“I don’t know if they were looking for you. Maybe they had another reason. Anything can happen along the coast.”
Angelique placed her palm on his bare chest and snuggled her head into the crook of his arm. “If we have been discovered, what are we to do?”
“I’ve been thinking about it ever since we arrived here.” He let out an audible sigh. “I can’t believe I’ve been so dumb, prolonging this on purpose.”
“What?” Was delaying the interview and release of her story on purpose just to spend more time with her?
“If I used my brain instead of my heart we would have been out of here already. Fugitives—and that’s what we are—always move around, never staying in one place too long.”
“Even if we are caught in a minute, every moment spent with you has been special, Brian. I’ll never forget it.”
“I just don’t want to fail you.”
“So, what are we to do now?” she repeated.
“I have to get the story to Sam at Our World and I have to secure a safe place for you.”
“No place will ever be safe for me,” she whispered.
“I have an idea,” he said. “You know the abandoned lighthouse out in the bay?”
“Yes.” She saw it every day, standing out there alone in the mist.
“It’s isolated, perched on craggy rocks, seemingly inaccessible. If I could get you out there, you’d be safe.”
“What makes you think no one would find me?”
“The old lighthouse was used by the federal witness protection program for years. Too costly to maintain, the government’s just waiting for the ocean to reclaim it.”
“If I’m out there, where would you be?”
“I’ll be here waiting. After I’m sure the story is in Sam’s hands and I’m assured you’re safe from the Davidsons, I’ll come for you.”
“I don’t want to be left alone, without you.”
“It would only be for a very short time.”
“I would only agree to such a plan if we haven’t a choice.”
Chapter 13
The ocean was a chameleon whose serene beauty could change at a moment’s notice. An eerie calm filled the night air while ominous gray clouds filtered out the starlight, shrouding the sky. Rumbling thunder rolled in from the Atlantic, bringing with it shards of lightning piercing the darkness. Storms were common along the coast in late spring. This one promised to be one of the most severe.
The cottage quaked as nature unleashed its fury. Violent winds beat against the clapboards like an angry visitor demanding entry. Torrents of rain and hail pelted the window glass, rattling the frames. Roaring waves crashed, smothering the beach, rolling up against the pylons of the deck. The symphony of nature’s fury was deafening.
In the whirlwind of noise, the intensity of the booming and the strobe-like lightning, it was as if they were in the center of a battlefield amidst cannon and light.
An intense bang, louder than any firecracker, rattled the cottage as lightning crashed into a nearby tree with an ominous crackling sound, then a scream pierced the air with notes so high-pitched, it was deafening.
Brian, fearing for Angelique’s safety, rushed into her room. The intensity of her scream had aroused him from a deep slumber. He feared the worst. Had a tree crashed into her room? Had lightning struck? Without taking the time to grab a robe, he ran into her room, barefoot, bare-chested, clad in pajama bottoms, He surveyed the bedroom. All seemed sound. The room was dry, the windows bolted. One look in her deer-in-the-headlights eyes made him realize she was afraid. Storms along the coast were fierce.
She met his gaze in wide-eyed terror. Once at her side, he sat on her bed. Before he could speak, another bang of thunder shook the room. Angelique flung her arms around his neck, clinging like a frightened child. He reached out and drew her near in a consoling embrace. Her tiny frame trembled against him, her breath hyperventilating.
She closed her eyes and rested her head against his bare chest. He stroked her head and hair as if comforting a child.
As the storm subsided into a steady shower, Angelique drew away. Swathed in moonlight, the blue beams highlighted the angles of her cheekbones, chin, and forehead.
He continued to fondle her silky hair, letting a few strands slip through his splayed fingers before gathering more. He moved his hands from her hair to her hollow cheeks, feeling the velvety touch of her skin. Gripping her oval face in his broad hands, he angled her face up to his.
