Cole found that he honestly wasn't shocked by her sudden, relaxed display of affection at the café. Part of him felt it was natural. That part of him even felt it was expected. That part of him was the thing Cole was shocked at. Where the fuck did he come from?

 

He suddenly submersed into a vision of being ten years married to Nicole and they were out taking advantage of a rare day for a ride. Their destination didn't matter to either of them, not in the slightest. Just riding was enough. They had everything else. Just sometimes, having it all was a little much and they needed to get away for a while. Just the two of them, together, to refocus, to tell each other, even though they knew, that this was still what they wanted. Everything was still exactly what they wanted.

 

Put into that scenario, Cole mused, her actions were perfectly within the bounds of expectation, including the "Shoo…" and the cute little hand gesture at the end. The only trouble, of course, was that this scenario was eight miles deep in bullshit and he had no idea where it was coming from.

 

In that daydream moment of illusion he was briefly but deeply immersed in, Nicole was older, her hips were wider, though her ass was still firm and her breasts were matured. Her hair was short, cut up off her neckline. He had studied her body so deeply that he knew every curve, every warm seducing inch, and remained bewitched.

 

Most of the flaws on her skin, which she frequently seemed to worry over in the mirror, he knew intimately. He accepted them, knowing they had no chance of blemishing her allure. In fact, some of those blemishes across her skin he was particularly fond of, frequently kissing their marks and blessing the day they were created.

 

"You have to be fucking joking," he snarled into the wind, slamming the vision's replay into mental dust. "Kids? Can you be any more fucking pathetic? Shit!"

 

The marina area was coming up fast. He checked the time on his watch, saw it was five minutes after three and drifted the Lowrider into the parking lot. He spotted the pier number he was looking for moments later.

As he set the bike on its stand, he forbade his mind to even recognize the existence of a blonde woman in the area, let alone return his thoughts to Nicole. Thus decreed, he got off his bike.

 

Hiding his actions by using the parked cars on either side and in front of him as blinds, he took his 9mm from his left saddle bag and put it into the small of his back, securing the clip of the holster. He checked his draw, felt it was adequate, and then resettled the gun.

 

With the hat tip due to caution observed, he took a breath and relaxed. He reached into the right saddlebag, and removed the large package. He put the package under his left arm and scanned the parking lot, then the marina, spending more time in areas where he felt they would hide in order to observe him.

 

"Whoever they are, they’re good," Cole murmured to himself, not spotting a single watcher.

 

Their skill level increased his nervousness. If something went down, he may not be good enough to escape, gun or no. That's why I'm being paid the big bucks. he thought with half-felt humor. He walked to the pier and then down its length where three yachts were lashed and secured. His black steel-toed boots tread down the black traction covered pathway making slight gritty sounds. The yacht on the left, the one moored by itself, was where he was supposed to go.

 

When he reached the back side of the yacht, a man wearing a loose fitting, light colored beige suit and three days growth of black beard on his face stepped out of a full-sized sliding glass door, brushing aside a very light, white cotton curtain.

 

This man made eye contact with him and then nodded. After, he stepped back inside, leaving the door as it was.

 

Cole gathered that meaning of the man’s actions indicated he should follow, but Big Jim said nothing about boarding the yacht during his rundown of procedure this morning. Jim said the men in the yacht would meet him on the dock. Cole hesitated, the hairs on the back of his neck bristled.

 

He checked around once more, noting to himself the uselessness of that gesture and then stepped solidly onto the patio area of the ship. Once there, within the momentary cover of the door’s white curtain, he adjusted his gun once more and walked in through the glass door with the package in his left hand.

 

There were three men inside this room. The room was much larger than Cole expected. There was even a dining table down the center that was designed to seat a party of eight.

 

One of the men was close to the sliding glass door and to his right. This man wore a light green suit similar in style and cut to the first man's. The other new man was almost directly in front of Cole, also wearing a similar suit, though his was light blue.

 

The one who stepped outside was to Cole’s right, but back into the room with the man in blue. They looked and felt European. They had not spoken yet, so he couldn't verify that, but the feeling was strong. They also felt military. The spacing between these three was wide and also felt planned.

 

"You have not opened the package? It remains inviolate?" The man asking the question was the one in the middle, between his friends, the one who motioned him inside. His Slavic accent was heavy. Cole believed it felt Prague-ish, but he didn't possess any experience beyond watching action movies to make a better guess.

 

"Yes, and here," he said, offering the package with his left hand.

 

"No, curiosity? No interest?" the same man asked.

 

"No. I couldn’t care less," he said honestly.

 

Cole caught movement to his right as the middle man began to say, "I wish I could believe…"

 

All three of the men felt and acted military or ex-military. Whatever they were, Cole had no trouble believing they were well trained in combat and maneuvers. He thanked whatever god was watching over him that they lacked some ability to think in all three dimensions.

Cole was standing in a kill box.

 

The distance between the three men was so Cole couldn’t get an easy shot at all three of them. It also protected themselves from each other’s line of fire. The setup was for a man who would either come farther into the room or attempt to run out of the room, or, of course, stand there in shock long enough to be executed.

 

Instead of going for the man drawing to his right or attempting to outdraw and get one of the men in front, Cole fell backwards, through the white curtain and opened door, rolling as he hit the ground. As his roll reached mid-point, he heard the first gunshot explode inside while he began to draw his 9mm and used his abs and momentum to increase his speed. When his gun came free into his right hand, he was well out past the sliding glass door and laying prone on the deck with his weapon in a two-handed grip.

 

A second shot rang out from the same source as before, which sounded and felt fired by the man in the green suit.

 

The package was inside. They had their delivery. Why kill him? What was so important?

 

Since the value of his life was now deemed less than the contents of the package, his curiosity was piqued.