by J B Black
Rusty said he would let the owner know and get back to Reb with his answer by the end of the day.
CHAPTER 13
Hassan Younis’ Residence
Washington, D.C.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
11:00 a.m. Eastern Time
Hassan slept late Saturday morning and, after preparing himself some breakfast and eating it, decided to give Megan a call to let her know what he had accomplished after parting company with her the previous night.
Hassan dialed Megan’s home phone from his home phone and, when she answered, said, “I have some news I think you’ll be interested in hearing.”
“What kind of news?” Megan asked. “Good news or bad news?”
“Oh, it’s the best kind of news,” Hassan replied. “After I left you last night, I went to my office at the Institute. I checked to see if I knew anyone in the Seaside Beach, Alabama area who might be capable of handling a mission such as what you suggested last night and I discovered that I have a friend in nearby Pensacola, Florida who readily agreed to take on the mission.”
“You’re right,” Megan said, in agreement. “That is good news.”
“Even better, the mission is scheduled for tonight,” Hassan said.
“That’s great,” Megan said, “but I’ve got to run, Hassan, you caught me just as I was leaving for my office. They called me in for a meeting. Would you like to get together for dinner this evening?”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
“Good, I’ll call you later when I get out of the meeting,” Megan said, before hanging up.
CHAPTER 14
Aboard Reb’s Revenge
50 Miles out in the Gulf of Mexico
Off Seaside Beach, Alabama
Saturday, April 17, 2010
10:35 a.m. Central Time
Reb watched as Honey got up from where she was sunbathing and walked around the center console and into the helm area where he was sitting. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him firmly on the lips.
“I’m getting kind of hungry,” Honey said. “You getting hungry?”
“Yeah, come to think of it, I am,” Reb said. “But what about that roll in the hay?”
“Rain check,” Honey said, turning to go. “I’m going below and get us some donuts and coffee.”
“Want some help?”
She smiled and said, “Nope, I know what you’ve got on your mind. You stay up here and keep an eye out for pirates and I’ll be right back.”
* * *
Seven Months Earlier
Seaside Beach, Alabama
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Reb was in his condo that evening, eating takeout pizza, waiting to hear from Rusty about whether his offer on the boat had been acceptable or not, when someone rang his doorbell. Reb opened the door and found Rusty standing out in the breezeway.
“Good news,” Rusty announced. “The owner of that boat you and I went out on today said to tell you that you’re the proud new owner just as soon as you come up with the $275,000 in cash. When do you think you can do that?”
“Thanks, Rusty,” Reb said. “I’ll call my bank, tomorrow, and make the arrangements.”
“All right then,” Rusty said as he turned to leave. “By the way, do you play poker?”
“Yeah, but I’m not very good at it,” Reb said.
“One of our regulars had to drop out of our regular weekly game and we sure could use a fourth player,” Rusty said. “If you’re interested, drop by my place at eight.”
Reb arrived at Rusty’s place at eight and Rusty introduced him to the other two players, who were already seated at the table, Billy Morris and Dave Foster.
Dave Foster was a short, chubby, friendly fellow, with curly blond hair and blue eyes. He was a retired veterinarian who lived in unit 1302—on the next floor up right above Rusty’s condo—with his wife of thirty-four years.
Billy Morris, who had just turned forty, was Seaside Beach’s Chief of Police. He was almost as tall as Reb and a little more heavyset. He lived in unit 605 on the sixth floor with his wife and two kids. Billy’s condo unit was provided by the Town of Seaside Beach as part of his compensation package.
It was a friendly poker game and gave Reb a chance to get acquainted with some of his neighbors. He learned that Billy was in the National Guard and had done two tours of duty in Iraq before becoming the Chief of Police. He learned that Dave, who at age 66 was a couple of years older than Rusty, had also served in Vietnam, as a medic.
