Delaine looked down at Baker, his wide green eyes unseeing, and his pale face permanently etched with stunned disbelief. Sapa flashed images to her of what was happening all over the building. Baker’s boys had been rounded up, none escaped. The premises were being searched for more evidence, though the box full of pink tablets in the still unlocked cabinet was more than enough.
Then Justin was at her side, pulling her into a warm embrace before hauling her toward the door.
“Justin, wait. We’ve got to do a mop-up here.”
“Not today, baby. Derrick’s already called in another team to do it. We’ve got to get to the hospital.”
“Hospital? Why?”
“When our boys burst into Baker’s house at Lake Norman, Pam was in the middle of an almost successful escape. One of the bad guys shot her, baby.”
“What!?”
“I said, Pam’s been shot. Let’s go.”
* * * * *
Delaine stepped into the sparsely furnished hospital room. The orange roses in her hand offered the only relief against the sterile white furniture, walls and curtains. She set the glass vase of flowers on the nightstand and Pam’s eyes fluttered open.
“Hey, girl. How are you feeling?” Delaine asked quietly, a slight smile across her lips.
“Like somebody spent the night kicking my ass.”
“Well, I’d like to kick your ass too, ya know.”
Pam smiled weakly, her words a bit slurred by the wonderful morphine drip on her IV. “I know, and I don’t blame you, Del. And I’m so sorry. I was so drunk I didn’t realize what I’d done until later the next evening. After lots of coffee and lots of sleep. Justin didn’t have anything to do with it. It was all me, girl. But we never slept together. As a matter of fact, he practically ran from me while singing your praises, even though you were mad at him.”
Delaine chuckled and said, “I know, Pam, but I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about you trying to get away from several armed men, you idiot.” She reached out and gently touched her friend’s hand to take the sting out of her words.
“What can I say, Delaine. I wasn’t thinking, I just reacted. I couldn’t let that bastard use me to blackmail you. You’re my girl.”
Delaine was touched. She felt so special. She’d never thought to have a man like Justin, nor reunite with an honest, caring friend like Pam. Her chest clogged with emotion and she almost missed the faint scent of Justin’s cologne amidst the non-smells of the hospital room. He touched her about the waist and hugged her lightly from behind. She turned slowly, her eyes close to spilling over.
“Hi, baby,” he crooned, nuzzling her ear. “How are you holding up, sweetheart?”
“I’m all right, I guess.” In fact, she’d refused to allow the events of last night to sink in yet. She’d been on plenty of dangerous missions, but not once had she ever been compromised. And she’d never been in love with the person watching her back. If Justin hadn’t insisted on covering her, she could have easily been taken out. If even one part of their plan had gone wrong, her children could have been left without a mom. Or she could have lost this wonderful man who’d stood by her side because he cared enough to put himself in danger, even risk his career, to see her safe. It was a humbling realization.
“Hey, Pam,” Justin stepped away from Delaine and moved around the side of Pam’s hospital bed. He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and set a colorful get-well card on her little tray stand.
“Hey, Jus. I apologized to Delaine for that misunderstanding at your house that night. Now I need to apologize to you.”
Justin returned to Delaine’s side and draped his arm over her shoulder. He looked down at her with a lopsided, boyish grin and said, “It’s all right, Pam. We’re all good.”
The door slid silently open and a short, dark-haired woman called cheerfully from the door. “Hello there, I’m Dr. Lampshire.” She removed a clipboard from the slot, checked over the chart and greeted Pam as she entered the room.
“How are you, Pamela?” she asked, adjusting the IV drip. At Pam’s grumbled “just fine, thanks”, she continued in a friendly tone. “The surgery went well, and there is no sign of infection. If you continue to improve, you can go home in a couple of days. Is there anyone in your family available to take care of you for a few days after you’re released? If not, I’ll give the okay for you to stay past the required amount of time.”
Pam winced as the doctor gently probed the dressing over the gunshot wound high on the left side of her chest.
“Doctor, Pam recently moved here and doesn’t have any family. We go way back. She can come stay with me.”
Delaine looked up at Justin and found his eyes on her. He winked and said, “Pam, you can come stay with us.” Her brows rose, but she didn’t gainsay him.
“Us?” Pam wondered aloud. Her eyes widened as much as they were able considering the amount of pain medicine she was enjoying.
“Yes, us. I’m not letting this woman out of my sight, and whether she’s at my house, or I’m at hers, she’s stuck with me. And you’re stuck with the both of us. Or,” he added dryly, “you can stay here and enjoy an endless supply of Jell-O.”
Pam grimaced and informed the doctor she would indeed be going home with Delaine and Justin.
Egyptian Voyage
TJ Michaels
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the two coolest people on earth, Tamara and Michael. For your understanding, inspiration and lots and lots of midnight tea runs, I appreciate you.
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
I wrote this book during the early stages of my career as a writer. When the rights reverted from the publisher back to me my first thought was to rewrite it. After some consideration I realized that I’ve grown as a writer and rewriting this book would basically result in a completely different style and story. So, here is Egyptian Voyage in its original form. Enjoy!
