Free Flood Rising (A Jenna Flood Thriller) by Jeremy Robinson, Sean Ellis Page A

important as the simple fact of having a goal. Something to work toward.
    The first few minutes of the swim had been a Herculean ordeal. The simple act of stretching her arms out to swim had awakened pains and aches unlike anything she had ever experienced. The sting of dozens of tiny cuts crisscrossed her arms and face. She had wondered if she was bleeding. The blood could have attracted a ravenous tiger shark or bull shark. Or both. The minutes had passed and the pain gradually had subsided into a more tolerable throb, but the ache in her temples had grown, along with a gnawing hunger in her belly.
    She hadn’t attempted to swim all the way back to Stock Island, but instead came up amid the trees that lined the side of the road closer to the island. Hidden by the trees, she had made her way back to the island and then kept going, following the Heritage Trail, which ran parallel to the Overseas Highway, until she had reached the address that she recalled from the registration paperwork the Villegas brothers had signed, when they had come aboard the Kilimanjaro the previous week. The information was just another bit of information in the filing cabinet of her perfect memories.
    Now that the goal was finally in sight, she was filled with dread for what would happen next. Even worse was the sinking feeling that all her efforts had not brought her any closer to the answers she craved. She took a deep calming breath, headed up the steps and opened the door.
    She stepped into a small unfurnished foyer. There was a cash machine in one corner, a window that looked a little like the check-in desk of a rundown hotel and a closed door. On the other side of the counter, an elderly gray-haired woman—Jenna thought she looked old enough to be Noah’s grandmother—played mahjong on a computer.
    The woman started to speak, but when she got a look at Jenna, whatever she had been about to say was forgotten.
    Jenna stood there, unable to speak. She had been mentally preparing for a different sort of gate-keeper, maybe a beefy steroid-infused bouncer or a hostess wearing a leather dominatrix outfit. She shook her head to clear away the hesitation. “I need to speak to Raul.”
    She saw the flicker of recognition in Granny’s eyes. Well, at least I’ve got the right place . Then the woman’s face twisted into a matronly look of concern. “Oh, sweetie. You can’t be here.”
    Jenna kept her expression neutral, but puffed up her chest a little, leaning forward. “Raul.”
    The old woman squinted behind her glasses, as if questioning her original appraisal, then reached down and pressed the button on an intercom box. “Someone here to see you, Raul.”
    There was a brief pause and then a tinny voice issued from the speaker. “Send him back.”
    The woman glanced at Jenna again, the anxious look back on her wrinkled face. She really wants me to leave. Maybe I should go while I still can . Jenna pointed down and mouthed the words: “Out here.”
    Granny nodded to her then pushed the button again. “It’s not a ‘he,’ and I think maybe you should come out front.” As she lifted her finger, the woman gave Jenna a sad, resigned look, as if to say ‘I tried to warn you.’
    Yes you did , she thought . But I’m going to play this through to the end .
    The door opened and Raul Villegas stepped out. He was wearing a white linen suit over a lavender silk shirt, opened to just above his sternum, revealing the thick gold chain around his neck. There was an easy-going smile plastered on his face, which vanished in an instant when his eyes found Jenna.
    She took a deep breath and then turned away, heading for the door. She had rehearsed this encounter dozens of times during her long walk. It was imperative to control every aspect of the scene, and the first step was moving Raul away from his home turf. Equally important, she had to make sure that she had an escape route if things went sour. She paused on the front porch, waiting to see if he