fine,” the skinny man said before lifting a covered plate. “You want fish? I caught it this morning. Glory cooked it nice.”
Rich spices escaped the dish, its foil glinting in the moonlight as Manny plopped it onto Travis’s bare belly.
Travis grunted. He really didn’t want the fish. Just like he hadn’t wanted the gallo pinto Boon had brought by an hour ago or the cacao fresco that Senora Miguel had forced on him at breakfast. But the upside—or downside in his opinion—of crashing at a friend’s place was the friend’s friends.
“Thanks, to Glory too,” he said as he lifted the plate and, bending at the waist, leaned over to set it on the battered crate that served as his table.
“So what you doing for a job now? I’ll bet you get bored recreating, right?”
Right. There was no appeal in forced recreating. But Travis only shrugged.
“I know the perfect job for you. You should be a private investigator. Or the police. But joining the police means you follow a bunch of rigid rules, that’s no way to get the job done.”
Debating whether to point out the plethora of rules he’d lived by in the military, Travis opted to keep silent. He’d learned in his first week in town that Manny and logic weren’t real close pals.
“You become a PI and solve all the crimes around here. Like I heard yesterday, that a bunch of turistas, they were hit on by two hookers.”
Not surprising. Since it was legal, prostitution was a way of life in some parts of Costa Rica.
“The men, they do the grab and feel, but didn’t like the merchandise. Happens all the time in my market. Everyone squeeze the melons but not everyone want to buy. But these men? When they don’t want a guy, some big bruiser come out and rough them up. Says, ‘You touch, you buy.’ He put one in the hospital.”
Travis frowned. Prostitution might be legal, but pimping wasn’t. Neither were prostitution rings, which was what it sounded like Manny was describing.
“My cousin Luis, he says that a bruiser was the one who came around his store last week. He said Luis pay for protection or there will be trouble. Next day, Luis’s little girl Lupe got lost.”
“She’s missing?”
“Was missing until nighttime. The whole family, we went looking, but nobody could find her. She turned up at the market after dark. Said a big man stole her, tied her up and said she had to give a message. If her papa didn’t pay, she’d get hurt.”
Damn.
Travis grimaced.
Helpless women and children, they’d always been his hot buttons. He was tempted to offer his services. But the reality was that he had no services to offer. Who needed a cripple slowing them down? So Travis forced himself to unclench his jaw and relax instead.
“Sounds like a job for the cops.” He leaned back in his hammock again.
“The cops, they are no good here. That’s why we need you, Hawk. You can be a PI, you can help with the crimes.”
“Thanks for the food,” he made himself say.
Manny’s face fell, but he didn’t push the subject.
“You eat. It’s good. Then you go have fun.”
Travis grunted, hoping Manny would take that as an affirmative and go.
No such luck.
Instead, the other guy squatted in the sand next to the hammock and grinned.
“You gonna party like a wild thing, yes? Lots to choose from tonight, Hawk. There’s a bonfire at the big hotel, a band tuning at Lolo’s and the dancing is already kicking over at the Catfish bar.”
Not too long ago, he’d have hit all three party spots in a single night. All three and more.
But that was then.
“No, thanks.”
“You really should have some fun. Loosen up and have a good time.”
“I’m close enough to Lolo’s to hear the music,” Travis pointed out, gesturing to the bar on the other side of the small dune. “I’ll join in if I feel like it.”
“You always say that, but you don’t look so good.” With an assessing look somewhere between doubt and pity, Manny shook his head. “My instructions, they’re to watch out for you. You’re healing okay. Good food, good rest, it helps. But good spirits, that’d turn the tide.”
“My spirits are fine,” Travis said somberly.
“Paulo, he’s gonna call me tomorrow. What am I supposed to say to him when he asks how you’re doing? I’ll tell him you won’t party, you barely eat, he’s gonna be peeved.”
Peeved, Travis rolled his eyes, but had to admit—if only to himself—that peeved was the perfect word for Paulo. The chief petty officer didn’t get pissed, he never threw fits, he was the perfect gentleman. Some would say a goody-goody, but only if those some hadn’t ever watched him eviscerate an enemy combatant.
Still...
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“No? Then you need a friend. A lady friend, maybe.”
The sexy blonde’s face flashed through Travis’s mind. She was definitely the kind of friend he’d like to show a good time. For a night, or in her case, two or three.
“I’m fine. I’m gonna eat this good fish, then get some rest.”
“You want me to hang out? Visit and keep you company while you eat. Save you cleaning the dish afterward, cuz I’ll just take it back to Glory to wash.”
“It’s a paper plate,” Travis pointed out. Then, because he knew the man wasn’t going to budge off his damned babysitting duties, Travis made a show of snapping up the plate. He uncovered it, and using his fingers, he snagged a chunk of fish. Spices exploded on his tongue, the flavor reminding his stomach of the good ole days, when he’d liked to eat.
“It’s great, man. Tell Glory thanks for me.”
“You’ll eat it all?”
As much to assure the guy as to get him to leave, Travis tossed back the rest and handed back the plate.
“Yum.”
It took a few more prods to convince Manny that he was fine, he was full, he was comfortable and yes, he would get some sleep. But finally, the guy took his paper plate and left.
Leaving Travis alone with the sound of partyers in the distance, and the ocean nearby. As the moon climbed higher in the sky, he watched the waves with eyes that must have been as empty as his soul felt. For what seemed like the hundredth time in the last month, he wondered if recovery at the beach had been a mistake. He’d had friends offer him their cabins in the mountains,
