Domino Effect (2019 Edition)

side of the building and headed straight for them. From her peripheral vision, she saw the silhouette of two men on the deck of the boat. As a cold sweat of fear chilled her flesh, gunfire erupted all around.
When someone grabbed her arm and tried to pull her towards the boat, her years of personal defense training kicked in. She spun to face her attacker, hoping to gouge his eyes, but he moved at the last second causing her to rake her nails down his cheek. The last thing she remembered before her world went black was being struck with something hard and collapsing on the dock.

2
Two days earlier
D’andre stilled as Onyx entered the room. This was the first time he had ever met the man and shook at his size. Onyx was as muscular as he was tall. The veins on his forearms were like a roadmap to hell. His mere presence made D’andre quake. Dressed in military fatigues and combat boots with an automatic weapon slung over his left shoulder, Onyx appeared as deadly as his reputation. When he walked, the wood floor creaked. D’andre diverted his eyes and stared at his feet, not wanting to look the man in the face.
“What the hell happened!” Onyx yelled with a distinct Jamaican accent.
“Ev—everything went as planned,” D’andre stuttered, “we met our target and her friend, brought them to the club, and guided them to the dock. Before one of them could take a hit from the blunt, an alarm on her phone went off. She freaked out, so we had to improvise.”
With one hand, Onyx grabbed D’andre around the neck and shoved him against the wall. Still not wanting to look at his face, D’andre stared at the man’s scarred hand. Each finger jeweled with a black and silver ring. D’andre felt his throat constrict as Onyx squeezed; bug-eyed, D’andre gasped for air.
“Do you know who the other one is? Who her family is?” Onyx spit.
D’andre tried to answer but couldn’t draw a breath. Onyx relaxed his grip, and he dropped to the floor.
Reaching for his neck, D’andre winced as his fingers touched the scratches in his cheek. He rubbed his neck, trying to sooth the pain. “How were we to know?” he rasped. “We just did as we were told.”
In a calm yet cold voice, Onyx growled, “Look at me.”
D’andre shook his head. He knew no one who saw Onyx’s face ever lived to describe it. Onyx kicked him in the stomach. D’andre curled into the fetal position, spitting up bile, tears running down his face. He heard the distinct sound of the rifle’s safety being released.
“I won’t ask a second time. Look me in the eyes.”
As fear welled-up in his eyes, D’andre mouthed that he was sorry and lifted his head. Onyx’s face was covered in scars. Tattoos could be seen creeping from the collar of his shirt and running up his neck like vines on a fence. Onyx’s eyes were where the real fear lived. One, black as night; the other, amber swimming in a pool of red. Together, they would make the strongest of men grovel.
Onyx sneered, a silver grill with black stones covering his teeth glistened off the incandescent light.
“Please,” D’andre begged, “we had no way of knowing.”
Onyx sat on an old crab trap, leaned forward, elbows on knees, and rubbed his brow. “This was not what we planned but maybe we can use it to our advantage,” he thought aloud. Eyeing D’andre, his upper lip quivered in an evil grin. “Send the text as planned—to both families.”


3
Nathan Lancaster, exhausted from another twenty-hour day, snarled within the veil of sleep as his Blackberry vibrated and bellowed on the bedside table. His eyes still closed, he felt for and grabbed the phone with a hand that seemed too big to handle such a small device, thumbed the on button, and grumbled with a distinct twang, “This better be good.”
“Sorry to wake you Mr. President, but we have an issue in Key West.”
Those words wrangled his attention faster than the sound of a rattlesnake in the pitch of a hot Texas night. He sat up in the stark silence of his room and cleared his throat. “Talk,” he said, trying not to sound nervous yet breaking out in a cold sweat.
“Becca is missing, sir.”
“What the hell do you mean, missing?” With each word, his voice deepened and grew louder until missing sounded more like a bear growling than a man speaking.
“She didn’t check in last night. When Jason checked her room, it was empty. We have not been able to locate her or her roommate, Pia.”
Nathan Lancaster glanced at the clock which glowed by his bed. “It’s almost four-thirty in the morning.” Fully awake, adrenaline pumping like crude from one of his family’s rigs, the president was out of bed and pacing; his initial movements turned on the low wattage security lighting. “What time did Jason check her room? Maybe, she’s just at one of those nightclubs she likes to go to. You know, letting off a little steam.”
“That’s what Jason and her detail thought, sir. He originally checked her hotel room at two a.m., per procedure. When she wasn’t there, he sent the team to canvas the hotel, beach, and local bars. The best we can tell, none of her friends have seen either of them since eleven-forty-five last night. We’re still trying to get in touch with Pia’s cousin, Savio; he’s close to the girls and was with them earlier in the day.”
Stabbing the air with his index finger, the president punctuated each word. “Smitty, I want your ass on a plane an hour ago. Let me know as soon as you land.”
Hanging up the phone, the president sat back down on the bed. He looked at a picture of his family on their last vacation together. It was from a much happier time. He, Becca, and his now deceased wife, Jane, were all smiles. Looking at the photo, he felt nothing