Guy approached him. ‘The guests will be eating lunch first,’ he instructed Manuel. ‘Then we’ll start the island tour. Okay, mate?’
Manuel nodded, and walked a distance away, prepared to wait. For he knew from experience that he was merely there to serve.
* * *
When Flynn realized that Sierra was not on the excursion he was torn. Should he have stayed on the yacht?
For what? So she could practically ignore him again? Treat him like a total stranger?
He had a gnawing in his stomach that was bothering the hell out of him. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move in the world, but with Hammond on the island, surely this was the perfect opportunity to clear things up with Sierra once and for all?
He needed closure. Now that he’d seen her again he knew in his heart that he had to find out why she’d betrayed him in such a cruel fashion.
Goddamm it! Now he was trapped on the island when he should’ve stayed on the yacht. And how was he supposed to get back? Swim? No. The yacht was too far away, at least a ten-minute trip, and that was by tender.
What to do?
Perhaps feign some kind of stomach ailment? Act like a weakling and claim to be sick? Not the most manly of actions, but it appeared to be the only excuse he could come up with.
He glanced around at the activity. The girls were frolicking on the sand as if they were just out of grade school, all except Xuan, who’d sat herself down next to Aleksandr on one of the folding chairs, and was busy engaging him in conversation. Hammond was leering at the girls – typical – while Taye and Luca had plunged into the ocean.
Flynn approached Guy. ‘I don’t want to make a big deal out of this,’ he said quietly, ‘only I’ve got a bad case of the runs, so I’m going to have to get back to the yacht.’
‘Don’t fancy the bushes, eh?’ Guy joked. Then realizing he might have overstepped his mark, he hurriedly backtracked. ‘Sorry, mate,’ he said with a sombre shake of his head. ‘Not so funny, huh?’
‘Any chance of a ride?’ Flynn enquired.
‘Sure thing. We need more stuff from the mothership. Hop aboard tender two, one of the boys’ll take you.’
‘Thanks,’ Flynn said, thinking that he’d travelled through war zones, witnessed atrocities, interviewed terrorists, and yet now, at the thought of facing Sierra, he was more nervous than he’d ever been.
* * *
Could it get any better than this? Lori didn’t think so. Here she was, a girl who’d had to struggle for most of her life, and now she was on a fabulous island in the middle of nowhere with one of the world’s most famous super-models, a mega-football hero, a Senator, who was definitely lusting after her, a super-star Latin singer, and a Russian billionaire.
It was all totally surreal. Nobody would believe it.
She could just imagine her mom’s face if she could see her now. Oh lordy, Sherrine Walsh would have a fit.
Lori often wondered why her mom had never attempted to make contact. Yes, they’d been estranged for years, but surely when Sherrine had spotted her splashed all over the magazines on the arm of Cliff Baxter, she’d been tempted to make amends? They’d parted on such bad terms. Sherrine had called her every vile word she could come up with. The word that had stung the most was ‘worthless’.
How worthless could she be? She was living with a big movie star. She was happy – for now. She had made something of her life.
Take that, Sherrine. Who’s the worthless one now?
* * *
‘I can’t believe that Cliff didn’t come today,’ Ashley complained to Bianca.
Bianca raised an eyebrow. Why was Ashley bothered about Cliff Baxter when she had Taye to take care of her? After all, Bianca knew what Taye had to offer in the bedroom department, and it was all good. She shrugged and rolled over on the beach towel she’d spread out. ‘Movie stars dance to their own tune,’ she offered, allowing the silky white sand to run through her fingers. ‘And besides, he’s no Ryan Gosling.’
‘He’s Cliff Baxter,’ Ashley retorted, shocked that Bianca would even dare to compare him to Ryan Gosling. ‘And he’s bloody gorgeous.’
‘Does Taye know you have the hots for him?’ Bianca asked, amused.
‘I so do not,’ Ashley said, suddenly blushing.
‘Oh yes you do,’ Bianca sing-songed. ‘But that’s okay – it’s not as if you’re about to fuck him.’
