It had taken Marty and his partner Laura Wright the better part of eight weeks to get close to Damon Sharpe – one of the biggest drug dealers on the west coast.

Marty had been undercover in LA for more than three months, posing as a surf bum named Zack Donavan, Laura was his girlfriend Amanda Culver. Together they had set up more than eighteen buys of increasing larger amounts of cocaine. Finally, their connection had agreed to introduce them to Damon.

"Don't fuck with this one, man." Serek had warned them in his slow, Jamaican accent. "He is the devil and will not hesitate to punish you so that you will beg for death if you cross him."

They'd already heard the tales of Damon's penchant for flaying alive anyone who crossed him, it didn't matter if it were drugs or a parking space at The Edge, a club he owned downtown. The 30 year-old German immigrant with the perfectly capped teeth took pride in showing off the bizarre-shaped, razor-sharp knife he carried with him all the time.

XxXxXx

The beach was nearly empty this morning, only the surfers were up and about. Zack wished he were out there with them, sitting on his board and waiting for the perfect wave.

He choked back a laugh, remembering the hell he'd given Amanda this morning about her choice of footwear for this meeting – she'd insisted on wearing heels.

"You're never gonna make it across that sand in those things." he mocked her.

"You watch me little man. Damon will be so busy looking at me that he won't even notice you."

"Yeah, he's gonna be laughing at you."

Amanda swatted him and he yelped. "Let's go, we don't want to be late."

Damon was walking toward them, flanked by two muscle bound body guards. The dealer did seem to have his eyes glued to Amanda and Zack could understand why. The heels made her three inches taller than her barefoot five feet, five inches and she had no trouble at all keeping a seductive strut across the sand. The champagne colored mini dress perfectly accented her long, blond curly hair. If he weren't painfully familiar with how hard she could punch, Zack would certainly have been drooling.

"That's close enough," Damon said and they stopped with a space of about five feet between them. "New bodyguards," he explained, "they can be a little over zealous."

Damon glanced at Zack then looked Amanda slowly up and down. "Very nice." He smiled, "You must be the money half of this partnership."

"Hey, I'm right here." Zack complained, running a hand through his short blond hair, making it even more unruly.

Damon's pale skin contrasted with jet black hair that curled at his collar and a high widow's peak. His dark eyes are small and close set. Everything about him is sharp - his chin, nose and cheekbones. The Kiton suit he is wearing is a charcoal grey and tailored perfectly to fit his broad shoulders and nearly hide the nine millimeter holstered under his right arm.

His bodyguards are dressed similarly; their matching black Ralph Lauren's fit perfectly and accentuate the large arms and chests of men who are accustomed to using their fists.

One has buzz cut blond hair, the other, brown hair that is receding. Both wear dark Manscott sunglasses.

"Let's get down to business then, shall we," Damon said with an anything but friendly smile, "150 thousand dollars, 7 a.m. tomorrow, basement level of the Beaumont Street parking garage."

"150 K?" Zack asked.

"I wouldn't think that would be a problem for two players such yourselves." his eyes narrowed, "Unless you are cops."

"As you guessed, I am in charge of the money Mr. Sharpe," Amanda said coldly, "and 150 is not a problem."

"Very good."

"Tomorrow then," Amanda slipped her sunglasses back on.

Damon nodded and he and his body guards returned the way they came. Amanda watched them go.

"Creepy." she said, "His whole personality screams snake".

"I think he's a poser, I doubt he really moves 3,000 pounds of flake a month."

"I don't think we should underestimate this guy." Amanda slipped off her shoes.

Zack laughed, "Can't keep up the walk in those, can you?"

"These are $700 shoes; I am not taking a chance on scuffing them."

"$700? I didn't pay that much for my entire wardrobe!"

"I am completely aware of that fact."

Zack got behind the wheel of his beloved Barracuda, "Sand." he reminded his partner.

Amanda made certain she removed as much of the sand from her feet as possible before she got in. Her cell phone rang as they pull onto the PCH.

"Yeah?" she is silent for several minutes. "Weird… No... That's what I said… Yeah, okay. Thanks."

"Who was that?"

"Brown, he had some info on Damon for me."

"I think he hates me."

She scoffs, "Damon doesn't even know you yet."

"Ha ha, very funny. I was talking about detective Maurice Brown." he drew out the first name, pronouncing it Maaw reese.

"I wonder why."

"I have no idea; I mean I've never done anything to the little nerd."

Amanda rolled her eyes, "Yeah, you're such a wonderful guy I don't know what it is with 89% of the department."

"89%?"

"Yeah, the other 11% haven't met you yet." she teased.

"What did Maurice have to say?"

"Damon has a new set of bodyguards because last week someone shot at Damon from a passing car. They missed Damon but did quite number on his bodyguards."

"I hope he pays them well."

"Only until they outlive their usefulness. Maurice said Damon is refusing to pay for his ex-bodyguards medical bills."

"Bastard. I wonder if they new guys would be so loyal if they knew how he treats his ex-employees. What else did he dig up on out new friend?"

"Damon's mother was a model in Sweden; his father was the CEO of a German electronics firm. Both of them were killed in an accident on the autobahn six years ago. Damon has lived in LA for the last five years; he owns three businesses in town including the dance club and has a house in Las Vegas and one here.

"And?"

"No criminal record, not even traffic citations. Though he has been a suspect in six assaults with a deadly weapon and two murders, no charges have ever been filed."

"Witnesses and victims have all mysteriously forgotten or disappeared?"

"You got it." she leaned back, pulled off her sunglasses and put her hand over her eyes.

"Another headache?"

"It will be, I'm just trying to figure out how we're going to get a bust set up with only 24 hours notice."

"I think that's what Sharpe was counting on."