Sara Thacker's Blog: Red Skhye In Morning, page 13
May 27, 2011
Chapter 7: Part 2
The tricks the sun played on her eyes were amazing. She'd heard of mirages before but never experienced one. For some strange reason she believed they only happened in the desert, but sure as she lived and breathed a huge mirage of a ship floated before her.
At some point the white and black-hulled ship in her mirage had stopped moving away. Horns blew. She heard some bells. Maybe this was heaven and she'd made it through the pearly gates. But the pain. Couldn't be heaven, must be hell.
Amanda closed her eyes. Visions of hamburgers and milkshakes danced in her head. The little raft that was her new home rocked. Damn, another storm. The raft rocked again. She heard a voice, then another.
Funny what hallucinations you have after weeks of torture. The pain had finally gotten to her. She was hearing things and seeing thing that weren't real.
"Damn, I don't think she's alive."
"Let's bring her aboard. Someone will want to know she'd didn't make it."
Amanda cracked her eyes open and the sun blinded her. A smaller craft had come near. Not at all like the huge ship. This one was orange. The tricks the mind would play when you were half-baked.
The snake in the box was almost dead. It had been days since she'd seen the thing move. What if that boat wasn't fake? What if she was the snake in their box, unmoving and they presumed her dead.
Amanda palmed the snake box. Her arm struggled to lift the plexiglass tomb. With the skill reserved for toddlers, she tossed the box. It went only a few feet, not nearly far enough to hit the boat. But she noticed it made a difference. The men on the boat ran towards her. Ha, angels didn't have wings, they were smelly and had beards.
They threw a line that landed across her stomach. No pain seared her body. She felt nothing. Suddenly her arms were pulled and her body lifted.
Men surrounded her. They covered her with a blanket. The scratchy material burned against her skin, but she didn't complain.
She felt something. The desire to cry grew strong but no tears remained. Her body had turned into a desert lost in the ocean.
Some amount of time passed as ice chips were placed in her mouth. She must have passed out a few times. There was always someone hovering close. All she had to do was grunt or groan and they were there.
The white and black-hulled ship wasn't a hallucination. Instead it was a container ship, packed full of dark boxes. A man, probably the captain said something about a helicopter.
Amanda tried to stay awake but relief ramped up her emotions leaving her unable to stake a claim on consciousness.
Things happened. At some point she'd been given an IV. Eventually she felt the rise of the helicopter and saw a man with a stethoscope hovering over her.
The next thing she knew the scene had changed. Overhead lights blinded her. The smell of antiseptic and cleanliness suffused the room. Starched white frocks became the norm. It must be a hospital.
This time tears came. The salt from her own body now stung her cheeks. Never again would she go to the ocean. Her life had been spared, even if she no longer could sing, could no longer perform, she lived.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
At some point the white and black-hulled ship in her mirage had stopped moving away. Horns blew. She heard some bells. Maybe this was heaven and she'd made it through the pearly gates. But the pain. Couldn't be heaven, must be hell.
Amanda closed her eyes. Visions of hamburgers and milkshakes danced in her head. The little raft that was her new home rocked. Damn, another storm. The raft rocked again. She heard a voice, then another.
Funny what hallucinations you have after weeks of torture. The pain had finally gotten to her. She was hearing things and seeing thing that weren't real.
"Damn, I don't think she's alive."
"Let's bring her aboard. Someone will want to know she'd didn't make it."
Amanda cracked her eyes open and the sun blinded her. A smaller craft had come near. Not at all like the huge ship. This one was orange. The tricks the mind would play when you were half-baked.
The snake in the box was almost dead. It had been days since she'd seen the thing move. What if that boat wasn't fake? What if she was the snake in their box, unmoving and they presumed her dead.
Amanda palmed the snake box. Her arm struggled to lift the plexiglass tomb. With the skill reserved for toddlers, she tossed the box. It went only a few feet, not nearly far enough to hit the boat. But she noticed it made a difference. The men on the boat ran towards her. Ha, angels didn't have wings, they were smelly and had beards.
They threw a line that landed across her stomach. No pain seared her body. She felt nothing. Suddenly her arms were pulled and her body lifted.
Men surrounded her. They covered her with a blanket. The scratchy material burned against her skin, but she didn't complain.
She felt something. The desire to cry grew strong but no tears remained. Her body had turned into a desert lost in the ocean.
Some amount of time passed as ice chips were placed in her mouth. She must have passed out a few times. There was always someone hovering close. All she had to do was grunt or groan and they were there.
The white and black-hulled ship wasn't a hallucination. Instead it was a container ship, packed full of dark boxes. A man, probably the captain said something about a helicopter.
Amanda tried to stay awake but relief ramped up her emotions leaving her unable to stake a claim on consciousness.
Things happened. At some point she'd been given an IV. Eventually she felt the rise of the helicopter and saw a man with a stethoscope hovering over her.
The next thing she knew the scene had changed. Overhead lights blinded her. The smell of antiseptic and cleanliness suffused the room. Starched white frocks became the norm. It must be a hospital.
This time tears came. The salt from her own body now stung her cheeks. Never again would she go to the ocean. Her life had been spared, even if she no longer could sing, could no longer perform, she lived.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
May 26, 2011
Chapter 7: Part 1
The ocean had a glassy quality that always made Sam think about living totally alone on his boat for the rest of his life. The rollicking waves and impressive storms always made him feel alive, but the calm ocean with few waves or sounds made him happy to live out here away from society.
It would be nice to be with Delanie right now. To sit at the tip of the sailboat, waiting for a dolphin or other sea creature to swim under the bow of the ship. He imagined her delight at the things he took for granted after being on the ocean for two years.
He'd made a vow to take nothing for granted, but it was near impossible to keep. You grew used to the dolphins and sharks. True, he had to work for his meals, but the work became easy. He could dip a line in the water and the fish would attack, clamoring to be the one he would eat for lunch or dinner.
Delanie would freshen his outlook. But he couldn't be just some crazy man on a boat. He needed something that she could look up to. To be the kind of man she could be proud of.
After boating closer to one of the bigger islands where he could catch one of those super expensive internet connections, he'd spent an hour going over the financials his lawyer had emailed.
The companies, corporations, properties and various other holdings were operating way above what he expected. Money poured in. He was richer. His board of directors had to be happy and all of the companies he owned were better off now that he was gone.
And it wasn't just the economy. In fact the global economy sucked wind, but still he made money. It wasn't a fluke. The people in charge of making decisions were smart. They made the right moves. He wasn't needed. But he wanted to be.
Truth was, if he fell into the ocean right now and didn't resurface, few people would realize he was gone. He needed to make it personal. Money was money, but what had he done in his life that really mattered?
Delanie would matter. Adding her to his life would change the way he operated. Money was his business, his life, his every thing. He could take any company and turn it around. He knew how to make money. Maybe he could still get Delanie and not go back to the same old grind.
He doubted that she would want to live on a small sailboat, and he wasn't the yacht type of guy.
Samuel picked up his computer and flipped through the files again. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Of course, when he'd left, he wondered about embezzlement. Safeguards had been set up, but still, things happened. Lucky for him, it hadn't yet with any of his companies.
A dolphin poked its head out of the water, eyeing Sam and his boat. It was wrong to feed the dolphins by hand. Sometimes they would find his scraps from cleaning fish, but usually it was the sharks that got the scraps.
Could he give all this up? There was a balance lacking in his life. If he focused on work then that's all he could focus on. He'd only changed his focus when he came out here to the ocean. Maybe he could find a balance that would allow him to work and play.
Some would say that his life on the boat wasn't that much different than living in the city. Sure, the location and atmosphere were, but the way he attacked the problem of sailing until he became an expert boatman, and how he had learned to catch fish had been done with the same drive. It was that drive that got him in trouble.
He had focused on others while he was out here. Adjusting his focus to things like the environment and poverty. Lack of any kind never even entered his radar before. If people lived in poverty it was because they were bad people. One thing this boat trip had taught him was not to judge. Maybe there was hope for him yet.
More than once he had been treated badly because of his looks. It hit home now. People were people. Maybe he couldn't return to his previous life. Maybe he needed to do something totally different. But how could he make that first step?
The reality of his life left a lot to be desired. Sure he was super rich, now. But could he ever be happy? Spending the night with Delanie had been the happiest night he could remember. There had been no sex, only card games and laughter. Not something he would have ever done before.
Damn, he had been living for the wrong thing for so long he didn't even know what to do or how to move forward. A change was in order. First he would get his life back on track. Then he would find Delanie and make her his.
Sam pointed his sailboat back towards Delanie's island. He wouldn't go ashore, but he wanted her close while he decided what to do with the rest of his life.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
It would be nice to be with Delanie right now. To sit at the tip of the sailboat, waiting for a dolphin or other sea creature to swim under the bow of the ship. He imagined her delight at the things he took for granted after being on the ocean for two years.
He'd made a vow to take nothing for granted, but it was near impossible to keep. You grew used to the dolphins and sharks. True, he had to work for his meals, but the work became easy. He could dip a line in the water and the fish would attack, clamoring to be the one he would eat for lunch or dinner.
Delanie would freshen his outlook. But he couldn't be just some crazy man on a boat. He needed something that she could look up to. To be the kind of man she could be proud of.