Why not? Ashley wanted to say. Just because I’m married doesn’t mean I’m dead.
‘That’s so rude,’ she managed. ‘He’s just . . . I dunno . . . special.’
‘Ask Lori how special he is,’ Bianca said, jumping to her feet and stretching her lithe body. ‘They’re all the same between the sheets. Given the chance, they’re all up for a quick cheat, however faithful they claim to be.’
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘Well . . .’ Bianca mused. ‘I like to think that Aleksandr is different.’
‘So is Taye,’ Ashley said quickly.
Bianca shot her a disbelieving look. ‘How long have you been married?’
‘Er . . . almost seven years.’
‘And you’re telling me that Taye has never slipped it to another woman?’
Ashley immediately flashed onto Taye’s glaring indiscretion. The page three bimbo with the gigantic tits. The story splashed all over the English tabloids. Did Bianca know? Had she read about it?
It was one time. One time only.
She still resented the crap out of him for doing it. How dare he.
HOW DARE HE!
She glanced along the beach watching her husband interacting in the surf with Cliff’s redheaded slag.
Enough of that, thank-you-very-much.
‘Think I’ll take a dip before lunch,’ she said, ignoring Bianca’s question. ‘Coming?’
* * *
Hammond was making a concentrated effort not to stare, but the scenery was too damn tempting. He wasn’t admiring the palm trees and the pure white sand, no, his full attention was directed straight at Lori, Bianca and Ashley. Three magnificent women. Bianca, sleek and dark-skinned with a feline grace. Ashley, the definitive blonde babe with big boobs and a jiggly ass. And Lori, his particular favourite – young, athletic, with that mass of flaming red hair. She was wearing a white bikini, and when she emerged from the sea it appeared to be see-through. Her pert nipples were definitely on parade.
He found himself wondering if the pussy matched, and then he felt himself starting to get an erection, which wasn’t the brightest of ideas considering he was sitting in a folding chair next to Aleksandr, and his linen shorts were not the best at concealing a burgeoning hard-on.
‘The girls look good, huh?’ Aleksandr said in his gruff voice.
Hammond wondered if Aleksandr had noticed his excitement. If he was on the yacht he could’ve gone to his cabin and masturbated, but no such luck, he was on an island, and any kind of release would have to wait.
‘Very pretty,’ he agreed. ‘Especially your lady.’
‘She’s a good girl,’ Aleksandr said, nodding his head like a benevolent father. ‘Never believe the things you might read or see on the Internet.’
Cryptic, Hammond thought. Everyone knew Bianca had slept with the world.
‘Aleksandr,’ Hammond said, clearing his throat. ‘I was hoping we might get a moment to talk about my future plans. I have many things to discuss that could be most advantageous for both of us.’
‘I am sure,’ Aleksandr replied. ‘However, Senator, there is a time and a place for everything, and that time and place is not now.’
‘Of course,’ Hammond said, furious at being dismissed. Russian peasant! Rich prick! ‘Perhaps when we get back to the US we should pick a time and a place,’ he added smoothly. ‘I’ll make sure to slot you into my schedule anytime you find convenient.’
Aleksandr nodded. ‘We’ll see,’ he said in a non-committal way.
Hammond felt his erection deflate. Even Lori couldn’t coax it up now.
>
Chapter Fifty
Back in New York, Eddie March was dealing with a crisis. A crisis that could blow up in everyone’s face. He’d arrived at the office bright and early, just as he did every day, and there, sitting in reception, were Mr and Mrs Martin Byrne, parents of young Skylar, Hammond’s latest intern.
‘They’ve been waiting half an hour,’ the girl at reception had informed him. ‘They wanted to see Senator Patterson. I told them he’s abroad, and besides, they didn’t have an appointment. However, since they said it was extremely urgent, I suggested they wait for you.’
Wait they did. And Eddie met with them, and suddenly it was all systems on red alert, for according to Martin Byrne, Senator Patterson had sexually molested his darling daughter, Skylar.
Eddie was in shock. Christ! How could this be happening? Was it true? Would Hammond be stupid enough to do such a thing?
