Rita Royale 2 (The Beach House)
by
Terry Anderson
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2013, by Terry Anderson. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-1282-5
Author’s Note:
As the name implies, Rita Royale 2; The Beach House, is a sequel to the first novel simply titled, Rita Royale. It can be read as a standalone book, but without reading the first, you may not fully appreciate the ending of this second and final installment. Having said that, I sincerely hope you enjoy reading, ‘The Beach House’. It was a fun write.
Chapter One (Friday, June 18, 2021)
The two military women matched strides as they walked down the street toward the pier, the clouds hanging low, threatening rain, but still pleasant afternoon walking weather. Both women wore black low heeled shoes, black knee length skirts and black Badger Troop flight jackets, their weapons concealed, black berets on their heads.
“You don’t have to do this, Major. I can handle this.”
Rita glanced at the red haired lieutenant, nodded to a man walking past. “Its okay, Dixie. A nice day for a walk.”
Dixie Applegate looked up at the clouds, glanced at her new major. “We may get wet, Ma’am.”
Rita spotted three teenagers with olive green Army shirts hanging with about a half dozen other kids. “That looks like our little graffiti artists.”
The teens stared at the military women as they approached them. Rita smiled at one of the boys wearing an Army shirt; he looked to be the leader.
“So what’s this I hear about you three spray painting certain names about me on the outside of Kats Klub?”
He stared at Rita, her black uniform. “We didn’t spray nothing about you. I don’t even know you.”
“You know, its not very nice to call lesbians names. One of them just might kick your ass one day.”
He just sneered. “As if.”
Rita grinned. “Wanna bet I can kick all three of your asses and not even work up a sweat?”
The teens not wearing Army shirts began to walk away, leaving only the three facing Rita and Dixie.
One boy standing next to the leader spoke nervously. “They’re Badger Troop, Alex.”
He glared at him. “I know that.” He looked at Rita. “You can’t touch us, we’re minors.”
“What’s your name?”
“I don’t have to tell you.”
“Want to see what an Army jail looks like?”
He thought about this. “Alex Racine.”
“Okay, Alex Racine. Cut the tough guy crap. You and your buddies will clean off the graffiti tomorrow and never do it again. And whatever the hell it is you dislike about lesbians, get over it. Because I’m one dyke carpet-muncher you don’t want to mess with.”
“We were only fooling around. I got nothing against dykes.”
“Then why did you write those words on Kats Klub? Carpet-muncher? Dyke?” Rita caught the sound of a boat pulling up to the pier, glanced in that direction, looked back at the kid. “You know, the soldiers who wear that color uniform you’re wearing would be pissed if they knew you guys were going around spray painting slurs against their fellow comrades.”
The second teen said, “I won’t do it no more.”
Dixie spoke to Rita. “Major.”
Rita looked at her, at the three men now walking toward them. Heard the cry of the eagle in her head. Rita looked at the three teens. “Get away from here now. Move it.” She unzipped her jacket, pulled her weapon, as did Dixie.
Dixie pointed her pistol at the three, spoke in a loud voice. “Stop right there. Hands above your heads.”
Rita stared at the three Middle Eastern looking men, the travel bags they each held, her 9 mm trained on one of the men. He dropped his bag to the wooden deck, reached for the handle of his pistol sticking out of his waistband.
Both women spotted the pistol; saw the other two men reaching. They rapid fired, the reports a pop pop pop, their bullets striking the three repeatedly in the chest and face, killing them all before any of them had had a chance to return fire.
Rita ran to the edge of the pier, quickly changed magazines in her pistol and fired several times at the escaping small open boat, killing the pilot, the boat slowing, moving round and round in a circle and quickly running aground.
She glanced at the three kids, their eyes wide open. “You still here?”
They ran away as fast as they could. Rita heard the sirens, glanced at the three dead men, at Dixie. “Where the hell did these guys come from?”
Dixie just shook her head.
A few people walked onto the pier and toward the women. Rita watched two green Army vehicles slow, their brakes squealed, soldiers in green exited from the back of a truck and ran toward her and Dixie, rifles in hand.
Rita just looked at them. “And how the hell did the Army get here so fast?”
A sergeant walked up to the women, his black and white MP armband quite visible. He looked at both Special Forces women, their weapons still in their hands, spotted Rita’s oak leaves on her collar tips, stared at her very attractive face. He’d never met the new Liaison Officer, but heard she was quite the looker. “Major Royale. I’m Sergeant Lewis. My team can take it from here.”
Rita studied the man slightly taller than herself, his narrow face, thin lips that smiled like they didn’t mean to smile. Lips that looked used to putting on a certain look. She said, “I’d like a look inside those bags, Sergeant.”
He shook his head. “Major. This is an Army matter.”
She holstered her pistol. “Just the same, Sergeant, I’d like a look in the bags.”
He stared at her, shifted his feet. “Major, you’re pretty new in Sidney. My guys deal with illegal entries all the time.”
“You can do your job, Sergeant, but I want a look in those bags.”
“Yes,
