The Man at Nimbus Marina
The Man at Nimbus Marina
š Purchase Paperback format right here on this website, directly from Kelly
Ebook format is available exclusively from Amazon and is free to read in the Kindle Unlimited subscription program
š Paperbacks will be printed once your order is placed. Printing times take 3 to 5 days from when your order is placed, plus shipping. Please allow up to 2 to 3 weeks to receive your book.Ā
A guarded man, a dangerous feud, and the lengths a real-life hero will go to when heās truly needed. Get swept away to Hideaway Isle with author Kelly Utt.
Rags Bertram is a man with a past. But he isnāt one to boast about it. A former soldier in the U.S. special forces, Rags came to the island and bought an old marina to stay off the grid and out of trouble. Heās living the good lifeā working on the water by day and playing on it by night, often while holding a cold beer in his hand.
No one on Hideaway Isle knows about Ragsā former life until trouble suddenly finds him. Enemies with an ax to grind wish to settle a score, and they donāt care who they hurt in the process. As the danger escalates and Rags is forced to face it head on, he must use his training to save his friends and neighbors, before itās too late.
Will Rags realize the seriousness of the threat in time? Will he have the courage to turn back to his old way of doing things? And who will become a casualty and take the fall?
The Man at Nimbus Marina is a gorgeously gripping, deep and suspense-filled novel that explores the measures of responsibility, the gift of heroism, and the weight of honor. Itās the third book in the Hideaway Isle series and the perfect beach read.
Publication date: April 30, 2021.
Add to your shelves on Goodreads.
About the Hideaway Isle Series:
Itās paradise on the sparkling tropical shores of Hideaway Isle, Florida. A place where vacationers go to get away and residents enjoy year-round luxury.
Despite postcard-worthy appearances, thereās trouble in paradise. Lurking just beyond the sun, sand, and sea are threats that promise to wreak havoc in this seemingly idyllic utopia.
With riveting turns that will leave you breathless, each Hideaway Isle novel features a deep dive into the ongoing story, told from a different islanderās point of view. Books are best read in order.
Look Inside
Look Inside
Chapter One
Sunny Days
RAGS
Barnacles. Theyāre multiplying like crazy this summer, all over the boats at my marina.
Itās late June in South Florida, which means itās hotter than the face of the sun. Feels like it, anyway. Itās barely an hour since daylight, and the humid island air is already so hot that Iām breaking a sweat just moving around the docks.
I shove a hand through my hair as I walk, and a whiff of Margot Callawayās sweet scent wafts up from under my shirt. I showered, but I can still smell her on me.
Margot was sleeping, one long, muscular leg draped naked along the edge of my bed when I left this morning. My dog, Cap, was still in bed, too, his big olā labrador bones sprawled against Margotās other side. The last thing I want to be doing right now is dealing with barnacles.
āMorninā, Rags!ā Ed Baxter shouts cheerfully when he sees me from a distance.
Ed is my stellar employee who manages Nimbus Marina. Without Ed, Iād be stuck here all the time. Heās a lifesaver.
āBack at you, my friend,ā I say with a deep nod. āThese blasted critters are going to be the death of me, though.ā
Edās rich brown skin glistens in the morning sun, his deep brown eyes full of light. He swears he doesnāt mind the heat, or the barnacles. Ed doesnāt admit it, but I get the idea he enjoys seeing all the lovely ladies in their bikinis as they arrive to board their boats.
He just laughs at me and shakes his head.
āIf you say so,ā he says with a chuckle.
Heās getting older now, but back in the day, Ed was a professional baseball player. He spent most of his career playing for the Cincinnati Reds before retiring to the Keys for a slower-paced, quieter life. Ed did well for himself in Ohio. Heās independently wealthy and doesnāt have to work, if he doesnāt want to. But he insists that he enjoys tinkering with the boats and chatting up the customers.
When we first met, I was manning Nimbus Marina all by myself. Ed and I hit it off so well, we went out for burgers and beer to continue an hours-long conversation that had started on one of my docks. That lunch saw Ed leave with a job and me leave with a new friend who I entrusted to watch over my business. It was a win-win. Itās been several years since, and the pair of us are going strong.
I really shouldnāt complain, about the barnacles or anything else. My life is outstanding these days, if I do say so myself. Itās a far cry from the difficult conditions of my Navy SEAL days.
Iām literally living the dream on an island in the Florida Keys. I own a marina, a couple of nice boats, my own comfortable home, and a handful of investment properties. Iām set up nicely in that regard. The contract work I did for the few years after my Navy enlistment paid off, and now, Iām in the kind of financial position where I always wanted to be.
Finding the right balance between my duties and all the fun I like to have is the trick.