He touched her in the darkness. He was like a magnet drawn to steel filings, her silver-blue eyes. Brian couldn’t control his feelings or his actions. He swallowed hard before lowering his face, his lips to hers. She didn’t protest, but welcomed his touch.
• • •
Angelique’s lips quivered as they met his. Warmth permeated her body as his soft, cushioned mouth covered hers. If this is what kissing was like, she wanted more. She parted her lips, responding to unspoken commands, welcoming his prying tongue, salty taste and sensuous touch. Until this moment she had felt so empty, so unfulfilled, so alone. For the first time in her life she was a woman with flesh and passion.
Her unsteady fingers traced a path from his strong neck to his chest, her slender fingers twisting the dark ringlets and taut flesh. She felt no hesitation, no shame, no guilt. In her heart she knew that only he could fill her aching need. Brian Andrews wasn’t just any man. He was her best friend.
“I want you, Brian,” she murmured, meaning every word.
“I want you, too, but we shouldn’t,” he replied. He pulled away, grasping her probing hands tightly in his.
“Why not?” she asked, meeting his flickering gaze.
He sighed, releasing her hands. “Angel, it wouldn’t be fair to you or to me. We have to think of our lives after this escape. I don’t want you living with regrets.”
“With you, Brian, there will never be regrets.”
He placed his forefinger to her lips as if to hush her. “I’m just the first man you’ve been alone with. There will be others.”
“Why need there be others? I’ve already found the one I want,” she whispered.
Before he could reply, she reached up, flinging her arms around him, devouring his lips with unrestrained kisses.
She held him captive, desire pulsing through her veins, controlling her mind as well as her body. As if by command, he placed his hands on her narrow hips, drawing her against him as they sat on the bed. His fingers seared a line through her cotton nightshirt from her narrow waist up to her firm, rounded breasts.
His fiery touch above her waist made the fire below her erupt with need. She had never wanted anything so badly before. As if under his spell, she lay back across the bed. In response, his hands, his touch, his entire body followed.
His fingers caressed her calves, thighs, and reached up under her nightshirt, seeking. He pulled up the thin fabric and, as if by silent command, she pulled the shirt over her head, tossing it across the floor. His eyes glittered with passion.
“I want you, Brian,” she whispered, looking up at him with dreamy eyes and parted lips.
He bit his bottom lip. “Forgive me,” he mumbled as he eased his long body over hers. Supporting his weight on his elbows, he lowered his head to graze her lips with his.
Angelique closed her eyes to savor the mysterious feelings throbbing within. Brian reached for her hand, placing it inside his loosened drawstring pajamas, curling her fingers around his shaft. She gasped at the softness of his flesh and the hardness of his passion. Rolling her fingers up and down the shaft made it stronger, longer, harder. As he moaned, she liked the power and control over his body that her touch brought. In turn, her body seemed to melt.
His hand tugged at her practical cotton panties, ripping the fabric from her thigh, and his fingers massaged her intimately. As if by instinct, her legs parted at his touch. He gently lowered himself over her, their eyes locked in silent consent.
She moaned at the pleasurable pain h
e ignited within her as their bodies merged in rhythmic motion, riding waves more powerful than those sloshing against the shoreline. She screamed out in a piercing note as her body arched, writhing in spasms of emotion and release. This had to be the most beautiful music she had ever made.
• • •
Sunlight beamed through the paned windows at dawn. Golden rays warmed his face as Brian awakened to the beauty lying asleep at his side. Her short, dark hair billowed over her pillow while a contented smile radiated from her face. Even in sleep she seemed heavenly. He lay gazing at her flawless face, satin body, remembering how responsive it was the night before. Stirrings, once again, rose in his loins. He pulled the sheet up and over his waist should she awaken. He couldn’t let her know how much he still wanted her. He had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted her. Last night he let down his guard and he swore it wouldn’t happen again. She was out of his league.
