O-Dark-Hundred

by Holly Copella

  The two burly men, attempting to blend in with the guests, paused before Gil. Darth snarled softly at them. Gil gave a gentle tug on the leash to remind Darth they had to play nice. Neither man seemed to have a personality, although it sometimes seemed Gil didn’t either. He could maintain a frozen expression for hours. He eyed the two guards and showed little reaction to their size. Sealy was attractive by most standards and had a full, thick head of dark hair. Allen, on the other hand, wore his light hair in a buzz cut, giving a certain military look, although Gil was certain he’d never been in the military. Allen’s features were harsh and almost Neanderthal in nature, which gave him a slightly intimidating look. He resembled a less cuddly version of Kirk.

  “We appreciate your service,” Allen gruffly announced, “but we have security at this party under control.”

  “Just doing my job,” Gil announced without a hint of emotion in his voice. “I’ll make my rounds and then leave you to your party.”

  “I don’t think you’re paying attention,” Allen snarled.

  Another man approached, although judging by his expensive clothes, he was more the man in charge type. Nelson Banks was a wealthy man in his early fifties, indicated by his outward appearance and professional hair transplant. He wore a suit that almost made Sal look poor in comparison. Far from a handsome man, Nelson’s only redeeming quality was his firm, stocky body mass resembling a tank. Ironically, it wasn’t his physical appearance most people feared about the intimidating man.

  “Everything okay?” Nelson asked.

  “Ship’s security wants to case the party,” Sealy informed his boss.

  “So let him,” Nelson replied then smiled at Gil. “I’m happy he’s doing his job.” He then shooed his men away. Both men left on command. “You have to forgive my men. They forget this is a pleasure cruise and not a war zone.”

  “I have a similar friend,” Gil replied.

  An attractive, much younger woman approached. Nelson’s wife, Emily Banks befitted the term ‘blonde bombshell’ with curves barely contained in her moderately revealing dress. Despite only being in her mid-thirties, she was already past her prime for someone like Nelson Banks. His lack of attention toward his large bosomed wife was apparent in the way she ogled other men, particularly men younger than her husband.

  Emily Banks gave Gil a lustful once over. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, dear?”

  “Honey, this is one of the ship’s security guards,” he announced then looked at Gil for further information.

  “Gil, ma’am,” he announced politely and offered one of his few pleasant smiles.

  She kept her eyes on him and again swept her gaze over his body. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gil.” Emily looked back at her husband. “Nelson, dear, would it be okay if Gil escorted me back to our suite.” She indicated her expensive jewelry. “I’d feel safer with him and his dog by my side.”

  “If Gil doesn’t mind.”

  Gil hesitated with some awkwardness then managed a smile. “It’d be my pleasure, ma’am,” he replied and politely extended his hand toward the door.

  Despite his attempt at mere politeness, Emily captured his arm, linking onto him, and walked with him from the lounge. As she clung to his arm, she pressed her bosom against it. Gil raised a brow and eyed the woman clinging to him.

  †

  Emily remained linked onto Gil’s arm as they leisurely walked along the deck. Gil had attempted to increase their pace, but Emily constantly held him back, turning his escort service into a romantic stroll. She seemed a little too at home linked onto his arm while enjoying the evening air.

  “Wouldn’t your suite be on this deck near the lounge?” Gil finally asked.

  “Yes, but I thought I’d enjoy the evening ambiance and take the scenic route,” she replied then eyed him while grinning slyly. “Are you married, Gil?”

  “I’m divorced,” he replied then seemed to think better of it. “My wife and I are trying to work things out.”

  “So you’re technically a free agent,” she almost cooed while studying him, her breasts firmly pressing against his arm.

  Gil glanced at her and the look on her face. He fidgeted slightly from her breasts pressed against him, reading her intentions loud and clear.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” he replied.

  His words disappointed her, but she didn’t appear ready to give up on the handsome man just yet. They finally entered the nearby corridor and approached her suite. She reluctantly released him and removed her card key. Emily unlocked the door, opened it partway, and leaned seductively against it.