If I were a less responsible man, Iād let the barnacles wait until another day, then Iād run home and climb back into bed with my loves. Cap would groan as I moved him out of the way, but heād get over it. Then I could slide close and make love to my woman, starting the day off right. Sheāll be awake and nosing around for breakfast soon.
āWhereās that pretty lady of yours this morning?ā Ed asks as he approaches with a scraper and scrub brush.
He can tell what Iām thinking. More importantly, heās poised to help me remove the new barnacle growth.
For my own boats, I take them out to the sandbar every couple weeks and scrub them there. I do it with a beer in my hand and Bob Marley music blasting in the background. I donāt think the owners of the other boats docked at Nimbus Marina would want me taking care of theirs that way, though. So, with the help of our part-time staff, Ed and I dry dock, scrape, scrub, and powerwash. Itās a tedious process that takes hours and usually involves cursing like a sailor.
Admittedly, beer and Bob Marley are still an integral part of the process.
āSheās at home. Still in my bed,ā I say with a sly smile.
āOoh-wee,ā Ed replies with a whistle and a smack of his lips. āIf I were you, Iād be there with her right now, instead of out here with me.ā
He gestures up in the air as he says it, as if this place isnāt paradise.
āTrue,ā I say. āYou arenāt nearly as pretty, my friend. And besides, I can see that ugly mug of yours anytime. Margot is supposed to return to her post at Naval Air Station Whidbey Island in a few weeks.ā
We laugh out loud together as we work, content to shoot the shit. It helps pass the time. Clearing the barnacles takes a lot of elbow grease. Helps keep me in shape, I suppose.
Ed snorts, tipping his wide-brimmed straw hat. He wipes his brow with a handkerchief, then tucks it into the breast pocket of his short-sleeved shirt.
Edās usually dressed like he just came off of a yacht, or a golf course. Even at the ass crack of dawn, the man looks sharp. He looks a lot better than I do, me in my t-shirt. When I do wear a hat, itās a ball cap.
āBeen a while now, eh?ā
I pretend I donāt know what heās talking about.
āWhat has?ā I ask, an innocent grin on my face.
The sun is rising quickly in the sky, and it feels like the temperature is climbing by the minute. Itās going to be a scorcher. We need to get whatever scrubbing we plan to do today finished by mid-morning. Otherwise, weāll bake out here like a couple of oven-roasted clams. Weāll smell like them too. Nobody wants to see-- or smell-- that.
āYou know what I mean,ā Ed grunts. āYou and that pretty Navy lady. Seems serious.ā
I shrug playfully. āYeah, so? What are you getting at, old man?ā
Iām completely and totally in love with Margot, no doubt about that. We havenāt even known each other for a full month, but already, I know weāll be together forever.
Sheās my girl, like Randy Travis sings, forever and ever, amen. I always hoped that Iād recognize true love when I saw it. Iāve been waiting for the day the right woman would show up and rock my world. I want to be a dad before long, too. A family man. The whole nine yards. Iāve sewn my wild oats. Iām ready to commit with my whole heart.
Ever since the moment I saw Margot crouching beside that bus bench in her Navy t-shirt, I was done for. She was having a rough day that only ended up getting worse, and I hate that I walked into her life at such a bad time. But nothing mattered to me except being there for her.
Even though weād just met and she was-- understandably-- freaked out by everything happening with her sister, grandpa and newfound brother, our connection was like nothing Iād ever felt.
As far as Iām concerned, the matter is settled. I want Margot to be my wife.
In fact, Independence Day is less than a week away. Since Margot and I are both Navy-- me a veteran SEAL and her an active duty Naval Flight Officer-- I thought it might be special to propose on the Fourth as fireworks sparkle overhead. Serving our country is fundamentally important to us. It seems appropriate to mark Americaās birthday with a new beginning of our own.
Iāve been thinking of proposing for a while, but I havenāt told a soul. Well, other than Cap. I donāt expect him to spill any sensitive info. Dogs are good like that.
āJust askinā, is all,ā Ed says with a smile.
He knows me too well. He can tell things with Margot are damn serious. I guess it would be nice to confide in someone.
āCan you keep a secret?ā I ask as I move around to the shady side of the boat.
Ed lowers one brow and tilts his chin toward his chest as if Iāve deeply offended him.
āRags Bertram, are you kidding?ā he asks. āIsnāt that one of the reasons you befriended and hired me? I mean, letās be real.ā
To that, I make a similar face.
He isnāt wrong, but I didnāt know Ed was aware of myā¦ secrets. Hell, I donāt even tell the locals that Iām former military. The only people on Hideaway Isle who know are Margot and a few members of her immediate family. I came to Hideaway Isle for a quiet life. The last thing I want is for ghosts of my past to find me down here.
As a SEAL, I was involved in some nasty stuff. Highly classified, nasty stuff. I prefer to leave those missions behind me.
