Storm: Phantom Islanders Part I

by Ednah Walters

  “Got it. Why do you have to go? We’ve hardly discussed anything,” Jo whined. “When is your next video entry? What is it about?”

  “Next entry on the ship and about the ship. I really need go. I’ll call you tomorrow before we leave. Promise.” I disconnected the call before she could protest some more and switched to Mom. “I’m here.”

  “Three hundred dollars, Alexandria? What am I supposed to do with three hundred dollars?” Mom continued. “This won’t cover food and Tommy’s pain meds. You know how expensive his prescriptions are. You sent us more the last two months.”

  I’d kept a little more for the cruise and added the rest to my savings. “Mom, I can’t save money for college and take care of you guys, too.”

  “Why do you have to save for college? You’re getting a full scholarship.”

  “But I still have to buy personal things and books. I sent you most of the money I earned last month. Didn’t you save any?”

  “Don’t you dare talk to me like that, young lady! I have to put food on the table. We depend on you now, just like you’ve depended on me all these years. I’ve taken care of you like you were my own, clothed, and fed you. In fact, you wouldn’t have gotten the job with the Sinclairs if it weren’t for me.”

  What? I could not believe the lies that came out of her mouth. I, not she, had read about the damn babysitting position at the diner, where she worked. And when I’d asked for a ride and explained why, she’d told me I had enough chores at home instead of wiping some bratty rich kid’s ass. I’d been twelve at the time. So I’d walked to the Sinclair mansion for the interview and walked home afterward.

  “Send us more money tomorrow, Alexandria. People can do that on their phones or computers these days. Ask Mr. Sinclair for an advance if you’ve wasted it on fancy clothes and your hair for those silly videos you keep making. It’s the least you can do for your brother. You owe him.”

  You owe him. I shook my head. She was so predictable.

  “If you hadn’t taken him to that stupid party, Tommy wouldn’t be in this wheelchair. You put him there.”

  I mouthed every word. She used them every time she wanted me to heel. And as usual, I didn’t defend myself. I folded like a damn cheap suit.

  “I will,” I said quietly once she finished.

  “Good. Call me tomorrow after you send it.”

  The line went dead, and I stared into the darkness while trying to contain my anger. How I wished I could hate her. But she’d given me a home when she could have easily let me become a ward of the state after Dad died. Then there was Tommy. He needed me more now than before.

  Tommy used to be a smart, goofy kid, who loved football. He’d planned to play in high school, but that dream was dashed two years ago just as he’d turned eleven. I was responsible for putting him in a wheelchair, just like I’d been responsible for making sure he studied and did his homework, had clean clothes, and a decent meal. I had been responsible for him as far back as I could remember, and our relationship was more of a mother and son than sister and brother. One lapse of judgment had robbed him of the use of his legs, and I took full responsibility for that, too.

  Memories from that night zipped through my head, but I pushed them down. I wasn’t going there. Tomorrow, we were leaving for a ten-day cruise, and I planned to enjoy every second of it. No more worrying about Tommy or what our crazy mother might do if I didn’t send her more money. She would get her stupid money. I rested my forehead on the rail and sighed. The metal felt cool against my skin. Soon, I would not put up with her.

  A sudden invasion of classic rock came from the balcony to my right. The music dimmed, and I knew I was no longer alone.

  “You should not have followed me out here, she’lahn,” a man said softly. He spoke in a beautiful accent I couldn’t place.

  “Your friends said I should keep you company,” the woman said in an annoying breathless voice. “Help you forget, though they didn’t say what you’re trying to forget.”

  “My friends are wrong. I need to remember. Leave, please.” His voice was light, but there was no doubt he meant it as an order.

  “Why?” she whined, and I cringed. I hated whiny women.

  “Being with me may put your life in danger.”

  Was his accent Irish or Scottish? It was so subtle. Then what he’d said registered. Why would she be in danger?

  “I don’t care. Danger adds some excitement to this.” She giggled. “I can tell you’re happy to see me.”

