Betrayed Devil Read online

  Betrayed Devil

  Coastal Adventure Series (Volume 2)

  Tom Haase

  Copyright © 2018 Tom Haase. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Similarities to actual events, places, persons or other entities are coincidental.

  www.tomhaase.com

  Betrayed Devil/Tom Haase. — 1st ed.

  Contents

  Also by Tom Haase

  Free Novella

  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

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  About the Author

  Also by Tom Haase

  THE DONAVAN ADVENTURE SERIES

  Secret of the Oil

  Secret Device

  Secret of the Thorns

  Secret of the Bibles

  Secret of the Icon

  Secret Vengeance

  THE COASTAL ADVENTURE SERIES

  Betrayed Angel

  Betrayed Devil

  Betrayed Friend (Winter 2018)

  For the latest information on Tom’s upcoming books, sign up for his free author newsletter at tomhaase.com/news.

  Free Novella

  To receive your free copy of the exclusive Donavan Adventure series novella Secret of the Assassin (not available anywhere else), visit tomhaase.com/assassin.

  1

  The terrified man slammed the throttle forward with his open hand, hoping to get a little more speed from the already screaming engines. The Boston Whaler 370 Outrage had double Mercury Verados 350 outboards, but despite the power of the engines, his pursuers continued to close the distance between them. He took a quick glance over his shoulder as he swerved the boat right, then left on the Savannah River trying to put space between him and his pursuers. Their boat seemed to gain every time he looked back. Unfortunately, on his latest glance to the rear, he saw that the chasing boat had drawn even closer, and he possessed no ability to increase his speed.

  They now had closed to within two hundred feet of his boat and still continued to gain. He swore under his breath as sweat streamed down his forehead and he swerved the boat back to head straight up the river. Suddenly, bullets impacted on his stern, then splintered fiberglass sprayed all around him and over his head. In quick succession, a second volley plowed through the windshield shattering the Plexiglas. He ducked as low as he could while automatically turning the wheel to swerve the boat one more time.

  He checked the package lying beside him in the boat’s cockpit and saw it was okay. At least one part of this operation where he picked up the goods went off as planned. What happened now was definitely not going according to plan.

  The bow of his boat plowed through the water with the red hull reflecting the color of blood off the choppy river. He swerved again, and now headed towards the swiftly approaching shoreline. As he completed this maneuver, a bullet smashed into the back of his skull. Blood sprayed over the entire cockpit, drenching the remains of the windshield in blood and brain matter. The man died without taking another breath.

  His lifeless body slumped forward and pinned itself to the steering wheel, locking in the heading of the current course. The boat never wavered as the speeding craft powered straight toward the two-story warehouse at the shoreline. The building, the fifth structure in the row of buildings, sat on the riverbank close to the downtown area of Savannah.

  The craft that pursued the doomed boat continued to follow at a safe distance and slowed its speed as their target vessel headed for the shore. The men onboard the chase vessel stopped their boat as it became clear that their target was going to crash. There was nothing they could do but watch as the Boston Whaler continued toward its impending destruction.

  The speedboat carrying the corpse plowed into the side of the warehouse with the speed of a charging bull, slamming into the structure near an open bay door. Nearby boats scurried from the area like rats from a sinking ship. The speeding boat ricocheted off the edge of the stone structure, careening into a space inside the open door, and ultimately coming to rest partially inside the building, where it exploded into a fireball. Flaming pieces rained back out onto the river. Prior to the devastating explosion that threw the man’s body free of the boat, the bulky package he had been so concerned with sailed from the boat’s cockpit on impact, landing inside the building. The item landed beneath construction debris floating in the water beyond the boat entrance to the warehouse. The force of the explosion sent the man’s body flying out of the vessel and it became impaled on the metal forks of the boat lift inside the building.

  Witnesses would later say another craft was chasing the boat that exploded, but that it peeled away and sped back along the river after the explosion occurred. People on a passing cruise boat were taking videos of what happened. A few of the pleasure boats on the river rushed to the scene to render assistance, but all backed off as the Department of Natural Resources (DNR) vessel that patrolled the river approached the disaster.

  The DNR possessed police powers and patrolled the waterways of the state. Regrettably, no one took a video or picture of the pursuing boat that now sped away from the scene. One witness claimed he heard shots, but the noise from the boat’s engines prevented them from making a definite identification of gunfire. Others who observed the explosion would say the sirens from the police vessel and those of the fire department wailing in the distance caused the pursuing boat to turn away and hastily leave the scene. Not one of the onlookers actually garnered any information that would be helpful to the police investigation.