After boating closer to one of the bigger islands where he could catch one of those super expensive internet connections, he'd spent an hour going over the financials his lawyer had emailed.
The companies, corporations, properties and various other holdings were operating way above what he expected. Money poured in. He was richer. His board of directors had to be happy and all of the companies he owned were better off now that he was gone.
And it wasn't just the economy. In fact the global economy sucked wind, but still he made money. It wasn't a fluke. The people in charge of making decisions were smart. They made the right moves. He wasn't needed. But he wanted to be.
Truth was, if he fell into the ocean right now and didn't resurface, few people would realize he was gone. He needed to make it personal. Money was money, but what had he done in his life that really mattered?
Delanie would matter. Adding her to his life would change the way he operated. Money was his business, his life, his every thing. He could take any company and turn it around. He knew how to make money. Maybe he could still get Delanie and not go back to the same old grind.
He doubted that she would want to live on a small sailboat, and he wasn't the yacht type of guy.
Samuel picked up his computer and flipped through the files again. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Of course, when he'd left, he wondered about embezzlement. Safeguards had been set up, but still, things happened. Lucky for him, it hadn't yet with any of his companies.
A dolphin poked its head out of the water, eyeing Sam and his boat. It was wrong to feed the dolphins by hand. Sometimes they would find his scraps from cleaning fish, but usually it was the sharks that got the scraps.
Could he give all this up? There was a balance lacking in his life. If he focused on work then that's all he could focus on. He'd only changed his focus when he came out here to the ocean. Maybe he could find a balance that would allow him to work and play.
Some would say that his life on the boat wasn't that much different than living in the city. Sure, the location and atmosphere were, but the way he attacked the problem of sailing until he became an expert boatman, and how he had learned to catch fish had been done with the same drive. It was that drive that got him in trouble.
He had focused on others while he was out here. Adjusting his focus to things like the environment and poverty. Lack of any kind never even entered his radar before. If people lived in poverty it was because they were bad people. One thing this boat trip had taught him was not to judge. Maybe there was hope for him yet.
More than once he had been treated badly because of his looks. It hit home now. People were people. Maybe he couldn't return to his previous life. Maybe he needed to do something totally different. But how could he make that first step?
The reality of his life left a lot to be desired. Sure he was super rich, now. But could he ever be happy? Spending the night with Delanie had been the happiest night he could remember. There had been no sex, only card games and laughter. Not something he would have ever done before.
Damn, he had been living for the wrong thing for so long he didn't even know what to do or how to move forward. A change was in order. First he would get his life back on track. Then he would find Delanie and make her his.
Sam pointed his sailboat back towards Delanie's island. He wouldn't go ashore, but he wanted her close while he decided what to do with the rest of his life.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
May 25, 2011
Chapter 6: Part 4
Richard had waited long enough. He decided to get to work on the new bitch. The girl woke when he shoved the needle through her nipple. She screamed and cursed. Her pain excited him. If only he could find a new woman every day to do this to. He could already tell that this one wouldn't last long. The pain would dull her senses. Eventually she wouldn't even scream.
If he had done this woman like the rest of his cache, he would have probably dropped her. He was glad he had just grabbed her from the street. She wasn't worth a long time operation.
"What is your name?"
She rose up and spit at his face.
"Damn, you're a feisty one."
He grabbed her ear and held her still. The piercing gun came up, ready to hit her lobe. She flinched, pulling away at the last minute.
"Fuck." His blood pumped fast and hard almost blinding him. He struck back, slamming both fists down on her face. She twitched before passing out. Spittle blew out of his mouth and onto her face. His anger ebbed, and now he was sorry he'd hit her.
"Damn it, you bitch. Why did you go and do that?"
He reached for a bottle of whisky, drinking down a huge swig, calming his nerves. Since the bitch was out he decided to play. He loaded the piercing gun over and over again, marking her body randomly. There was no rhyme or rhythm to his rampage. Any flap of skin he could pierce he did. Pleasure rolled through his body.
After thirty minutes he stepped back and surveyed his work. Strangely, one of the first piercings looked funny. Her right breast had ballooned. She didn't look right.
The girl's chest rose and fell erratically. "Damn, you can't die on me yet." He slapped her face. She didn't respond. "No," he roared. His fists pummeled her.
Sweat streaked his face. His hands were bloodied and scratched. Thankfully he hadn't used fishhooks because they surely would have cut him deep. Damn, now he would have to go further out to sea. She was still breathing, but it wouldn't be long.
The trip up to the deck wasn't filled with the joy he thought he would feel after their first session. The stupid bitch had ruined all of his plans.
What type of person had an allergy to metal? He was sure that's what it was. Had to have been an allergy. You don't balloon up like that just cause.
After weighing anchor, he pointed his boat out towards the ocean. He'd find a nice group of sharks and dump her. He'd cut off a few toes and fingers first, enough to get the beasts churning.
He needed to start all over again. Maybe this was a sign. He should leave the Caribbean Sea and travel westward. Lust churned in his belly and his face twitched. If he didn't get his fix soon he would combust. One more on this side of the canal wouldn't hurt.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
If he had done this woman like the rest of his cache, he would have probably dropped her. He was glad he had just grabbed her from the street. She wasn't worth a long time operation.
"What is your name?"
She rose up and spit at his face.
"Damn, you're a feisty one."
He grabbed her ear and held her still. The piercing gun came up, ready to hit her lobe. She flinched, pulling away at the last minute.
"Fuck." His blood pumped fast and hard almost blinding him. He struck back, slamming both fists down on her face. She twitched before passing out. Spittle blew out of his mouth and onto her face. His anger ebbed, and now he was sorry he'd hit her.
"Damn it, you bitch. Why did you go and do that?"
He reached for a bottle of whisky, drinking down a huge swig, calming his nerves. Since the bitch was out he decided to play. He loaded the piercing gun over and over again, marking her body randomly. There was no rhyme or rhythm to his rampage. Any flap of skin he could pierce he did. Pleasure rolled through his body.
After thirty minutes he stepped back and surveyed his work. Strangely, one of the first piercings looked funny. Her right breast had ballooned. She didn't look right.
The girl's chest rose and fell erratically. "Damn, you can't die on me yet." He slapped her face. She didn't respond. "No," he roared. His fists pummeled her.
Sweat streaked his face. His hands were bloodied and scratched. Thankfully he hadn't used fishhooks because they surely would have cut him deep. Damn, now he would have to go further out to sea. She was still breathing, but it wouldn't be long.
The trip up to the deck wasn't filled with the joy he thought he would feel after their first session. The stupid bitch had ruined all of his plans.
What type of person had an allergy to metal? He was sure that's what it was. Had to have been an allergy. You don't balloon up like that just cause.
After weighing anchor, he pointed his boat out towards the ocean. He'd find a nice group of sharks and dump her. He'd cut off a few toes and fingers first, enough to get the beasts churning.
He needed to start all over again. Maybe this was a sign. He should leave the Caribbean Sea and travel westward. Lust churned in his belly and his face twitched. If he didn't get his fix soon he would combust. One more on this side of the canal wouldn't hurt.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
May 24, 2011
Chapter 6: Part 3
Bill walked into Baker's office not sure that his boss would listen, but he had a chance to come out of this with some resources to work the Bahamas' case. Of course the FBI would probably scream no jurisdiction, but he didn't care.
"Rowland, nice work on that case the other night."
"Thanks. Just saw the pattern."
"That was more than just seeing a pattern. I think those boys in the BAU over at Quantico would be jealous. Took you almost no time to figure it out."
"Actually it was hours and hours of intense concentration over a few days. It was more than just me too, don't forget that."
"That's what I like about you Rowland, not afraid of hard work. Had to tell you, that when you first got here, I was afraid your money would hinder you. Not so."
"I'm dedicated to finding criminals and stopping them."
"Good, good. So, you needed to see me?"
"I received some more troubling information on those girls missing in the Bahamas."
"I thought we agreed there was no case there. Plus, there are jurisdictional issues."
Bill flexed his fingers, trying not to overreact. He wanted to scream and shout, but what the hell could he do. If Baker didn't want him working a case he most likely couldn't work the case. But he sure as hell would try to get his boss to listen.
"Sir, these women aren't just taking a swim late at night. Something troubling is happening."
"I agree, but let me state again that the Bahaman Islands aren't in our jurisdiction."
"But the women are all Americans."
"Still not for us to get involved without an invitation."
"Just hear me out."
Baker blew out a huge breath and propped his feet up on his desk. "Talk."
"Of the four women missing, one was out partying. I want that mentioned up front."
"Couldn't the other three just be out having fun?"
"Could, but I don't think so. They all had reasons to come back. None of them were depressed. Their lives in the US were regimented. They were model citizens, not party girls."
"The islands change people. They act different."
"Yes, well I received a call this morning about a girl who went missing. She's a choreographer for music videos. She was supposed to meet with a very huge pop star, Selena. They were to work on a project together."
"Selena?"
"Yeah, I know, I sure as hell wouldn't miss a meeting with Selena. But the missing woman never showed. This was her big break."
"Party girl? You know how those music people are."
