Merciless Charity: A Charity Styles Novel (Caribbean Thriller Series Book 1) Read Free Page A

sitting at the table where she’d left him, though she was certain that more than just a few minutes had passed. Chyrel stumbled from the door, and the two women walked toward the group.
    “Fentanyl,” Charity heard the director say. “That explains it.”
    Fentanyl? she thought, knowing she’d heard of it before.
    “Ain’t that the stuff the Russians used a coupla years ago?” Donnie Hinkle said. “The Dubrovka Theater?”
    This confirmed the time discrepancy in Charity’s mind. Donnie, an Australian by birth and former SEAL sniper, had been posted on a nearby island some time ago, and now he was suddenly here.
    “Yeah,” Director Stockwell replied as Kim McDermitt and Deputy Phillips approached the table. “A hundred and thirty hostages and all forty terrorists were killed by it.” He nodded toward a metal can, similar to a propane tank. “Where’d you find this?”
    Donnie jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Floating on the bank next to the foot of the pier, Colonel.”
    Stockwell stood up and wobbled a little, as the rest of the team gathered around them. Charity noticed a cut on the back of his head, blood clotted in his closely cropped hair.
    “A heavier-than-air gas,” Stockwell said. “Must have been someone in scuba gear who released it on the north side, letting the breeze carry it over the whole island. Who was first to wake up?”
    “The dog,” Deputy Phillips replied. “Up on the deck.”
    “Makes sense,” Andrew Bourke offered, his deep baritone voice seeming to echo across the island. Andrew, a handsome man with a barrel chest and thick mustache, had arrived on the chopper with Charity. “Had he been down here, he’d have been out longer. The rest of us were already asleep and didn’t even notice it. How long were you knocked out?”
    Two other men had arrived with Donnie and Andrew. Art Newman and Tony Jacobs were standing silently at the end of the table. They had just come on watch as Charity went to the cabin to look at the file. Both men were very capable former SEALs, as was their boss. Tony’s shaved black head was beaded with perspiration.
    Art looked at his wristwatch and said, “Tony and I just started our watch twenty-four minutes ago. I don’t remember anything after my first circuit out to the north pier and back to where Donnie found me, and I woke up just a few minutes ago.”
    “So we were only out for fifteen or twenty minutes,” Stockwell said. “They can’t have gone far.”
    “The dive boat!” Kim shouted.
    “What dive boat?”
    “When Marty and I turned into Harbor Channel, there was a dive boat running without lights out beyond the Contents. The water’s deeper out there, and it was headed east.” She crossed her arms and looked around the group assembled around the table. On the verge of tears, she asked, “Where’s my dad?”
    Stockwell went over to where Kim stood, gently guiding her to the bench and sitting her down. “We’ll find Jesse, Kim. You have my word on that.”
    Charity sat down and put her arm around the girl. “We will.”
    Stockwell started giving orders then. “Get Deuce on the horn,” he told Chyrel and then turned to the young lawman. “Deputy, can you contact the sheriff? We need eyes in the sky. Did you see the dive boat as well?”
    “Yes, sir, I’ll give dispatch a description, and we’ll have a chopper up out of Marathon right away. There may be others in Key Largo, and Key West also.”
    Stockwell reached into his pocket and took out a business card, handing it to Phillips. “Give the sheriff my number. Have him call me right away.”
    “Yes, sir,” the deputy replied, taking the card and running across the clearing.
    Stockwell slowly turned around toward Paul Bender, who’d been on the island when Charity and the others had arrived. Paul was a former Secret Service agent and had a degree in forensic psychology. “They came early, Paul. And covertly.”
    “They must have had a plan ahead of time. It’s