  None of these versions portrayed an accurate account of why the boat’s explosion had occurred in the coastal waters of the Savannah River.

  2

  Chuck McGregor flipped the wheel of the Chris-Craft vintage yacht hard to starboard to avoid the oncoming speedboat that appeared headed directly toward him. He and Darlene, the yacht sales lady, were out for a second test drive to confirm that he wanted to purchase this vessel. The approaching boat sped by leaving a turbulent wake that slammed into the gunwale of his boat causing it to heave violently from side to side. He tried to turn quickly enough to see who had done this. Little could be seen of the craft speeding away on the river. Other pleasure boats almost immediately obscured the swiftly retreating vessel. He wasn’t able to gain a complete view of the receding craft as it departed his visual range in those few seconds.

  “Are you all
right?” Chuck asked Darlene, who sat there with a stunned look. She wore a low-cut top, which made for excellent viewing and tight-fitting red short shorts.

  “I'm okay,” said the beautiful red-haired woman recovering from being thrown to the side of the vessel when he turned so quickly and then being bounced around by the wake of the passing speedboat.

  “Who the hell was that?”

  “I don't know, but I’d like to slap him on the head. Not obeying the rules of the road. No courtesy. Probably without any training on how to operate a boat. Where’s the DNR when you need them?”

  As he reasserted control of the vessel and pointed it back to the center of the river, he saw the grouping of boats as he neared his warehouse, his home. Smoke billowed from his interior boat dock. Chuck maneuvered the beautiful 32-foot Chris-Craft in among the other boats and approached the built-in dock entrance.

  His house, which he had bought recently, was a converted warehouse. He had spent days fixing up what had been a shell of the old building. He estimated the derelict building had remained in that status for many years. One of the great attributes of the structure he loved was the fact it had an interior boat dock. He had hermetically sealed it off from the rest of the house. The separated dock within the structure allowed him to bring the Chris-Craft right into his home and dock it there with an added advantage of a motorized lift to take it clear of the saltwater.

  “Looks like there’s been boat accident at your house,” Darlene said.

  Chuck heard the sirens of police cruisers coming in the distance. He expertly maneuvered the boat up to the entrance to his boat dock. He had Darlene take the wheel while he moved forward and grabbed a hooked pole to push debris out of the way so he could go into the building. A man impaled on the fork of the metal boat lift made him stop. He used the boathook pole to pull the boat up close to the other side of his dock away from the body and grabbed a rope to tie off.

  After he climbed up onto the boat docks rails, he assisted Darlene to do the same. He tied the boat to a cleat while he observed various types of small debris floating in the boat dock, but there was one bundle floating on the water among construction junk the marine engineer hadn’t yet removed. By using the pole, he pulled the package over to the side and reached over and retrieved it. It was cumbersome. He guesstimated forty, maybe fifty pounds.

  Before the police or the DNR officers arrived, he transported the item inside to the living area, wiped it off, and put it beside the dining room table. He shouldn’t hide it if it belonged to the crashed boat, even though he had a hunch that it did. He wanted to discover more about it on his own terms.

  The entire downstairs area of the warehouse comprised a space for a dining room, and for relaxing he had furnished a living room environment encapsulating a minimalist motif. Additionally, he installed a kitchen area equipped with every modern convenience. At one end of this big open space, he built in a contemporary bathroom with all the facilities including a Jacuzzi and multi-method shower within a glass enclosure near the door to the boat ramp.

  Chuck wasn't wealthy in his mind, but when he mustered out of the Army, his father who died shortly thereafter had left him twenty million dollars. The old man always berated him for his decision to join the Army instead of coming to work for him and his hedge fund. The money comprised the total inheritance the old man left him after suffering a sudden and fatal heart attack.

  “What do you think the package is?” Darlene queried.

  “No idea,” Chuck responded. “It might be drugs, and I don't want someone to catch me with them. If anyone saw them now, they could say they were mine before this event. So for now, I’ll slide them under the table before the police get here. I’ll think of what to do with them later. If they are drugs I’ll do the right thing with the police.”