Bill knew he would have a hard time convincing his boss. Women usually weren't taken seriously, even though most law enforcement agencies were better than they'd been even fifteen years ago, still it was an uphill battle convincing even FBI agents that women weren't at fault when they were attacked. "I haven't had time to do the background on this woman, but party girl or not, this meeting was huge."
"When did she go missing?"
"This morning."
"Rowland, get real. You aren't going to get resources on a woman who could very well be out playing with some boy toy."
This was how he thought the meeting would go. He couldn't lose his cool just because Baker didn't agree with him. "Selena. She was supposed to meet with one of the best musicians on the planet. She wouldn't have missed that meeting."
"Listen, there's this other case. It would make your career. The BAU would be impressed if you solved it."
"Mr. Baker, I'm not out to make my career on a case. I want to prevent other women from being taken."
Baker dropped his feet off the desk and stood. His gaze never left Bills. "We aren't vigilantes. As much as we see in our little office, you'll see much worse at the BAU."
"I'm not trying to be difficult. I just think some time spent in the Bahamas would help."
"First, I need you to look at this other case."
"First? That means there's a second."
"This other case before anything else."
"I'll stay here all night if I have to." Bill jumped up to leave.
"And Rowland, this is on your dime and your time. You lose your vacation."
"I'm fine with that. But once they invite us in, I'll come back from the dark side."
"Agreed. If they invite you in you belong to me again." Baker waved him away. Before he could hit the hall Baker called him back. "You know, Rowland, people resent your money. You could fund the entire department for a few months. Don't think that other's don't know it."
Bill's stomach went sour. "I do my work just like everyone else."
"Yeah, but who else would have the balls to ask for a specific assignment?"
"Rafferty, two months ago. Before that Gilley and Williams both asked to work cases in their home states."
"Fine, but it looks bad when you do it."
Bill held back the tirade about how discriminatory his boss was being. "This is the first time I've ever asked."
"True, but the Bahamas?"
"I'll get the other case done here before I leave. You won't miss me."
"Don't believe it for a minute, the guys know you're super smart."
"I'll wrap it up quickly and be back here before a week is out."
"That a boy, I'll have the case files brought to conference room four and you can work there. Just think of it as your personal playground for the next few days."
Bill walked out of his boss's office, perturbed at the money comment. The shitty thing was his boss was only partly right. He could fund the entire department and the payroll for years and years, never even noticing the difference in how he lived. Money wasn't his issue, time was.
A part of him would always want to push against the government lack and oversight. Rowland money was plentiful and powerful, and if he were honest he would admit that he wanted to use it to push around the brass, but he wasn't a vigilantly. He'd go by the book because you couldn't win a case unless you were one hundred percent in the right as far as the defense attorney was concerned.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
"Rowland, nice work on that case the other night."
"Thanks. Just saw the pattern."
"That was more than just seeing a pattern. I think those boys in the BAU over at Quantico would be jealous. Took you almost no time to figure it out."
"Actually it was hours and hours of intense concentration over a few days. It was more than just me too, don't forget that."
"That's what I like about you Rowland, not afraid of hard work. Had to tell you, that when you first got here, I was afraid your money would hinder you. Not so."
"I'm dedicated to finding criminals and stopping them."
"Good, good. So, you needed to see me?"
"I received some more troubling information on those girls missing in the Bahamas."
"I thought we agreed there was no case there. Plus, there are jurisdictional issues."
Bill flexed his fingers, trying not to overreact. He wanted to scream and shout, but what the hell could he do. If Baker didn't want him working a case he most likely couldn't work the case. But he sure as hell would try to get his boss to listen.
"Sir, these women aren't just taking a swim late at night. Something troubling is happening."
"I agree, but let me state again that the Bahaman Islands aren't in our jurisdiction."
"But the women are all Americans."
"Still not for us to get involved without an invitation."
"Just hear me out."
Baker blew out a huge breath and propped his feet up on his desk. "Talk."
"Of the four women missing, one was out partying. I want that mentioned up front."
"Couldn't the other three just be out having fun?"
"Could, but I don't think so. They all had reasons to come back. None of them were depressed. Their lives in the US were regimented. They were model citizens, not party girls."
"The islands change people. They act different."
"Yes, well I received a call this morning about a girl who went missing. She's a choreographer for music videos. She was supposed to meet with a very huge pop star, Selena. They were to work on a project together."
"Selena?"
"Yeah, I know, I sure as hell wouldn't miss a meeting with Selena. But the missing woman never showed. This was her big break."
"Party girl? You know how those music people are."
Bill knew he would have a hard time convincing his boss. Women usually weren't taken seriously, even though most law enforcement agencies were better than they'd been even fifteen years ago, still it was an uphill battle convincing even FBI agents that women weren't at fault when they were attacked. "I haven't had time to do the background on this woman, but party girl or not, this meeting was huge."
"When did she go missing?"
"This morning."
"Rowland, get real. You aren't going to get resources on a woman who could very well be out playing with some boy toy."
This was how he thought the meeting would go. He couldn't lose his cool just because Baker didn't agree with him. "Selena. She was supposed to meet with one of the best musicians on the planet. She wouldn't have missed that meeting."
"Listen, there's this other case. It would make your career. The BAU would be impressed if you solved it."
"Mr. Baker, I'm not out to make my career on a case. I want to prevent other women from being taken."
Baker dropped his feet off the desk and stood. His gaze never left Bills. "We aren't vigilantes. As much as we see in our little office, you'll see much worse at the BAU."
"I'm not trying to be difficult. I just think some time spent in the Bahamas would help."
"First, I need you to look at this other case."
"First? That means there's a second."
"This other case before anything else."
"I'll stay here all night if I have to." Bill jumped up to leave.
"And Rowland, this is on your dime and your time. You lose your vacation."
"I'm fine with that. But once they invite us in, I'll come back from the dark side."
"Agreed. If they invite you in you belong to me again." Baker waved him away. Before he could hit the hall Baker called him back. "You know, Rowland, people resent your money. You could fund the entire department for a few months. Don't think that other's don't know it."
Bill's stomach went sour. "I do my work just like everyone else."
"Yeah, but who else would have the balls to ask for a specific assignment?"
"Rafferty, two months ago. Before that Gilley and Williams both asked to work cases in their home states."
"Fine, but it looks bad when you do it."
Bill held back the tirade about how discriminatory his boss was being. "This is the first time I've ever asked."
"True, but the Bahamas?"
"I'll get the other case done here before I leave. You won't miss me."
"Don't believe it for a minute, the guys know you're super smart."
"I'll wrap it up quickly and be back here before a week is out."
"That a boy, I'll have the case files brought to conference room four and you can work there. Just think of it as your personal playground for the next few days."
Bill walked out of his boss's office, perturbed at the money comment. The shitty thing was his boss was only partly right. He could fund the entire department and the payroll for years and years, never even noticing the difference in how he lived. Money wasn't his issue, time was.
A part of him would always want to push against the government lack and oversight. Rowland money was plentiful and powerful, and if he were honest he would admit that he wanted to use it to push around the brass, but he wasn't a vigilantly. He'd go by the book because you couldn't win a case unless you were one hundred percent in the right as far as the defense attorney was concerned.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
May 23, 2011
Chapter 6: Part 2
The wiggly lines of heat had made her see many crazy things over the last few days. Now Amanda saw a huge ship with a white and black hull. She imagined it to be a cruise ship with three pools, a spa, and four midnight buffets.
She could taste the pineapple, all sweet and juicy. Then there would be beef and chicken, but no seafood for her. If she never saw or smelled another thing from the sea for the rest of her life she would be happy. All great buffets had something chocolate. Chocolate pie, chocolate cake, and maybe some chocolate ice cream. Freezing cold ice cream sliding down her throat would feel so good. Screw the calories, she wanted real food.
The side of the yellow raft supported her as she drank the last of her bottled water. The liquid was hot and tasted nasty, then again maybe it was her mouth that tasted bad. If the ship were a fake, she would die tomorrow. This was the end of her time on the raft. It had to be.
For some odd reason she wondered if the cruise director would allow her to play shuffleboard. It had been years since she had played the game and even then she'd sucked. But today she could probably beat anyone at shuffleboard. That is if she could stand up.
The white and black hull drew closer.
The spa would have lotion, probably five or six different types of lotions. All she wanted was one. Just one bottle of cool, clean lotion would feel great to her aching skin.
She turned and looked at the snake. She should toss it into the ocean, but she couldn't bring herself to abandon the snake out here. That would be cruel.
The white and black hull drew closer.
Amanda wondered if she should scream? She tried to work her voice but nothing came out. What a shame. Her career was over. Laughter bubbled out of her mouth. The funnies soon turned to hysteria. Her days as a songbird were over. She wiped at the tears that should be flowing from her eyes. Her face was dry.
Maybe they would let her sip one of those icy drinks at the bar. An inside bar, one where she couldn't even see the sun. After this experience she wanted to become a vampire. Of course she knew there were no such things as vampires, all fakie wakie, but she could dream. Her skin would be pale as a ghost after this. No sun, ever.
She'd played a vampire before. Actually one of her first rolls was as a child vampire in a movie. Okay, so she'd played the vampire thing twice. She'd gone up against Buffy and had been dusted. That had been a fun role.
But singing was her thing now. Acting was best left up to the Hollywood starlets. She was a singer, at least she had been.
The white and black hull began to turn away.