  “Don’t do that, she’lahn,” he said firmly, an edginess creeping into his voice.

  “Come back to my room,” she said. Her whininess just got worse. “My friends are here with your friends, so we’ll be alone and we can—” Her voice dropped to a whisper, so I didn’t hear the rest of what she said. What she wanted was obvious.

  “Nothing would give me more pleasure, but I can’t.” His voice had gone several octaves lower, like some lover crooning to his girl. And that accent of his was sinfully sexy. “I’m bound to another. If I gave you what you want, you wouldn’t live to see another day.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Geez, was this woman stupid? It meant he was in a committed relationship and his woman would fry her ass if he strayed. I felt embarrassed for her.

  “It means we never met,” the man said, continuing in the same soft, melodic tone. “Turn around, open the door, and don’t stop until you reach your room.”

  “Turn around, open the door, and don’t stop until I reach my room,” she repeated like a parrot. Music poured out into the night, then grew faint as the door opened and closed. Silence followed.

  What the hell just happened? Had he hypnotized her? If I gave you what you want, you wouldn’t live to see another day, he’d said calmly but had sounded like he meant it. It was obvious they were talking about sex. Maybe he was like the black widow spider, eating his partner after mating. I gave him props for being faithful though.

  “Silly, Tuh’ren,” he murmured and moved closer to the rail. I cringed and shuffled backward so he wouldn’t see me. He climbed on the rail, squatted, and looked down.

  What the hell? He was going to jump. First, he turned down a woman because he was bound to another. No, because if he’d slept with the woman, her life would have been in danger. Maybe he had a disease and this was his chance to end it all. I shuffled closer.

  “Listen, mister—”

  “Not a word,” he said, and the words died in my throat.

  “Beautiful night, isn’t it?” a different woman said in an amused voice.

  Seriously? How many women were chasing this guy tonight? And where did this one come from? I didn’t hear the music accompanying a door opening or closing.

  “Thinking of sleeping in there tonight?” she asked.

  “Maybe, not that it’s any of your business.”

  She chuckled, not bothered by his rudeness. “Do you think it’s wise?”

  “It’s only for a few hours before we go back to Harvesting. The air has clogged my lungs. I need to clear them, so I can scent better. They sent you to talk me out of it?”

  “No, they told me not to after you turned down that woman, but you know me. I love to yank your chain. Emotions cloud your judgment and make you careless, and I get to give you an ass whooping as the Tuh’rens like to say.”

  I grinned, liking this woman.

  “Go to bed, Nerissa. Tuh’rens are safe from me tonight if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Silence followed, and I waited for the woman, Nerissa, to talk him off the rail. What the hell were Tuh’rens?

  “I’m sorry you haven’t found her, Storm,” Nerissa said, her voice low and sad. “We can hang around for a few more days while you continue the search.”

  “No, the ships leave for home as scheduled,” he said. “Inform the crew. We finish the Harvest tonight, and I’ll do another sweep tomorrow morning before we leave. He’s coming. I feel him drawing closer, but he won’t find her f
irst. I’ll keep coming back until I do.”

  “And we’ll keep coming back with you.”

  “No. After this, I must continue the search alone.”

  “What if something happens to you? Our people need you,” the woman protested.

  “You have my brothers and the elders. You’ll be fine.” He sighed. “True mates are hard to find, Nerissa, and she is mine. I must find her. Catching her scent from afar, then losing it, as I get closer doesn’t make sense. It’s like someone is deliberately screwing with my head.” He didn’t mask his frustration. “Go. Please.”

  This time, I briefly heard the music as the door opened and closed.

  Mates? Elders? Who were these people? No one I knew Harvested at night, unless that was a term for something else. Ships, crews, and captains were words associated with sailing. Unless they meant spaceships, which would make them aliens.

  Aliens. Seriously? Now I was losing my grip on reality. No, these people were none of my business. I turned to leave when there was whoosh and a gush of air. The force knocked me off my feet, and I flew backward, landing elbow first on the chair. What the hell was that? A loud splash followed.

