and adventure.

"What is in it for me? Besides staying out of jail?"

"Money. What else is there?" Pruitt answered.

"How much money?" I asked.

"Lots."

"Start talking then."

"Have you ever heard of the Taino people, Chase?" he asked, a conspiratorial air of mystery radiating from him as he said this. I hadn't ever heard of the Taino, but his tone had me wanting to know more, despite my reluctance. I couldn't help but wonder what it was he wanted me to do.

"No. Should I have?" I finally asked.

"They were the original inhabitants of Hispaniola, or Cuba as we know it now. Of course, when the Spanish colonized the island, most of the Taino Indians were wiped out or sold into slavery. They weren't an exceptionally rich tribe, but they left behind a few treasures, the most important of which was an idol said to represent the entire Taino people. It was very much coveted by the early conquistadors, and the head cacique, or chief, held a special