Eddie wasn’t sure how to handle such a situation. Sex scandals involving politicians were hardly unusual. He immediately thought of John Edwards, Eliot Spitzer, Gary Hart, even ex-President Bill Clinton.
The scandal had ruined Edwards’s political ambitions. Hart and Spitzer were long gone. Clinton had survived being impeached, but only just. And there were numerous others who’d fallen by the wayside because of their various sexual shenanigans.
Dammit! Eddie’s initial reaction was, how could Hammond do this to Sierra? She was a beloved public figure. She was a rare and special beauty. Why would Hammond even consider straying? And with a teenage intern, at that.
Eddie thrust his mind into overdrive. What did these people want? Was it money? Headlines? An apology?
How could he help them and keep this under wraps?
There was only one way to find out.
Chapter Fifty-One
On his return trip to the yacht, Flynn rehearsed exactly what he was going to say to Sierra when they finally came face-to-face.
Hey, remember me – the love of your life? Isn’t that what you assured me I was?
Or:
How could you do what you did to me? Were you even aware that you smashed my heart into a thousand splintered fragments and I never got over you?
Or:
What the fuck are you doing with an asshole like Hammond Patterson? You’re too smart to be with a man like him.
Hell, he didn’t know what he’d say, if anything.
He’d left the island without telling anyone except Guy. No one would miss him – they were all too busy, including Xuan, who seemed to have taken a real liking to Aleksandr. Too bad the Russian was under Bianca’s spell, for Aleksandr and Xuan would’ve made an interesting couple.
The tender zoomed towards the yacht while he desperately tried to clear his head. Thoughts were flying.
Was he making a big mistake?
Should he be doing this?
Why dredge up the past?
Hell, why not?
* * *
After enjoying a peaceful hour of solitude, Jeromy turned up, putting paid to Cliff’s precious time alone.
‘Ah,’ Jeromy sighed, flopping down on a nearby lounger. ‘And I thought I was the only smart one. Now I can see that great minds think alike.’
Cliché alert, Cliff thought. And who exactly is this?
‘Yeah,’ Cliff said amiably, lowering the script he was leafing through. ‘Just getting some reading done while I can.’
‘All work and no play,’ Jeromy admonished, wagging a bony forefinger.
Cliff frowned. Another cliché. What a jerk.
‘It seems that everyone else has deserted us,’ Jeromy said, delighted to spend alone time with the movie star. Maybe Cliff Baxter could be a future client – what a coup that would be.
‘True,’ Cliff said. ‘Only reading scripts isn’t really work, especially if they’re worthwhile.’
‘I must say,’ Jeromy continued, warming up, ‘I am an ardent admirer of your work. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that you are extremely popular in the old home country.’
‘Home country?’ Cliff questioned, thinking that maybe he should’ve gone on the island trip after all.
‘England,’ Jeromy said grandly. ‘Actually, I’m from London. I must assume you have graced us with your presence.’
Yes, the man had just proved it, he was a walking talking cliché.
‘London’s a great city,’ Cliff said. ‘I’ve had many a good time there. In fact, I have a cousin who lives in Sloane Square. You know it?’
‘Know it!’ Jeromy exclaimed. ‘My showroom is just around the corner.’
‘Showroom?’
‘I hate to sound immodest,’ Jeromy said, sounding immodest. ‘However, I am regarded as one of the premier interior designers in London.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Exactly.’
‘And you’re on this cruise because of Aleksandr or Bianca?’ Cliff asked, wondering how he could escape.
‘Well,’ Jeromy lied, ‘they’re both dear friends. And as I am sure you know, my significant other is Luca Perez. He and Bianca are almost like brother and sister.’
‘Got it,’ Cliff said. This was not the way he’d planned on spending the afternoon.
Fortunately Mercedes appeared, offering drinks and snacks.
Cliff took the opportunity to stand up and stretch. ‘Think I’ll take a break,’ he said, moving towards the circular staircase. ‘See you later.’