I open my mouth to protest, but Edās right. Who am I kidding? Iāve never lied to the man, and I donāt intend to start.
āAlright,ā I reply simply.
He looks at me expectantly, still scrubbing away as we chat.
āGo on,ā Ed says with a wink. āOut with it. Your secrets are safe with me.ā
He emphasizes secrets as being plural. Not singular. He knows thereās more than one. And heās right.
I close my eyes for a beat as I think about getting down on one knee and asking Margot to be my wife. It will be my great honor to marry that remarkable woman. I just hope sheāll say yes. Surely, she will.
I move my scrub brush faster, full of nervous energy as I open my eyes and look at Ed. Iām not the nervous type. Not at all, actually. But Margot is the one thing in this world that gets me that way. I want to do right by her. I want to be the best I can possibly be.
āIām thinking about proposing to my pretty lady,ā I say. āOn the Fourth.ā
āWowee,ā Ed says.
Heās a sound effects guy. Everything is met with some version of a hoot, holler, or whistle. Itās one of the things I like most about him.
āItās soon, I realize. But when you know, you know, right?ā
āAnd do you know?ā he asks.
āAbso-fucking-lutely,ā I reply. āIām hooked. Done for. That woman is everything Iāve ever wanted, and then some.ā
āThen it sounds like a good thing,ā Ed says.
Iām glad I told him. It feels more real now. Like I just spoke our engagement into existence.
āI think so.ā
He muses as he works, making a mental checklist. Iāve been doing the same.
āYou picked out a ring?ā Ed asks.
I shake my head. āNot yet. I sort of have one in mind, though. Iām thinking about a classic round diamond with some smaller ones around it. I actually have some loose diamonds that belonged to my favorite grandmother, Bridget West. That woman was a dynamic, confident soul. Not to mention, she and my grandfather were married for nearly seventy years by the time they passed away. It happened in their sleep, while they were holding hands.ā
āNice,ā Ed says. āNow, thatās the way to go.ā
āAgreed. Margot reminds me a lot of Gramma Bridget, and Iād certainly like a long, happy marriage like my grandparents had,ā I explain. āSo, maybe I could use those family diamonds alongside a new, large stone that I pick out especially for Margot. Something old, and something new. You know how it goesā¦ā
āIndeed, I do,ā Ed says.
Edās lovely wife, Shirley, is the best part of him. He loves her dearly. They fuss and fight, but it seems to me like itās more for show than anything. Itās their schtick. They usually laugh it off just as fast as they got into whatever scuffle is happening at the moment.
Iāve seen them together plenty. Theyāre the real deal. They have two grown children and a grandbaby on the way.
āDo you expect sheāll be okay with my grandmotherās stones? Or should Iā¦ā
āDonāt overthink it,ā Ed says. āDo what your heart tells you. Then let it rest. Youāll make yourself crazy if you turn it over and over in your mind.ā He laughs. āThatās good advice for everything in life, come to think of it. Overthinking is manās worst enemy, I do believe.ā
āI can see that,ā I reply.
Ed is older, and maybe wiser. Heās wiser in some regards, no doubt. Iām grateful for the chance to hear his advice. All of my family is up in the Charleston, South Carolina area. I love them, and weāre close enough. But I donāt talk to them every day.
Ed here shares the day-to-day that my own dad and I donāt.
āDonāt worry about it,ā he insists. āSheāll like whatever you give her. Itās the significance of the gesture that matters.ā
āI hope so,ā I say as I wipe my brow with my forearm.
I should have brought a handkerchief like Ed did. Iām going to need another shower soon. The heat is oppressive if youāre doing anything other than relaxing in a shaded hammock or swimming in the crystal clear ocean water. Both of those activities sound mighty appealing right now.
Edās quiet for a few minutes, still thinking. It seems like he has more to say, but doesnāt want to overstep.
āWhatās on your mind?ā I ask.
He shrugs in a quick motion. āNothing much,ā he says. āJust know that Iāll handle things here. You donāt need to worry about this marina while youāre off galavanting with the bride-to-be. Iāll take care of this place.ā
I lower my brow. The way he says it strikes me as odd, like thereās something specific I should worry about.
I donāt want to pry, but Margot and I have enough complications in our lives right now.
The matter of her needing to report back to Washington State soon is pressing, but that isnāt all. Her sister, Lottie Callaway, has been arrested and is in a lot of legal trouble that we need to help her out of. Also, Lottieās girlfriend, Basia Guthrie, nearly died last week and needs help as she recovers. Basiaās mom is in town from Wisconsin, but theyāre still getting reacquainted. Plus, we still need to hold a memorial service for Margot and Lottieās Grandpa Vern.
