Busted, p.1
Busted!, page 1
part #16 of Cherry Delight Series
Cherry Delight
There’s buried treasure off the Florida coast. But Cherry has to bury a few hit-men before she can get to it.
BUSTED!
by Gardner Francis Fox
Written as Glen Chase
Originally printed in 1974
Digitally transcribed by Kurt Brugel and Akiko K.
2019 for the Gardner Francis Fox Library
Cover Illustration by Kurt Brugel 2019
Copyright © 2019 by The Gardner Francis Fox Library.
The Gardner Francis Fox Library has given Kurt Brugel the right to reprint Busted!.
All inquires please contact gardnerffox@gmail.com
Gardner Francis Fox (1911 to 1986) was a wordsmith. He originally was schooled as a lawyer. Rerouted by the depression, he joined the comic book industry in 1937. Writing and creating for the soon to be DC comics. Mr. Fox set out to create such iconic characters as the Flash and Hawkman. He is also known for inventing Batman‘s utility belt and the multi-verse concept.
At the same time, he was writing for comic books, he also contributed heavily to the paperback novel industry. Writing in all of the genres; westerns, historical romance, sword and sorcery, intergalactic adventures, even erotica.
The Gardner Francis Fox library is proud to be digitally transferring over 150 of Mr. Fox’s paperback novels. We are proud to present - - -
Kurt Brugel (1969 to Now) is the Custodian and Illustrator for the Gardner Francis Fox Library. Kurt is a lifelong resident of Wilmington, Delaware. All illustrations for this book were done in scratchboard. He considers the Howard Pyle tradition his greatest influence.
www.kurtbrugel.com
Table of Contents:
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Prologue
She swam deep through the clear blue waters, an all but naked figure in the tiny bikini, with the aqua-lung and undersea goggles giving her almost the look of an alien being. Her finned feet kicked in a steady beat, propelling her steadily.
Below her, faintly, she could see the ships.
They lay along the coral bottom of the reef, tilted at odd angles. For nearly four hundred years they had lain thus, caught by a merciless hurricane blowing out of tropic waters and battered into utter helplessness. It had not taken long to sink them.
Jill Henry turned her head, saw the big, bronzed man trailing after her. She gave a faint smile, knowing that his eyes were fastened, not on the sunken Spanish galleons, but on the shapeliness of her moving legs, on her gently wobbling buttocks.
Rod McCarty had the hots for her, even though she was married to his business partner. And Jill Henry loved it. Rod could make excitement come into her veins, an excitement she had long forgotten with her husband Pete. Her nipples came up long and hard, even in the water. She smiled to secret thoughts as she angled her swim downward at a steeper angle.
She could see the ships more clearly, now. The sunlight seemed to penetrate down here more brightly on certain days, and this was one of them. The hulls showed bright with paint where they were not encrusted with barnacles, and Jill could even make out the name Esmerelda on the prow as she came closer.
She turned, treading water, waving an arm.
He eased up to her, putting a hand on her bare back, sliding his palm downward to her bared buttock, caressing it lightly. She had discovered that swimming underwater with Rod McCarty was almost as intimate as being in a motel room somewhere with the big adventurer. He could take liberties with her flesh that could never be permitted in the open air.
She didn’t push his hand away; she smiled and pointed downward as if to indicate that they had work to do. He grinned and nodded and put his hand between her buttock cheeks to turn her.
They had found the galleons three weeks ago—Pete and Rod and herself. They had been treasure hunting in these waters off the Florida coast a long time, over a year, really. And only recently had they come upon the find of which all such divers dream.
“A plate fleet,” Pete had said, pacing up and down in the cabin of their boat, elation keeping him moving. “Driven off course by a hurricane, probably, caught on the sunken reefs below us and shattered.”
The holds of the galleons were filled with gold bars and silver bars, and with chests that contained uncut rubies, emeralds and diamonds. The loot of the New World, bound for the court of the Spanish kings.
All theirs.
They could hardly believe their good luck. Not many men ever achieve their fondest dreams in life. It scared them, a little, to be so lucky. They swore to keep it a secret, not to breathe a word to anyone until all the legal angles were cleared and they could bank this wealth in their names.
They brought up a little at a time, not having the finances to bring it all up in a few days. They were a two-man, one-woman operation, and all they had to work with was their bodies and the gear on the ketch they had renamed The Sea Jade after they had bought her fourth-hand from an old sea captain who was retiring to fish in shallower waters.
Somehow, someone had talked.
Men learned of their find and came nosing about. But Pete Henry had laid claim; he had the law to back up his right to this treasure, and things would have ironed themselves out had it not been for the Mafia.
An attack had been made on Pete Henry. He had fought off his attackers, aided by a squad car that had chanced to be passing by. They had received threats; they knew eyes were watching their every move.
In desperation, Pete Henry had gone north to New York, to seek help from an organization calling itself the New York Mafia Prosecution and Harassment Organization. He had left his wife Jill alone with his partner Rod McCarty.