Amanda grabbed the empty water bottles and waved them around in the air. She wanted to scream but nothing would come out. She knew not to stand, but she sat up, wondering if the little people on the ship would see her.
Tomorrow would be her last day. She rose up on her knees, not willing to totally give up. At least not yet. She tried screaming again, but it didn't work. Her voice was truly gone.
Her arms waved frantically. In her mind she made big movements that only the blind wouldn't be able to see, in reality she probably was doing only little waves. Reality sucked.
Her heart ached as she imagined all those beautiful little shrimp arranged around the top of a glass bowl just waiting for her. The oranges, and grapefruit, bananas, and strawberries all waiting for her to consume them. Chocolate too. All floating away.
She sunk back down onto the floor of the raft and curled into a ball. There would be no midnight buffets for her. No spa treatments. No fruity drinks. All she had left was her raft, her empty bottles, and her snake.
She grabbed the snake box and hugged it. The entertainment industry was full of slimy businessmen, with beady little eyes. People called them snakes. She'd taken a few hits in her career from serpent like businessmen, but she never thought she would die with a snake as her only companion. The irony sucked.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
Firefly: The Complete Series [Blu-ray]
She could taste the pineapple, all sweet and juicy. Then there would be beef and chicken, but no seafood for her. If she never saw or smelled another thing from the sea for the rest of her life she would be happy. All great buffets had something chocolate. Chocolate pie, chocolate cake, and maybe some chocolate ice cream. Freezing cold ice cream sliding down her throat would feel so good. Screw the calories, she wanted real food.
The side of the yellow raft supported her as she drank the last of her bottled water. The liquid was hot and tasted nasty, then again maybe it was her mouth that tasted bad. If the ship were a fake, she would die tomorrow. This was the end of her time on the raft. It had to be.
For some odd reason she wondered if the cruise director would allow her to play shuffleboard. It had been years since she had played the game and even then she'd sucked. But today she could probably beat anyone at shuffleboard. That is if she could stand up.
The white and black hull drew closer.
The spa would have lotion, probably five or six different types of lotions. All she wanted was one. Just one bottle of cool, clean lotion would feel great to her aching skin.
She turned and looked at the snake. She should toss it into the ocean, but she couldn't bring herself to abandon the snake out here. That would be cruel.
The white and black hull drew closer.
Amanda wondered if she should scream? She tried to work her voice but nothing came out. What a shame. Her career was over. Laughter bubbled out of her mouth. The funnies soon turned to hysteria. Her days as a songbird were over. She wiped at the tears that should be flowing from her eyes. Her face was dry.
Maybe they would let her sip one of those icy drinks at the bar. An inside bar, one where she couldn't even see the sun. After this experience she wanted to become a vampire. Of course she knew there were no such things as vampires, all fakie wakie, but she could dream. Her skin would be pale as a ghost after this. No sun, ever.
She'd played a vampire before. Actually one of her first rolls was as a child vampire in a movie. Okay, so she'd played the vampire thing twice. She'd gone up against Buffy and had been dusted. That had been a fun role.
But singing was her thing now. Acting was best left up to the Hollywood starlets. She was a singer, at least she had been.
The white and black hull began to turn away.
Amanda grabbed the empty water bottles and waved them around in the air. She wanted to scream but nothing would come out. She knew not to stand, but she sat up, wondering if the little people on the ship would see her.
Tomorrow would be her last day. She rose up on her knees, not willing to totally give up. At least not yet. She tried screaming again, but it didn't work. Her voice was truly gone.
Her arms waved frantically. In her mind she made big movements that only the blind wouldn't be able to see, in reality she probably was doing only little waves. Reality sucked.
Her heart ached as she imagined all those beautiful little shrimp arranged around the top of a glass bowl just waiting for her. The oranges, and grapefruit, bananas, and strawberries all waiting for her to consume them. Chocolate too. All floating away.
She sunk back down onto the floor of the raft and curled into a ball. There would be no midnight buffets for her. No spa treatments. No fruity drinks. All she had left was her raft, her empty bottles, and her snake.
She grabbed the snake box and hugged it. The entertainment industry was full of slimy businessmen, with beady little eyes. People called them snakes. She'd taken a few hits in her career from serpent like businessmen, but she never thought she would die with a snake as her only companion. The irony sucked.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
Firefly: The Complete Series [Blu-ray]
May 22, 2011
Chapter 6: Part 1
Sam picked up the satellite phone and checked the charge. Of course, the one day he felt like calling his lawyer, the thing had to be fully charged. He couldn't even claim dead battery to delay the torture.
The number was etched in his mind from years of calling to arrange business dealings. His end rang once and then the efficient voice of his Reginald Johnson, greeted him. "Samuel, good to hear from you."
"Ahh, is it really?" Sam asked.
"Yes, don't ever doubt that. What can we do for you today? Need money wired?"
"I'm thinking about coming back."
"What?" Reggie's voice went flat.
Samuel wished he could see Reggie's face. The shock would be rewarding. Too long had passed since he'd shocked anyone. He used to enjoy shocking his VP's and directors at least once every three months.
"I'm glad I shocked you."
"I'm not shocked, just surprised. Last we talked you were done with it all."
"I know." Samuel studied the horizon. A twinge of regret twisted his gut. "Could you email me some of the financials?"
"Financials?"
"I know, Reggie, I know. I haven't been involved for a long time. Two to be exact, but I think it's time I start paying attention again."
Reggie coughed and the sound of papers shuffling on the other end of the phone. "You do know you can trust those who you left in charge."
"I know."
"Samuel, I don't want to worry you, but what if the board decides to vote you off the island so to speak."
Sam's heart skipped a beat. They could bar him from coming back. He'd left the board in charge. Sure he still owned a lion's share of stock in too many companies to count, but what if his board of directors decided to oust him. "I'm a good business man, they wouldn't vote me out."
"The thing is, operations are running smoothly. Even with the unstable economy everything is great here."
"Surely, there has to be something I could do. I do own controlling share in eight different companies. One will allow me to work."
"You've been boating around for a while."
"Okay, I get the fact that I took off and have been living my own life, but seriously I know how to run a company."
"What's the real reason for this?"
Sam felt his defenses go up immediately. Once Reggie knew about Delanie he'd want a background check. After the check he'd want her to submit to a drug test. Then there would be the financial profiling and the undercover detective searching through her life. He didn't need that, or want it.
"There is no other reason than I just want to come home."
"Do me a favor Samuel, don't make any decisions right now. The teams running the companies are doing great. Your corporations are thriving. Your money is up even when everything else is down. The properties you own are making money. You are a success. Don't blow it."
"Hell, I don't feel like a success."
"Samuel, trust me. We all saw what happened after you–"
"I've changed." Anger boiled through his veins. He'd lost it for a few days, and they still held his meltdown against him.
"I'm sure you have, but give it some more time. You have money, loads of it. Don't come back too early. The press is appeased by the explanations we've given them. If you came back now they would want more. It would only hurt your positions."
"Maybe you're right. But I still want those reports. I'll go over them in the next few weeks and tell you what I think."
Sam turned off the phone, unwilling to receive any calls aimed at talking him out of his plans. Damn, one mistake and everyone went off the deep end. He could have stayed in Manhattan, maybe he should have, but at the time all he wanted was his freedom. All their questions and demands had made him feel crazy. He'd pushed himself too hard, done too much and then he'd almost died. The stress had gotten to him. That's all.
Delanie didn't need a guy like him. He was too screwed up. Damn, and he thought he'd been getting better.
Sam jumped up onto the hatch, spread his arms and yelled, "Fuck!"
His lawyer was wrong. He wasn't a screw up. He could go back and run any of the companies he chose. The timing was almost right. For now he would stay on the ocean a month, maybe two. Research would be his thing, and then he would go back.
Delanie deserved a guy who could make it in the real world. He would be that guy, just with more vacations this time around.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
The number was etched in his mind from years of calling to arrange business dealings. His end rang once and then the efficient voice of his Reginald Johnson, greeted him. "Samuel, good to hear from you."
"Ahh, is it really?" Sam asked.
"Yes, don't ever doubt that. What can we do for you today? Need money wired?"
"I'm thinking about coming back."
"What?" Reggie's voice went flat.
Samuel wished he could see Reggie's face. The shock would be rewarding. Too long had passed since he'd shocked anyone. He used to enjoy shocking his VP's and directors at least once every three months.
"I'm glad I shocked you."
"I'm not shocked, just surprised. Last we talked you were done with it all."
"I know." Samuel studied the horizon. A twinge of regret twisted his gut. "Could you email me some of the financials?"
"Financials?"
"I know, Reggie, I know. I haven't been involved for a long time. Two to be exact, but I think it's time I start paying attention again."
Reggie coughed and the sound of papers shuffling on the other end of the phone. "You do know you can trust those who you left in charge."
"I know."
"Samuel, I don't want to worry you, but what if the board decides to vote you off the island so to speak."
Sam's heart skipped a beat. They could bar him from coming back. He'd left the board in charge. Sure he still owned a lion's share of stock in too many companies to count, but what if his board of directors decided to oust him. "I'm a good business man, they wouldn't vote me out."
"The thing is, operations are running smoothly. Even with the unstable economy everything is great here."
