by Mac Fortner
ISBN-13:978-1546900627
ISBN-10:1546900624
Published by: SUNSHINE PUBLISHING
DISCLAIMER
The characters and events portrayed in this book are a work of fiction or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental, and not intended by the author.
DEDICATION
Thanks to my wife Cindy, who is always there for support and love, just when I need it the most. We’ve had some wild times together, and the streets of Key West are some of the most memorable.
This is book two in the Cam Derringer series. Be sure to pick up book one–KNEE DEEP.
KEY WEST: 2 BIRDS 1 STONE – Cam Derringer series Book 3
MURDER FEST KEY WEST–Cam Derringer series Book 4
Don’t miss the Sunny Ray series:
RUM CITY BAR
BATTLE FOR RUMORA
.
Table of Contents
Prologue
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 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
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Epilogue
About Mac Fortner
FREE NOVELLA—The Prequel To The CAM DERRINGER SERIES
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Bloodshot
Prologue
I was walking through Central Park, on my way to our favorite park bench, to meet Robin Anderson, my soul mate.
It was a beautiful spring day. Mothers were watching their children play on the grass, while they took advantage of blankets, laid under trees. Beauty was the farthest thing from my mind, though. Everyone I passed looked as though they had a personal vendetta against me. Paranoid?
A tall, broad-shouldered man in a long overcoat was walking toward me. One hand in his coat pocket and the other clutching a newspaper, he looked ominous. I raised my hand to my waist where I had a nine millimeter attached to my belt. As we came closer, he looked right at me and nodded his head in a manly greeting. I slightly sidestepped, brushing against a branch and a flurry of blossoms fell onto my suit.
I turned and watched him for a few seconds to make sure he didn’t turn back. He sauntered slowly past, not paying any more attention to me than the fish in my uncle’s lake did to the many lures I would throw at them.
Stepping off the curb to dodge another cherry tree, I barely missed being hit by a truck. I jumped back to the sidewalk and waved at the driver, apologetically.
I took a drink of my coffee and let the robust liquid warm my throat. It relaxed me, and I was lost once more in my world of complacency
I didn’t hear the shot or feel the bullet that hit me as I lifted my cup to my lips once more. I did, however, hear the next shot fly over my head and a return shot wiz back past my head in the other direction. I was caught in a crossfire.
I dove onto the pavement striking my injured arm first. My arm was on fire, and I don’t mind telling you, I screamed like a little girl. That hurt.
I used my left hand to pull my gun from my belt, and glanced up in the direction I was facing. I could see a shooter, a woman, on one knee, arm stretched forward, pointing what seemed to be a large gun, over my head in the direction of the sound of the gunfire behind me.
I saw her fire two quick shots and roll to her left. She came back up on her knee and fired two more.
Her shots were answered from behind me in a sporadic volley of explosions from her apparent nemesis.
I rolled to the left toward the curb, trying to get to the pick-up truck that had almost hit me, which was haphazardly parked there with one tire on the curb. It might offer some protection.
Every time I rolled onto my injured arm, I gritted my teeth harder. If I lived through this, I would be sore for a long time.
Reaching the truck, I rolled under it. Safe, I thought.
I peeked out. I could see the woman, still on one knee, aiming her gun to my left and swinging it slowly toward me, as if she were following someone with her aim. I heard another torrent of gunshots from directly overhead. The woman dove and rolled to her right.
I turned my head to see where the shooter behind me was going. A drop of oil leaked off the truck's undercarriage and hit me between the eyes.
I lost sight of both would-be assassins while wiping my eyes.
I felt the truck I was laying under, sink slightly and then heard the door slam. The engine came to life. This wasn’t good at all. The heat from the exhaust pipe was now bearing down on me.
I scooted to my right as fast as I could, ignoring the pain in my arm, and barely cleared the undercarriage before the tires started squealing and the truck jumped the curb and sped away.
I fired two shots at the tires but missed. I saw the sparks fly off the back bumper where my bullets had struck. I heard three more shots coming from the direction of the woman. Then there was silence.
“Cam, are you okay?” the woman yelled running toward me.
It was Robin. I didn’t even recognize her in all the commotion. My soul mate had almost killed me.
Chapter 1
I’ll live,” I said. “What did I do to you to deserve that?”
“I’m sorry Cam,” she said. “I was waiting for you when I saw him jump out of his truck.”
