THWACK!

Chase Reynolds looked down at the rubber fishing worm that dangled from the front of his Dockers like a not-so-impressive appendage. Then he looked up at the wide-eyed kid staring at him from the water's edge.

"I think the fish are out there." He pointed to the ocean lining the sugary beach of the Blue Parrot resort, one of the upper crust private resorts in Key West.

Grinning almost proudly, the kid moved toward him, dragging the miniature fishing pole behind him. "I sure hooked you good."

Chase attempted to dislodge the hook from his zipper as water seeped into his pants. No luck.

"Yeah, I'd say you did. Say, kid, don't give any quick tugs on that rod or I'll end up singing soprano."

"S....soap what?"

"Never mind." Chase jiggled the hook again, feeling pretty dumb with a lime green fishing worm dangling from his crotch. Not the best way to meet with a client.

James Lansing had requested Chase meet him on the beach in front of Lansing's resort, the Blue Parrot, to discuss the threats that had recently been made against his life. Odd place to meet, out in the open like that, but it was his client's choice.

The boy moved closer, his bare toes bulldozing through the wet sand. "Hey, mister..."

"Hmmm?"

"Are you my daddy?"

Chase's head snapped up from the task at hand. He looked around, certain the kid had to be talking to one of the other resort guests. He wasn't.

"What?"

"I said are you my daddy?"

The kid looked so hopeful Chase hated like hell to burst his bubble. "Afraid not," he replied, then returned to the task at hand.

"Are you sure? My mommy says my daddy is tall, dark and handsome."

Chase forced a smile, his frustration with the troublesome hook growing. "I'm sure he is, but I'm afraid I'm not him."

"But you're pretty tall," the boy argued stubbornly. "And your hair is dark. Darker than mine even!"

Chase laughed. "You've got me there."

"What's handsome mean?"

"Well, I guess that's what women say about men they find attractive."

"What's attractive?" the boy asked, eyes wide, his expression intent.

"It...uh...well it means the woman thinks the man is nice to look at," he replied, hoping that would be the extent of the kid's inquisitiveness.

The boy squinted beneath the glaring afternoon sun as he looked up at him. "What's your name?"

What kind of hook did this kid use? Chase continued the struggle to free himself from the embedded hook as he replied, "Chase. What's yours?"

"Joshua." The boy dug his tiny toes into the wet sand.

"That's a good, strong name for a fisherman," Chase said with a grin.

"I might be one when I grow up. I'm real good at it. I caught you, didn't I?"

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