For The Thrill of it. A Michael Stone adventure.

Previously

…He turned east, toward the river. The old fish warehouses lined the bank, dark hulks against the fading light. Somewhere in one of them—or beyond, on a boat already slipping into the night—was Rita. He would find her. But now he knew the cost and the count. He walked into the deepening twilight, a single man moving toward a line of silent buildings, the river lapping against rotting piers. And for the first time since he left the jungle, the thrill of the hunt burned clean in his chest, warm and alive.