Liable

PRAISE FOR KAREN S. GORDON "Smart, quick, and wildly entertaining, LIABLE is Gordon at her very best. If you aren't reading this series . . . start!" — Ryan Steck, The Real Book Spy LIABLE GOLD AND COURAGE SERIES KAREN S. GORDON Copyright © 2023 by Karen S. Gordon All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. LIABLE is a work of fiction. Names, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ISBN: 978-1-954296-06-0 (Ebook) ISBN: 978-1-954296-07-7 (Print) ISBN: 978-1-954296-08-4 (Audio) Dedicated the millions of young people struggling under student debt. CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Epilogue About the Author Also by Karen S. Gordon 1 DADE-HOMESTEAD GENERAL AVIATION HOMESTEAD, FLORIDA, 30 MILES SOUTH OF MIAMI Vance Courage gazed out the hazy picture window at the chain link fence and the endless grassy wetlands surrounding the small regional airport. The local weather forecast was hot and humid with a 30 percent chance of rain. Typical for the month of May. He checked the time on his phone. 3:10 in the afternoon, plenty of time to get to Nassau, Bahamas before nightfall. When they’d arrived at precisely 2:30 p.m. as instructed, they’d checked in with the woman at the desk who’d told him and Lauren Gold to take a seat and wait. It was now going on an hour. “I’m going to go see what’s going on,” he said to Lauren. He walked to the counter and waited five minutes but there was no sign of the woman. He headed back to the waiting area and took his seat next to her. “What did you find out?” she asked, riffling through her purse. “Nothing.” He stared at the action outside the west-facing window. A pack of skydivers leaped from the gaping door of a dull gray transport plane, their tiny black stick figures free falling against a pale blue sky. He winced as they pulled the rip cords, their bodies jerking upward as their chutes unfurled with a final jolt as if being saved by an invisible hand. “Do you have anything for a headache.” “That’s too bad,” he said, lifting his duffle from the floor and setting it on the open seat next to him. He hand-searched the side pockets before digging through his clothes, feeling his 9-millimeter Glock wrapped inside a pair of jeans at the bottom of his bag. He’d had nothing for pain. “I don’t have anything.” She let out an audible sigh. “You brought a gun but no aspirin.” He lowered his voice. “Our Cayman bank set up a line of credit to the casino.” “For how much?” “A hundred thousand each.” “A hundred thousand dollars?” she whispered. “That’s not enough?” “Of course, it’s enough. It’s enough to put someone’s kid through four years of college. Maybe not an Ivy League school, but you know what I mean. Besides, I don’t care about the money. All I want is to chill for a few days.” A crusty guy with a five-day beard and slicked-back salt and pepper hair approached. The old guy cleared his throat. “You the two heading to Nassau?” “We are,” he said, standing. The man rested an old wooden clipboard against the middle buttons of his black and blue plaid shirt. “Names?” “Vance Courage and Lauren Gold,” he said. “Passports?” Lauren reached into her purse and handed hers to Vance, and he passed both passports to the man and watched him flip them open and scan the first pages. When the man was finished, he handed Lauren’s back to her. He closed Vance’s passport, turned it upside down and slid his thumbnail under one corner and plucked it like a guitar pick. “I’m Blade, your pilot. I got a full load this afternoon and we got more coming. They just informed me they’re running a little late.” Lauren fanned her face with her passport. “That’s your policy? People call in late and you hold the plane?” Blade ran his tongue over his front teeth and polished his canines, then smacked his lips. “Yep, that’s my policy. Do you have a problem with it, ’cause if you do, there’s the door. And I don’t give refunds. That’s my policy.” Lauren stood. Vance held his arm out in front of her like a crossing guard. She sat down. “May I have my passport back?” he asked. The pilot slapped Vance’s passport against his open palm before handing it back to him. “Wait here,” Blade said, slinging the wraparounds hanging around his neck, over the back of his shirt. He tucked the clipboard under his arm, turned and duckwalked away, sunglasses swaying between his shoulder blades. He turned the corner and disappeared down a dimly lit hallway. “I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Lauren said. He didn’t like him either, but not enough to blow up the trip. He placed his hand on her knee. “We might be a little late getting there, but so what,” he said, “right?” She shrugged, then grimaced. “If you hadn’t insisted on bringing it, we could’ve flown commercially.”