Hurricane Fever Read Online Free PDF

mailboxes hadn’t been attacked. A simple gunman would have worked, disguised as a robbery. Maybe whoever wanted in was waiting to break in. Or just waiting for the hurricane to pass.
    Roo had his back to a wall of glass. He couldn’t help trying to keep his eyes both on the windows and door while also trying to watch the desk lady.
    He slunk his back up against the wall and tried to rest casually on an elbow against the counter.
    She came back a second later, though, and handed Roo a small rubber tree frog the size of a fingernail. She set it carefully on counter, and Roo picked it up.
    It was very green.
    On the stomach it said PRESS ME . Roo had to squint to read the text.
    When he did, the frog stuck a silvery, square tab of a tongue out at him.
    “Damn, Zee,” Roo said, wiping the corner of his eye with the palm of his hand. Even from beyond the grave Zee was treating this whole thing as a joke. But it wasn’t. Whatever was on this scuffed, old tree frog drive had killed his friend. And Roo hadn’t made many of those.
    “Damn,” he said again, as the lady watched him blankly, waiting for him to leave.
    She held up a large roll of tape. “I have to get the windows ready for the storm,” she said. “I have to close up now.”
    Roo nodded. He pocketed the tree frog. “Is there a back door?”
    “No,” she said politely, even though Roo figured it was a lie. Box 9534 had been enough trouble for her today.
    Roo left, rushing out the door and abandoning all pretense of casualness. A white man with carefully gelled hair in khaki pants and a floral shirt turned the corner and started walking down the street after Roo.
    This was what happened when you didn’t use a tasking service to go do the pickup. Send some anonymous stranger with the password and watch him from a distance. Have them drop the package at the side of the road, get a series of other strangers to hand it randomly around town and back to you.
    But Roo’d been impatient, and setting that up took time. Time the oncoming hurricane had taken away.
    This is what you got when you exposed yourself. When you got impatient.
    Or when it got personal, Roo thought.
    He moved quickly, zigging through Road Town’s roads to make sure he was really being followed.
    He was.
    Roo couldn’t shake the tail. It wasn’t so much that the man was good, but just determined and not worried about being spotted. So Roo led him down to the dinghy dock and through the empty, almost graveyard-like marina. Then back out again. Roo had his phone out, flipping through events lists.
    He found what he was looking for. Smiled.
    He led his tail back out of the marina and onto the roads, sidewalks, and shops again. A fast powerwalk around the concrete curve of the harbor to a pier where tourists onboard a large pontoon boat sang along, out of tune and not caring, to a local band.
    Roo held up his phone and the two crewmen at the gangplank looked at it and nodded.
    At the top Roo turned and looked back as the crewmen held up their hands. “Sorry man, we full.”
    Roo’s tail stopped, confused for a second. “I have cash,” he muttered.
    “Nah, all the tickets sold,” they told him.
    The white man glanced up and Roo, his mouth parting slightly in surprise. Roo could see the hint of a holster under his shoulders, now that he stood still in the light. Roo tensed, wondering which way this would go. They were very much in a public place. Neutral territory.
    Usually.
    “ All the tickets?” the man asked. “Because the boat only looks half full.”
    “All the tickets sold out.”
    For a moment, the man in the floral shirt looked ready to push through and up the gangplank, but he stopped himself. He pointed at Roo directly. “Who are you?” he called out across the no-skid steps.
    Roo looked to the left and right, as if not realizing the question was directed at him.
    “Who are you?” the man repeated. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt, threatening to reach for the gun. Roo held