Love always,
~TJ
The Empress III
She is the celestial Isis. Nature, universal fecundity united with spiritual rectitude. She is fertility, creation, intelligence and activity. Whatever the gender, the Empress year brings you in touch with your need to nurture and be nurtured. She is Earth-Mother incarnate. The Empress is not just about love—she’s about creativity planted in the realm of the imagination. She is fertile, ripe and blossoming, with ideas, plans, creations.
But know this, my friend—the upside-down Empress III tarot card has a completely different meaning. If the card is drawn by a woman, the upside-down Empress can represent that woman and indicate a partial success in regard to something important to her. But, if drawn by a man, it indicates a loss of love. Negative elements of the Empress are tendencies to be overbearing, vain, and using appearance to sway and manipulate.
And in our story, this Empress is not drawn by a woman. Nor is it drawn in the typical manner of right-side up. Looks like we’ve got a bad guy to put down...
Prologue
Eden sat in the dark in his favorite overstuffed chair in the living room. The local news droned on while a small blue ticker scrolled across the bottom of the screen. He usually watched the screen with more than a little interest in the latest mayhem plaguing whatever port the ship happened to dock at. Tonight, the words of the news anchor, spoken in perfect Portuguese, rolled off him as he idly stroked the smooth bald head of the woman sitting quietly in his lap. She was twenty-six inches of porcelain perfection, clothed in the regalia of ancient Egypt and her station. Today, he’d clothed her in the white fine linen of the traditional shendyt kilt, leaving her caramel brown breasts bare.
He’d had her created with the face of the noble pharaoh, Hatshepsut. Perfectly formed lips and cheeks were free of rouge or coloring. Almond-shaped dark eyes were adorned with even darker liner that brought her face to life. Yes, she was definitely his favorite, his harem master, responsible for keeping the males in his harem in line. Not only was she beautiful
and damned good at her job, her ability to interpret the tarot made her beyond valuable. Perhaps he’d keep her long enough to give her a name of his choosing.
Tilting his head, he contemplated the large tarot cards spread out on the coffee table. The surface of each was an exquisite work of art and displayed majestic Egyptian symbols of men and women who’d once ruled the ancient world. Their noble profiles brought a sense of kingship and kinship to him. The background of each was a mix of bold gold, turquoise and lapis blues laid over woven papyrus and set against a midnight deep black. Eying the beautiful tarot, the man stretched out a single finger and stroked the intricate borders of two that were separate from the rest of the deck.
Today, he’d drawn Strength and Justice.
“Yes, beloved, you are both.”
He looked away from the cards and into the lovely face of the woman who’d spoken into his mind. He still hadn’t figured out how she managed to do that. He could only hear her when she was near, but none of the others before her had ever been able to do even that much. She spoke again, her voice as clear as a summer sky in his head.
“The cards proclaim you to be Strength and Justice, to bring balance to this world.”
Everything Eden did had the tarot at its center. He never made a move without consulting them. Today, he looked directly at the cards, saw what they were. But what did they mean? It seemed the interpretation of the cards was almost always different from what he intuitively thought it should be. But his Egyptian golden-skinned beauty always explained it all.
“Justice,” she began in her smooth, seductive voice, “is represented by a woman clad in white, a sword in one hand and a balance in the other. She sits on a throne with two lions at her feet. Strength is shown by a woman with a winged golden headdress, clothed in a white robe trimmed with turquoise jewels. A lion stands before her with the headdress of a pharaoh on his head. Strength holds the beast’s mouth closed and he can go no further.”
Okay, so what?
“Strength, my beloved, is a card of success as long as you retain your instincts and exercise self-control. Justice indicates that all is going as it should. Even if you do not realize it, you’re operating according to a divine plan. This plan is in harmony with you, my love, as well as correctness in your relationships.”
Placing a gentle kiss on the top of his harem mistress’s head, his mouth lifted in a wide satisfied smile. All of it sounded wonderful.
“So, who is my goal this time?” he queried, as the usual excitement kindled at the base of his gut. There was nothing like the anticipation of what was to come.
“There is a woman who has unbalanced the life of an important male. Her hair is a burnished hue and…”
When he’d memorized the description of the female, he rose, placed the harem mistress back on her shelf at the top of the beveled glass cabinet and left the ship. Now he could hunt with precision.
Later that night, as his prey screamed into a hand held firmly over her mouth, he did indeed feel the imbalance of the world shift and groan until it settled into its proper place. The specimen’s sticky blood ran out of a fat hole in her back. It soaked through his shirt and streamed hot and thick over the ridges of his stomach, down to his navel. Yes, all was as it should be.
In spite of his ruined clothes, his chest puffed out with pride when the female took her final breath. Yes, once again he’d brought balance to the world and exacted justice on behalf of all those who depended on him as the rightful protector of the faith.
Chapter One
Chrysalyn Geyer yanked a large suitcase off the floor and let it bounce on the edge of the bed. Throwing open the top, she yanked out a pair of white capri pants, arranged them so they draped dead center in the middle of the hanger, then snapped them on the pole in the closet.
“What the hell am I supposed to do for three months, damn it?” she fumed, not bothering to send her thoughts psychically to her spirit guide.
