Rising Storm: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 11)

by Wayne Stinnett

  My car was a 1973 International Travelall, aptly dubbed The Beast by my late wife, Alex. The interior, suspension, engine, and drive train were all new, but the outside looked like it had been sitting in a field for decades. I liked the look.

  Thirty minutes later, I was back in the air, banking right over Biscayne Bay. Leveling off, headed southwest toward home, I climbed to twenty-five hundred feet.

  I didn’t want to leave Charity alone on the island for long. She needed someone to talk to, someone to help her sort out what was going on in her life and what she’d do in the future. She needed Mother McGee, but I’m not the mothering type.

  I’d just have to lay it out for her. The team was no more, and those still together now led different lives, with whole new futures open to them. She could be part of it if she wanted. The others would welcome her in, of that I was sure. I’d have told them she was here if her arrival hadn’t been confidential information.

  The sun was nearing the western horizon when I spotted the light on Harbor Key. I banked right to circle wide around it for an upwind approach, judging the surface wind by the flags flying on the mast by the bunk houses. I broadcast my intent and position on Unicom, then reduced power, adding ten degrees of flaps. Banking back to the left, over Content Passage, I lined up on Harbor Light, with my island just ahead and to starboard, and came in low over the shallows northwest of my island. I reduced power again and added more flaps.

  The pontoons made a whooshing sound when they met the water. Friction slowed Island Hopper and she settled into the light chop. I increased power slightly, keeping the pontoons on plane, lowered the rudders and steered with the foot pedals, angling toward the floating T-Dock.

  Finn was already there, jumping back and forth from one end of the T-Dock to the other. If Charity didn’t arrive quickly, I’d have to shut down early and climb out onto the pontoon to fend off the dock. I’ve done it before, but have also had to break out an oar I keep in the cargo area, to paddle the last few feet those times I shut down the engine a little too early.

  Finally, I saw Charity step out from between the two bunkhouses. Right behind her was Devon.

  Oh shit, I thought. There was no way this was going to end any way but bad. A small voice in my head said, Power up and turn left.

  Instead, I adjusted course toward the middle of the dock. Still fifteen yards away, I cut power and waited till just the right moment, then stood hard on the left pedal. The Hopper turned, and Charity caught the wing strut, keeping the pontoon from hitting the dock.

  I did a quick post-flight while Charity made Island Hopper fast, then I climbed down to face whatever wrath was to befall me.

  “You must have been really bored to come all the way up here on your own,” I said, hoping to deflect Devon’s jealousy and anger.

  “You didn’t tell me your client would be staying here.”

  Charity stood off to one side, arms folded across her chest. She nodded slightly.

  “I think we both know she’s not my client.”

  “Why did you think it necessary to lie?” Devon asked.

  I looked from one to the other. Charity nodded again, almost imperceptibly.

  “Devon,” I said, “this is Charity Styles.”

  Weeks ago, when her name had come up in a conversation with Stockwell, I’d told Devon all about Charity, so she knew who Charity was, if only by reputation. But I’d neglected to tell her that Charity would be coming here.

  “Her work with DHS is ending, the same as the others,” I said. “I invited her here to decompress after her last mission.”

  Devon looked at Charity. “You’re not Gabby Fleming?”

  “I’m sorry I continued that lie,” Charity said. “I have trust issues, and Jesse is helping me resolve them. Because of that, nobody knows I’m here—except you two. But if it’s going to cause a rift, I’ll leave.”

  “No,” Devon said, relaxing a little. “No, there isn’t any need for that. I’m sure Jesse would have told me the truth if he hadn’t been obligated to keep your identity hidden. Your secret is safe with me. You have my word as an officer of the law.”

  “How long have you been here?” I asked, grabbing my go-bag from the plane.

  “I only got here a few minutes ago,” Devon said, taking my hand while Finn ran ahead of us. I didn’t know if it was because she just wanted to hold hands, or was displaying ownership to Charity, who was walking behind us. “Your Deputy Phillips dropped me off. I’m off until tomorrow night. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “My Deputy Phillips? Marty’s one of yours.”

