Page 38 of Beneath the Dawn

“You want me to believe that when you had a gun with a silencer attached?”

“Believe whatever the fuck you want,” the man snapped. “Just call the police and have me arrested so I can contact my attorney. It’s my right.”

“You lost that right when you came into Lasco Cove. I am the law here, and I don’t intend to call anybody. Oh, and spare me the ‘I made a wrong turn’ BS. I already know who you are. Although you have a good six aliases, your name is Christopher Pearlman.”

The surprised look in the man’s eyes, although brief, was all Dante needed to confirm he was right. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dante ignored his outburst. “I want to know who put the hit out on Marti Goshay?”

“I don’t know a Marti Goshay.”

“I suggest you not insult my intelligence.”

“And I suggest you go to hell!”

Dante nodded. “So, that’s how you want this to go down? No problem. However, I suggest you take a look around, Pearlman.”

The man glanced around as if noticing his surroundings for the first time. He then looked back at Dante. “Where the hell am I?”

Dante couldn’t wait to tell him. “Out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Nice night, don’t you think?”

“Damn you! I’m in pain.”

“Like I care. As you can see, I have you tied up on your motorcycle. Nice Harley, by the way.”

“Not mine.”

“I know. You got it from that motorcycle shop in town as a rental.”

“Yeah, and if I don’t return it by the designated time, the shop will report it stolen,” the man said with a smirk. “That means the cops will be looking all over town for me.”

“Probably. And there is a chance they might find both you and the bike. Of course, that could be years from now. They don’t often look for people at the bottom of the ocean. And even then, they’ll likely only find the bike. Sharks don’t like the taste of metal but love human flesh.”

Realizing what Dante was insinuating, the man snapped, “You can’t be serious. You’re not that crazy.”

“And you’re crazy to think that I’m not that serious,” Dante snapped back. “So I’m going to ask you one more time. Who put the hit out on Marti Goshay?”

“I told you before, I don’t know a Marti Goshay.”

Moving across to the stern of the boat, Dante opened the hatch used when loading or unloading items. He then looked over at the man. “One push and that bike--with you tied to it--will slide overboard and sink. I would not suggest you try my patience any longer.”

Dante saw sweat appear on the man’s bruised and swollen face. When the guy still didn’t say anything, Dante reached for the motorcycle.

“Wait!” the man yelled.

“Why do you want me to wait? Do you have something to tell me?” Dante asked.

“A man named Wendel Langley paid me. I don’t know Langley personally. It was just a job.”

Dante nodded. “Tell me what else you know.”

“I don’t know anything else.”

Dante turned the key to the motorcycle’s ignition, and it roared to life. Then he said, “One would think that after a motorcycle wipes out the way this one did, it wouldn’t be worth a damn. But that’s not the case with this Harley. Other than a few dents, it’s still in good shape. Nice piece of machinery. Pity it’s going to end up at the bottom of the ocean.”

He then stared at the man. “I’m going to ask you for the last time. What else do you know?”

After a deep breath, the man said, “I understand Langley is a friend of the person who wants her dead.”