Jeromy frowned. Was it something he’d said? Had Cliff’s nobody girlfriend complained about him because he hadn’t paid her enough attention the previous evening?
Dammit! A wasted opportunity.
‘Can I get you anything?’ Mercedes asked politely.
Jeromy, in a fit of pique, ignored her. It was a big mistake.
* * *
Clarity. A sensation Sierra hadn’t felt in a long time. No more drugs. Even though they were legal, they still dulled her senses, made the world a different place.
She’d once been a strong woman, opinionated and positive. Hammond had turned her into a shell of the woman she once was. Unfortunately she’d allowed it to happen, punishing herself for the past.
Seeing Flynn had been like standing under an icy cold shower.
Wake up, little girl. Fight the fight. Get over yourself.
It was incredible to feel so free. Just like that, the shackles were loosened and she could breathe again.
After getting dressed, she headed to one of the upper decks. It was a glorious day, just the kind of day to emerge from the frightening fog that had enveloped her for too many years.
Come at me with your threats, Hammond. Finally I am able to stand up to you.
And I will. Oh yes, I certainly will.
* * *
Being treated like a non-existent piece of shit did not thrill Mercedes. Jeromy whatever his dumb name was, would pay for that. She’d already scoped out his stateroom and knew exactly what she would take when the time came. Watches, rings, gold chains, cash. Between him and the singer, there was plenty of loot. The Senator and his wife, not so much. But the footballer kept a stack of cash hidden in his sock drawer, which amused her. Oh sure, like no thief worth their business would ever think of checking out a sock drawer.
Who was he hiding it from anyway? His wife? Miss Big Tits?
Mercedes was glad the guests were off the boat, it gave her time to snoop around. She was especially pleased that Guy wasn’t present. He was such a fussy queen who always seemed to have his eye on her. Renee and Den were both okay – easily manipulated and a bit stupid, but if the circumstances were different, maybe they could’ve all been friends.
Australians. A different kind of species.
* * *
Flynn was sweating, unusual for him, but he was way out of his comfort zone.
What was he going to say to Sierra?
Small talk wouldn’t cut it.
Shit! This was an impossible situation.
He decided to throw himself in the shower, get himself together, and
approach Sierra in a cool and collected fashion.
Yeah, that was the way to do it.
At the door to his stateroom he encountered one of the stewardesses emerging.
‘Everything okay?’ he asked. ‘I thought the maid was already in here.’
‘Checking out your wet bar,’ Mercedes replied, unphased at nearly being caught.
And your computer.
And your cash.
Ninety-three dollars.
Is that all? Really?
‘This place is run like a hotel,’ Flynn commented.
‘Full service,’ Mercedes replied, thinking that under different circumstances she might go for this guy. He was tall and macho, a touch edgy – exactly the way she liked ’em. ‘Didn’t you go on the island trip?’
‘I did.’
‘Wasn’t for you?’ she asked, curious as to why he was back so soon.
‘Do you know where the Senator’s wife might be?’ Flynn said abruptly, not about to be questioned.
‘I think I saw her go to the top deck,’ Mercedes replied, wondering what was up. ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘No, thanks,’ he said, entering his stateroom, slamming the door and stripping off his clothes.
Sierra. She was all he could think about as he stood under the icy needles of the shower.
Sierra. It was definitely time they talked it out.
* * *
After her run-in with Flynn, Mercedes decided that now was the time to forge some kind of contact with Kyril. She’d already thoroughly checked out his cabin – nothing personal to discover except his spare weapon stash, which was formidable. Kyril was a man prepared; he’d even affixed a special lock on the door to his cabin – a lock Mercedes had had no problem picking. She was a talented girl. Safes, locks – she knew what she was doing.
After almost getting caught by the sexy journalist guy, she headed for the kitchen and had the chef prepare a special meal for Kyril, informing him that it was for Cliff Baxter so it had better be great. What man could resist a juicy steak with french fries on the side? The smell alone was too tempting.
Unfortunately, Kyril turned out to be just such a man. When Mercedes knocked on the door to his security room carrying a tray, he waved her away with a ferocious glare.
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