Crystal Blue (Buck Reilly Adventure Series Book 3), John Cunningham [top fiction books of all time TXT] 📗

could already see the heavy boat traffic aimed at Jost Van Dyke. It came from all directions: sailboats, power boats, cruisers, ferries, sloops, fishing boats, everyone ready for the all-star concert. I glanced back at Stud Mahoney—his smirk reignited my desire to punch his lights out.

I wouldn’t exactly call what I’d initiated a plan, but I hoped it would buy some time. We passed by Sandy Spit, the small island between Tortola and Jost Van Dyke. It was also the place where Crystal and John hatched their plan for this concert. Would he be missing now if they’d never set foot on that pink-sand oasis?

I added fifteen degrees of flaps and the Beast began to descend. We carved a sweeping turn around Georgy Hole Point and straightened out, aimed into the heart of Little Harbor.

“Missed it by one, brudda,” Boom-Boom said. “Great Harbor’s the next bay over.” He pointed toward the steep wall of green vegetation that made up the western edge of Little Harbor.

“I know.”

He nodded and glanced back out the window. Say what you will, but guys like Boom-Boom knew how to think on the fly.

“Why’re we landing here, Buck?” Crystal shouted. I lifted my headset off my right ear.

“Too much traffic in Great Harbor.”

With our airspeed down to a near stall, the helicopters caught up and flanked us. We set down in the middle of the harbor, which was largely unoccupied. The plane slowed in the aquamarine waters, came off the step, and settled into a nice taxi toward the western corner of the bay.

“Sidney’s Peace and Love?” Boom-Boom said.

I nodded. “Do me a favor and get up in the nose, open the hatch and ready the line. We’ll tie up at their dock.”

“The cops’ll just drive over here from Foxy’s.”

Rather than respond I watched the point, feathered the props, and further reduced power as we glided toward the dock in front of Sidney’s. A large man stepped out onto the dock just as Boom-Boom grumbled and squeezed below the instrument panel to do as I’d asked.

A boat sped around the point, slicing through the water like a sailfish. The narrow beam, high speed, and three men on board had me holding my breath. The boat slowed and settled into the water fifty yards away.

Ray Floyd waved from the bow.

Thank God.

Back in the cabin, the woman with Stud Mahoney glanced again at Boom-Boom’s bales of grass. There was no back-down on her face.

Yeah, bitch, I get it.

Crystal, on the other hand, was frozen in her seat. With her husband still missing, the concert upon us, and the bogus kidnapping, our landing in this strange location had her paralyzed.

“We’re going to be okay,” I said. “Ray and Lenny are here with Captain Jeremy, and they’ll run us over to Foxy’s. The police are there, and with Stud found, they’ll double their efforts to find John.”

She looked up into my eyes. A sneer twisted her lips as she glanced back toward the actor and his manager.

“Assholes.” Her voice was a whisper.

“Now that this is over,” Mahoney said. “I’ll do what I can to push the cops to find your husband—”

“Spare me,” Crystal said.

“You keep our secret, and you guys can have the reward from the studio,” the manager said. “And we’ll keep your secret.”

“What secret?” Crystal said.

The woman pointed toward the bales, just as the side hatch popped open. Lenny Jackson’s big grin instantly lightened the mood.

“Goddamn, Buck! You rescued Stud Mahoney! Son of a bitch!”

“He’s a hero all right!” Stud said. “All of them are.”

“Man, the cops and press are going crazy on the other side of that hill. Let’s get your asses over there.…” Lenny’s smile faded as his eyes caught the bales. As a native Conch, he was no stranger to square grouper, as marijuana bales are referred to in the Keys.

The sound of the helicopters that hovered above us made Lenny flinch. Stud Mahoney jumped up from the seat, ran his fingers through his hair, and leaned out of the hatch. He looked up and waved toward the cameras, laughed and pumped his fist in the air. His manager followed but took measures to hide her face.

Crystal unbuckled.

I took her shoulders in my hands. “This isn’t over yet, Crystal. Don’t give up, okay? When we get over to Great Harbor the press and police will focus on Stud. I don’t really care what their story is because I still have to find John.”

Her eyes softened. Tears welled up that blurred the soft amber of her irises. My mind shot back to the early morning hours. My heart held as much regret as it did peace at my decision. Right or wrong, I was still here for her now.

“You focus on herding the celebrities,” I said. “I’ll circle the wagons and see if there’s any news about John.”

She took a deep breath, stood, and planted a long kiss on my cheek. My eyes closed for a second, then she was out the hatch.

Could I pull a rabbit out of my hat?

Hell, I didn’t even have a hat.

THE SALT AIR STUCK to my skin as we raced across the water toward Great Bay. The helicopters circled above and I imagined their footage was live on networks all over the country.

Boom-Boom had stayed with the plane, but I insisted on locking it up. We skipped through the bay and dodged boats. Word had spread fast, even for the coconut telegraph. My stomach turned.

Police boats cleared a path and we pulled up to the pier outside Foxy’s, greeted by numerous uniforms both medical and law enforcement. Amongst the faces was Special Agent T. Edward Booth, no doubt pissed that Stud had been rescued outside his jurisdiction. Closer to the front was Zach Ober in his EMT uniform, his gold tooth reflecting the sun.

The far end of the pier was a mob of cameramen and broadcast equipment awaiting the opportunity to swarm the movie star,