A Ryan Weller Box Set Book 4 - 6 by Evan Graver

Author:Evan Graver [Graver, Evan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Third Reef Publishing, LLC
Published: 2020-02-03T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY

Mango and Ryan piled the Hulseys’ belongings in Alamo’s cockpit, then bundled them into a cargo net and lowered them to Jennifer, who had procured several wheelbarrows to move everything across the boatyard. Jennifer pushed one and the men took turns pushing the other cart to Margarita.

On the latest return trip, Ryan and Jennifer ducked behind the giant wooden hull of an old fishing boat. The planks were rotting, the paint flaking off, and weeds had sprouted between the timbers. Ryan doubted it would ever see the water again. He fished out a pack of Marlboro Golds, because the local store didn’t carry his favored Camels, and handed a cigarette to Jennifer. She took a long drag while he lit his.

Ryan had his shirt off and wore just board shorts and flip-flops. She had her hair in a ponytail and was wearing her green-and-white, one-piece swimsuit with terry cloth shorts. Perspiration had soaked the white diamond around her navel, making it translucent, and her nipples were hard. It was hard not to notice.

“You need to come up with a different name for the boat,” he said, distracting himself.

“Yeah.” She leaned against an old sawhorse. “We talked about it but haven’t had any good ideas.”

They finished their smokes and walked back to Alamo.

“Where have you guys been?” Mango demanded. He had several loads on the ground and was on his way up the ladder for another.

“Ryan took a smoke break.”

“One-handed worker,” Mango grumbled.

“I can go find something else to do,” Ryan replied.

“One hand is better than no hands. Now get your ass up here.”

Ryan scrambled up the ladder.

Mango lowered his voice. “I need to figure out how to get two items to the cat that aren’t exactly legal here, know what I mean?”

In the cabin, Mango pulled out a Springfield SOCOM M1A rifle with a large scope, bipod, and a precision adjustable stock. He laid it on the sofa, then retrieved a Mossberg Marine shotgun. “That bastard stole my Glock.”

“What about breaking them down?” Ryan asked.

“That works for the shotgun, but the rifle doesn’t come apart as easily, and you’re still stuck with the length of the barrel and the stock.”

“We’ll figure something out. Put it back in the hole for now.”

Mango slid the guns back into their hiding spot beneath a false bottom of the settee seat.

Ryan watched with curiosity. “Where are you going to stick those in the new boat?”

“For now, under the tub. No one’s going to tear it apart to look for contraband.”

Ryan’s phone rang, and he climbed out of the hot, stinky cabin to answer it.

Ashlee Calvo was on the other end of the line. “Hey, Ryan, guess what?”

“You got a hit on my mystery sketch and the feds are closing in to arrest him.”

“Close,” she said. “You know, Don and I set our wedding date. Next May at his parents’ house on Buchanan Lake outside of Austin. They have a little beach in their backyard where we’ll have the ceremony and we’re going to set up tents for the reception.

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