And Jill loved it.
For now, with Pete gone, Rod had become more daring. He had taken to running his hand over her body, and he had crowded his loins close to her buttocks when they had been standing together; he had let her know that he found her desirable.
Now as Jill kicked toward the Esmerelda, she was torn between the lure of the gold and jewels inside the hull of this big galleon, and the undeniable hunger for Rod McCarty that burned in her.
She laughed to herself as she felt the brush of a hand across her thigh. Rod had come swimming strongly to move his hand up her back to the fastening of her bikini bra.
The bra did little to hold in her breasts, but Rod was apparently unsatisfied with what he could see of them. He wanted a better view. And Jill was not at all averse to letting him look.
So she did not resist when she felt his hand at her bra clasps. She felt the material give way, fall from her suddenly hard breasts. She might have laughed if there had not been a Royal Aqua-Master mouthpiece clamped between her teeth.
The bra drifted downward. Her breasts swung free, white and blue-veined, tipped with dark brown nipples. She felt like screaming in the sudden heat of her flesh.
Not here! Not here!
She twisted away from him and dove downward right above the galleon. Her eyes caught sight of something white on the deck. That was as good a goal as any, her bemused mind told her.
Jill raced toward that white thing, knowing Rod was right behind her. She did not know what it was, she could not tell, until she was right above it. Then she recognized it, and almost shied back.
A skeleton lay clad in something like rusted metal and shreds of what might have been clothing long ago. There was also something that might have been rope tied about his waist. He lay near the mast.
But it was not the skeleton or its decayed clothing that made Jill suddenly turn and dive, it was the sight of something long and glittering that lay between the bones of a skeletal right hand.
Even at that distance, Jill knew diamonds.
They lay in a little heap, even at this depth catching faint rays of light deep inside their brilliance. They lay on a rotted bag of some sort that had broken open with age and the effect of salt water.
Jill almost forgot to breathe.
Her hand darted out. One. Two. Three. Before she was done, she had eight magnificent diamonds clutched in both her hands.
She whirled then, triumphantly, lifting her hands to show what she held. Rod was not interested in those jewels. His stare was fastened on the big globes of her heavy breasts. He let his eyes touch the diamonds, but only vaguely, and then he was up against her nearly nude body, his hands going to her naked breasts.
He caught those breasts in his big hands.
Jill closed her eyes. Waves of heat ran through her flesh. She squirmed her loins closer to the big man, rubbed herself against the bulge in his swim-trunks Her fingers squeezed the jewels as though they were symbolical of his manhood.
She opened her eyes to stare through her mask at his face, finding it twisted in lust. She responded by writhing even closer.
His hands were on her buttocks, gripping, holding her to him. He knew damn well she was as hot as he, Jill told herself. And she did not care. She wanted this virile male as she had never wanted anything in her life.
But they must be sensible!
They could do little down here. But up above, in the cabins of The Sea Jade! Ah, there were bunks there, big and very comfortable.
Jill jerked her head upward.
Rod caught her meaning. If he could, he would have l
aughed. But he drew air into his lungs from the Aqua-Lung cylinders strapped to his back, and nodded.
The woman shot upward, diamonds in her hands.
Rod McCarty went after her, studying her body in the blue waters as she kicked her feet. That body was tanned, except for one thin band where her bra strap had been, the skin showed very white at that one place.
It made Rod McCarty think of how white her breasts would be. They had been white enough underwater as she held up those diamonds for his inspection, and they had been smooth to his touch, almost slick because they were so hard, in that water. He wanted more of them.
They came to the surface, spitting out the mouthpieces, and laughed at each other, flushed and wild. Jill still held the diamonds; even in her present mood, she wasn’t going to let them go.
“You’ll have to help me swim,” she called.
“Will I ever!”
He fondled her first, sliding his hands all around those hard breasts, bending the nipples, making Jill cry out faintly.
“Damn you, not here. In there, in there.”
“Sure, sure. But you have such gorgeous knockers, Jill. Do you know how much I like them?”
“Of course, you silly. I’ve wanted to warn you, not in front of Pete.”
“You liked my staring, didn’t you? Just as you like me playing with your tits like this?”
She came close, nudged her mons veneris against his male bulge, and kissed him with open mouth. Their tongues warred for a moment, as his hands on her buttocks and his kicking legs kept them above water.
“All right,” he gasped. “On board.”
He swam with an arm about her, stroking her breasts as they both kicked, and his one free arm swept them toward the ketch. A ladder hung over-side, he pushed Jill toward it.
His eyes were all over her bared back and long legs as she went up that ladder ahead of him. She went slowly because of the jewels in her hands and because she wanted him to have a good look at her body.
Rod could see brown hairs between her legs. A wildness came into him, then; he gasped and came up the ladder, urging her upward by bumping her soft behind with his loins.
She gurgled laughter, low and sultry.
Then she was putting a foot on deck and turning to show herself, nude but for the bikini brief at her groin and the straps of her tanks. The goggles were pushed high on her head and half buried in her spill of long brown hair.
