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As Jesse drove back home through the streets of Paradise, he tried to recall exactly what he had said to the restaurant owner. That’s how distracted he was by what lay ahead of him over the next few days. He was no longer paying much mind to the rain or the streets.The scotch hadn’t helped with his memory and this reunion hadn’t helped with the scotch. When he realized his words to Dan Castro were lost to him, Jesse shrugged and moved on. The rain came in a light spray not even heavy enough for Jesse to use the wipers. He had settled into the rhythms of town life, but thought that only someone who didn’t know him would describe Paradise as his adopted hometown. Distracted again, Jesse Stone was caught in a rundown between his past and New York City.2The Salters’ place was a red brick Victorian nestled on an ocean bluff just north of the yacht club.Her eyes were a shade of deep blue that he hadn’t seen before. A tall man dressed in matte black military-style garb strode into the room. Only his shark eyes and crooked mouth were visible.In his right hand he held a black sidearm with a sound suppressor extending from the barrel.
“She—”The gunman stifled a little laugh and put his left index finger across his lips to shush the boy. The gunman waved the tip of the suppressor at Ben, gesturing him away from Martina.
He had always looked good in uniform—Albuquerque Dukes, USMC, L. He was no more than five pounds heavier than when he was a soft-handed shortstop prospect in the Dodgers’ organization.
While he hadn’t been a five-tool phenom, he had the requisite skills to make it to the bigs: great glove, cannon arm, quick pivot, adequate speed, average bat, less-than-average power. He was like a manager on the field, mentally tough. When some wiseass pitcher tried backing him away from the plate with a little chin music, Jesse dusted himself off, and stood a few inches closer to the plate for the next pitch.
She strolled around to the opposite side of the big cherrywood bed and swayed while she unhinged the silvery silken bra. He snatched it out of the air, took in her scent, and stared at her pert breasts. Just as Martina unbuttoned her jeans and began wriggling out of them, she thought she heard something coming from downstairs. Like I said, I’ll protect you.”“That was from spiders.”“Spiders and ghosts.”He walked around to her. Besides, wanting and having are two very different things.
Her nipples were red, erect, perfect, and he said so. Nor did it hurt that Martina had the body of a cheerleader and the brain of a professor. He had been with plenty of girls before, but not girls like Martina. Ben saw the look on her face.“It’s an old house and it’s storming like crazy. Then the silence was broken, but not by either Ben or Martina.
He turned to face the two nude college freshmen, pointing the tip of the suppressor at them.