“Are you okay?” I asked gritting my teeth and holding my injured arm.
“Yes we’re both fine, but we need to get you to the hospital,” she said.
She pulled a handkerchief from her purse to wrap around my arm.
I heard the sirens in the distance.
I sat up and pulled my sleeve over my elbow. I couldn’t look.
“The cops are almost here,” she said, as she was inspecting my arm. “I have to leave before they get here or I won’t get away in time to catch him.”
She stopped what she was doing.
“Oh brother,” she said, a look of half relief and half derision on her face.
“What’s the matter? Is it bad?” I said, now thinking that I might lose my arm.
She started laughing.
“You’re not even hit, you big wuss. The round hit your coffee cup, and the coffee splashed on your arm.”
I l
ooked down at my arm.
“Well, it was hot,” I said in defense.
“I don’t think we’ll need an ambulance.”
“Are you sure I’m not hit?” I said, inspecting my arm more carefully and sounding a little disappointed.
Robin is the Chief Agent of the New York FBI. She was promoted and transferred here four months ago after she broke a case in Key West involving, murder, boat jacking, and international terrorism. She saved my life and solved the case I had worked on for five years, ever since my wife became a missing person, and they discovered her boat abandoned in the Bahamas.
My name is Cam Derringer. I was born in Key West, went to school in New England and returned to Key West to practice law. Life was good until Melinda disappeared.
I dedicated five years of my life to finding the men responsible for my wife’s disappearance. It turned out the sheriff, who was helping me in my investigation, was the one who murdered her. Thanks to Robin, he was held responsible for the act. He was killed in front of me on a boat just as he was about to drop me over the side with a concrete block fastened to my leg. How could I not love her?
And now, she has saved me again. I almost wish the bullet would have at least nicked me.
“No you’re not hit, thank God. Would you like another cup of coffee?” She said and giggled.
“Don’t make light of this. That coffee could have scalded me.”
“I need to call this in,” she said, raising her cell.
Robin walked around trying to relieve tension while she was talking to the dispatcher. She finally hung up and came back to me.
“Can you get up?” she asked.
I was still sitting on the sidewalk. I rolled to the side my good arm was on, pushed myself up to my knees, and then raised to a standing position.
I was a little embarrassed, and my suit was wet. I guess I rolled into a puddle of water under the truck. I placed my gun back in its holster.
“Cam, I’m going to have to leave you now. I need to find this man as soon as I can. This is the closest we’ve been.”
“It has to be Bloodshot,” I said.
“I think so.”
“This was different than his usual MO.”
“Yeah, that’s what worries me. I think he wanted to kill you.”
She kissed me and ran in the direction of the parking lot.
The crowd had returned after quickly dispersing when the gunfight started.
I held my hands in the air and said, “Okay, break it up, folks. Nothing to see here. I have it under control.”
That got a few laughs. I hadn’t intended it to be funny. I picked up my coffee cup and dropped it in a trashcan.
I walked back to where it all took place searching for a clue. I saw a business card lying in the street where the truck had been sitting. I picked it up and unfolded it. It read– Cam Derringer–Hand–$25,000
“What the hell?” I said aloud. “Just like the others.”
I looked around the area for another clue. There weren’t any.
One thing I knew for sure–someone had a contract on me. It had to be with Bloodshot. The sirens were almost upon me now, so I hailed a taxi.
Chapter 2
One month earlier:
“Hi Diane,” I said, answering the phone after checking the caller ID. “I miss you.”
“And I miss you too. They’re no strong men way down here in Key West to protect me,” she said, mocking a damsel in distress.
“I wish I were there.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Diane is my daughter, kind of. I took her in when she was fourteen after her father, my partner, was murdered. She is now thirty-three and a very successful psychiatrist.
“You’ve already been gone for three months. I thought you’d be back by now,” she said.
“I only have nine months to go to get my license back. Time will fly by.”
I lost my license to practice law when I made a bad judgment call concerning a drug dealer and serial killer who I happened to be defending. My partner was killed, and the murderer got away. I was disbarred. My old friend Chadwick Kendall–Chad, made a deal with the FBI to get my license back in exchange for me getting out of their way pertaining to a case I was working on. Now I have to live and work in New York, where the sun doesn’t shine, for a year. It really isn’t so bad, but I do prefer Key West, where the sun does shine.
“How is Robin?” Diane asked.
“She is very busy bossing people around.”
“Does she boss you around?”