The other men learned that Reb had served in Afghanistan, was single, new to the area, didn’t have a girlfriend, anywhere, and was in the process of acquiring a sportfisherman—with Rusty’s assistance—so he could go into the charter boat fishing business.
“What’re you going to name your new boat, Reb?” David asked.
“Reb’s Revenge is going to be the name of the boat and I’m going to have the lettering applied to the sides of the boat,” Reb replied.
“Revenge for what?” Billy asked.
Reb looked around the table at the other players. “You’ve all heard the old saying that living well is the best revenge. Well, the best revenge I could think of for all of the crap I put up with in Afghanistan was to move to Seaside Beach, get me a condo with an ocean view—so I can sit out on the balcony, drink beer, and watch the beach bunnies—and get a nice boat so I can go fishing anytime I want to.”
“Damn, that sounds like a plan to me,” Billy said.
When the talk around the table finally turned to politics, like it so often does, everyone was of the same mind that the new President’s policies regarding the economy and Iraq and Afghanistan were all wrong and that the country was going to hell in a handbasket. Everybody at the table also agreed that the election in 2012 couldn’t come too soon so they could vote the clown out of office.
Everybody hit it off with Reb and the feeling was mutual. About the time everybody was ready to call it an evening, Rusty—speaking for the group—told Reb that they played poker every Tuesday night at eight and he was invited to join the group. Reb, who was ahead by thirty dollars, gladly accepted.
As they were leaving Rusty’s condo, Billy turned to Reb and said, “Reb, you got anything planned for tomorrow morning?”
“Not really,” Reb replied. “I just need to make a phone call to my bank, but that shouldn’t take long. What’s up?”
“There’s a model doing a photo shoot out on the beach tomorrow morning and they hired the Seaside Beach Police Department to provide a security detail while they’re taking their photographs and I’m short a man,” Billy said. “How’d you like to stand around drinking coffee, eating donuts, and watching a pretty girl get her picture taken?”
“Sounds good to me, Billy,” Reb said. “Who’s the model? Anyone I should know?”
“Her name’s Honey Brown,” Billy said. “While you were busy fighting radical Islamic terrorism in Afghanistan, she’s been pursuing a career as a plus-size model. You’ve probably seen her on magazine covers or some TV commercial.”
“Damn, if she’s the girl I’m thinking of, she’s drop-dead gorgeous,” Reb said.
“Yes, she is,” Billy said. “Okay then, meet me downstairs in front of the middle elevator at the ground level of the parking garage at seven tomorrow morning and I’ll see you then.”
* * *
The first time Reb saw Honey was the Wednesday morning after the poker game. He and Billy had met up in the garage the next morning as they planned and they drove west on Perdido Beach Boulevard to the five star luxury hotel on the beach where Honey Brown and the members of her photo shoot crew were staying.
On the way over to the hotel, Reb asked, “What does providing a security detail for this kind of thing involve, Billy?”
“We’re supposed to keep anyone from interfering with the photo shoot. You know, like folks out walking on the beach coming up and asking for autographs or trying to butt in and get their picture taken, that sor
t of thing. This time of morning, this time of year, there won’t be a whole lot of tourists out on the beach. So, you and I will be standing around drinking coffee and eating donuts, mostly. And, who knows? Maybe you’ll catch the eye of the desirable Miss Brown and end up sharing her bed tonight.”
Reb laughed and said, “Billy, I can tell you believe in long shots.”
When they arrived at the hotel where the photo shoot was to take place, Reb and Billy walked through the hotel lobby and out the beach side of the building and over to the outdoor swimming pool where they were to meet up with the folks who would be involved in the photo shoot.
Reb had been expecting the famous model to have a large entourage, but there were only seven people plus the catering personnel. There was the model, Honey Brown, her business manager, the photographer, the photographer’s two assistants, a makeup artist, and a hair stylist.
