Adventures In A Pair-A-Dice

Michael Peters Terry

Description

A fictional tale of a thirty-something biker who becomes inadvertently involved in an illegal drug operation that goes bad. He escapes death by going overboard near an island, is rescued by vacationing sailors and returns to South Florida. There he contacts and is hired by a wealthy Palm Beach family to pursue locating their son who went missing after the failed drug operation. The missing son is involved with dangerous people running drugs from South America through the Caribbean to South Florida and is being forced to smuggle cocaine into the States. The protagonist and his best friend, Tom, are provided with a fast boat, money and guns by the father, Mr. Saxton, in order to effect the rescue of the scion, Bruce. The two bikers then travel to the islands following one lead and another until they locate the hostage and using skill, stealth and determination, return him to his father. Ultimately, the two return to Florida to collect their reward, secure their long term plans and then head West on another adventure.

Sujets

• Adventure (Guyana)
• Adventure
• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: First Edition Design Publishing
• Date de parution: 01 avril 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781622878659
• Langue: English

Extrait

Adventures
In A
Pair-A-Dice

First Edition Design Publishing
Sarasota, Florida
Adventures In A Pair-A-Dice
Copyright ©2015 Terry Michael Peters

ISBN 978-1622-878-64-2 PRINT
ISBN 978-1622-878-65-9 EBOOK

LCCN 2015934670

March 2015

Published and Distributed by
First Edition Design Publishing, Inc.
P.O. Box 20217, Sarasota, FL 34276-3217
www.firsteditiondesignpublishing.com



ALL R I G H T S R E S E R V E D. No p a r t o f t h i s b oo k pub li ca t i o n m a y b e r e p r o du ce d, s t o r e d i n a r e t r i e v a l s y s t e m , o r t r a n s mit t e d i n a ny f o r m o r by a ny m e a ns ─ e l e c t r o n i c , m e c h a n i c a l , p h o t o - c o p y , r ec o r d i n g, or a ny o t h e r ─ e x ce pt b r i e f qu ot a t i o n i n r e v i e w s , w i t h o ut t h e p r i o r p e r mi ss i on o f t h e a u t h o r or publisher .

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
I would like to dedicate this book to my Mother for encouraging me to write it all down, as well as, supporting me in all my endeavors. And, to my best friend Tom, who was a big part of this story.

Also, to my friends Gary and Doug, as well as to all those who have ventured down roads less travelled.


Tommy
3/3/1950 – 8/12/2001

Gary Doug
3/9/1951 – 3/4/2002 10/19/1955 – 11/21/2000


And, I’d like to thank Kimball Love, my girlfriend for the past 20 some years, for typing, editing and encouraging me to finish writing this story.
Adventures
In A
Pair-A-Dice

