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

by Wayne Stinnett

  “You can charge it to your room, if you’d like.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “We’re in nine-fifteen.”

  He glanced quickly at Charity, and one corner of his mouth turned up slightly as he produced the register’s printout and a pen. I added a generous tip, signed it, and slid it back to him.

  We carried our drinks to the door and paused. Carmichael and Cruz were at their usual table. “Ready?” Charity asked.

  I nodded and she pushed through the door, stepping out into the sunlight. Outside, she paused and handed me her drink while she removed the yellow beach wrap and draped it over her arm. The sun, now halfway to the western horizon, coupled with the stark whiteness of her bikini, made Charity’s exposed skin glow like that of a bronze goddess. I was reminded again of her lack of tan lines.

  Taking her drink back, she sipped slowly from the straw as she casually turned her whole body, shadows falling across every curve. Pulling Chyrel’s big white sunglasses low on her nose, Charity surveyed the patio area.

  We walked around the pool to the only pair of lounge chairs available. Charity placed her drink and wrap on a small table. Taking my hand, she lowered herself onto the low seat and stretched out luxuriously on the lounge chair, in almost the exact position she’d done on the boat. Part of my brain registered this fact.

  Had she been intentionally trying to seduce me?

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cruz whispering something to Carmichael, as they both stared at Charity. And, why wouldn’t they? Charity was doing everything she could to get the attention of every Y chromosome on the planet. Or was she?

  I’ve never been able to figure out what goes on behind a woman’s eyes, though not for lack of trying. Many times, my wires were totally crossed and women I thought weren’t interested were. Same thing in reverse, and a lot more often. Charity was even more of an enigma, knowing what I knew. At times, she could be a cold-hearted badass, bent on retribution, but I also knew the introspective, frightened girl. Other times, like now, I thought I was seeing a metamorphosis, where she simply exuded sensuality in a way that made one think she was comfortable in her own skin.

  Focus, I reminded myself, as I sat in the other lounge.

  The two of us leaned in close to one another, pretending to talk, smiling and laughing, as a man and woman fresh from a midday tryst might do.

  Carmichael wasted no time. After a few minutes, a shadow fell across Charity’s legs. Carmichael was standing near the end of her chair. “I thought you and Ginger were gonna be busy this evening.”

  “We are,” I said, as I got clumsily to my feet. “But she hasn’t returned from her boat trip.” Turning to Charity, I said, “Gabby, meet Wilson. He’s the guy with the boat I was telling you about.”

  Charity sat up, propping herself on her elbows, and bending one knee. “The boat with the big play room in the front?”

  Carmichael’s mouth fell open slightly, either in confusion, or his mind just went into warp speed. He stammered, “Yeah, well, um, it’s not quite finished yet.”

  Unabashedly, Charity lowered her sunglasses and studied the man from head to toe, then looked over at Cruz, who was sitting at their table with two other women.

  “Sounds delicious the way it is,” Charity said, just as Chyrel pushed the door open and strode toward us, her heels clicking on the concrete pool deck.

  Charity rose, smiling sweetly, as Chyrel came toward us. I hugged Chyrel, as a dutiful husband would, and she turned to Charity, taking both her hands.

  “I found four more,” Chyrel said, ignoring Carmichael, but speaking just loud enough for him to hear, without making it obvious.

  One of Deuce’s former team members was a Miami cop, a woman named Sherri Fallon. She’d been the armorer for Miami-Dade’s SWAT team, and had been in charge of weapons for Deuce’s DHS team. She’d also been a very talented stage actress and taught everyone on the team how to improvise convincingly.

  “You’re kidding!” Charity responded. Then, looking around, she added in a hushed voice, “That makes nine. We could have one very serious party, if we sell them to my guy. This is so exciting.”

  “Absolutely,” Chyrel squealed, hugging Charity tightly. In her heels, Chyrel and Charity were the same height. “And yeah, I’m really excited,” she said, kissing the taller woman and pulling her closer.

  Still ignoring Carmichael, Chyrel turned toward me. “We’re going up to the room. Why don’t you come up in about half an hour or so?”