  “He’s dating your daughter,” Devon said. “That makes him yours when he’s off duty.”

  “Kim is dating a deputy?” Charity asked as we stopped at the outdoor tables.

  “Yeah, they’ve been seeing each other for over a year. What would you ladies like for dinner?”

  “I caught two big snappers while you were gone,” Charity said.

  I grinned. “Fresh snapper, fried light?”

  While Charity went to get the fish from her fridge on the sailboat, Devon pitched in and helped me stack wood in the fire pit.

  “She’s a beautiful woman,” Devon said, watching Charity walk up the back steps to my deck as I lit a second fire in the barbecue.

  “Oh,” I said, not wanting to talk about her. “Yeah, I guess she is.”

  “And very young.”

  “Yeah,” I replied, striving for something innocent to say. “That, too. Kim seems to like her. They’re not all that far apart in age.”

  Kim is the youngest of my two daughters from my first marriage. Her mother took them away when I was suddenly deployed to Panama. Since I was unable to attend the divorce proceedings, her lawyer got her full custody with very limited and supervised visitation. Then she’d moved them hundreds of miles away so that I couldn’t see them.

  Kim had come to the Keys to find me, and had become a semi-permanent semi-Conch, splitting her time between my island and her studies at University of Florida.

  “Jesse McDermitt!” Devon said. When I looked at her, she had her feet planted and her hands on her hips. “That woman is nowhere near Kim’s age. If anything, she’s just a few years younger than me.”

  Unable to help myself, I grinned and walked toward her, taking her hands in my own. “Do I detect a bit of jealousy?”

  “You’re out here, miles from anyone and anywhere, alone with her? Overnight! And you lied about who she was.”

  “I apologize about that. Charity asked me to keep her whereabouts and identity a secret for now. She has some issues to work out and only needs someone she trusts to listen to her.”

  Devon moved into my arms, the warmth of her body lighting a fire in my belly. “I know nothing went on. You’re not the type. But I can’t help but feel a little threatened; all men are weak.”

  I kissed her lightly and she pressed her body closer, returning my kiss. My arms encircled her narrow waist, and I let my hands drift up under her blouse, feeling the warmth of her bare back where it curved inward.

  Charity returned with the fish, along with some peppers, tomatoes, and wild onions from the garden. “You guys go watch the sunset,” she said, placing two cast iron skillets over the flames in the stone barbecue pit. “I’m too hungry to wait for a potato to cook, so I’ll do a stir fry.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Devon asked.

  Charity didn’t even look up from her dicing, just waved us away. I took Devon’s hand and led her out to the north pier, where we could see the sun setting over Content Passage and Little Crane Key.

  We sat down in our usual spot, Devon leaning against my shoulder, her hand massaging my thigh. “Are we ever going to be able to have a normal life, like everyone else?”

  I turned and kissed her temple, where the wispy little hairs curled back over her ear. “Define normal.”

  “You know,” she said. “Regular nine-to-five jobs, a house with a car in the driveway.”

/>   “I have to leave at first light,” I said. Probably not what she wanted to hear. “I need to take the Hopper back to Marathon and rent a flashy car to go back up to Miami.”

  “This case you’re working on? Should the law be involved?”

  “Eventually,” I said. “We have to recover something that was stolen first.”

  “Which is exactly what law enforcement does,” she said, a concerned look in her eye.

  “I can’t tell you everything just yet,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “The theft is just the tip of the iceberg, but we’re only working on recovering what was stolen. That tip is all that the victim needs back. The thief is planning something much worse, and if you guys step in too early the victim won’t get back what rightfully belongs to her for a long time.”

  Devon nodded toward shore. “Will she be going with you?”

  “She’d be an asset to have,” I replied honestly, “but I don’t think it’d be a good idea just yet. She trusts me, but I don’t think there are many others who she can confide in.”

