The warming sun’s reflection danced on the bushes mirrored in the pool water. Most never notice it. Fewer still ever appreciate it. Me, I love to watch it. And then I saw her.

A molten hot blond that was stone cold dead. I wasn’t sure how she died. But I was willing to bet that knife sticking out of her back had a big part in the disaster. I’d rolled over, right into her still warm dripping blood. Hell of a way to start the day. I clumsily fell into the water gasping. Cuban drug lords, Crooked FBI Agents, Nuns with Guns. And me stuck in the middle again. Framed for a crime I did not do. I was on the run. In a wet bathing suit, no less. The cops wanted me. The Feds wanted me. The Cubans wanted me. I had no where to run, except the Holy Mother of God Orphanage. “Help me Sister Stella.”