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

were small-time thugs, more likely to lie in wait with a baseball bat. If she had read them correctly, they were the sort of men who preferred to deal with their enemies personally.
    There were other pieces that didn’t fit. Who were the men posing as FBI agents? Why had they been interested in her?
    Suddenly, she saw what she had been missing, the one thread woven throughout all of the unconnected dots, the one thing that was constant in every instance. It still made no sense to her, but the connection was there.
    The sound of a vehicle approaching from behind drew Jenna out of her musings. She moved to the edge of the street to give it room to pass, and then turned to make sure that she was clear. Her heart fell as she recognized the weather-beaten Ford F-150 pickup that pulled up beside her.
    Mercedes Reyes leaned across the seat and spoke to her through the open passenger window. “Jenna, get in.”
    There was an unusual gravity to her tone, and despite her reservations, Jenna found herself opening the door and climbing into the cab. She settled into the seat but refused to meet Mercy’s stare. There was a long uncomfortable silence, filled only by the gentle chug of the idling engine.
    “Are you just going to sit here?” Jenna finally asked.
    “I tried to call Noah,” Mercy said. “No answer. So I called the marina. They wouldn’t pick up either.” She laid a hand on Jenna’s forearm. “What’s going on?”
    Jenna felt her resistance eroding. Mercy’s touch seemed to uncork the bottle into which she had placed her weariness and grief. Mercy had the uncanny ability to read her like a book, sometimes even better than her own father.
    “I don’t know.” Don’t tell her. You’ll only put her in danger . She met Mercy’s gaze. “What are you doing here? You need to get back to the bar.”
    “We’re closed for the rest of the day. I would have been here sooner, but it took a couple of minutes to roust everyone.”
    “You didn’t need to do that.”
    Mercy squeezed her arm. “Talk to me. I can tell something is seriously wrong. Let me help.”
    “You really want to help?” Jenna drew in a breath. “Then tell me this. Who in the hell is my father?”

 
     
    10
     
    7:37 p.m.
     
    Mercy stared at Jenna for a few seconds then turned her eyes forward and let off the brake. “I’m not going to insult your intelligence,” she said, with a low controlled tone, “by acting like I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    “So it’s true. Noah has some kind of secret life?”
    Mercy pursed her lips together. “Jenna, please tell me what’s happened. Is Noah all right?”
    “Noah’s dead.” It was like ripping off a Band-Aid. She braced herself for a tide of emotion but it didn’t arrive. Perhaps it was too soon, the event too fresh in her mind to truly be perceived as a loss, but Jenna thought it might also have something to do with the sudden realization that her father seemed more like a stranger to her now.
    “How?”
    Jenna stared at Mercy, surprised at the coolness of her reaction. This isn’t a surprise to her at all . “Somebody blew up the boat. We got away, but afterward, two FBI guys showed up. Only Noah said they weren’t really FBI. One of them shot him. I ran.”
    “Are you all right? Were you hurt?”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Tell me everything. Start at the beginning.”
    Jenna did, only realizing after she started recounting the events of the last hour that Mercy had deftly avoided answering her question. As she described the arrival of the bogus FBI agents—or rather allegedly bogus, since she had only Noah’s say-so—she seized the opportunity to shift the conversation back. “Noah told the deputy that they weren’t really federal agents. How would he know that?”
    Mercy just shook her head and kept driving. Jenna recognized their surroundings. They had circled around and were in the neighborhood where Mercy lived, just a couple of blocks from the bar.
    “What