  “Then you should get her to trust the others and take her with you,” Devon said, as we watched the sun slip slowly into the water, just north of Raccoon Key. “But drop me in Marathon first. Marty picked me up at the Rusty Anchor. That’s where my car is.”

  Over dinner, I laid out to both Devon and Charity as much as I could about what we knew and what we had planned.

  “Deuce seems to be hitting the ground running,” Charity said. “So, everything really is going away? Like none of what we did meant anything?”

  “Political winds change,” I said. “Even Stockwell’s position is being done away with. Nobody is replacing him as head of the Caribbean Counter-terrorism Command, and it will be dissolved.”

  “It’s not like the things all of you did doesn’t mean anything,” Devon said. “Your service has helped a lot of people; to them what you’ve done means everything.”

  “DHS is just sweeping out the dirty laundry?” Charity asked.

  I nodded. “That’s about it. Like I told you, whichever nominee eventually becomes president, they will move to dismantle everything. Stockwell put things in motion so everyone could make a choice beforehand and have an easier transition. Deuce, Andrew, and Tony took early retirements. Chyrel and Paul both resigned.”

  Charity seemed to consider what I’d told her, the light from the Tiki torches playing across her features, then seemed to come to a decision. I could see the resolve in her eyes. “Can I go with you tomorrow? Do you think there’s a place for me?”

  I smiled and Devon nodded. “Yes,” I said. “There’s a place for you. It will be up to you if you want it.”

  “Then we’d better get to bed,” Charity said.

  Devon squeezed the inside of my thigh. “Yes, it’s getting late.”

  The three of us quickly cleaned and put everything away, then Devon and I walked hand-in-hand toward the house. On the deck, Charity continued down the steps on the other side to her boat, and I started to follow. Devon preferred the air-conditioned comfort on the Revenge, but she stopped and pulled me toward the door of the house.

  Inside, Devon turned toward me, standing on her toes as she put her arms around my neck. “A cool front is coming through tonight, and I want to make love in that big bed of yours back there.”

  Very close to one another, we slowly moved toward my bedroom, slowly peeling one another’s clothes off. In the bedroom, Devon opened all the windows fully. It was still in the high seventies outside, and the slight breeze didn’t make it any cooler. But who was I to object?

  Devon nearly tackled me onto the bed and we wrestled around on top of the comforter, both of us laughing. We kissed and caressed one another, in no hurry. Devon’s lovemaking was more passionate than normal, her moans and whimpers louder.

  Our bodies glistened with sweat as we both reached the height of passion together. We fell apart on the damp comforter, each of us breathing hard.

  “I thought you said a cool front was coming,” I whispered, between breaths.

  “Well, I knew that you and I would be,” she said, snuggling close, her hand gently caressing my lower belly. “I was just hoping the cool front would come, too.”

  It was still dark outside, but I guessed sunrise would be coming soon. Devon had drifted back off to sleep an hour earlier, after another boisterous round of lovemaking. Her head lay on my shoulder, and my arm around her was numb.

  I’d been lying in bed thinking about where our relationship was headed. That wasn’t something I’d done much pondering over in the past. Quite a few women had come into and out of my life since Sandy left with the girls, nineteen years before. Things got very busy for me after she left, with multiple deployments to the Middle East and embassy duty in Somalia, so I didn’t really have much of a social life.

  An incident in Mogadishu had ended with my being transferred back to Camp Lejeune as a sniper instructor. It also nixed any chance of advancement beyond Gunnery Sergeant, and I retired from the Corps five years later.

  While at Lejeune, I met a woman in a bar, and we got married a month later. Big mistake. I’d been so busy in the previous four years that I hadn’t had time for dating, and fell hard for the first woman who let me into her bed. It only lasted nine months.

  After leaving the Corps and settling in the Keys, there’d been a succession of women, mostly just flings with tourists. None of those had developed into any kind of relationship.

  Then I’d met Alex. Alex had been my soul mate in many ways, but she’d been murdered on our wedding night. When I lost her, I thought I’d never find happiness again. There had been a few women in the three years since, but fate always seemed to devise a plan to move them out of my life.