"Surely, there has to be something I could do. I do own controlling share in eight different companies. One will allow me to work."
"You've been boating around for a while."
"Okay, I get the fact that I took off and have been living my own life, but seriously I know how to run a company."
"What's the real reason for this?"
Sam felt his defenses go up immediately. Once Reggie knew about Delanie he'd want a background check. After the check he'd want her to submit to a drug test. Then there would be the financial profiling and the undercover detective searching through her life. He didn't need that, or want it.
"There is no other reason than I just want to come home."
"Do me a favor Samuel, don't make any decisions right now. The teams running the companies are doing great. Your corporations are thriving. Your money is up even when everything else is down. The properties you own are making money. You are a success. Don't blow it."
"Hell, I don't feel like a success."
"Samuel, trust me. We all saw what happened after you–"
"I've changed." Anger boiled through his veins. He'd lost it for a few days, and they still held his meltdown against him.
"I'm sure you have, but give it some more time. You have money, loads of it. Don't come back too early. The press is appeased by the explanations we've given them. If you came back now they would want more. It would only hurt your positions."
"Maybe you're right. But I still want those reports. I'll go over them in the next few weeks and tell you what I think."
Sam turned off the phone, unwilling to receive any calls aimed at talking him out of his plans. Damn, one mistake and everyone went off the deep end. He could have stayed in Manhattan, maybe he should have, but at the time all he wanted was his freedom. All their questions and demands had made him feel crazy. He'd pushed himself too hard, done too much and then he'd almost died. The stress had gotten to him. That's all.
Delanie didn't need a guy like him. He was too screwed up. Damn, and he thought he'd been getting better.
Sam jumped up onto the hatch, spread his arms and yelled, "Fuck!"
His lawyer was wrong. He wasn't a screw up. He could go back and run any of the companies he chose. The timing was almost right. For now he would stay on the ocean a month, maybe two. Research would be his thing, and then he would go back.
Delanie deserved a guy who could make it in the real world. He would be that guy, just with more vacations this time around.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
May 21, 2011
chapter 5: Part 5
The wired phone rang on his desk. Bill checked the clock. It was still early in the day. Most of his colleagues called him on his work cell.
He picked up the phone, "Agent Rowland speaking."
"Agent Rowland, this is Roger Wainright over at the state department."
"Mr. Wainright, I was going to call you later today."
"Well this isn't good news. "
"Did they find a body in the Bahamas?"
"No sir, worse."
Bill felt his gut clench. "Great, better spill it."
"Okay, the only reason I'm calling you is because you were so interested in those other women. I know that the time for missing persons is twenty-four hours, and I wouldn't normally call, but this woman called our office begging for our help."
Bill sat up straight, adjusting his keyboard to take notes as Wainright spoke. "Tell me more."
"So the woman's friend, Maggie Shay, was supposed to meet her back at the hotel at ten this morning."
"It's only eleven thirty there. Not even missing two hours."
"Yes, well the women were supposed to meet with Selena Ghattu."
"Excuse me, the Selena, the mega-million star machine?"
"Yeah, singer, dancer, pop-star Selena. I would think that if you have an appointment with Selena, you would keep it."
"I sure as hell would."
"Yeah, so I started talking to this woman and come to find out this lady, Ms. Shay, went out last night and hasn't come back since. Supposedly there was this really hot guy at a restaurant she wanted to get to know."
"Sounds like normal vacation stuff."
"Yeah, I thought the same thing. But this lady is very worried. I'm the fifth person she called. I don't think we can blow this off."
"Sounds desperate." Bill leaned back in his chair and blew out an exasperated breath.
"Her friend missed a business appointment with Selena. The one person who could make a huge difference in her life. This Ms. Shay person is a dancer and a choreographer. The Selena machine could make her."
Bill shook his head. "Damn, too many coincidences."
"You're telling me."
"Thanks, Mr. Wainright. I'm sure I'll have questions after talking to my boss."
"Tell him this is a desperate situation. I think you need to come down here."
"Hmm, don't know that the FBI will spring for that, but yeah, I think I do need to come down there."
Bill hung up the phone, frustration made his head pound. His personal cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID, his wife. The hesitation to answer came too quickly, too easily. He didn't want to listen to her bitching and griping. The phone stopped making noise, relieving him of any need to deal with her drama.
He hated drama. He'd grown up with enough drama to rival the cast of any daytime soap. The manipulation and control his parents employed was only matched by the evil doings of his sisters. They were his family, but he didn't have to like it.
Shana only added another layer of drama to his life. When they married he really though it would be drama free, and it had been for a while, but life had only turned sour since that Christmas.
He did have it better than some. No cancer, no heart disease, just a wife who was pissed off to learn they were filthy rich.
With too quick of a shove, Bill pushed away from his desk, running into the credenza. His chair bounced a bit before he came to a stop. "Damn." He jumped up and left his office in search of his boss. The day probably would go downhill, so might as well face the titan early.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
He picked up the phone, "Agent Rowland speaking."
"Agent Rowland, this is Roger Wainright over at the state department."
"Mr. Wainright, I was going to call you later today."
"Well this isn't good news. "
"Did they find a body in the Bahamas?"
"No sir, worse."
Bill felt his gut clench. "Great, better spill it."
"Okay, the only reason I'm calling you is because you were so interested in those other women. I know that the time for missing persons is twenty-four hours, and I wouldn't normally call, but this woman called our office begging for our help."
Bill sat up straight, adjusting his keyboard to take notes as Wainright spoke. "Tell me more."
"So the woman's friend, Maggie Shay, was supposed to meet her back at the hotel at ten this morning."
"It's only eleven thirty there. Not even missing two hours."
"Yes, well the women were supposed to meet with Selena Ghattu."
"Excuse me, the Selena, the mega-million star machine?"
"Yeah, singer, dancer, pop-star Selena. I would think that if you have an appointment with Selena, you would keep it."
"I sure as hell would."
"Yeah, so I started talking to this woman and come to find out this lady, Ms. Shay, went out last night and hasn't come back since. Supposedly there was this really hot guy at a restaurant she wanted to get to know."
"Sounds like normal vacation stuff."
"Yeah, I thought the same thing. But this lady is very worried. I'm the fifth person she called. I don't think we can blow this off."
"Sounds desperate." Bill leaned back in his chair and blew out an exasperated breath.
"Her friend missed a business appointment with Selena. The one person who could make a huge difference in her life. This Ms. Shay person is a dancer and a choreographer. The Selena machine could make her."
Bill shook his head. "Damn, too many coincidences."
"You're telling me."
"Thanks, Mr. Wainright. I'm sure I'll have questions after talking to my boss."
"Tell him this is a desperate situation. I think you need to come down here."
"Hmm, don't know that the FBI will spring for that, but yeah, I think I do need to come down there."
Bill hung up the phone, frustration made his head pound. His personal cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID, his wife. The hesitation to answer came too quickly, too easily. He didn't want to listen to her bitching and griping. The phone stopped making noise, relieving him of any need to deal with her drama.
He hated drama. He'd grown up with enough drama to rival the cast of any daytime soap. The manipulation and control his parents employed was only matched by the evil doings of his sisters. They were his family, but he didn't have to like it.
Shana only added another layer of drama to his life. When they married he really though it would be drama free, and it had been for a while, but life had only turned sour since that Christmas.
He did have it better than some. No cancer, no heart disease, just a wife who was pissed off to learn they were filthy rich.
With too quick of a shove, Bill pushed away from his desk, running into the credenza. His chair bounced a bit before he came to a stop. "Damn." He jumped up and left his office in search of his boss. The day probably would go downhill, so might as well face the titan early.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
May 20, 2011
Chapter 5: Part 4
Richard carried the woman down the steps to the bed below. He bound her arms first then her legs. After securing the ropes, he ran topside. It would take a few hours to get out to sea. Most of the day would be wasted, but he couldn't work on her this close to shore. Someone might hear.
No one had seen them leave port. He'd been careful to make sure they weren't observed. And if anyone had seen them, his boat's name and numbers were covered with tape and made to look different. He'd done that before he came into port. Later he would change them back.
He had plans, they were a bit scattered from the excitement of taking the woman so quickly. Usually he spent weeks researching his women. They became familiar to him, like a well-loved pet. He knew everything about his women before he ever approached them. This time he knew nothing of her.
The lack of knowledge scared and excited him. He should know more. By this time he would know her favorite color, her favorite food. Items to torture her with. If that ten o'clock appointment she mentioned would be a problem or something she could just blow off.
Typically, once he had the women below deck for a while they turned hungry then he would present their favorites. He remembered Amanda's reaction. He'd cooked chicken for her and gave her one bite. She'd wanted it so bad that she knelt on the ground and bowed before him, allowing him to take her without being tied down. That had been marvelous. Total subservience.
He wanted that again but didn't know which buttons to push with this girl. Hell, he didn't even know her name.
Once they had escaped most of the boat traffic he dropped anchor and went down the narrow stairs. He doubted that she had come around. This would give him time to do his deeds.
Richard grabbed his piercing equipment. This girl, by her looks and attitude, would be the type to have multiple rings and studs. He cut off her clothes, only nicking her once. A think trickle of blood beaded down her skin. He licked his lips, mesmerized by the blood. After a moment of pure bliss at seeing her bleed he pulled off the rest of her clothes and checked for hardware. Nothing.