The hotel had been hired to cater the event and there were six members of the hotel’s staff who had setup up a large canopy tent on the beach with a cloth covered serving table and another cloth covered table with chairs for everyone to sit and eat at. They were in the process of ferrying coffee, cold drinks, bottled water, pastries, and other refreshments out to the tent.
The photographer’s two assistants were out on the beach setting up the photography equipment and the makeup artist and the hair stylist were standing by in case they were needed.
Billy saw the business manager, a lady named Sarah Smith, who had dropped by the Seaside Beach Police Department the day before to make the arrangements for the department to provide security, and he went over to say hello to her, leaving Reb to fend for himself.
While Reb was standing around waiting for Billy to return, he turned around and found himself staring at Honey Brown close up. She was wearing a long, white, terry cloth robe that covered her all the way down to below her knees. Reb wondered what she had on underneath the robe.
“My, you’re a big one,” she said, looking up, as she reached out and took his hand. “Hi, I’m Honey Brown. Who are you?”
She was more beautiful up close and in person than the images he’d seen of her last night, when he had been surfing the Internet trying to learn as much as he could about her. The website he’d found had given her vital statistics. She was the same age as Reb, 29. She stood six feet tall and she was curvaceous in all of the right places and very well endowed in the bosom. Reb had wondered about the plus size moniker and decided that, in her case, it just meant that she was a big woman. Her natural hair color was brunette and, right now, that was the color of her hair.
Reb had an awkward moment or two as he stood holding her outstretched hand in his. It was like his brain had frozen up on him. All he could do was look at her. He tried to think of something witty to say, but no words were coming out of his half-opened mouth.
As Reb stood there awkwardly staring at the beautiful Miss Brown, Billy came to his rescue and said, “Miss Brown, I’m Chief Billy Morris of the Seaside Beach Police Department and this young man, who up until recently has gallantly been serving our nation in Afghanistan, is Reb Rogers. We’ll be your security team today, ma’am.”
When Reb still didn’t say anything, Honey asked, “Cat got your tongue Mr. Rogers?” just to pick on him a little bit.
Then she winked at him and it was like he came out of a trance.
“Please, call me Reb, ma’am,” Reb said, finally getting the words out of his mouth. “It’s a pleasure meeting you.”
After that, everyone proceeded down to the beach where the shoot was to take place. Reb wasn’t quite sure how it happened but he and Honey ended up walking together. On the way to the beach, Honey asked Reb how he liked working in the police department and he explained that he was just filling in because one of Billy’s officers couldn’t make it.
It was a beautiful day for a swimsuit shoot. It was sunny, it was warm, and there was little or no breeze. There was hardly anyone else out on the beach either, so Billy’s prediction that he and Reb would spend the day drinking coffee, eating donuts, and watching the proceedings was turning out to be correct.
When they got down to the beach, Reb and Honey separated. Honey walked over to the small tent that had been setup for her to make wardrobe changes near where the photographer had setup his equipment. Reb went over to the tent canopy, where he helped himself to some coffee and a donut, and then pulled up a folding chair next to Billy to watch Honey pose for the photographer.
Honey came back out of the wardrobe-changing tent and removed the terry cloth robe she was wearing to reveal that she had on a very sexy white thong bikini outfit underneath, which accentuated her statuesque, hourglass figure.
Reb almost choked on his donut when he noticed that Honey was looking at him. She smiled and waved at him. Then, for the next hour, the photographer had her strike pose after pose trying to capture just the right look with his camera. There was a certain athletic grace in all of her movements as she posed for the photographer. Reb couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.
When they broke for lunch, everyone went under the tent canopy and made their way around the table of food laid out like a buffet that had been prepared by the hotel’s kitchen staff. Somehow Reb and Honey ended up sitting together at the white linen cloth covered dining table. Between bites, they chatted and Honey found out that Reb had spent the last eight years serving in Afghanistan as an officer in the Army and had only recently made Seaside Beach his home. Reb asked Honey how she had gotten into modeling and she told him that a modeling agent had noticed her sashaying around the campus at Texas A&M University her senior year and that was how she got her start.