  Chyrel practically dragged Charity toward the door. Charity paused and looked back, shrugging one shoulder, then disappearing through the door.

  Carmichael’s mouth was even more agape, staring at the door the two women had just gone through. I turned and strode toward the bar. After a second, he came trotting up beside me.

  “You da man, Stretch!” he said, throwing an arm over my shoulder.

  “What they hell are you talking about?”

  “Hey, now,” he said, steering me toward the table. “Don’t try to bullshit a bullshitter. If you don’t mind me saying, your wife is freaking hot. And you were just banging the hell outta her friend, who’s every bit as hot. Don’t deny it. I can smell it on you, man. And now the two of them are up in your room, and I know damned well what they’re doing.”

  “You have no idea,” I said, grinning like a pervert. “They’ll be hotter than a brace of two-dollar pistols in thirty minutes.”

  He chuckled. “I can spot someone living the lifestyle a mile away.”

  I allowed myself to be sandwiched between Cruz and a young, blond woman. She was pretty, with tapered hair down to the middle of a nicely tanned back. She wore cutoff jeans and a black bikini top. Another young woman sat across the table, a pair of big dark sunglasses hiding most of her face. She had shorter hair, dark brown, with a streak of bright purple. Like her friend, she wore cutoffs and a swimsuit top. Neither looked to be more than ten years out of high school.

  “This is Penny and Jenna,” Carmichael said, motioning the bartender for another round.

  “I’m Penny,” the blonde said, smiling. Her blue eyes looked kind of dull and unfocused, like she’d been drinking since noon, or was on some kind of drug.

  “My friends call me Stretch,” I said, shaking hands with the two women.

  “I bet they do,” Penny said. “How tall are you?”

  “Six-three in bare feet.”

  “Ooh,” she said, then turned to Cruz. “Have I ever told you I like climbing?”

  Everyone laughed at her little joke. Then Carmichael turned toward me. “I guess you talked to your friend, then.”

  “Yeah, she said she was game if Ginger was,” I replied. “Thing is, Ginger texted me and Gabby just a little while ago. The guy’s boat we were going on is gonna be ready to sail on Saturday. How long did you say it would be before yours is ready?”

  The disappointment in Cruz’s face was fathomable.

  “A week,” Carmichael said.

  “Maybe the boat man can move the schedule up,” Cruz offered.

  A light seemed to come on behind Carmichael’s eyes. “Yeah, that could work. I could call him and have them concentrate on the lower cabin tomorrow, and just leave the forward area unfinished. Hell, I could drag a couple of king-sized mattresses in there.”

  “Wait,” Penny said. “What about Diane and whatshisname?”

  “Cliff,” Jenna added. “Yeah, he has to work on Friday. We can’t leave early.”

  “Screw ’em,” Carmichael said. “Seven is more than enough.”

  Jenna pulled her sunglasses down. Her eyes were pale blue, like sea ice, or the eyes of a Siberian tiger. But, like Penny’s, they had a slight dull haze. “You two and five women? Do you really think you guys have that kind of stamina?”

  Carmichael sat back in his chair, as the bartender placed drinks from a tray on the table. “If we don’t,” he said with a lecherous smile, “we can just sit back and watch you girls for a while.”

  Takin
g a sip from my drink, I could tell the bartender remembered me from before. The drink was more rum than Coke. I lifted my glass and nodded at him.

  “Whatta ya say, Stretch?” Cruz asked, trying to look seductive, leaning against Penny, and pulling her close. “If we can move up the departure to Friday morning, do you think you can convince Ginger and Gabby to come?”

  My phone vibrated against my leg startling me. I took it out and saw that I had a text message from Devon. I grinned at Cruz. “Oh, they’ll come,” I replied. Then to Carmichael, I added, “Right now, I’m needed elsewhere.”

  Carmichael laughed as if that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “I bet you are, boyo,” he said. “I’ll get hold of Mistrall and tell him to get the VIP stateroom at least habitable for you by tomorrow evening and we’ll sail Friday morning.”

  I nodded at him as I stood. “Call me tomorrow. Suite nine-fifteen.”