Interesting, the girl was totally clean. No tattoos and no piercings hiding below the layers of clothes. He would fix that.
Fifteen rings and bars were set out, some longer than others. He caressed the equipment, thinking about the satisfaction he would feel at being her first. Well, for piercing at least.
He left the cabin to grab two fishhooks but thought better of it. He didn't want to injure himself once he started playing with the bitch, and he had some impressive plans for those titties. The fishhooks could come later after he had exhausted himself.
The woman moaned with the first prick of his needle gun. That hadn't even been the most painful spot. He wondered what she would do when he did her nipple bars.
He'd spent months dreaming about a vain bitch like this one. Someone who he could disfigure while he played. Sure, he could slice with a knife, but for women like this one, looks were the most important thing. He could tattoo her face later, something to make her ashamed. Maybe a big penis and balls tattooed across her cheeks, or a pussy drawn around her mouth. That would be fun.
He would take his time designing piercings and a tattoo. He would make her more beautiful by making her hideously ugly.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
No one had seen them leave port. He'd been careful to make sure they weren't observed. And if anyone had seen them, his boat's name and numbers were covered with tape and made to look different. He'd done that before he came into port. Later he would change them back.
He had plans, they were a bit scattered from the excitement of taking the woman so quickly. Usually he spent weeks researching his women. They became familiar to him, like a well-loved pet. He knew everything about his women before he ever approached them. This time he knew nothing of her.
The lack of knowledge scared and excited him. He should know more. By this time he would know her favorite color, her favorite food. Items to torture her with. If that ten o'clock appointment she mentioned would be a problem or something she could just blow off.
Typically, once he had the women below deck for a while they turned hungry then he would present their favorites. He remembered Amanda's reaction. He'd cooked chicken for her and gave her one bite. She'd wanted it so bad that she knelt on the ground and bowed before him, allowing him to take her without being tied down. That had been marvelous. Total subservience.
He wanted that again but didn't know which buttons to push with this girl. Hell, he didn't even know her name.
Once they had escaped most of the boat traffic he dropped anchor and went down the narrow stairs. He doubted that she had come around. This would give him time to do his deeds.
Richard grabbed his piercing equipment. This girl, by her looks and attitude, would be the type to have multiple rings and studs. He cut off her clothes, only nicking her once. A think trickle of blood beaded down her skin. He licked his lips, mesmerized by the blood. After a moment of pure bliss at seeing her bleed he pulled off the rest of her clothes and checked for hardware. Nothing.
Interesting, the girl was totally clean. No tattoos and no piercings hiding below the layers of clothes. He would fix that.
Fifteen rings and bars were set out, some longer than others. He caressed the equipment, thinking about the satisfaction he would feel at being her first. Well, for piercing at least.
He left the cabin to grab two fishhooks but thought better of it. He didn't want to injure himself once he started playing with the bitch, and he had some impressive plans for those titties. The fishhooks could come later after he had exhausted himself.
The woman moaned with the first prick of his needle gun. That hadn't even been the most painful spot. He wondered what she would do when he did her nipple bars.
He'd spent months dreaming about a vain bitch like this one. Someone who he could disfigure while he played. Sure, he could slice with a knife, but for women like this one, looks were the most important thing. He could tattoo her face later, something to make her ashamed. Maybe a big penis and balls tattooed across her cheeks, or a pussy drawn around her mouth. That would be fun.
He would take his time designing piercings and a tattoo. He would make her more beautiful by making her hideously ugly.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
May 19, 2011
Chapter 5 Part 3
Delanie felt something touching her foot. She stretched, wiggling her toes. A hand slid up her leg, past her knee, leaving her feeling decadent. Her body heated, she wanted to roll towards the touch.
Bright sun splashed across the bed, causing her eyes to squint shut. Why hadn't she drawn the blinds? Then it hit her.
Bahamas.
Wild storm.
Stranger.
Goodness, what the freak was she doing. She jumped out of bed, stumbling on her shoes. Her heal cracked against the wall. She muffled the cry of pain, not wanting to wake the Sam until she knew how the hell she was going to react to sleeping in the same bed as a stranger.
Sam stirred, rolled over, and snuggled against the pillow she'd walloped him with after losing another hand of poker last night.
Her heart squeezed, wistfulness lumped in her throat. She closed her eyes, remembering last night, all they had talked about, the way his eyelashes laid against his cheeks when he closed his eyes to think. How he kept his lids lowered halfway when he was bluffing. Her reaction to losing that had little to do with anger and a whole lot to do with sexual frustration.
When had she stopped using her brain and started thinking about sex with this guy. Damn, she hadn't even slept with Rhye, and here she was wanting to fuck Sam's brains out. What would happen if she went over and ran her hand under his shirt? What if she slid out of her clothes and pressed her breasts up against his cheeks?
"Get a grip," Delanie whispered as she high tailed it out the door and down to the kitchen. Sam had to go. She couldn't do another relationship so soon. Rhye had broken her heart. Sure, they had been done with for a while, but she still hurt.
The storm had blown through last night, and they played cards way past the rain. She laughed at his jokes. He entertained her with wild stories. Never once did he try to kiss her even though tension had crackled through the room.
She grabbed a grapefruit and cut it in half, wrapping one half in plastic and putting it in the fridge. "How did this happen?"
"What?"
Delanie jumped and spun around. Sam still looked sleepy in a dreamy, take the hunk back to bed, sort of way. Her heart jackrabbited, and her face grew warm.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."
"No, no. I'm fine."
"Would you mind if I take a shower?" Sam stretched his hands overhead as he yawned.
Delanie gulped and her knees wobbled. Just thinking of him naked and wet made her giddy.
"Or I could just go."
She was being such a dork. "No, please take a shower. I'll run your clothes in the washing machine and get them dry for you."
"Would you mind if I bring up a few more things. I don't want to impose, and I can compensate–"
"No."
He looked shocked that she'd yelled. Now she felt bad.
"Listen, I'm just a little jumpy. I know we said we didn't want to talk about who we are, but if you knew then you would understand."
He moved closer, invading her personal space. Only inches separated them. Her body went into overdrive. His fingers touched her chin, tilting her head so she had to look at his beautiful face.
"No talking about the past right now. I can't. Maybe next time we meet."
"But–"
"Shhh." He stroked her hair as he took in all of her features. "If you think I'm going to let you go then you're crazy. I am leaving the island, mostly to clear my head. Last night was the most amazing night I've ever had. And don't even try to deny it, I saw it in your smile, and I can see it now."
"I don't know what you are talking about."
He barked out a laugh that startled her. "Don't lie. There's so much sexual tension flowing between us I'm surprised we haven't caught fire."
"Oh God." She melted into him, her hips pressed against his thighs. "I can't right now."
"I know."
"What? You said you didn't know who I was."
"Not know like that. I know we can't hop into bed right now. You are worth more than a one-night stand." He held her at arms length, putting almost a foot of space between them. "I'm going to go down to my boat and get my clothes. I'll start the washer and then I'm going to go for a run. After that I'll switch the clothes over to the dryer and take a shower."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I don't want you to feel pressure to stick around. I can take care of myself. I'm not going to rob the place or take anything of value. I know you have no idea who I am, but I'm trustworthy in this."
"This is too much."
"I know. I feel it too." Sam dropped his hands from her shoulders and spun around. His steps were stiff as he moved to the French doors. He pulled one open and looked back at her. "Don't think that just because I'm walking away now means I want to walk away. Delanie, I will never forget you. I will find you no matter where you go, and when I do it will be different. I hope you are ready when that time comes."
Delanie watched Sam disappear into the foliage. She grabbed her grapefruit and stabbed at the juicy center. If this were one of her movies she would be naked and in the shower when he came back from his run, or five guys in ninja masks and swords would burst through the door. At the moment, she didn't know which scenario would be best.
She looked down at the half eaten fruit, disgusted with her trail of thought. She tossed the remains into the trash and slipped on her hiking shoes. Climbing up to the point would be a good way to work off her frustration.
Living in the shadow of the star machine that was her career would be tough for any guy, let alone a nobody who wasn't used to the business. Sam was too nice. He would be eaten alive by the sharks that preyed on movie stars.
She started off fast, jogging up the cement path across the island. The exercise burned off her frustration. As she climbed up to the lookout point her heart sank. Sam would make a perfect mate, if only her life wasn't so damn crazy. It would be stupid to hide, but she would do exactly that until he left the island.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
Bright sun splashed across the bed, causing her eyes to squint shut. Why hadn't she drawn the blinds? Then it hit her.
Bahamas.
Wild storm.
Stranger.
Goodness, what the freak was she doing. She jumped out of bed, stumbling on her shoes. Her heal cracked against the wall. She muffled the cry of pain, not wanting to wake the Sam until she knew how the hell she was going to react to sleeping in the same bed as a stranger.
Sam stirred, rolled over, and snuggled against the pillow she'd walloped him with after losing another hand of poker last night.
Her heart squeezed, wistfulness lumped in her throat. She closed her eyes, remembering last night, all they had talked about, the way his eyelashes laid against his cheeks when he closed his eyes to think. How he kept his lids lowered halfway when he was bluffing. Her reaction to losing that had little to do with anger and a whole lot to do with sexual frustration.
