“I take it we’re here to stay for a while in sunny Florida?” Krysty said sarcastically.
“Not much choice about being here now, but I’m not planning on staying,” Ryan replied. “Too damned hot. We’ll see what we can find in the quarters above, then head up the coastline and see what we find there. Mebbe grab a boat and sail up to the Carolinas.”
“What about Greenglades ville, Dad?” Dean asked. “You think any of those crazies are still around? Mebbe they’re the ones who flooded the place.”
Ryan paused for a moment and rubbed his chin before answering. “Doubt it,” he said flatly. “After all, I chilled most of the sons of bitches myself.”
Chapter Two
Greenglades.
A wellspring of bad memories came back to Ryan. Memories of fat Boss Larry Zapp atop his padded throne overlooking his over-the-top concept ville of brightly colored rides and attractions. What had Mildred called the place then? A theme park. A place of lights and sounds where families went for fun and excitement, with sugary sweets to eat and trinkets for prizes for children. A land of make-believe. A land of amusement.
Only things hadn’t been too amusing when they had passed through.
Not that it was Larry Zapp’s fault. He could have taken them out when they arrived in the ville if he’d wanted, and the overweight baron did have reason enough to want to see Ryan Cawdor dead. A younger Ryan and J. B. Dix had crossed paths with Larry in his prebaron days during their time riding shotgun for the Trader on War Wag One. Ryan knew their encounter had been unforgettable for Larry, who was the owner of a large and successful traveling gaudy and the half dozen or so sluts inside.
Cold Beer And Hot Women was Larry’s motto, and he was doing fine with his touring group until he got greedy and tried to bribe one of the war wag’s crewmen with a one-eared whore named Bernice. The Trader’s stockpiles of guns, ammo and fuel were legendary, and the pimp had sought a direct source to the goods. Sex and beer were profitable, but fuel and weapons were shining gold.
When the Trader found out about Larry’s scheme, his response was predictable. He sent his two most trusted henchmen to teach Larry a lesson in manners.
After Ryan and J.B.’s not so friendly visit, the wags Larry had used for the gaudy were burned-out wrecks of twisted metal, the casks of golden-tinged beer were poured out on the dirt and the gaily painted girls had been threatened and fled as fast as their high-heeled feet would carry them into the nearby hills for their very lives.
All this while Larry had gotten extra special care. As his employees ran, Larry had received a beating that left him broken and bleeding in the mud with both elbows bent backward in the most painful position possible, but at least he was alive.
Barely.
Luckily enough, nearly a dozen years had passed since his youthful indiscretion, and Larry didn’t hold a grudge. Ryan wasn’t proud of what he’d done to a tub of guts like Larry way back when, but the man had brought it on himself. The baron had gestured with one flabby arm and granted them safe harbor; telling his sec man to give the group back their blasters and full access to the park and attractions.
Larry invited them to stay and enjoy what the ville had to offer, which unfortunately included a sick bastard named Adam Traven, a self-styled cult leader who had arrived in Greenglades three months prior to Ryan and his group. Traven had his own nubile young group of followers who shared his perverted murderous fantasies—fantasies Doc found out about the hard way when a young lady named Sky had tried to strangle him during a bout of lovemaking.
Traven had also arrived with a large supply of the highly addictive—and very rare—form of jolt known as dreem, and wasted no time in hooking the hedonistic Boss Larry on the fine pink powder. To further cement Larry’s dependency, Traven had also unleashed on the fat man all the sexual excess his teenage followers could provide.