“Yes, in bed, that is.”
“Enough. I don’t want to hear about your sex life.”
“Sorry,” I said. “That was crud.”
“You’re not sorry.”
“I know.”
There was a brief silence.
“What’s the matter, Diane?” I said coaxingly.
“I miss the good old days when you were here to give me a hard time,” she said, sadness in her voice.
“I know, but you know I don’t have a choice in the matter.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Have you repaired my boat yet?”
“There is a crew working on it as we speak, but it needs a lot.”
“Yeah, it was blown pretty good.”
My houseboat was the recipient of a bomb three months ago. One of the terrorists, whom I was hot on the trail of, decided it would be a good spot to try out a test bomb. It worked very well. It killed the poor soul he paid to deliver it. My boat was blown apart and sank at the dock where I have lived for the past four years in Key West.
“Are you busy this weekend?” I asked.
“No, I’m free.”
“I’ll have a ticket waiting for you at the airport.”
“Great. I’ll see you Friday night,” Diane said, cheer now in her voice.
“Sounds fantastic. Don’t forget my breakfast,” I reminded.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Diane teased.
“No roll, no ticket.”
“You don’t think I’d come without one, do you?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” Diane said and hung up.
I put the phone down and thought about Diane. I do love her; I really do, in a father-daughter way.
“Cam,” Chad said from the doorway.
“Yes.”
“You ready for lunch?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I was thinking Per Se,” he said.
“I was hoping for the 21 Club.”
“21 Club it is then,”
“I’ll get my coat.”
“It’s a beautiful seventy-two degrees out there.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right. I’ll go as I am then.”
“Come on.”
The Bar Room at ‘21’ is one of the world’s most charismatic watering holes. It’s the hangout of choice of the rich and famous. It’s renowned for its whimsical collection of toys, suspended from the ceiling. Each of them was donated by sports stars, movie stars, presidents, and business leaders. Evidence of the prohibition era lingers. Even the hidden chute used to dispose of empty liquor bottles is still in use.
There was quite a crowd today, but Lillian, our favorite hostess, and part owner waved us to a table situated for privacy but offering a view of the happenings.
“Hello, Cam–Chad. What can I bring you today?” She said, smiling her million-dollar smile.
“Wild Turkey,” I replied.
“Shiraz,” Chad said.
“Are we drinking our lunch today?” she said, her tone changing slightly.
“I don’t know what I want, and Turkey helps me to think,” I said.
“How can I make any money if you don’t buy food?” Lillian said raising her voice and letting her oriental accent slip.
“Come on Lillian, get us something to drink and we promise we’ll eat,” Chad said.
She turned and walked away.
“W
hat’s with her today?’ I asked.
“It was probably a bad idea to come here today,” Chad said. “Her brother came to my office yesterday and wants to sue her over their parent’s estate.”
“Did you take it?”
“No, no way. I told him it would be a conflict of interest.”
“Thank God you didn’t get in the middle of that.”
“Yeah.”
Our drinks came. They were delivered by another waitress, who was a little more friendly.
“Thank you,” I said. “We’ll order after our drinks.”
“Take your time gentlemen. I’ll be back in a few.”
She left after smiling at both of us.
“I think Lillian told her to be extra friendly,” Chad said.
“I think your right.”
We each took a sip of our drinks.
“Wow, potent,” I said setting my glass down on the table.
“Wine is wine, but this one is superb. Don’t complain.”
“So, why are we here? You didn’t even quibble about coming here, even though Per Se is your favorite.”
“I’m getting married,” Chad said, puffing up and looking a little defensive.
“Married,” I said a little too excitedly.
“Yeah, married. Are you surprised?”
“Well, I guess I am. I didn’t even know you were dating anyone that steady.”
“It was a quick decision. A guy knows when it’s right.”
“Congratulations, I guess.”
“Don’t get so excited,” he said sarcastically.
I was in shock. I wanted to tell Chad he was crazy. I know he had two dates in the last few weeks, with different women.
“I’m sorry. I’m just a little surprised. Who is the lucky girl?”
“Alexis Arlington”
My jaw dropped.
“Alexis Arlington, as in the Alexis Arlington? The one we just defended on the embezzlement case? That Alexis Arlington?”
“She was innocent.”
“Thanks to us,” my voice rising. “Have you thought this over Chad? This could have all sorts of complications. Not to mention the conflict of interest thing again.”