“Brian Andrews reporting,” he mused to himself. Some journalist he was. Never in his career had he made love to the subject of an investigation. The line had always separated business from pleasure. By going over that line he knew he’d have a price to pay. Angelique was no longer just a story. She was a personal interest. Unbiased reporting? Not in this case.
Her story, though, still had to be told.
He crawled out of bed, not wanting to awaken her. Slipping on shorts and a shirt, he padded to the kitchen. After writing a note, he grabbed his laptop and keys and headed out the door.
Driving into town, he parked in front of the coffee shop, the only place in town with Wi-Fi. He ordered strong black coffee and found a corner table. Overhearing snippets of conversation about strangers coming to town, and it wasn’t tourist season, made his task more urgent.
He flipped open his laptop and turned it on. Thank goodness the Wi-Fi was working. He addressed e-mails to Sam and Stacey’s secure lines and attached the article on Angelique. After pushing “send,” he let out a sigh.
Chugging down his coffee, he grasped his laptop and went to his car. Once inside, he dialed up Sam Greenberg on his cell phone.
“The biggest story hits the news and you disappear,” Sam bellowed.
“When my story breaks, shit will hit the fan,” he answered with cocky confidence.
“The only story I expect is the kidnapping of Angelique. Time and Newsweek scooped us. Hell, they even landed exclusives with the Davidsons, Angelique’s managers. We didn’t have shit!” Sam growled.
“Hey, Sam, I haven’t time so listen up. Check your e-mail. The real story is headed your way.”
“Dammit, Brian, if your story isn’t news, you’re finished!”
He heard the receiver slam and click. Sam hung up on him now, but he knew when his story broke, Sam would be begging for forgiveness and even offering him a hefty raise. Brian swallowed hard. Until that happened, he had hell to pay.
He dialed Stacey’s number. All he got was her voicemail. His message was short and to the point.
“Stacey, this is Brian. I e-mailed you one hot story. I’m counting on your help. Don’t blow it.”
En-route to the cottage, he stopped to fill a container full of gas. The gas station was near the Shady motel. While pumping, he checked out the parking lot with its out-of-state plates and the men mulling around did not look like tourists. With their cheap, dark suits they resembled thugs. Between the gossip and men, the winds were heavy with suspicion, just as a mysterious helicopter had patrolled the sky. Rain clouds were rolling in and another storm was imminent.
• • •
Adrenaline seized him as he exited his car, ran to the rotting storage shed to drag out the motorized fishing boat of his youth, and filled the engine with fuel he had purchased.
Angelique came out of the cottage.
“Grab the other end of the boat,” Brian barked.
Without a word, she grabbed one end of the bulky boat and helped him carry it toward the beach.
Lightning was already streaking the sky in the distance, dark clouds hovering ever so close, and thunder rolling near.
“Get your things,” Brian yelled, grabbing her by the arm, almost dragging her to the cottage.
Inside, he ran into the kitchen and hurriedly packed food provisions and supplies into plastic Ziploc storage bags. As she ran out on the deck, he locked the door. After giving the cottage one last look, she followed him down to the beach and the waiting boat.
Brian loaded the boat, tying the bags to the seats with nylon rope. Angelique jumped inside and watched him shove the boat into deeper water, revving up the outboard motor.
“Here,” he said, removing the boar’s tooth pendant from around his neck. He slipped it over her head. “This has always brought me good luck. Just rub it when you’re frightened.”
“Don’t you have any faith?”
“I only have faith in myself.”
“Sometimes we must place ourselves in the hands of a higher power.”
“In this case, we won’t have a choice,” he said, looking out at the choppy waves and impending storm. They would need a miracle.
“Oh, Brian.” She gripped the sides of the rocking boat until her knuckles turned white.
The waves were rolling in dark and heavy, the whitecaps farther out, choppy, menacing. Even he knew that such a small boat was no match for the rough water. He also knew they didn’t have a choice. Soon, he surmised, the Davidsons’ goons would descend on the cottage. The ocean was their only escape, the inaccessible lighthouse their only refuge. Even though it was a long shot, he knew one chance was better then none. If he was to spend eternity with Angelique, it was better to do so on his own terms.
