"The fuck are you doing here?"
36
Bandannas covered the thugs’ faces. We had clearly invaded their turf. This was their grow. Or more likely, their boss’s grow. Either way, we weren’t welcome.
I smiled. "It's a beautiful night for a treasure hunt, isn't it?"
"There ain't no treasure here, man,” the leader of the gang said with a Spanish accent.
"You know, that's exactly what we are finding out. We discovered a total of $0.85. I was hoping for some rare coins, maybe even a Spanish doubloon or two. Who knows?”
"You picked the wrong place to search, my friend."
"I suppose you're right. It's getting late anyway, and we probably ought to get going.”
I took a step back toward the way we came.
"Not so fast," the leader of the group said.
Weapons tensed, and fingers tightened around triggers.
I froze in my tracks and raised my hands innocently, staying calm. I didn’t want to agitate these guys. There were four angry barrels of assault rifles aimed at us. It didn’t matter how quick on the draw I was—those bullets would be faster.
The leader of the group was tall and skinny. He wore a black bandanna around his face and a baseball cap on backwards. A tattoo of a demonic skull with a hood and flowing cape covered his inner forearm.
A shorter, pudgy guy stood next to him with a blue bandanna. The other two that flanked us were average builds, maybe 5’9”, wearing black bandannas, jeans, and black shirts.
These were cartel guys, but not Colombian. There were so many rival factions in Coconut County that it was a constant power struggle. Mexican cartels, Colombian cartels, Chinese Triad, Russian Mafia, and the good old-fashioned mob. They were all active, and they all stepped on each other's toes from time to time. It could get pretty violent.
Blue Bandanna muttered something to the leader. The leader gave him a doubtful look.
"I'm telling you, it's him, man," Blue Bandanna said, pointing at Mickey.
37
The ringleader squinted at Mickey. “Are you really Mickey Malibu?”
“Depends who’s asking?”
“I’m asking, motherfucker. And when I ask a question, you answer.”
“I’m Flynn McQueen,” Flynn said with that pearly smile.
“Shut the fuck up. Nobody asked you.”
Flynn frowned. “Return to El Dorado? Sahara Rhapsody? Jewel of the Serpent?”
The ringleader looked at Flynn like he was crazy.
“What are you talking about, gringo?”
“Movies, man. Don’t you watch them?”
“Do I look like I’ve got time to watch movies? I don’t even own a TV. That shit will rot your mind. Turn you into a sheep. B-a-a-a-a-h,” he said, mimicking the animal.
Flynn looked disappointed. The celebrity card wasn’t going to work with this crowd.
The ringleader looked back at Mickey. "I'm going to ask you one more time. Are you Mickey Malibu?"
