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

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

Author:Wayne Stinnett [Stinnett, Wayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down Island Press, LLC
Published: 2017-08-21T22:00:00+00:00


It was still dark outside, but I guessed sunrise would be coming soon. Devon had drifted back off to sleep an hour earlier, after another boisterous round of lovemaking. Her head lay on my shoulder, and my arm around her was numb.

I’d been lying in bed thinking about where our relationship was headed. That wasn’t something I’d done much pondering over in the past. Quite a few women had come into and out of my life since Sandy left with the girls, nineteen years before. Things got very busy for me after she left, with multiple deployments to the Middle East and embassy duty in Somalia, so I didn’t really have much of a social life.

An incident in Mogadishu had ended with my being transferred back to Camp Lejeune as a sniper instructor. It also nixed any chance of advancement beyond Gunnery Sergeant, and I retired from the Corps five years later.

While at Lejeune, I met a woman in a bar, and we got married a month later. Big mistake. I’d been so busy in the previous four years that I hadn’t had time for dating, and fell hard for the first woman who let me into her bed. It only lasted nine months.

After leaving the Corps and settling in the Keys, there’d been a succession of women, mostly just flings with tourists. None of those had developed into any kind of relationship.

Then I’d met Alex. Alex had been my soul mate in many ways, but she’d been murdered on our wedding night. When I lost her, I thought I’d never find happiness again. There had been a few women in the three years since, but fate always seemed to devise a plan to move them out of my life.

Would the same thing happen with Devon?

I looked at her asleep beside me, unsure how I felt about her. Being older—and hopefully wiser—I no longer rushed into things. Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast; that was the mantra of house-to-house fighting in the sandbox, Iraq and Afghanistan. With some things, moving too fast means doing it over.

The air was dry and cool, the front having finally arrived in the middle of the night. It rarely gets cold here in the Keys, but occasionally a front that dumps snow in Dallas or Atlanta will push far enough south to make the mercury fall into the fifties here. This time of year, it only brought cold rain to those places, and the change in temperature here was slight, but noticeable.

I brought my mind back to the task at hand. The car would be the hard part. There were plenty of rental places in both Marathon and Miami. But a Civic or Prius wasn’t what a man like Stretch Buchannan would drive, even a toned-down version of him. Chyrel said she could adjust his online presence, so while waiting for Deuce in the hotel room, we’d changed his persona a little, making him a bit less threatening, should Carmichael have the wherewithal to check.



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