When had she stopped using her brain and started thinking about sex with this guy. Damn, she hadn't even slept with Rhye, and here she was wanting to fuck Sam's brains out. What would happen if she went over and ran her hand under his shirt? What if she slid out of her clothes and pressed her breasts up against his cheeks?
"Get a grip," Delanie whispered as she high tailed it out the door and down to the kitchen. Sam had to go. She couldn't do another relationship so soon. Rhye had broken her heart. Sure, they had been done with for a while, but she still hurt.
The storm had blown through last night, and they played cards way past the rain. She laughed at his jokes. He entertained her with wild stories. Never once did he try to kiss her even though tension had crackled through the room.
She grabbed a grapefruit and cut it in half, wrapping one half in plastic and putting it in the fridge. "How did this happen?"
"What?"
Delanie jumped and spun around. Sam still looked sleepy in a dreamy, take the hunk back to bed, sort of way. Her heart jackrabbited, and her face grew warm.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."
"No, no. I'm fine."
"Would you mind if I take a shower?" Sam stretched his hands overhead as he yawned.
Delanie gulped and her knees wobbled. Just thinking of him naked and wet made her giddy.
"Or I could just go."
She was being such a dork. "No, please take a shower. I'll run your clothes in the washing machine and get them dry for you."
"Would you mind if I bring up a few more things. I don't want to impose, and I can compensate–"
"No."
He looked shocked that she'd yelled. Now she felt bad.
"Listen, I'm just a little jumpy. I know we said we didn't want to talk about who we are, but if you knew then you would understand."
He moved closer, invading her personal space. Only inches separated them. Her body went into overdrive. His fingers touched her chin, tilting her head so she had to look at his beautiful face.
"No talking about the past right now. I can't. Maybe next time we meet."
"But–"
"Shhh." He stroked her hair as he took in all of her features. "If you think I'm going to let you go then you're crazy. I am leaving the island, mostly to clear my head. Last night was the most amazing night I've ever had. And don't even try to deny it, I saw it in your smile, and I can see it now."
"I don't know what you are talking about."
He barked out a laugh that startled her. "Don't lie. There's so much sexual tension flowing between us I'm surprised we haven't caught fire."
"Oh God." She melted into him, her hips pressed against his thighs. "I can't right now."
"I know."
"What? You said you didn't know who I was."
"Not know like that. I know we can't hop into bed right now. You are worth more than a one-night stand." He held her at arms length, putting almost a foot of space between them. "I'm going to go down to my boat and get my clothes. I'll start the washer and then I'm going to go for a run. After that I'll switch the clothes over to the dryer and take a shower."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I don't want you to feel pressure to stick around. I can take care of myself. I'm not going to rob the place or take anything of value. I know you have no idea who I am, but I'm trustworthy in this."
"This is too much."
"I know. I feel it too." Sam dropped his hands from her shoulders and spun around. His steps were stiff as he moved to the French doors. He pulled one open and looked back at her. "Don't think that just because I'm walking away now means I want to walk away. Delanie, I will never forget you. I will find you no matter where you go, and when I do it will be different. I hope you are ready when that time comes."
Delanie watched Sam disappear into the foliage. She grabbed her grapefruit and stabbed at the juicy center. If this were one of her movies she would be naked and in the shower when he came back from his run, or five guys in ninja masks and swords would burst through the door. At the moment, she didn't know which scenario would be best.
She looked down at the half eaten fruit, disgusted with her trail of thought. She tossed the remains into the trash and slipped on her hiking shoes. Climbing up to the point would be a good way to work off her frustration.
Living in the shadow of the star machine that was her career would be tough for any guy, let alone a nobody who wasn't used to the business. Sam was too nice. He would be eaten alive by the sharks that preyed on movie stars.
She started off fast, jogging up the cement path across the island. The exercise burned off her frustration. As she climbed up to the lookout point her heart sank. Sam would make a perfect mate, if only her life wasn't so damn crazy. It would be stupid to hide, but she would do exactly that until he left the island.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
May 18, 2011
Chapter 5: Part 2
The truth of the matter was that you could always find a perfect time and place for anything. The blond who he'd taken last time was the perfect example. He'd let Amanda go a few days ago and already he'd found a replacement.
He had meant to gather supplies so he could cross over to the Pacific, but then he'd seen her. The perfect woman.
She'd accidently bumped into him at the store at six in the morning. Her lush breasts pressed into his chest. Her mouth formed a perfect circle, reminding him how wonderful it felt to have lips wrapped around his dick. The fact that they had met by accident hadn't missed his notice.
The girl had been following him. At the restaurant, Bleu Fish, last night he had seen her. Who could miss the tiny bikini and the strikingly huge tits? They were fake, of course, but that made it even better.
He always wanted to see what would happen if you cut one of those little sacks out. He had plans.
Now he watched her from afar. She'd talked to him, offering him an early morning quickie, but he said no. Now he followed her, taking note of the way she moved with purpose through the streets. She knew the area. That much he was certain of. Could she possibly be a local?
The coffee bar where she stopped had three patrons and two workers. The odds of being recognized were too big. If he waited to talk to her then he might escape any public scrutiny. It was only seven eighteen in the morning. He had all day to work, but what the hell did he care. The reality was that he would be gone in a week and the case would die. The Pacific beckoned him. He would heed the call.
Putting on an uncaring air, Richard entered the coffee bar. He pulled off his shades and flashed the barista a winning smile. "How about a cup of your finest brew."
"That would be our mountain java blend."
"Sounds wonderful."
The barista poured up a cup and handed it over. "So are you here on vacation?"
"Yes, in from England. Here for a few days. It sure is hot, not at all like London." Richard loved creating new personalities. He'd been French a few months ago, then South African. It gave him a thrill to meet someone too stupid to realize his accent was fake.
"Wouldn't mistake our lovely beaches for London."
Richard turned to look out the window, totally ignoring the blond. "No, no you definitely wouldn't." He hated the inane conversation. How could people stand chitchat? No wonder they were a bunch of rotted half brained idiots. Life had been better back when people only had meaningful conversations instead of this half-baked crap.
The barista lifted up a mug and pointed it towards the blonde. "Isn't that right sweetie, our beaches are unique."
"Sure are," her voice slid over the air like blue smoke, all throaty and smooth.
She was an amazing bitch, one that he wanted to own. He turned and was blown away by the twinkle in her eyes. She wanted him, and he would lay the bait. Taking her would be amazing. The thought of her tied up, ring in mouth so she could blow him like he liked it almost sent him over the edge.
The temptation to brand her as his own was great, but he needed to wait. This was totally unlike his normal mode of operation. He needed to slow down.
Lead her on then make her want him. The situation always worked best when those who saw them together could attest to the fact that he wasn't interested in the girl.
Richard wasn't stupid. He kept up with what the police had on the investigations of the girls he liberated from the trappings of this life. After a few months the interest the detective in charge would move onto another case and interest in the dead American girl would die off. Once they realized the leads were almost nonexistent the police would stop looking.
Only four girls had open cases. Linda, Trina, Molly and Amanda. The rest of the police departments had given up. Just another blond bimbo probably lost at sea. One reporter wrote an article quoting the police as stating that it was just one more girl from the States down here on vacation that got drunk and stupidly went for a swim. It served his purposes well to seem uninterested in his targets.
He looked away and started up another conversation with the man behind the counter. "Any fishing boats leaving out of the harbor today."
"Sure, Fred Mason always has something. Go down to the main dock and ask for Mason. Someone can point him out or tell you when to come back. Real son of a gun."
"Thanks."
The barista turned away and Richard stood to leave. Once he realized the barista wasn't paying any attention to him he winked at the girl, then walked out of the coffee bar, never looking back. He could hear the door squeak behind him. The girl took the bait. The game had begun.
A shop full of fishing gear sported a huge display of rods and reels in the front window. He crossed the street, using the move as an excuse to glance back. Sure enough the blonde had followed him. She strutted across the street after him, her breasts stuck out, her head tilted high.
This girl would be trouble, not the bad kind, but the good kind of trouble that made his balls blue and his dick hard. She sidled up next to him at the window. Her breath tickled his neck. Resisting the need screaming through his veins, he ignored her.
"So you like to fish."
It was a statement, not a question. He checked the street. Few people were about this early.
"Yeah." Disinterest could only be played at for so long. "I like all kinds of fishing." He checked the surroundings. With no one standing around, Richard felt comfortable flirting with the girl. "Actually I like deep sea fishing best." He caught her eyes in the reflection of the plate glass window. "I like going deep. Going down deep is my favorite pastime."
Her cheeks turned red, and she poked out her tits again. No mistaking what those bad girls were used for. His cock hurt just thinking about piercing her nipples with fishhooks. It would be painful for the bitch, exceedingly painful, but worth it for him.
She giggled and moved closer. "I like going deep too. Maybe we could go down deep together. I know you said no earlier, but my hotel is just around the corner, roommate won't be back until later."
"No, I don't want to disturb your neighbors. How about my boat?"
"Where."
"Up the street."
She practically purred. "Mmm, we could be all alone. I'm game for a quickie."
Richard smiled down at her. He was glad he'd met the lusty broad. He took off towards his boat, knowing she would follow.