  “Want to join me for a drink?”

  Gil managed a smile. “Thanks, but I’m on duty,” he announced and gave a tiny salute with his index finger to his brow. “Have a pleasant evening, ma’am.”

  As Gil turned and walked away with Darth by his side, Emily watched him leave with disappointment then studied his backside and smiled slyly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The small village outside Rio de Janeiro, Brazil was one of the less traveled tourist spots. Charming shops lined the streets with vibrantly colored flowers, clothing, and foods from different cultures. Friendly locals exchanged pleasantries with a few dozen tourists passing through. Ross placed a white fedora hat on his head, tilting the brim for a menacing look. He glanced across the hat table to a dark-haired beauty nearly half his age. Leeann Whitley dressed the part of a world traveler, but she had more of a country girl appeal. Lee’s gaze fell upon Ross with the making of a schoolgirl in love. She eyed him across the table, grinned her approval of the hat, then flashed a thong bikini bottom and suggestively raised her brows.

  Ross groaned softly then turned to the shopkeeper. They haggled in Portuguese over the price of the hat. One might assume Ross just enjoyed arguing with people in different languages. Lee seemed to enjoy it as well. Ross indicated Lee while handing the man some local currency. The man eyed the beautiful woman then grinned at Ross. He said something that sparked a fire in Ross. Another round of arguing ensued. In the end, both men laughed. Ross motioned to his girlfriend.

  “It’s yours,” he announced.

  She approached him with her new purchase and stuffed it into her bag. “What was all the arguing about?” she asked.

  “He offered to let you have it for free if you modeled it for him,” Ross remarked casually. “I politely told him I’d gouge his eyes out with a spoon.”

  “Hmm, that’s pleasant,” she cooed while affectionately clinging to his arm.

  “Yes,” he replied. “Although I did change the body part and the method in which I’d remove it for your comfort.”

  Lee groaned softly and rolled her eyes. “You’re terrible.”

  “Here I thought I was initiating foreplay,” he announced with a teasing grin.

  She playfully smacked his arm then hugged it. “It’s like I’m seeing another side of you,” Lee informed him. “Maybe a small peek into that former Navy SEAL life.”

  Ross suddenly laughed and patted her hand on his arm. “Oh, my darling, if no one’s suffered a throat punch; you’re seeing nothing from my SEAL past.”

  They casually walked through the market attempting to decide what to have for dinner. Ross glanced at several items on stands they passed while Lee talked endlessly about their romantic beachfront accommodations. Ross no longer seemed to be paying attention to her as his muscles tensed against her hand. Lee eyed him with a curious look.

  “Ross? Are you listening to me?”

  “No,” he replied gently and lowered the brim of his hat. “Would you allow me one small moment of paranoia?”

  Her expression dropped as she stared at him.

  “Don’t look at me and keep smiling,” he ordered softly through slightly gritted teeth that almost formed a smile.

  Lee looked at the stands and the food that suddenly didn’t seem appealing. “What’s wrong?” she asked while attempting to keep up a jovial appearance.

  “We’re
being followed,” he remarked. “If we keep heading straight for three blocks, there will be taxis. I want you to keep walking and get in the first taxi you see. I’ll meet you back at the hotel.”

  “What are you going to do?” she nervously asked, no longer able to maintain her false smile.

  “I’m just going to talk to the men following us,” he replied simply.

  “I’m not leaving you, Ross.”

  “We’re not debating this,” he growled softly. “Three blocks. First taxi you see. You don’t look back, and you don’t stop no matter what.”

  “Ross--”

  “I’m serious, Lee.”

  Lee slowly released his arm and looked along the aisle in front of them. She nervously touched his arm. “Ross--?”

  Two men approached them from the opposite direction, cutting off Lee’s path to the taxis. Neither man bothered hiding that they were staring directly at them. They must have known they had Ross trapped.