*Rest is a novel idea. I do believe it is the reason your employer sent you on this vacation.*
“Adonei, do you always have to be so frickin’ logical?” she growled between clenched teeth. Neatly folding her favorite cashmere sweater, she placed it on one of several wide shelves in the walk-in closet.
*Of course. I am, after all, a male. Are we not the more logical of the species?*
“Is this a trick question?” she chuckled, her tone incredulous. A balled-up fist made its way to her hip at the same time her bare foot tapped impatiently on the thick carpet. And how the hell had she wound up with a male for a spirit guide anyway? Perhaps the Great Spirit was testing her?
*I believe it is time for a nap. Summon me if you have need, my dear.* With a yawn and an exaggerated feline stretch, Adonei retreated to a small corner of her consciousness.
“Damned lion,” she grumbled, already bored out of her mind.
No doubt this cruise ship was stellar. Everyone on board owned their oversized apartments. And according to the receptionist that checked her in yesterday afternoon, every single one of the units was built specifically for the owner, all of them larger than her whole house back in the States. And priced around a cool million dollars. Her company owned the sprawling condo she would occupy during her vacation. Way to go, Aegis.
Every outfit and its corresponding pair of shoes were arranged by color in the massive closet. Sigh. One more suitcase left, but it could wait until after a wash-up. Chrysalyn made her way to the stylish all-blue granite bathroom and flipped on the shower with a huff.
She had plenty of books but there was no way reading and doing the touristy thing at each port would keep her entertained for three blasted months. Thankfully, they were putting out to sea later on tonight, finally leaving the port in Lisbon, Portugal, behind. At least there would be a change of scenery. She’d also met a dashing older gentleman at the Japanese restaurant up on deck ten last night. Boy, was he a looker—a classic tall, dark and handsome man with a notably square jaw and the most exotic features she’d ever seen on a man.
His chin sported a perfectly manicured goatee over smooth-looking, tanned skin. And the cutest little dimple on his left cheek when he smiled. Salt-and-pepper hair, almost as dark and curly as her own, was stylishly cut. The man’s name was Eden, an interesting name for a learned and well-traveled man. Wherever he was from, he was damned fine, in a sexy, Sean Connery, older gentleman kind of way.
Unfortunately, when he’d strolled over to her table and asked to join her for dinner, a cold streak penetrated the very bones of her spine and chilled the nerves clear down to the backs of her knees. Not fear, but something else, something she couldn’t put her finger on. The kicker was the fact that the emotions weren’t hers, but Adonei’s.
After ten minutes of enduring Adonei’s roaring, growling and pacing in her head with no explanations, Chrysalyn pushed the apprehension away and pleaded with the lion to stand down and calm himself. Instead of listening to her, he’d charged to the forefront of her mind with a snarl so ferocious it caught her completely off guard. With fangs bared, the tawny hair on the back of his thick neck stood on end. And Chrys had bitten her lip and forced her butt to stay in the seat rather than jump to her feet in shock. What the hell was wrong with the big cat? He acted as if she was out on a case looking for bad guys, instead of dining in a classy shipboard restaurant, surrounded by highfalutin people and keeping company with a handsome, well-mannered man.
After practically inhaling her dinner and nodding through most of the conversation, Chrysalyn had smiled politely when Eden offered to see her to her apartment, relieved when he departed with a gentlemanly goodnight.
A full day later, she had yet to learn what Adonei found objectionable about Eden. Perhaps then she could see him again. In truth, she had no urge to fuck him whatsoever, but already looked forward to sharing more conversation. Maybe they could take in a movie or go for a stroll when they reached the next port? She was actually feeling rather encouraged about it all…
U
ntil she’d returned from a brief foray into Lisbon, walked through her front door and locked it behind her. One look across the massive apartment reminded her she’d be floating in this private condo complex for another two months, twenty-eight days and four hours. Shit!
Tonight, determined to finish arranging things to her liking, she’d dined alone. The private chef service was awesome. Not only could she skip dressing up to eat, but a gorgeous Belgian chef had come to her room and prepared her dinner. Feeling rather catty, Chrys tried to trip him up and asked for something decidedly non-European. She’d ended up with the most delicious Cajun dishes piled in front of her with no idea where to begin the scrumptious fare. Her favorites, Shrimp Creole, crawfish bisque, hot water cornbread, fried oysters and okra were attacked with gusto. Perfectly seasoned so they weren’t too spicy, she’d eaten until she was sure she’d have to summon Adonei onto this plane to drag her to her bedroom. Then the chef had sprung another one on her—fresh bananas foster flambéed to perfection before her eyes. Could she get any closer to heaven than soul food?
Now that she’d successfully waddled to the master bedroom to finish unpacking, she was so full it had taken her a full hour to get one huge bag unpacked. Now Chrysalyn stood underneath the massaging spray of the shower, conjuring up images of her first day back at work. She couldn’t wait to return home to Denver and give her boss a piece of her mind. They’d already had the knockdown, drag-out fight of the century, which obviously hadn’t done any good, considering Chrysalyn had still ended up on this damned boat headed for a much-too-long vacation on the high seas.
Eternally Bound: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set Page 15