Rule Six: I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven: As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Sistine Chapel. Instead of just standing there, why don’t you do something useful, like changing the oil in my truck?
Rule Eight: The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff tee shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka — zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature chainsaws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks’ homes are better.
Rule Nine: Do not lie to me. On issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have guns, lots of them. I also have a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten: Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over the desert. When my PTS starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car. There is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the corner of the house is mine.
Book Description
Someone has been using high explosives to fish the delicate patch reefs in the backcountry of the Florida Keys. Jesse McDermitt lives in the backcountry on a secluded island north of Big Pine Key and doesn’t like it.
His friends, knowing his penchant for involving himself in matters best left to the authorities, are hiding information about what’s going on right in his backyard. He doesn’t like that much, either.
When it’s learned that it’s a notorious Miami street gang, Jesse starts digging, trying to figure out why a gang that moves millions of dollars in drugs would steal boats to gather dead fish.
In this sixth book in the Jesse McDermitt series, things aren’t always what they seem. Jesse is torn between his training and his newfound parental responsibilities.
Fallen King: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 6) Page 26