He shoved off. Seated in the boat, he realized his laptop was still in the cottage, its memory holding the notes and complete original story of their life at the cottage, their escape, and their plans. The computer proved his ownership of the story and was evidence should anyone question it. Brian jumped out of the boat and into the waist-deep water.
“Keep the motor running and wait for me. I’ll be back in a minute,” he assured her. “I have to get the computer.”
“Forget the computer. Come back here. Brian, come back to me!” she screamed, watching him wade to shore.
A steady rain began to fall as the sky opened up. He raced up the steps to the deck and bounded toward the back door. His one hand reached down for the lever while his other turned the key. He was ready to slide open the door when an explosion rocked the cottage. The impact made him lose his balance. He felt himself falling while a pit of fire and acrid smoke engulfed him. It was like a fiery descent into hell. He tried to scream, but everything faded to black.
Chapter 14
Being marooned at a deserted lighthouse was something Angelique could handle. After all the years of being held prisoner, she could survive the solitude, the loneliness, and even the limited provisions. She wondered, though, if she could live without knowing Brian’s fate.
As she sat in the sparse circular kitchen on the ground floor of the lighthouse, she pawed at the boar’s tooth pendant. It had been his good luck charm and it had worked its magic in allowing her safe passage to the island lighthouse. Her fear was how Brian had fared without it.
A lump choked in her throat as images of him leaping out of the motor boat to retrieve his computer, the touch of the waves beating against the small boat as she battled to keep it steady, the fierce thunderstorm with its strong gales and torrential rain replayed in her mind like a bad dream. She remembered how her eyes followed him as he rushed up to the cottage and the fear that gripped like a vice. He had no sooner reached the door than an explosion rocked the earth, shattering the cottage. Fiery wreckage illuminated the night sky like fireworks on Bastille Day. Brian seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth.
She wanted to get to shore, to somehow get to him, but the swirling waves tossed the boat like a toy, its outboard motor useless against the overpowering current.
Just as she was about to lea
p from the boat in an attempt to reach shore, a curling wave propelled the boat farther out into the bay. Swift currents took hold, pushing her farther from shore. She gripped the sides of the boat as it rocked to and fro. Rain showered down, thunder boomed, and jagged lightning pierced the sky. The flaming cottage had become a mere speck in the distance. She prayed that if her life were to end, it would come fast without pain and suffering.
A crashing wave, taller than the boat itself, had forced it into a crush of jagged rocks. The boat’s wooden hull crunched and splintered as a wave knocked it amidst the piled boulders. Angelique looked up to see the lighthouse towering above, illuminated by flashes of lightning. She ripped her plastic bag of provisions from the cord, holding them against the seats, and crawled out of the boat just before it disintegrated. Clamoring over the rocks, she climbed up to the base of the lighthouse. Following the tradition of guiding weary sailors to safety, this one had become her beacon of hope.
As night turned into day and more days into nights, the light in her beacon had grown dim. Her provisions were dwindling, even though she had extended the contents by taking only meager portions. She’d even nibbled up the dry salted crackers and packaged rations she had discovered while rummaging through the kitchen. Even rainwater she had captured to drink was at a premium. Though she was experienced at living with little food, she knew if she wasn’t rescued soon, her life would be whittled down to days.
She felt little fear. Part of it was due to her deep faith in God and in His will. His was the ultimate decision in whether she lived or died to fulfill another deeper yet unknown purpose. The other part was knowing that if Brian were dead, she had no reason to live anyway. He was the only person who had ever listened, helped, cared, and loved her. He was her past and her future and he meant more to her than music, more than life itself.
As tears swelled in her eyes, she rose from her rickety wooden chair. She decided to make her daily pilgrimage to the top of the lighthouse where the lantern once guided the lost and forlorn. She had found solace there.
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