  “Change of plan,” Ross announced gently while stopping her in the middle of the mildly busy market area. “To your right. Through that door. Don’t stop. Just run.” There was a strange pause. “Now!”

  Lee turned to her right and ran for the door between the outdoor shops. Ross bolted after her. As the men pursued him, he toppled a stand in their path, stalling them. He ran into the building after Lee. The men scrambled over the scattered market items and ran after them while removing their automatic weapons. The men ran through the kitchen and looked around. Any cooks in the kitchen were already gone. The first two men walked cautiously with their weapons aimed.

  The first man suddenly fell to the floor. Ross slid out from under the counter and jumped on top of him. He grabbed him around the neck and flipped their position. The second man fired at Ross, riddling his own man with a spray of bullets. As he shot his own man, Ross remained behind his human shield, raised the man’s weapon and returned fire. The man took several shots and flew to the floor. Ross jumped to his feet with the assault rifle in his hand and ran after Lee. As he ran through the kitchen, the men who had been following him now entered and pursued him. Ross fired at the men and dove into the doorway as they fired back.

  “Lee,” he cried out while facing the kitchen then glanced back to check her position.

  Lee was already on her knees with a heavily armed man standing behind her. He held a gun to her head. She stared at Ross with fear in her eyes. A second man appeared behind the man holding Lee hostage and fired at Ross. Ross dove to the floor, avoiding the barrage of bullets. He rolled into a sitting position and fired back. The man removed the gun from Lee’s head and shot at him as well. Ross fired upon both men, tearing into them with multiple shots each. Before they had a chance to go down, their rifles fired through the opening in the doorway. Ross’s expression dropped as he looked back and saw the propane tanks just on the other side of the door. He leaped for Lee and took her to the floor. There was a familiar pop followed by a hiss.

  Ross looked into Lee’s frightened eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Outside the building, there was a tremendous explosion that rocked the entire marketplace. Vendors and tourists screamed and ran from the area without looking back. The old, fragile looking building collapsed in a cloud of dust and debris that quickly swept through the market.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The following evening, the room service cart squeaked as it rolled along the carpeted corridor of the Pacific Deck. Zack, in his neatly pressed, over-starched, brilliant white uniform, pushed the cart with little enthusiasm. His hand twitched with every squeak of the wobbling front wheel. There was little doubt if he’d been carrying a weapon, he’d have shot the cart by now. He glared at the stateroom number before him, stopped in front of the door, and cursed under his breath before knocking.

  “Room service,” he announced without emotion.

  The door opened only a moment later to reveal a man in his plush, cruise line bathrobe. He held the door open and gave Zack a stern look.

  “Well, it’s about time,” the man grumbled.

  Zack somehow managed to ignore the man’s attitude and pushed the cart into the room. He pulled up the cart leafs to create a table.

  “Not here,” the man snarled demandingly and pointed. “In front of the balcony.”

  Zack moved the rolling cart closer to the balcony without comment, despite the grumbling of the man in the robe. He turned toward the passenger and managed his best Hannibal Lecter smile.

  “Will there be anything else, sir?” Zack asked beyond the grin that suggested he might gut the man.

  “Think you can manage to light the candles and open the champagne?” the man demanded with limited patience, not even noticing the way Zack was staring at him.

  The shower within the bathroom turned off, indicating the passenger had company. More than likely, his company was the opposite sex. Zack eyed the man while listening to someone move around within the bathroom.

  “Shall I dim the lights?” Zack asked, almost sounding professional.

  “Yeah, sure,” the man grumbled and waved him off. “Just make it quick. I want you gone before she comes out of the bathroom.” He then muttered under his breath. “This isn’t a peep show.”

