“I guess he really isn’t going to jail,” Rogan mused.
Gina bristled. “Who is that?”
A head poked out from the Jeep.
“Hey, get in!”
It was Bill.
Chapter 50
“Hurry, I hate being wet.”
Rogan and Gina glanced at one another as they left the Jeep and followed Bill into the mansion. That was just like him, all right. He was the type of guy who would complain about getting wet even when he took a shower.
They went into the house and closed the broken down door as best as they could. No one said anything about the corpses on the ground, like not mentioning them was enough to make them disappear. Besides, they were all sick and tired of violence.
They went to the library which had come out of this ordeal unscathed. It was exactly what they needed right now, no reminders of their weekend of violence. Gina volunteered to fetch some towels as Rogan collapsed into a chair. Bill sat next to him.
“We thought you were dead,” Rogan said.
“I thought I was dead, too!”
“But you weren’t.”
“No, didn’t happen. I didn’t even see a bright light. It’s kind of disappointing, when you think about it. This seriously diminishes the value of my anecdote.”
“So what happened?”
Gina returned. In addition to the thick towels, she was carrying bottles of water. “Yeah, what happened? We thought you were dead.”
Rogan winked at her. “I already said that.”
“I got shot. Look!”
Bill pointed at his neck. There was a deep red line slashing through his skin.
“You weren’t shot.”
“I was shot, I swear!”
“You were grazed.”
“That’s a bullet wound!”
“I hate to break it to you, but the round barely kissed your flesh.”
“Well, it was like stepping on a landline, okay? It hurts.”
Gina had difficulty containing her amusement. She distributed the towels and water.
“What happened to you, Bill?”
“This terrible life-threatening gunshot,” he said, squinting at the two others, “it sent me flying through the bushes. I hit my head on a rock and fell into the water. Stormy water, for the record. In a hurricane.”
“And then?”
Bill shrugged. “I was woozy, disoriented. I was in and out of water for a while. I thought I was going to drown before I washed up on shore again.”
“You went into hiding?” Rogan asked.
“I’m not some super trained government commando or whatever like you. So excuse the hell out of me for keeping my head down.”
“It’s fine. It’s what I would’ve advised you to do.”
Bill had been gearing up for an argument, and when there wasn’t one, it took the wind out of his sails. He nodded and drank.
“I did try to find you guys again, but I couldn’t. I found the Jeep and decided that I would wait until the last minute to come to this house. I didn’t know if these bastards were still here.”
“It’s over now, ladies and gentlemen. It’s over.”
“Not quite.”
“They’re getting away!” Bill spat, outraged.
Rogan was about to tell them that they wouldn’t get far. It would be easy enough to locate and arrest them. He instead gave them a sanitized version of the fight with Blake. He was light on decapitation details and heavy on the underground mudslide tunnels.
Gina nodded, impressed. “Reminds me of The Goonies.”
She had a point, Rogan decided in hindsight. Although it had been much less fun and there hadn’t been any pirate treasures in the end. He then told them about contacting the Coast Guard and how they would be here after the weather cleared. He explained that the FBI wouldn’t have much trouble finding the yacht after that.
“Oh my God,” Gina exclaimed. “Look!”
The Jersey Devil jerked to the right and listed dangerously.
“They came aground. They hit something.”
The yacht was almost sideways when a rogue wave hit them broadside. The Jersey Devil was thrown about, the stern whipping around. Although they couldn’t see it from the house, the hull encountered sharp rocks and ruptured.
“It just split in two,” Bill said in awe, watching the end result.
Indeed, the ship had broken like a twig. The lights flickered as water flooded the engine room. The waves continued to hammer at the yacht until the lights went out completely and sank within minutes.
Nothing needed to be said. It was evident what had happened. Rogan thought about the captain. He was a cocky son of a bitch. He would have believed himself capable of maneuvering through a hurricane. He wouldn’t have abandoned ship. Besides, a lifeboat in this sea wouldn’t have lasted more than two minutes before capsizing.
These guys were dead.
It took a while for anyone to speak again. Rogan suggested they sampled some of Sabatini’s expensive booze and there were no objections. He made a sling for his arm with one of the towels as the two others went looking for the scotch—and mineral water for Gina. Rogan fell asleep after one glass.
When he woke up, the hurricane had passed.
It was still raining, but it was more like a drizzle. It was day now, almost noon. He sat up from his spot on the floor, his arm throbbing even worse now that he didn’t have anything to focus his mind on. His entire body was sore, in fact.
“Sleep well?”
It was Gina. She was sitting on the other side of the room, her knees pulled up against her chest. Bill was ten feet away, snoring soundly.
“Hey. I guess I still need about two weeks of sleep. You?”
“I mostly stayed up and watched the water churning.”
He squinted. “I thought you were afraid of the water?”
“I don’t know, it’s kind of beautiful to watch. I never noticed before.”
He was about to reply when he heard a mechanical noise. It was low, muffled. A helicopter.
Gina and Rogan stood up and watched through the window. Several miles away, a Coast Guard cutter was stationary. The ocean had calmed down and the red-and-white helicopter was flying their way.
A sense of serenity came over Rogan. He knew how the rest would unfold. They would be flown out, get first aid on the Bernard C. Webber, and finally be evacuated to Miami. Agents Krause and Khoury would insist on an immediate debrief, but with the USB drive, things would go much smoother. The case was closed, his involvement in it anyway.
The FBI and Bahamian police would spend weeks—maybe months—on the island to sort this mess out. Rogan didn’t care, it wasn’t his problem anymore. Gina and Bill would likely come out of this as heroes. They’d get TV interviews, probably book deals too. New careers.
Rogan would slip away into anonymity. The last thing he wanted was to be in the spotlight again.
He calculated in his head. All things considered, it was early. Maybe he’d still have time to do his barbecue and try the new potato salad recipe this weekend.
“Wake Bill up, will you? Let’s get out of this place.”
“Good,” she replied. “I’ve had just about enough of Murder Island.”
THE END
Don't miss the other Rogan Bricks adventures:
The President Killed His Wife
Counterblow
Turn the page for more exciting books!
About the Author
Steve Richer is the bestselling author of the action thriller The President Killed His Wife. He went to law school and film school before considering becoming a sherpa, though he abandoned the idea upon discovering what a sherpa really was. Now he spends his days writing books.
on movies. He splits his time between Montreal and Miami.
You can Like Steve on Facebook for all the latest news.
Sign up for the newsletter now and receive a FREE NOVEL and EXCLUSIVE short story!
Also by Steve Richer
The President Killed His Wife (Rogan Bricks 1)
Counterblow (Rogan Bricks 2)
The Pope’s Suicide
Terror Bounty
Park Avenue Blackmail
The Kennedy Secret
The Gilded Treachery
Never Bloodless
The Atomic Eagle
Sigma Division
First Thrill
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
About the Author