  Leaving them, I went inside the bar and stopped. While I watched them, I told Deuce I was turning the earwig off to call Devon.

  “How did I know you’d call rather than text?” she said by way of hello.

  “You know me well. What’s up?”

  “You’re still in Miami?”

  “Yeah, but I should be home Friday evening. Is Finn okay?”

  “He’s fine,” she replied. “I’ve been sleeping in your big bed, and he sleeps on the floor next to me.” There was a pause. “Is Charity still with you?”

  I hated having lied to her about who Charity was. “Not at the moment,” I replied. “She’s joined Deuce’s team, at least temporarily. I think it’s a good thing.”

  “Me too,” Devon said. “I like her. I don’t know how or why, but I do. Will she be keeping her boat here at your island?”

  “I doubt it,” I said, finally seeing a way to steer the conversation away from any involvement between me and Charity. “That’s not her boat, though. It belongs to her boyfriend. He’s on her boat now, down in the islands. It’s a long story.”

  “Well, I have all weekend for you and her to tell it to me.”

  Me and her, I thought. “Want me to pick you up at Rusty’s on Friday?”

  “No,” she said. “I’ll have Deputy Philips drop me off Friday morning, after my shift. I’m going back to days on Monday and the lieutenant is giving me Friday night off to make up for last Sunday. Just when I was getting used to it.”

  We said goodbye as I watched Penny rise from her chair. She wiggled her cutoffs down over her hips and strode toward the pool. The black bikini softened her somewhat angular curves. At the edge of the pool, she raised her arms and dove in.

  A few minutes later, I swiped the room card in the door and stepped inside. Someone new was talking to Deuce and Chyrel, his back to me. He was a broad-shouldered black man, my height, head shaved, wearing an expensive looking gray sports jacket.

  When the door closed behind me, the stranger didn’t seem to notice the sound. When Deuce looked at me, the stranger turned and I saw his disfigured face. He had burn scars on the left side, his left ear almost completely gone, but I recognized him immediately.

  “Tom?” I said, crossing the room toward him. “Tom Broderick? What? How?”

  “Hi, Jesse,” Tom said. “Been a while.”

  Tom Broderick had been my battalion CO when I retired from the Corps, almost ten years ago. We’d first met, years before that, when he’d been assigned as my rifle platoon commander, fresh out of Officer Candidate School in Quantico, and I was a rifle squad leader. Tom had been a good officer and an exceptional leader, always eager to learn from his non-coms, who’d been around longer. Last time I saw him, almost three years ago, he was a full-bird colonel and the battalion commanding officer.

  Grabbing his extended hand, I pulled him in for a man-hug. “When did you get here? What are you doing here?”

  He stepped back and smiled. “I bet you’re wondering why I’m here, huh?”

  I suddenly realized he hadn’t heard me. I’d seen my share of burn scars and recognized immediately what had happened. “You’re no longer in the Corps?”

  “I work for you now.”

  “Work for me? I don’t get it.”

  Deuce was smiling. “I hired Tom as soon as I learned about his background.”

  “An IED in Afghanistan,” Tom said, pointing at the side of his head. “Lost my hearing. Spent a year in rehab, learning to sign and read lips. Corporate headhunters would come to Bethesda every week, looking to hire injured servicemen. One, a retired Army colonel, put me in touch with Commander Livingston here. And… well, here I am.”

  “Did Amy come with you?”

  His smile faded and he looked down at the floor. “Amy left me, Gunny. Just before I deployed.” Then he looked up, meeting my eyes. I could sense the sadness in his. “My head wasn’t a hundred percent in the game when the attack came. I’d only been back in country for a couple days, and it was a week after she’d left. Because of my inattentiveness, I’ll carry these scars—and the burden of losing two good men—for the rest of my life.”

  I could only stare, dumbfounded. I’d been to Amy and Tom’s house many times. They and their kids had filled the void in my life after my own wife left, especially at holidays. We were close, almost like brothers. I knew his pain and felt the weight of his burden.

  Extending my hand again, I said, “I know you, brother.”

  It was a simple thing. Taught to me by a childhood friend, when we’d taken down our first wild hog using bows and arrows we’d made ourselves. I’d shared it with very few; Tom was one of them.