Then thereās the matter of the strange bombings happening in South Florida that Basia thinks will somehow put Lottie in grave danger before itās all over. Basia claims to have psychic powers. She also claims to have had a near-death experience where an angel lady showed her a big explosion where Lottie was tied up in the building before it blew to pieces.
Margot and I arenāt the types to dismiss Basiaās powers too readily. Iām open to the possibility that they might be real. Who am I to say they arenāt? Iāve experienced enough uncanny coincidences and seen enough miracles to believe thereās more out there than what we can perceive with our five senses. Besides, Detective Tom Marsh of the Hideaway Isle Police Department just gave Baisa a job using her powers to draw things that might help with local investigations. He apparently believes that what she can do is legit.
Bottom line, if Ed is concerned about something related to the marina, I want to know about it.
I get that Ed wants to protect me and take some of the load off, but Iām certain I can function better with everything out in the open. Itās one of my first rules, actually. Knowledge is power. I need to know what Iām facing to properly figure out a plan of attack.
āEd,ā I say, dropping my arms and looking at the side of his face as he works. āI appreciate you. More than you know. But donāt keep me in the dark, man. If something is going on, I want you to tell me about it.ā
He keeps scrubbing away, avoiding eye contact. Now I definitely know something is up.
āI donāt know,ā he says. āNothing to bother yourself with.ā
I shake my head, then grab Edās shoulders and turn him around to face me.
I donāt say anything else. He can tell Iām serious. He slumps, his body telling the tale that his mouth doesnāt want to. Something is weighing on him. I remain quiet, waiting patiently. I can do this all day, if I have to.
Ed stares out at the ocean as waves gently lap against the dock weāre standing on. They rock the boats in the marina like a gentle lullaby, as old as time. When heās ready, he speaks softly.
āLast night,ā he begins. āA couple of shady looking guys showed up here asking for you.ā
He talks slowly, as if he can lessen the impact of the words if he slows their tempo.
āOkay,ā I say. āWhat did you tell them?ā
Itās probably nothing, but the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. For all the years Iāve lived down here, Iāve wondered if Iād be found. Wondered if what Iāve done would eventually catch up to me.
āI chased them off. Told them we donāt want any trouble. They went away quietly, but not before leaving this envelope for you.ā
My back stiffens and I instinctively look around for signs of anything unusual. Ed definitely should have told me about this right away. He should have called me last night when the guys left. No way should he have waited and had me out here shooting the shit as if nothing is wrong.
Ed pulls a folded up manilla envelope from his back pocket. Itās rumpled, like itās been held or carried a long way. It isnāt completely flat. It looks like thereās an object of some sort in there.
āDid you open it?ā I ask, still glancing around like Iāve been trained to do.
He shakes his head. āI wouldnātā¦ No, I didnāt. I was deciding how to handle it. I know youāre covered up right now. I want you out there celebrating the happy times, Rags. I want to take this burden from you. Youāre a good man. You deserve the good things in life.ā
I place a firm hand on Edās shoulder. āAs do you, my friend. I donāt want you dealing with this either. Whatever it is, I doubt it has anything to do with you. You donāt deserve to be bogged down. Neither does Shirley.ā
Edās eye flick to mine at the mention of his wifeās name.
Maybe he hadnāt thought about her being affected. In an instant, he understands that a couple of shady guys and an object in an envelope are a lot more serious than he probably thought at first pass.
Heās right to be worried about Shirley. Iām worried about Margot, too.
āWhatās inside?ā he asks, gesturing to the envelope.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. āYou want me to open it here?ā
He nods. āIām with you, man. Whatever may come.ā
Iād like to tell Ed that everything will be alright, but I canāt do that. I fear we may be in critical danger. And the guys-- well, they saw Ed. They know where to find him. And they probably know his name. Thereās no backing out for him. Not anymore.
I take another glance around to be sure no one is watching. When Iām satisfied that weāre alone, I tear into the envelope, careful not to damage whatās inside. I open it up and peer in to view the contents. The envelope is empty, except for a single marble chess piece. A black knight.
āWhat is it?ā Ed asks.
I donāt need written instructions, and I donāt have to be told what this is. I know exactly what the knight means, and I know who itās from.
This is very bad news. Iāve been found, which means everything and everyone I love is in danger.
My stomach drops and beads of sweat form on my brow. Itās hot outside, but this is a cold sweat. The kind the human body produces when itās scared to death.
I allow myself less than a minute to regain my composure and react. I must spring into action, just like Iāve been trained. Thank God Iāve been trained. I just wish I didnāt have to use that training anymore. No matter, I will use it.
Iāll fight with every ounce of strength I possess to protect the ones I love. My dedication to them is absolute. Iāll face whatever may come with unyielding loyalty.
āEd,ā I say quietly. āDo you own a weapon?ā