  Zack snatched the bottle of champagne as if prepared to strangle it. He eyed the label and made a slight face at the cheapness of the bottle. He swiftly removed the foil paper as if he’d opened hundreds of bottles before and wiggled the cork while aiming it in an odd direction. The man in the robe took a step back and watched him with uncertainty. The cork popped from the bottle, shot across the room, and struck the dimming switch. The room became considerably darker. He returned the bottle to the ice bucket while simultaneously removing the lighter from his pocket. A foot long flame shot out from the lighter and lit both candles horizontally. Zack turned toward the man, grinned, and clicked his heels together while bowing slightly.

  “Have a pleasant evening, sir,” he scoffed and headed for the door.

  †

  Zack walked along the service corridor heading toward the kitchen via the back way to avoid disturbing the ship’s passengers. He maintained his usual, expressionless gaze, but it was obvious he was unhappy with his assignment. Angry voices came from one of the kitchen linen closets. Zack paused near the door and listened a moment.

  “We continue as planned,” one man announced in what sounded like a loud whisper.

  “What about him?” another male voice demanded.

  “Get rid of him,” the first man snarled.

  There was a loud, abrupt grunt. Zack opened the door, attempting to maintain a casual stance, but he was actually in attack position. He’d perfected casual combat stances after years of practice. Two men in crewmen’s uniforms stood over a third crewman, who was sprawled unnaturally across the floor. The position of his head indicated his neck had been broken; one of Zack’s many areas of expertise. Both men lunged for Zack, expecting him to run, but he was already snap kicking the first man under the chin. He then threw himself into a roll across the floor to avoid the flying fist of the second man. Zack sprang up just behind the man in the tight quarters. As the man turned, Zack thrust his knee twice into his ribs then grabbed him by the head and dropped him to the floor alongside the man they’d just killed. The first man recovered and removed a switchblade knife, swiftly opening it with some level of skill. He lunged for Zack, prepared to slash him with the razor-sharp blade. Zack blocked his hand with the knife then swiftly grabbed the wrist and twisted his arm backward. The second man attempted to subdue Zack while he was busy with his accomplice.

  Zack whirled the first man around and forced his wrist upward, causing the second man to impale himself on the switchblade in his friend’s hand. He gasped as the blade pierced his abdomen and clutched his bleeding midsection, his once white uniform quickly saturating with bright red blood. Zack released the first man’s wrist, grabbed him by the head, and swiftly broke his neck. He allowed the man to fall to the floor a
longside his accomplice and the dead crewman. Zack stared at the three dead men and cursed softly. It was true. Dead men tell no tales. There would be no way of knowing why the two men killed the other crewman, if they actually were crewmen, and what deed they would continue as planned.

  “Nice going, Zack,” he muttered under his breath.

  He removed his cell phone and realized he had no signal so close to the kitchen. He frowned and left the linen closet. Zack headed for the first stairwell he found and ran up the steps with his cell phone in his hand, watching and waiting for the first sign of a signal.

  †

  Jackie and Monroe hurried along the staff corridor attempting to keep up with Zack as he headed toward the linen closet not far from the kitchen.

  “You can’t keep doing this, Zack,” Monroe scolded while only a few steps behind him. “There’s no need to kill everyone you meet.”

  “Shit happens, Monroe,” Zack muttered.

  He opened the linen closet door and looked inside. To Zack’s surprise, there was no one within the closet. All three crewmen were gone without a trace of blood or a scuffle. Jackie and Monroe stared into the empty linen closet then exchanged strange glances. Zack turned toward them and pointed a warning finger.

  “I’m not hallucinating,” Zack growled with conviction. “Two crewmen killed another crewman. They were plotting something. We need to find out what it was.”

  “Are you taking your pills?” Monroe asked while raising his brows.

  “I just told you,” Zack lashed out. “I’m not hallucinating!” He then searched his white cuffs. There was a tiny spot of red on the right cuff. “There! That’s blood!”

  Both looked at the small red stain. Jackie fidgeted and finally turned away. Zack’s expression shattered while watching her reaction.

  “You don’t believe me,” Zack gasped with horror. “Jackie, you know I’m not making this up.”