  His hand went past mine and we gripped one another’s forearm, the Indian way. He smiled sadly. “I know you, too.”

  “The Corps’ loss is our gain,” I said. Then, to lighten the mood, I asked, “But what exactly will a beat-up old grunt colonel be doing in this brave new civilian world?”

  “Well,” he replied with a grin. “For one thing, I’m probably cheaper than bugging devices, and I don’t need a warrant. I can be in a room full of loud people, all talking at once, and can tell what someone on the other side of the room is saying, without any distraction.”

  “I hate to break up this happy reunion,” Charity said, coming out of the bathroom, conservatively dressed once more. “But I think we’ve overlooked something. Aside from us actually getting on his boat when he leaves, how are we going to take him down? Will there be backup?”

  It was a fool’s mistake. Once we knew that we couldn’t just break into Carmichael’s boat at the yard to get the emeralds back, we’d failed to move to the next obvious scenario: getting inside the boat after it left.

  “We could force him to move them somehow,” Deuce said.

  “Same problem,” Tony interjected. “Where he moves them might be even more secure, and taking him down in public while he’s moving them, could get innocent people hurt.”

  “We’ll have to go on the boat with him,” I said. “With waterborne backup.”

  “We need your boat, Jesse,” Charity said. “We need the Revenge.”

  “It’s getting late,” I said. “It’s over a hundred miles, probably four hours running time in the dark. I can get down there in the plane before the sun goes down, and be back here about midnight.”

  “You’ll have to stay,” Chyrel said. “There’s a chance you might be seen coming or going. Or, he might get bold and knock on the door, inviting you to dinner.”

  “Tony and Andrew, then,” I said. “But driving down, then taking Rusty’s boat up to my island; they might not get here until dawn.”

  “We’ll have to work in shifts, anyway,” Paul said. “Someone will need to monitor the bug in their room. I can bounce it to Tony and Andrew’s comms, via the boat’s internet.”

  “You can?” I asked. “I mean, I know Chyrel can.”

  “Yeah, he can,” Chyrel said. “He’s a fast learner. We’ll take the first shift here, taking turns on the headphones. Then I’ll switch it over to Tony and Andrew’s headsets and
they can take turns by just switching them off and on.”

  “Where are you staying, Tom?’ Deuce asked, getting his attention first.

  “Nowhere. I came straight here from the airport, and left my seabag in a locker there.”

  “I have a spare room,” Paul offered. “Just twenty minutes from here. We can swing by the airport and grab your bag on the way.”

  “It’s settled, then,” Deuce said. “I’m going home, and Julie and I will both be back about sunrise. She can help from the van when the boats leave.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I cautioned. “She’s what? Six months pregnant?”

  “Julie’s gonna have a baby?” Charity cried out. Then she punched me on the shoulder. “Why haven’t you told me this.” She went straight to Deuce and hugged him tightly around the neck. “Congratulations, boss!”

  While they talked excitedly, I pulled Tom aside. “Once this is done, you’re welcome to stay with me. I have a little island in the Middle Keys, with two bunkhouses that get little use.”

  “Don’t let him fool you,” Tony said, getting Tom’s attention first. “His little island is a paradise, Colonel. Welcome aboard.”

  “Just call me Tom, okay?” Then to me he added, “That sounds good, at least until I get on my feet. I think I’d like to be close to the office, though.”

  “Open ended,” I said. “Some of these folks have lived there for weeks at a time. There’s plenty of room.”

  Handing Andrew the keys to the house, and my debit card for fuel, I said, “Use it as a credit card. I’ll let Rusty know you’re on the way and will need his skiff. It’ll be dark when you get to the island, and Finn’s there alone at night. I’d appreciate it if you brought him with you. Stay to Harbor Channel and East Bahia Honda Channel to the Seven Mile Bridge. Once you’re in open water, you can run full speed all the way to Biscayne Bay. There’s a marina just across Bayside from here called Prime Marina Miami. The coordinates are on the Revenge’s chart plotter. I’ll call them and arrange a slip. Fuel up when you get there. Just remember—”