His step was light as he thought about what he would do first. Funny that he didn't even know her name. Didn't care actually. The plans he had for her didn't need a name.
Once on board his ship he cast off the lines and started the engine.
"Are we leaving the island?" She looked worried, almost like she had a brain and could think about something other than a good time.
"No, just circling around. I know of a dolphin pod just up the coast. Not far at all."
"Oooh, how cool. Dolphins are my favorite. As long as we're back before ten."
Stupid girl. How much of an idiot was this tramp? He promised sex and dolphins, and she just jumped right on the boat and went with him. She deserved to die.
He shouldn't be surprised. Most of the girls he found were like this. They didn't think. Educating the adults of tomorrow needed to go beyond numbers and letters. They needed to learn street smarts. A street smart broad from Jersey would never have boarded the boat in the first place, and she damn sure never would have allowed him to cast the line. Jersey girl would have jumped in the harbor and swam back to port.
"How about a drink. I have some beer or Champaign."
"Champagne, I love bubbly drinks."
"Good, very good." He poured up one glass of the vile liquid. Too bad the bitch didn't know she was being drugged. Another lesson in street smarts, always drink what your host is having unless you really know the person.
"What no bubbly for you?" She took a big sip, her eyes going round. "Wow, this is the best I've ever had."
"Thank you. It should be the best. The champagne is a ninety-five Krug Clos Ambonnay. You won't find better."
"Oooh, how cool. I've never heard of it."
"It's about thirty-five hundred a bottle."
She sputtered and choked, almost spilling the glass. "What?"
"Don't worry, the money is nothing. I think you will prove to be worth every penny I spent on that little bottle." Of course he wouldn't tell her that he had stole the bottle of champagne along with fifty other priceless bottles of wine and champagne. It had cost him nothing, like most of his possessions they were free.
"You must be loaded."
"You have no idea." He smiled down at her, noticing that her pupils were starting to dilate. He poured up another glass for the girl. Only a little while longer and she would be out. Then the fun would begin.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
He had meant to gather supplies so he could cross over to the Pacific, but then he'd seen her. The perfect woman.
She'd accidently bumped into him at the store at six in the morning. Her lush breasts pressed into his chest. Her mouth formed a perfect circle, reminding him how wonderful it felt to have lips wrapped around his dick. The fact that they had met by accident hadn't missed his notice.
The girl had been following him. At the restaurant, Bleu Fish, last night he had seen her. Who could miss the tiny bikini and the strikingly huge tits? They were fake, of course, but that made it even better.
He always wanted to see what would happen if you cut one of those little sacks out. He had plans.
Now he watched her from afar. She'd talked to him, offering him an early morning quickie, but he said no. Now he followed her, taking note of the way she moved with purpose through the streets. She knew the area. That much he was certain of. Could she possibly be a local?
The coffee bar where she stopped had three patrons and two workers. The odds of being recognized were too big. If he waited to talk to her then he might escape any public scrutiny. It was only seven eighteen in the morning. He had all day to work, but what the hell did he care. The reality was that he would be gone in a week and the case would die. The Pacific beckoned him. He would heed the call.
Putting on an uncaring air, Richard entered the coffee bar. He pulled off his shades and flashed the barista a winning smile. "How about a cup of your finest brew."
"That would be our mountain java blend."
"Sounds wonderful."
The barista poured up a cup and handed it over. "So are you here on vacation?"
"Yes, in from England. Here for a few days. It sure is hot, not at all like London." Richard loved creating new personalities. He'd been French a few months ago, then South African. It gave him a thrill to meet someone too stupid to realize his accent was fake.
"Wouldn't mistake our lovely beaches for London."
Richard turned to look out the window, totally ignoring the blond. "No, no you definitely wouldn't." He hated the inane conversation. How could people stand chitchat? No wonder they were a bunch of rotted half brained idiots. Life had been better back when people only had meaningful conversations instead of this half-baked crap.
The barista lifted up a mug and pointed it towards the blonde. "Isn't that right sweetie, our beaches are unique."
"Sure are," her voice slid over the air like blue smoke, all throaty and smooth.
She was an amazing bitch, one that he wanted to own. He turned and was blown away by the twinkle in her eyes. She wanted him, and he would lay the bait. Taking her would be amazing. The thought of her tied up, ring in mouth so she could blow him like he liked it almost sent him over the edge.
The temptation to brand her as his own was great, but he needed to wait. This was totally unlike his normal mode of operation. He needed to slow down.
Lead her on then make her want him. The situation always worked best when those who saw them together could attest to the fact that he wasn't interested in the girl.
Richard wasn't stupid. He kept up with what the police had on the investigations of the girls he liberated from the trappings of this life. After a few months the interest the detective in charge would move onto another case and interest in the dead American girl would die off. Once they realized the leads were almost nonexistent the police would stop looking.
Only four girls had open cases. Linda, Trina, Molly and Amanda. The rest of the police departments had given up. Just another blond bimbo probably lost at sea. One reporter wrote an article quoting the police as stating that it was just one more girl from the States down here on vacation that got drunk and stupidly went for a swim. It served his purposes well to seem uninterested in his targets.
He looked away and started up another conversation with the man behind the counter. "Any fishing boats leaving out of the harbor today."
"Sure, Fred Mason always has something. Go down to the main dock and ask for Mason. Someone can point him out or tell you when to come back. Real son of a gun."
"Thanks."
The barista turned away and Richard stood to leave. Once he realized the barista wasn't paying any attention to him he winked at the girl, then walked out of the coffee bar, never looking back. He could hear the door squeak behind him. The girl took the bait. The game had begun.
A shop full of fishing gear sported a huge display of rods and reels in the front window. He crossed the street, using the move as an excuse to glance back. Sure enough the blonde had followed him. She strutted across the street after him, her breasts stuck out, her head tilted high.
This girl would be trouble, not the bad kind, but the good kind of trouble that made his balls blue and his dick hard. She sidled up next to him at the window. Her breath tickled his neck. Resisting the need screaming through his veins, he ignored her.
"So you like to fish."
It was a statement, not a question. He checked the street. Few people were about this early.
"Yeah." Disinterest could only be played at for so long. "I like all kinds of fishing." He checked the surroundings. With no one standing around, Richard felt comfortable flirting with the girl. "Actually I like deep sea fishing best." He caught her eyes in the reflection of the plate glass window. "I like going deep. Going down deep is my favorite pastime."
Her cheeks turned red, and she poked out her tits again. No mistaking what those bad girls were used for. His cock hurt just thinking about piercing her nipples with fishhooks. It would be painful for the bitch, exceedingly painful, but worth it for him.
She giggled and moved closer. "I like going deep too. Maybe we could go down deep together. I know you said no earlier, but my hotel is just around the corner, roommate won't be back until later."
"No, I don't want to disturb your neighbors. How about my boat?"
"Where."
"Up the street."
She practically purred. "Mmm, we could be all alone. I'm game for a quickie."
Richard smiled down at her. He was glad he'd met the lusty broad. He took off towards his boat, knowing she would follow.
His step was light as he thought about what he would do first. Funny that he didn't even know her name. Didn't care actually. The plans he had for her didn't need a name.
Once on board his ship he cast off the lines and started the engine.
"Are we leaving the island?" She looked worried, almost like she had a brain and could think about something other than a good time.
"No, just circling around. I know of a dolphin pod just up the coast. Not far at all."
"Oooh, how cool. Dolphins are my favorite. As long as we're back before ten."
Stupid girl. How much of an idiot was this tramp? He promised sex and dolphins, and she just jumped right on the boat and went with him. She deserved to die.
He shouldn't be surprised. Most of the girls he found were like this. They didn't think. Educating the adults of tomorrow needed to go beyond numbers and letters. They needed to learn street smarts. A street smart broad from Jersey would never have boarded the boat in the first place, and she damn sure never would have allowed him to cast the line. Jersey girl would have jumped in the harbor and swam back to port.
"How about a drink. I have some beer or Champaign."
"Champagne, I love bubbly drinks."
"Good, very good." He poured up one glass of the vile liquid. Too bad the bitch didn't know she was being drugged. Another lesson in street smarts, always drink what your host is having unless you really know the person.
"What no bubbly for you?" She took a big sip, her eyes going round. "Wow, this is the best I've ever had."
"Thank you. It should be the best. The champagne is a ninety-five Krug Clos Ambonnay. You won't find better."
"Oooh, how cool. I've never heard of it."
"It's about thirty-five hundred a bottle."
She sputtered and choked, almost spilling the glass. "What?"
"Don't worry, the money is nothing. I think you will prove to be worth every penny I spent on that little bottle." Of course he wouldn't tell her that he had stole the bottle of champagne along with fifty other priceless bottles of wine and champagne. It had cost him nothing, like most of his possessions they were free.
"You must be loaded."
"You have no idea." He smiled down at her, noticing that her pupils were starting to dilate. He poured up another glass for the girl. Only a little while longer and she would be out. Then the fun would begin.
Copyright Sara Thacker 2011
Red Skhye In Morning
Introducing Red Skhye in Morning. Delanie Skhye is desperate for paparazzi free time. Samuel Taylor is on break from work. He finds Delanie alone on a private island, but something is wrong. A killer
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