  Had the man jumped?

  I dashed to the rail to look down. My phone slipped from my grip, and I cursed as it landed on the sidewalk with a sickening thud. Broken again, damn it. Mr. Sinclair had bought me that phone. He even paid for the services. Hopefully, the heavy-duty case and added screen protector saved it. I’d already cracked it twice.

  I squinted at the pool, waiting for the man to surface. Ripples rocked the surface, and the security lights inside the pool and around the deck flickered out as though someone had thrown the switch. The entire pool area was in darkness. I glanced to my right at the empty balcony.

  How had he dived into the water from up here? And what had caused that gush of wind? The pool was yards away, not directly below us. The trajectory was insane. No one could survive a fall or a jump like that. Unless he was an alien with wings.

  Stop it, Lexi. There are no such things as aliens.

  Why wasn’t he surfacing? My stomach dipped as the past rushed back with a vengeance. Tommy had jumped into the lake to prove something and hit a rock instead.

  No, I couldn’t ignore the jumper. While a dislodged rock had pinned Tommy down, pools had filtration systems that could malfunction and act like a vacuum, sucking and trapping things to the bottom. Worse, the darkness surrounding the pool made it impossible to see anything.

  With my phone down there, I had only one option.

  CHAPTER 2

  I slipped back inside the room, grabbed the keycard, and crept past Sienna’s bed. She was dead to the world. The door to Mr. Sinclair’s room was closed when I tiptoed through the living room area. No light came from under it, but the man was a light sleeper. I snuck out of the suite and knocked on the door to our right, hoping the jumper’s friends would help.

  No one answered.

  The first woman had said his friends were with her friends, which explained the lack of response. I thought about banging hard on the door, but I might wake up the other guests.

  I took off at a run. History was not going to repeat itself. The man out there might not be my brother and this wasn’t a secret party with kids acting stupid, but he needed help. He’d sounded miserable and defeated just before he jumped. He was pining for his mate.

  The hallway was empty, and the elevator took forever to reach downstairs. The freaking front desk was unmanned, too. Great. Just friggin’ great! The one time I didn’t have my phone and there was no night manager.

  I grabbed the front desk phone and called 9-1-1. I yelled the information to dispatch and took off toward the pool. It was dark outside, the pool even darker and eerier because of the water. A shadow at the deep end of the pool said there was something down there, but no dark water floated to the top. That meant he wasn’t bleeding. I’d never seen someone sink to the bottom of a pool and stay there unless they were trapped.

  I dove into the water. He was by the drainage, but I couldn’t tell if his clothes were caught in it. I made out his head and arms. His top was molded to his chest, and the sweatpants were threatening to slide off him.

  Yep, he’d definitely tried to off himself. No one swam in sweatpants.

  I pushed him into a sitting position, wrapped my arms around his chest, and pushed hard against the bottom of the pool to take him to the surface. It didn’t work. He was dead weight. Hauling my brother in and out of his wheelchair had given me upper body strength, but Tommy had nothing on this guy. This dude was tall and seriously built compared to my brother.

  I pulled and silently cursed, but we didn’t appear to move. My chest began to burn from lack of oxygen. I’d always been able to hold my breath for a long time under water, but not this time. I let him go, shot to the surface, and gulped in some much needed oxygen.

  Where the hell were the EMTs? The night was eerily silent. It was as though everything held its breath. Even the waves weren’t crashing on the beach.

  I dove under the water again. This time, I dragged his body along the floor of the pool to the shallow end. Twice, I shot up to breathe. I finally reached the steps. When his head cleared the water’s surface, it lolled to the side. I checked his nose. He didn’t appear to be breathing.

  “You will not die on me, you son of a bitch. You hear me? You will…” My voice trailed off when I realized his skin hadn’t gone cold or even cool. He was burning up.