  Would the same thing happen with Devon?

  I looked at her asleep beside me, unsure how I felt about her. Being older—and hopefully wiser—I no longer rushed into things. Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast; that was the mantra of house-to-house fighting in the sandbox, Iraq and Afghanistan. With some things, moving too fast means doing it over.

  The air was dry and cool, the front having finally arrived in the middle of the night. It rarely gets cold here in the Keys, but occasionally a front that dumps snow in Dallas or Atlanta will push far enough south to make the mercury fall into the fifties here. This time of year, it only brought cold rain to those places, and the change in temperature here was slight, but noticeable.

  I brought my mind back to the task at hand. The car would be the hard part. There were plenty of rental places in both Marathon and Miami. But a Civic or Prius wasn’t what a man like Stretch Buchannan would drive, even a toned-down version of him. Chyrel said she could adjust his online presence, so while waiting for Deuce in the hotel room, we’d changed his persona a little, making him a bit less threatening, should Carmichael have the wherewithal to check.

  Slowly, I eased my arm out from under Devon so I could reach over and pick up my wristwatch. It was an inexpensive dive watch my wife and oldest daughter had given me for Christmas when I served as a drill instructor at Parris Island. My oldest daughter Eve’s first birthday had been just three days later. She’d be twenty-five this Christmas, and the watch still kept perfect time.

  Devon rolled over on her back and opened her eyes, one leg tangled in the bed sheet. “Timzit,” she muttered.

  “Just after six,” I whispered. “I need to pack a few things; no need for you to get up. Sunrise is still more than an hour away.”

  In the near darkness, she flopped over and closed her eyes once more. On her belly, completely naked, with her hair tossed wildly across the pillow, she looked peaceful and content. She did not look like a cop and former Marine sergeant.

  I got up quietly from the bed, put on a clean pair of skivvies and jeans, then went into the living room. I keep a bag in the closet there. Not my flight bag, or the one I take on the boat. The one in the closet is my bug-out bag. In it are enough clothes to last a week, a pair of nine-m
illimeter handguns, three boxes of ammo, and enough food in the form of MREs to last me a week.

  Opening the bag, I removed the clothes, which were on top. Half of them would be suitable to the task, so I put them back in the bag and went to the closet in my bedroom. I took two pairs of jeans and a couple of button-down shirts and carried them to the living room, carefully folding them and putting them in the bag.

  The little red light on the coffeemaker snapped on; within minutes, the quiet hiss from the machine preceded the scent of brewing Hacienda La Minita coffee, which quickly filled the air. I got two heavy porcelain mugs down from the cupboard and waited. When enough coffee had brewed, I poured two cups and carried them back to the bedroom.

  Devon was just sitting up, not bothering to cover herself. “Mmm, that smells really good.”

  I sat beside her and handed her a cup. She took a sip, then placed the mug on the nightstand. Pulling me down on top of her, she kissed me softly. “I’m glad I came up here. Do we have time for a quickie?”

  I laughed. “No. And even if we did, you drained every ounce of energy out of me last night.”

  Devon pouted. We’d talked about our past relationships, and I knew she hadn’t been with anyone for a year before we met. Since then, she’d been trying her best to make up for lost time. The woman had a voracious appetite and boundless sexual energy. It was all I could do to just hang on for the ride.

  “I’m sure Charity will be gone by the weekend,” I said. “The Trents won’t be back until Sunday evening, and Kim won’t be down until the week after.”

  “When will you be finished in Miami?” she asked, sipping her coffee again. “I’m working nights for the near future. Starting tonight.”

  I thought about it a moment. We hadn’t formulated a solid plan yet, but I doubted it would take more than three days to take Carmichael down.

  “I hope to be back by Friday.”

  Slowly, she rose from the bed and went to her overnight bag, which lay open on the chair by the window, and brought back clean clothes to lay out on the bed. Without looking up, she said, “Then you should come down to Key West and stay at my place.”