  He heard loud knocking at his door, and when he opened it, two police officers stood there. He invited them in and informed them he had only arrived back after the explosion and hadn’t seen the boat accident, but he understood he must not touch any items until they came. He said they had only tied up their boat and hadn’t touched the impaled body on the boat lift, as the man couldn’t be alive with the rail clear through his body and a gunshot wound to the head. Chuck informed them he planned to call a friend of his on the force and tell him what happened.

  “What friend?” an officer asked.

  “Sergeant Eddie Gordon.”

  “Say, I heard about you. Weren’t you the guy who busted up that human trafficking operation around here? You served on the force here once didn’t you?” the young officer asked.

  “Yes, that's right.”

  “So you say you got here and you haven't touched a thing. That's good. We’ll call the forensics guys and the coroner and ask that you stay out of the way until they get here.”

  Chuck took Darlene by the arm and led her over to the dining table. He first met her at the yacht sales office and they almost instantly became lovers. He allowed her to believe she sold him on the idea of owning the Chris-Craft. In fact, it didn’t take much as he had always wanted one. They sat at the table, and he used his left foot to push the package farther under ensuring it was completely out of sight.

  “Are you going to purchase the Chris-Craft?” Darlene pressed.

  “Yes, but I’m still a little concerned about the parrot,” Chuck said. The owner of the boat had stipulated that whoever bought the boat must take the parrot.

  “You won’t have any problem. The bird has been at my office for a month, and he’s easy to care for. You can hardly believe he’s there. Sometimes he talks too much, and you have to watch what you say because he’ll repeat it.”

  “Let’s get the paperwork finalized this week,” Chuck said. “I’ll purchase the necessary items I’ll need to keep the bird. Does he have a name?”

  “Merlin,” she said with a smile.

  It took over two hours for the police to finish their photography and Chatham County Medical Examiner to remove the body. Chuck assumed they had used the small sidewalk along the exterior of his building rather than trying to bring the body through his house. There was a narrow walkway on each side of the building to allow access to the river without going into the warehouse. Each separate structure on his street had approximately the same layout on the outside.

  They both answered all the questions the police asked them about whether they had ever met the person, had ever seen him before or were familiar with the boat that crashed. They responded negatively to all these questions.

  While they were waiting, Chuck admired Darlene for the umpteenth time. She was a lovely person not only physically but internally too. The woman was a good three inches taller and also a few years older than he, but she possessed what he would call in his army days, great lungs. Her white top opened far enough to let his imagination see further, and her tight shorts left her slim well-tanned legs exposed to view.

  While the police were doing their thing, Chuck and Darlene consumed two beers. Once they left, Chuck took Darlene out to dinner at a restaurant on Broughton Street in downtown Savannah. They returned to the house around seven o'clock.

  “It's been a long hard day, Chuck,” Darlene said.

  “Indeed, it has. Do you want to go home or can I fix you a drink?”

  “Yes, you can. Make it a double scotch,” she said as she walked over and hugged him, kissing him and sliding her tongue into his mouth. He felt his desire rise similar to the lava going for the top of a volcano. His hands came up to caress her ample breasts. Her exhale reached his ears as he gently explored.

  She pushed him back, “You like that, soldier boy?” she laughed with a big smile. “So do I,” she replied. Her beautiful brown eyes flaked with a speck of gold, radiating desire.

  “Let’s take it slow. If it’s all right with you, right now I want my drink. Bring it up to your bedroom.” She headed for the stairs up to the second-floor.

  He made the drinks in record time.

  Darlene waited
for the man to bring her the promised drink. She saw he stood erect at six-foot and possessed a good physique. On first glance, she had noticed his piercing blue eyes and the short-cut Army style hair. His appearance showed dark skin, not Hispanic, but more approximating a deep suntan.

  She finished stripping her clothes when he walked into the bedroom holding her drink.

  She stood entirely naked.

  He placed the drinks on the nightstand and moved to embrace her.

  3

  On the Bahamian Island of New Providence, Kareem sat in Café Matisse on Bank Lane in Nassau, the capital of the commonwealth. His dark skin barely hid the color of his inflamed anger when he learned the news that his shipment of over one million U.S. dollars had gone up in smoke near Savannah.

  The sweat poured down his face despite the air conditioning, and he patted his solid black hair back with the excess water he wiped from his forehead. His one distinguishing feature, a large bulbous nose, adorned his face and was slightly out of alignment as a result of a fistfight many years ago.