Terry Michael Peters
Chapter 1



As I held my hand up to my face, the tiny light from my watch sliced through the blackness of the night with the brilliance of a flashlight. It was now one o’clock in the morning and the air was thick with dampness as if it were about to rain.
It had been well over an hour since the last car had passed and I was getting wearier by the minute. I could have fallen asleep right there in the underbrush alongside the road except for the fear of waking up with a snake or some poisonous insect indigenous to the area as a bedfellow.
There I was standing in the middle of the state on a highway named after a reptile they use to make shoes and pocketbooks. This was the first time my Harley had ever left me stranded. It was more my fault than the bike’s though.
I had brought along a set of points but this time the condenser had fried itself. I was on my way to meet some fellow bikers then head up to Daytona for the annual run there. My girlfriend was waiting for me in West Palm and my not showing up at the prescribed time would leave her thinking that I had run into one of my usual diversions.
Just then I saw the lights of an oncoming vehicle heading in my direction. My first thought was to lie down in the road, thinking that whoever it was would stop. I was desperate at that point but I remembered a story once told to me of a person getting run over by a drunk that way and I opted for the conventional outstretched hand and a look of cold desperation.
As the lights got closer, I noticed that there were two pairs of headlights. I had been here for the past hour and a half without a car going by in either direction and now there were two cars, both going my way. The chances of my getting out of the godforsaken place and on to West Palm, where I knew a warm bed would be waiting, looked good. Before I could finish my thoughts, both cars roared past with the first of them almost running me down.
When I turned around voicing my disgust, I saw the brake lights come on and both cars came to a full stop. First they each went by me and now both cars wanted to give me a ride? I wasn’t about to reason it out, I just grabbed my bag and ran up the road toward the cars.
As I approached, a guy in the first car leaned out the window and told me to get in. I thought this to be odd but figured that both cars were travelling together. I squeezed into the back seat next to a couple of duffel bags and before I could get comfortably situated we were off and down the road.
My two newfound travelling companions seemed amiable enough. Introductions were made and after the usual exchange of information as to how far and where I was going, things got pretty quiet. I had mixed emotions about leaving the bike behind but felt sure that no one would find it after taking such care in camouflaging it with the brush from the roadside.
Just as I was figuring on getting some shut eye, the one who had introduced himself as Bruce started asking me a barrage of questions. He wanted to know what I did and where I was going after my stay in West Palm.
The questions kept coming and I was reaching the point of politely telling him how tired and in need of sleep I was when he asked if I would be interested in making some fast money. Now, I’d been around enough to know that when somebody asks if you’re interested in making some fast money it more than likely involves something illegal.
My first reaction was to say, “No. I don’t think so.”
I mean I was tired and, up to that point, was only thinking of a hot shower and a warm bed. But when he asked the second time, I thought I had nothing to lose by hearing out his proposition.
The proposition was that for five hundred dollars all I had to do was help him and his friend deliver a boat to a small island in the Bahamas that was about seventy miles from the coast of Florida. We would leave the boat in the islands and then we would fly back the following morning.
Right off it didn’t seem to add up but I reasoned that if these guys were smugglers they would more than likely be doing it the other way around - flying to this island and bringing a boat back. Then I thought perhaps someone there in the islands needed the boat for some such purpose and that it was worth his while to pay outlandishly to have his boat delivered to him in the islands.
For whatever reasons, I had the time and was always in need of money. I could use the extra money for the bottom end on my Harley’s engine. I had been wanting to split the cases for some time but the lack of money was holding me back. So I agreed to the deal and soon after things got quiet again. Not long after, I fell asleep.
When I woke up we were within the city limits. I looked around behind us and noticed that the car that had been travelling with us was gone but didn’t bother giving it anymore thought.
We stopped for coffee and when Bruce returned from making a phone call, he informed us that we would be leaving within the next hour. Kevin, who was the driver of the car that had delivered me from the wilderness to the warmth of the restaurant, seemed surprised that we would be leaving so soon.
The idea of heading out to sea at three o’clock in the morning didn’t bother me as I had done a lot of night sailing between the islands before. The plan was for Kevin and me to meet Bruce at the city marina in an hour and that he was going to ready the boat for the trip before we got there. As Bruce pulled away in the taxi, Kevin mentioned something about killing some time. He then turned around and walked back inside the restaurant.
I followed him back to one of the booths where we sat and drank more coffee. Like more than a few times before, we discovered that we both shared the mutual misfortune of having spent time in Vietnam during the height of the war. With the rehashing of old war stories the hour passed by quickly and it was now time to make our way to the Intracoastal Waterway.
Kevin pulled the car into the marina and I could see Bruce at the main dock in what appeared to be about a 34 foot Scarab. Sure enough, it was and it had the power, too. Kevin mentioned that the engines were a pair of reworked 400s and when Bruce fired them up the engines sounded like they had more than the usual grind on the cams.
Kevin unloaded the two duffel bags that I had shared the back seat with, along with a few more boxes from the trunk. Once everything was on the boat, we drifted away from the dock and were off.
We headed up the Intracoastal to the inlet, made a right, and in no time at all, we were doing 60 mph over an ocean that was like glass. The stars were bright and I wondered where they had been a few hours ago when I was stuck in the middle of nowhere.
Down below, the boat was laid out like a rich man’s home, complete with a sound system that made mine back home sound like a Walkman. Kevin yelled down below and asked if I wanted to handle the controls for a while.
As I took the wheel, he gave me one of those looks like ‘it’s all yours’ . I brought the rpms up and trimmed off a bit as we roared on through the night to the sounds of Jackson Browne singing ‘Running On Empty’ accompanied by the throaty roar of the four hundreds doing their thing.
Time passed quickly and Bruce, who had been the quiet one since we left the restaurant, mentioned that we would soon be there and that he wanted to talk with me down below. I handed the helm back to Kevin and went down below.
Bruce was sitting there with a puzzled look on his face. I could see that something wasn’t quite right. I asked what was wrong. He then proceeded to describe a scenario that, from the beginning, I thought might have been the case. He then increased his monetary offer to two thousand dollars. Suddenly, I found myself in somewhat of a precarious situation.
My first impulse was to grab this joker by the throat and proposition him with a deal of life or death. At the same time, I figured these guys to be experienced hardball players and that they had already prepared themselves for my reaction to this news in any way, shape or form it might have taken.
I sat across from Bruce at the table and explained that being out here in the m