At the end of the photo shoot that day, as they were walking from the beach to the hotel, Reb asked Honey if she would like to go out with him for dinner that evening and she said yes, but told Reb that she’d prefer to eat at the hotel’s restaurant—she said the food was excellent and the bartender made a mean margarita—if that was okay with Reb. They agreed to meet in the restaurant’s bar at seven.
On the drive back to Seaside Tower, Billy asked, “You up for another day of security detail, tomorrow?”
“Sure, my bank said it would take a couple of days to arrange for the cash before I can close the deal on my new boat, so I’m available.”
“Okay then, I’ll see you in the garage tomorrow morning same place, same time,” Billy said.
“I’ll be there,” Reb said.
“By the way, if I’m not mistaken, it sure looked like Miss Brown was more than just a little interested in you.”
“I don’t know about that, but I asked her out to dinner tonight and she accepted my invitation.”
“Good for you, Reb,” Billy said. “Just don’t keep her out too late and make her miss the starting time for the shoot, tomorrow.”
Reb laughed and said, “I’ll try not to.”
CHAPTER 15
Aboard Reb’s Revenge
Out in the Gulf of Mexico
70 Miles off Seaside Beach, Alabama
Saturday, April 17, 2010
1:35 p.m. Central Time
Reb and Honey had a late lunch below in the cabin of the Revenge and afterwards went back topside to do some more fishing. Reb was really enjoying being out in the Gulf on the Revenge with Honey. For the past week she had been in Miami on a modeling assignment and Reb had missed her terribly.
Whenever Honey was out of town on an assignment, it was their custom that Honey would call Reb before turning in every night so they could catch up with each other’s activities that day. Thursday night, when Honey had called, she told Reb that she would be getting back middle of the afternoon on Friday and that she would really love to go out in the Gulf fishing with him when she got back.
When Honey’s chartered business jet arrived at Jack Edwards Airport in Gulf Shores at 3:15 pm on Friday afternoon, Reb was there to meet her. They drove from the airport back to Reb’s condo first so that Honey could drop off her luggage and grab what she needed
for the fishing trip. Reb was so excited to have Honey back home after being separated from her for several days that he waylaid her in the master bedroom and they had their way with one another. Afterwards, they made the short drive across Perdido Beach Boulevard to Rusty’s Marina, which was on the other side of the road from Seaside Tower Condominium Complex. They left Reb’s SUV in the marina’s parking lot, walked down to slip D7 where Reb kept Reb’s Revenge moored, and cast off for an overnight fishing trip.
* * *
Seven Months Earlier
Seaside Beach, Alabama
Wednesday Evening, September 23, 2009
Reb walked into the hotel’s bar a little before seven wearing khaki trousers and an untucked, brightly colored, tropical short-sleeve shirt.
It didn’t take him long to spot Honey sitting on a stool at the bar surrounded by a small crowd of admiring males. She was wearing faded blue jeans and a white polo shirt that showed off her figure quite nicely. Reb thought she looked absolutely gorgeous.
As soon as Honey saw Reb, she stood up and said, “Gentlemen, it’s been fun, but you’ll have to pardon me. My date is here and I’m starving.”
Honey picked up her clutch, walked to where Reb was standing, and took his arm. “I’m so glad to see you. They had me completely surrounded.”
“I can imagine that happens to you a lot,” Reb said, noticing that he was getting some you lucky dog you looks from the men in the bar who had been hitting on Honey.
Honey laughed. “It goes with the territory.”
They entered the restaurant and, after the maître d' told Honey how good it was to see her again, he escorted them to a secluded booth.
Reb and Honey took their seats opposite each other in the booth. When Honey laid her clutch down on the table it made a solid clunk.
Reb looked at Honey’s purse, then at her, and asked, “What have you got in that thing, an anvil?”