  Needing a flat surface to perform CPR, I cradled him and dragged him up the steps. Luckily, they were wider than regular steps, just not enough for a man with broad shoulders and a chest that went on forever. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost the battle with his sweatpants. They were down to his thighs, and the idiot didn’t believe in underwear.

  Even in the limited light from the crescent moon, I could tell he had tattoos on his jewels. Who in their right mind let someone that close to put tattoos down there?

  I pulled his pants back up, the water helping a bit. The pants were not sweatpants. They were made of a heavy cotton material and had an elastic waist. Strings along the sides held the legs of his pants together.

  “You are an idiot,” I said, dragging him to a higher step. “So you lost your mate and can’t find her. Go see a grief counselor and learn to cope.” Who in this day and age called a woman a mate? “Why do you weigh so much?” I grumbled, heaving his body to the deck. My arms were killing me.

  His pants had slid lower again. I tugged them up to cover him, pushed his body sideways to get them over his butt, and saw his lower back. More tattoos. It continued over one butt cheek and under. Then there was one on his neck and shoulders.

  I knelt by his side and started pushing on his chest. He was tall with zero fat. I listened for a heartbeat and then checked his nose for signs of life. Nothing. His body was so hot steam drifted from his clothes, yet he was not breathing.

  Alien reaction to drowning? Maybe there was another life-form inside him.

  No, I shouldn’t be thinking about that or I’d never give him mouth-to-mouth. I tilted his chin, blocked his nose, and breathed into his lungs. His lips were scorching. I pumped his chest and breathed for him. After three attempts, I was exhausted and pissed.

  “Damn it. Breathe. My life hasn’t been a bed of roses either, but you”—I pushed his chest with both hands—“don’t”—push—“see me”—push, push—“killing myself.”

  More mouth-to-mouth. His lips felt less hot. I listened for signs of breathing. Still nothing. I hit his chest and breathed into his lungs again. His lips were definitely less hot.

  “I don’t care how crappy your life is or how much you miss your mate.” I kept repeating the cycle—breathing and pumping. “You don’t give up, and you sure as hell don’t jump. You continue searching for her until you find her. Start. Breathing. Damn it!” I lifted my hands to thump his chest again, but someone trapped my wrists.

  “That’s enough,” a man warned in
an impatient voice from somewhere above me. “Move aside.”

  EMT. Finally.

  “About time you guys got here,” I said, pissed. “He was burning up, yet not breathing. Now his temperature is dropping fast.” I blinked as my gaze connected with startling blue eyes. Were they real? Or maybe the reflection of the blue lights from the pool made them look so otherworldly. I hadn’t even realized the lights were back on around the pool.

  “Move, please,” he said coldly.

  Something in his voice told me he was used to being obeyed, and the “please” sounded mechanical, like he was forcing himself to be polite. Unfortunately, I was pissed and my ass was freezing. The heat from the man I’d just rescued had kept my front warm but not my back. I stood, the cold crawling under my skin.

  “I was awake and saw him jump from the twelfth floor straight into the pool.” The man didn’t mask his surprise. “I know that doesn’t make sense, but he did. Or maybe he’d sprinted after landing on the grass. I don’t know. All I know is he jumped, ended up in the pool with a loud splash, and sank to the bottom.”

  “It doesn’t mean you had to jump in, too, or kiss him,” the EMT said, somehow managing to sound both pissed and accusatory.

  “Me? Kiss him?”

  “Your mouth was covering his.”

  Seriously? “I was giving him CPR.”

  Mr. Mean’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that what you Tuh’rens call it these days?”

  I was beginning to shiver and didn’t appreciate being called that name. And why did they sound so condescending whenever they used it?

  Wait a second. The jumper had used that word, too. These guys were not EMTs.

  “She meant she was trying to breathe for him, Levi,” a second man said, appearing behind me. I hadn’t noticed him before. He spoke slowly, enunciating his words. They both did, like English was not their first language or something.

  Man number two was just as huge as Mr. Mean and so close I felt crowded. Wariness must have shown on my face because he stepped back as though to give me space. He had a beard and black studs in his ears.