“Damn you,” she half snarled.
It was a love word, the way it came out. Rod took one step forward, his arms went around her, and lifted her high on his chest.
“I want you,” he whispered against her breasts. “I need you as I’ve never needed anything in my life.”
“What are we waiting for?”
He carried her toward the companionway, kissing her bared breasts until he heard her sobbing. His lips fastened on one nipple and then the other, and he drew in on them hungrily, like a starving infant.
“You trying to tease me?” she panted.
“Goddamn right. I want you hot for me, baby.”
“I am, I am! Rod, you’re torturing me.”
“Won’t be long now. Wait!”
His hand reached to her side, worked on the catch of her brief. The catch opened, the bikini bottom slid downward. Rod saw curling brown pubic hair low on her belly.
He caught the falling material, held it.
“Walk away,” he said hoarsely.
She wriggled, she did a little bump and grind which made her heavy breasts shake richly. Then she was wriggling out of the brief, standing stark naked for his appraisal, arms held high with the diamonds still clutched in her palms.
Jill Henry turned and ducked her head as she plunged down the companionway. Rod McCarty watched her go with lust-fires in his eyes. He looked up at the sky, seeing it blue and cloudless as he drew a deep breath.
He did not see the boat that was low on the horizon, coming toward him. His eyes did not really see the sky, they were too filled with the shapely body of this woman who was his partner’s wife.
Rod ducked his own head and went after her.
She was out of the goggles and the Aqua-Lung when he came into her cabin. She was lying naked, her tanned legs spread wide apart, her back and head propped up by cushions, as he came through the doorway.
Diamonds lay on the counterpane beside her on the bunk. They made her seem even more attractive. Rod figured he could have her and that treasure, if he played his cards right.
“Take those trunks off,” she whispered.
In seconds he was out in the open for her to admire.
She lifted her hand and wriggled her fingers at him. He stepped closer, closer, until she could reach up and cup his dangling testicles.
“My diamonds,” she breathed. “My real diamonds.”
Her palm cradled him gently as her other hand rose and slid lightly along his manhood. Rod jerked, staring down at what she was doing.
“You’d better cut that out,” he warned.
She lifted brown eyes to him, impishly. “You played with my tits. It’s my turn to play with you.”
In seconds she had him sobbing softly, especially when she swiveled her hips around and bent over him, her tongue coming out for gentle cat-licks He stared down at her naked body, finding the skin cool from her long submersion in the water but growing warm.
When he could stand it no longer he pushed her back, caught an ankle and turned her until she sat on the edge of the bunk with her legs wide apart.
Rod bent his head, his lips searched.
Jill wailed, both hands clasping his long black hair, holding him to his tongue task. Rod burrowed deeper, deeper.
When she could no longer accept this lingual play, she clawed at him, panting and sobbing, drawing him up on the bunk with her. Her hand caught him, guiding.
He plunged into her, slid deep.
Jill cried out, mouth open wide and eyes squeezed tightly shut, moving her head back and forth, back and forth. Never had she enjoyed this fire in her belly! Never like this, never before! Pete had been a poor lover compared to Rod McCarty. For sex like this, she would do anything.
“Anything,” she wailed, and Rod knew what she meant.
They did not hurry. They had teased each other too long to be relieved of this wildfire by a few moments of unendurable ecstasy This must go on and on.
On and on and on… .
His fingers were deep in her soft buttocks, holding her tightly, half lifting her off the mattress. Her arms were about his chest, her legs twisted high around his waist. Her hips rose and fell with metronomic precision, even as he dug into her.
They convulsed, both together, and lay entwined for a little while, barely breathing.
“I’ve got to have this all the time,” she whimpered, turning her head to kiss his shoulder.
“Me, too. But Pete gets back in a couple of days. We just can’t throw each other down and go at it with him around.”
“I’ll find a way. I can’t do without you, Rod.”
His laughter tickled her throat as he kissed. “You think I can? But I don’t want Pete sticking a scaling knife between my ribs.”
“Pete isn’t jealous,” she muttered.
“Maybe not. But he’d damn well would be if he saw the way we are now.”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
He moved in her, she gasped and rotated her hips lazily. The wildfire in her loins was building again, rising to choke her with the heat of the moment. Her arms tightened; so did her legs.
“Ride me! Ride me!” she screamed.
He did not hurry. This meeting of bodies, this mingling of male and female flesh had been a long time coming for him. He could remember how he had first met Jill Henry—on this very boat.
He had known Pete for several years; at one time they had been fishermen together. They had made dives into these Florida waters for pay, hunting treasure for other men. They had worked, at one time, for the government.
But he had never laid eyes on Pete’s wife, not until the day Pete had met him at the Pier House Motel in Key West and told him about his plans to go into business for himself. Pete Henry had found a sunken plate ship when he had been diving for another man, but while he had helped make that other man rich, Pete had decided that this lone ship was one of a fleet, and that the rest of the fleet might not be far away.
