About The Author.
Four Days to Veracruz: A Novel
Courtesy of the Author. Owen West. Product Details. Resources and Downloads. Get a FREE e-book by joining our mailing list today! More books from this author: Owen West. Thank you for signing up, fellow book lover! New Releases Books and The City. Teen Romance. True Crime Children's Books. Marsh agreed a deal with the poet and bookseller Harold Munro, who had Do it today when you get this proven guide to turning betas into alpha males! If proper action of the material taught is taken, possible side effects may include monster Sharkman Six by Owen West Narrated by Lee Sellars Abridged 5 hours 20 min This modern war is vastly different from the battles Kelly's father and grandfather fought and from the young lieutenant's own experience during Operation Desert Storm.
Minutes after the Marines' celebrated landing, one of Kelly's men kills an armed Somali bodyguard, and Kelly finds himself in the center of a maelstrom. He must act quickly to deflect a vociferous outcry from members of the This modern war is vastly different from the battles Kelly's father and grandfather fought and from the young lieutenant's own experience during Operation Desert Storm.
Minutes after the Marines' celebrated Four Days to Veracruz A Novel by Owen West With style and nonstop action, Owen West, winner of the Boyd literary award for best military novel of , returns with Four Days to Veracruz -- an adventure-thriller that sizzles with international intrigue, relentless suspense, and straight-from-the-headlines consequences. Darren Phillips is a presidential aide, a Harvard graduate, a decorated Desert Storm veteran, and now a husband. Kate North Not surprisingly, their bonds of intimacy, already deeply entangled, become strained.
As Annie struggles, events take on a momentum of their own.
The Snake Eaters
And then, one fateful night, Nobody is looking for me. You can't get more alone than that. You can't be more lost. I've got too many people who love me. In the s, a young Indianapolis I'm talking about rules," Darren said, stepping between a comatose boy's legs. They didn't tell us where we shouldn't go. Besides, these dumb rules weren't made with us in mind. Typical, thought Darren. Kate sneaked food into movie theaters, took their dog running on the beach without a leash, rappelled off the side of their apartment building.
It was a spot that had been long ago rubbed raw. And a spot that was often sweet for some maddening reason. She is so right for me, he thought. His was a rigid personality that needed to be dragged kicking and screaming toward the boundaries in life that she regularly exploded.
Kate's plan would take them on a leisurely kayak near the cliff divers, then an extended paddle south to a deserted beach surrounded by cliffs where the couple could drink beer, picnic, and get the blood up with a few rappels. And, she hoped, the fulfillment of a beach fantasy to boot. She had stuffed the camera and lunch into the waterproof pack alongside the harnesses and the climbing rope they called the Hell Bitch.
The rope was slightly frayed, but she could not part with it and buy a replacement, much to Darren's chagrin. Too much history lugging it around Eco-Challenge courses. When the kayak was at the edge of the wet sand, Kate slipped into the rear compartment and picked up her paddle, struggling to seal her spray skirt when her Eco-Challenge belt buckle caught on the lip. I don't know why you wear it with shorts in the first place. Like you're a rodeo chick or something.
The buckle was just a finisher's prize, so Darren refused to wear it, but of the seventy-five teams that had started in New Zealand, fewer than fifteen had finished. She was proud of eighth. Darren slid into his hole and tested the rudder steering pedals with his Teva sandals.
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He was waiting, but Kate, behind him, wanted to taste bigger waves like those in the set just rolling in. He could feel her scooting the craft forward. A big blue plunging wave crested white and slammed shut in a foamy froth not twenty yards from them, hissing as the bubbles burst up across the sand, turning it from white to brown.
Let's go! A small crowd had gathered so that when Darren turned to refuse, he was staring at some college kid with bizarre facial growth in a Britney Spears T-shirt, who said, "You two aren't going out through those nasty waves, are you, dude?
Darren pried the kayak forward until it was floating. He churned the water, catching hold of it and powering it past, charged by the sound of the surf zone and the squirt of adrenaline. The undertow snatched the kayak and it gathered speed. Kate joined him on the paddle and the boat shot forward, spray flying past like BBs, then the waves themselves crashing over the bow and knocking Darren back against his seat every few seconds.
He bent forward on impact and pinned his paddle flat and parallel to the gunwale so it would not be stripped away by the greedy waves. The couple paddled hard when they were clear of each wave to build momentum for the next plunger, the kayak pitching wildly. The final breaker in the set sucked them up its aquamarine face and spit them out on the ocean side.
The Pacific was a deep cobalt blue, and they paddled easily for several hours, taking time to admire the kindred spirits that leapt from the hundred-foot cliffs at La Quebrada before they turned north and skimmed toward the secret beach. Kate hoped that it was deserted because of the severe terrain that protected it. It lay in a long stretch of private property carefully delineated on her map.
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She didn't tell Darren about the redlines and the warnings, of course. Their beach was more beautiful than she had hoped: a tiny crescent of sun-bleached sand, not more than fifty yards long, surrounded by towering cliffs that announced their presence by kicking the surf with their coral feet. She could see a crew of sandpipers working the edge of the high water line, scurrying up and down the beach like giant ants. Above them, a precarious set of steep wooden stairs led from the cove up over the cliffs.
Isn't it perfect?
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Brine from the sea and her body dripped off her nose. Build a house up on top of that cliff? Just work out, have sex, and listen to the ocean? His new assignment to the White House didn't allow for a life, let alone hobbies that demanded three-hour daily workouts. If he was going to transition into a high government office, his spare minutes would have to be spent networking, not riding some mountain bike into the ground the way Kate seemed to do every week.
Kate had been anointed the ambassador for the fledgling sport of adventure racing.
She used her notoriety to found an adventure academy for girls called You Go Girl! She had been featured in most of the fitness magazines, including a naked shot in Sports Illustrated. Well, not really naked, she had laughed with her grumpy husband, pointing out the gray clay that covered her as she ran with a full pack, chased by a camel.
Veracruz (city) - Wikipedia
The couple pulled the kayak past the high-water mark and stretched their towels for a picnic. Kate stuck her feet into the soft sand and happily kneaded it with her toes. The sun broke free of the cliff and the sand sparkled and winked at them like glitter painted by the swiftly retreating shadow. The water turned turquoise and dazzled them. No wonder I pinned every tiger I ever wrestled. My head is killing me, babe.