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glanced back and saw her standing a few feet away, tapping her toe impatiently, waiting for me to give her my attention.
    “Give me a minute,” I whispered to Flynn. He walked a distance away, leaving me alone with Tay.
    “Stephanie, about dinner … do you think you could fend for yourself tonight?”
    “Oh,” I said in a displeased tone. “So you did hear me ask you what you wanted for dinner.” Tay looked sheepish. I could tell that she was going to be the traveling companion from hell. The gent who had sent over the drink was sitting at the bar, looking our way with great interest and no doubt hoping for a thumbs-up. It really wasn’t too difficult to figure out what was going on. At first blush, I was a little pissed about being abandoned on our first night of vacation, but I glanced over at Flynn and knew he needed my help. “Are you sober? Because I don’t want you flying home with a bun in the oven or something persistent that will require multiple doses of penicillin.”
    “Biatch,” she began in a boastful tone. “I can be way drunker than this and still handle any of these South Beach pretty boys.” She leaned closer and whispered in my ear. “I promise, I’ll sit at the bar and drink club soda until I know what I’m doing.”
    “That’s more like it. You promise?”
    Tay nodded.
    “Okay. Have fun, you dirty little ho.”
    Tay winked and then nodded excitedly to her new friend, communicating that she was free for the evening. I shook my head disparagingly and gave her a pat on the butt. I couldn’t believe how firm she was. Her tush felt like one of those motion-absorbing Tempur-Pedic mattresses.
    That’s when I heard the blast. It was a good distance away, but the force of the explosion was powerful. It lit up the sky and thundered through the night.

Chapter Six
    I had two images in my head as I followed Flynn’s car to Donovan’s club. The first was the explosion I had witnessed from the rooftop pool deck. The second was the sight of Tay getting ready for her date: hotel robe, white facial mask, and her hair up in twin, high ponytails. I’m not sure which image was more disturbing.
    The word around the hotel was that a small airplane had crashed into the Atlantic just up the coast from Miami. So far, Miami was not shaping up as the optimal location for me to get a little peace and quiet.
    Boom means one thing in the hood and another among Jamaican gangs. The Jamaicans didn’t use it as a lighthearted exclamation as in: “I lit your ass up on the basketball court. Boom!” Among Jamaican gangs, it meant: “Listen up, pay attention, or I’ll shoot your ass. Boom!” A big neon sign flashed BOOM above the entrance to Donovan’s club. It was north of Miami in an area you’d be well advised to stay clear of—unless of course you like to live your life on the edge, in which case, sure, come on over .
    I needed a contact in Miami, someone who could give me information on Donovan in an unofficial capacity. I couldn’t call my boss, Sonellio, because there was no way in hell he would sanction my involvement and certainly would blast my ass. I mean I was on a leave for a reason—R&R in order to decompress after making a first fatal shooting on the job. I was supposed to be on a massage table having my supple skin anointed with hot oils while listening to Yanni, not chasing after dangerous characters like Donovan.
    When in doubt, there was always Herbert Ambler, my dear friend, the G-Man. He and my dad went way back, and he had always treated me like family. I called him just after getting into my rental car. He said he would make some calls and get back to me with the name of someone who might help me out with some South Florida intel. I told him I was on my way to Donovan’s club. The G-Man didn’t think it was a good idea for me to go poking around before I spoke with his contact, but sitting around just isn’t my style. I opted to follow through with a little low-visibility