While Deuce was in DC, trying to figure things out, Travis and McDermitt were on McDermitt’s boat, ten miles south of the Keys. It was only the second charter since the rescue and takedown of the Haitian gang in the Ten Thousand Islands, two weeks ago.
The first actual charter that Travis went out on as first mate had been only a few days after the rescue mission. A group of veterans, some disabled, from a town halfway up the Florida coast, had arranged that charter weeks before. They were with a nonprofit organization that built and remodeled homes for deserving vets. Most were members of a veterans’ organization called Space Coast Paratroopers, though not all the volunteers were Army jumpers. Some of the volunteers had already received a newly remodeled house and now volunteered for the Homes for Warriors Project every day they could.
After that one, McDermitt canceled the next two, ostensibly to give Travis time to find a place to live. But the real reason was so McDermitt could spend some time with his family.
Today’s charter was a group of tourists from Topeka, Kansas. They’d been fishing and drinking all day. McDermitt’s daughter had come along to help show Travis what the actual duties of a first mate were. As near as he could tell, they were to keep the tourists happy, drinking, and catching fish.
Travis wasn’t as charming as McDermitt’s daughter, but he was able to build a rapport with the men in the charter and was soon laughing with them, baiting hooks, and handing out beers.
The charter customers were lounging in the cockpit below, drinking and already exaggerating about the fish they’d caught, as Gaspar’s Revenge motored toward the town of Marathon.
Travis, McDermitt, and his daughter, Kim, were all on the bridge, off limits to charter customers, enjoying the daily dance the sun played with the water as it slowly sank toward the far western horizon.
Travis looked down at the Midwesterners and grinned. “You call this work? I feel like I’m robbing you of the two hundred.”
“Be more than glad to not pay you,” McDermitt said with a kind of lopsided grin that Travis had quickly learned meant he was sedately content.
“Oh no,” Travis replied. “I’ll need that money to wine and dine a tourist woman from Texas I met last night.”
Both McDermitts laughed, and Travis noted it was a similar laugh. Then McDermitt turned suddenly serious. “Have you heard anything new on the search for Charity?”
Just then, Travis’s cell phone rang. He picked it up and saw that it was an encrypted message from the bowels of the Pentagon. Clicking the icon, he read the short message.
Mission accomplished. Taking a couple of weeks in the Yucatan to recover. I need a new Barrett, optics, and a few other things. I’ll call when ready.
Travis deleted the message and glanced up at McDermitt with a frown. Inside, he was very happy and relieved, though.
“No,” Travis replied. “So far, nobody’s told me anything about what’s become of Charity Styles.”
In the little Mexican port city of Progresso, Juan Ignacio had just finished bartering with a local restaurant owner. The man had ended up buying all sixty pounds of his day’s catch for two thousand pesos.
Juan would never get rich at this rate, but he lived a simple life. His boat was his home. The cantina owner promised to return with his cart in less than an hour, so Juan went below to shower and dress for the evening.
Twenty minutes later, while hosing down the deck and waiting for the man to return his cart, Juan looked out to the jetty at the mouth of the harbor.
A beautiful sailboat was passing by close to the coast, its blue-and-white sails pulled in close as it sailed near the wind. Suddenly, the boat turned sharply through the wind and into the inlet. The sails crossed the deck cleanly fore and aft, and in perfect unison. But they were still hauled in tight.
When the wind caught the sails again, the boat heeled over sharply, coming into the harbor at a very fast rate of speed. Only a hundred meters from the pier, Juan saw the pretty woman that had been here nearly two weeks earlier.
As the sailboat grew nearer, Juan watched as the sails disappeared, drawn into their furlers. The sailboat slowed and Juan walked out to the foredeck, standing bare-chested, with his hands on his hips.
At the last second, the big sailboat turned. The engine reversed, bringing the boat to a stop with the cockpit just a few feet away from the pilings. Juan smiled as the beautiful woman stood up at the helm, smiling back.
“Do you have any fish to sell?” she asked.
“I am afraid not, señorita,” Juan said. “I just sold my catch a few minutes ago.”
“Did they ever find out what happened to that robber?”
“Yes, they did. I witnessed the fight myself. The police think it was a gang of drug smugglers.”
“I’m sorry for leaving like that, Juan.”
“I understand. Will you be staying long?”
“Depends on whether I can find a slip.”
Juan looked at the empty berth next to his boat, where he had once had a second fishing boat. “I own both slips, señorita.”
“Then I would say it depends on the fishing.”
“And the dancing,” Juan replied as Gabriela Ortiz backed her Wind Dancer into the slip.
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Merciless Charity Caribbean Thriller:
Merciless Charity
Ruthless Charity (Due in Winter, 2016)
Heartless Charity (Due in Fall, 2016)
Jesse McDermitt Caribbean Adventure:
Fallen Out
Fallen Palm
Fallen Hunter
Fallen Pride
Fallen Mangrove
Fallen King
Fallen Honor
Fallen Tide (Due in November, 2015)
One of my favorite writers, Randy Wayne White, started a spinoff series to his fantastic Doc Ford novels a little over a year ago. His new series has a female main character, and he made it look easy and effortless. Believe me, it’s anything but. Even writing in an omniscient third-person point of view, getting inside Charity’s head wasn’t easy. I hope I’ve done half as well as Randy.
I’d dreamed most of my life about being a novelist. Growing up on the east coast of Florida, I cut my teeth on the works of Ernest Hemingway and John D. MacDonald, then, as a young man, James W. Hall, Carl Hiaasen, and Randy Wayne White, among others. My writing style and characters are a direct reflection of the musings of these and many more great authors.
Table of Contents
Merciless Charity
Other Books by Wayne Stinnett
Dedication
Foreword
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
Epilogue
More Charity Styles
Afterword
Merciless Charity: A Charity Styles Novel (Caribbean Thriller Series Book 1) Page 16
