The Complete Troy Bodean Tropical Thriller Collection by David F Berens

Author:David F Berens [Berens, David F]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tropical Thrillers Press
Published: 2020-04-16T22:00:00+00:00

Two days later, Remington woke up. His doctor was checking his vital signs and shaking his head.

“I have no idea how you made it, Mr. Reginald,” the doctor said as he laid a chart down on the bed at his feet and began listening to his heart. “You should’ve died. The trauma to your head should’ve given you severe brain damage and maybe even spinal cord damage.”

Remington smiled and looked at his dad. Brant winked at him.

“How you managed to drive that boat onto the beach is a miracle,” the doctor said. “You should be really glad that bartender found you there. What was his name?”

“Gino,” Remington said through a throat that felt like sandpaper, “I think he said his name was Gino. Pretty good looking.”

He looked up at his dad, whose eyebrows rose, and then settled down above a broad smile.

“Well,” —the doctor wrapped his stethoscope around his neck and picked up his clipboard— “if you get a chance, you really should thank him.”

“I will,” Remington said as the doctor walked out.

“Good looking, eh?” Brant asked.

“Just giving you a hard time, Dad.”

Brant lifted the bag to the bed and opened the flap. The skunk jumped out, and crawled immediately onto Remington’s lap. He curled up into a ball and promptly went to sleep.

“How did you come by this little fella?” Brant asked.

“He found me,” Remington said. “I call him Pepe.”

Brant nodded. “I had to bring him along. I was afraid he would spray me if I didn’t.”

Remington laughed and then coughed a few times.

“Easy son, you’ve got a long recovery ahead of you.” Brant rested his hand on his son’s arm.

“I’m just glad you’re here, Dad.”

“Me too.”

Remington inhaled slowly. “So, what’s next for you, Dad? I know you’ve got a lot of choices for your next preaching job.”

Brant shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I’m not sure that’s what God wants for me. I might try to find a little place to rent and just have a few small group meetings. You know, just take it slow.”

“That sounds good,” Remington said. “Where are you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Brant said, “maybe something down in Coral Gables or over in Doral. They have great golf out there, ya know?”

“High dollar places, Dad.” Remington sucked his teeth.

“Yeah,” Brant said, “I may have to start small, but I might be able get an investor or backer.”

Remington appeared to consider this. “How much are you looking for?”

“Not sure,” Brant said, “maybe a hundred grand?”

“Remington smiled. “I think I know where we can get that.”

Brant arched an eyebrow.

“It’s good to see you back, Dad,” Remington said.

“It’s good to be back, son.” Brant touched the medallion on his chest with the engraving of St. Christopher. “And it feels like I’ve finally made it home.”

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