Slam

by Holly S. Roberts

  I watched my father take in the scene. His lips tightened just a bit, but other than that, he was all politician. “Mr. Jacobs.”

  Brack slowly gained his feet and stepped toward my father with his hand out. “Good to see you, sir.”

  My father took the proffered hand, though his eyes were on me. Looking a mess for a good looking man was one thing. Appearing anything less than perfect for my father was entirely another. He expected perfection in everything. People might wonder why I loved such a difficult man so much, but that was easy. As hard-shelled as my father appeared, he had a weakness for his only child.

  My mother died of cancer when I was five. The young senator from Texas took on the responsibility of raising me on his own. He hired nannies and tutors to assist me traveling back and forth between Texas and Washington, DC. My nanny and tutor traveled with us. But no matter how busy he was, I sat on his lap once a day, even when I was entirely too big, and he read to me. If we had a quiet evening at our home in Washington, DC, or Texas, the story could last an hour or more. He read me the classics with voice changes and sound effects. I lived for the soothing twang of his Texas drawl. It still comforted me when I heard it. Even now when it held censure.

  “I see you’re feeling better.” He walked past Brack like he no longer existed and moved closer to the bed.

  With my father, you didn’t beat around the bush. “Much better. Why didn’t you tell me that man died saving my life?”

  He bent over and kissed my temple. “There was plenty of time for that after you healed.” I smelled his aftershave. Remembrance of times spent learning everything from riding a bicycle to driving my first car had my eyes welling again. For someone who didn’t cry, I was having a very bad day. My father perched on my bed the same way Brack had. He folded me into his arms and brought me against his chest. Somehow he knew I needed a good cry, and instead of the senator, I got Daddy.

  Chapter Five

  My father handed me a tissue when my crying spree slowed. I glanced over his shoulder and noticed Brack. Most men ran from female tears, but Brack seemed to take his job seriously. It shouldn’t have embarrassed me to appear human, but it did. His presence also forced me to gain control of my emotions.

  I gave my father a trembling smile. “While I have you both here, this would be a good time to discuss why my other detail is no longer in charge.”

  I could see the change in my dad’s eyes when his senator persona took over. “Mr. Jacobs is the best and he won’t put up with your shit.” He stopped for a moment to turn and look at Brack. “I didn’t expect to find you cozying up to my daughter, though.”

  Brack was all business. “Your daughter and I will be working as a team and in close proximity. Expect to see us shoulder to shoulder for the foreseeable future.”

  The great senator from Texas huffed out a breath. I thought he would argue, but he didn’t. He turned his pointed stare my way. “I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. If I need to lock you away for your protection, that can be arranged. You will do what he says, when he says it.”

  I thought this man had learned something about my stubbornness, but I guess I was wrong. “Yes, Daddy.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not falling for the ‘yes, Daddy’ routine.” He turned to Brack. “That means ‘fuck off’ in Olivia speak. When she’s cooperating and you think you’ve won, handcuff her to you.”

  Brack’s quiet chuckle grated on my last nerve. I interrupted their he-man bonding moment, “I’m preparing for the French Open. I’m also over eighteen and there is no way you can bully me into being manhandled by Neanderthals. I can and will take care of myself.”

  After a very short silence, Brack spoke up. “How many more people do you want dead because you won’t cooperate?”

  I stared at him not believing he would say that to me. I expected my father to defend me, but good old, never-without-an-opinion dad remained silent. I was too angry to cry, so I turned to my father instead. “That is exactly why I cannot be around this man. His ego is bigger than yours. I promise to make both your lives a living hell if you don’t fire him.”

  From the corner of my eye I watched Brack cross his arms over his chest. Nope, I didn’t notice how the muscles bulged. I swear I didn’t. He took a defensive stance and it gave me a sense of satisfaction. And a stupid flutter in my chest.

  My father hadn’t looked this uncomfortable since I told him I started my period for the first time. His behavior wasn’t like him at all and suddenly I was on high alert. “What’s going on, Daddy?” I pleaded softly.

  My father looked away while he spoke, “He broke into the house last night and tore your room apart. We never even knew he was there.”

  Dread filled me. “The room at my apartment?”

  “No, your room at home.”

  In my father’s eyes home would always be his home, never my apartment. That’s not what bothered me, though. My father’s home was a fortress. Yes, I had escaped, but I knew the house like the back of my hand. The security team’s job was to keep people out, not to keep me in. And now someone broke inside.

  “What about the video system?”

  My dad turned his eyes my way again. “Disrupted, or so the geeks who installed it informed me.” He reached for my cold fingers. “I need you to do whatever it takes to stay safe. Mr. Jacobs will make sure nothing further happens to you.”

  I squeezed his fingers, letting him know he’d won. I just couldn’t manage the words. My father pulled me in for another hug. “I have a meeting and it won’t go over well if I miss it.” He released me, gave a nod to Brack, and left the hospital room.

  The throb in my head increased. Brack’s continued stance—arms crossed, legs spread—didn’t help. The man wouldn’t give an inch.

  “Satisfied?” I couldn’t help asking.

  “Not even close.”

  He was so frustrating. I actually looked around for something to throw. The flowers caught my eye. “Could you hand me those so I can break the vase over your thick skull?”

  “No.”

  “That’s okay then. I’ll get them myself.”

  His infuriating chuckle filled the room.

  I climbed out of bed surprised that the dizziness had lessened and reached for the flowers. They were not the type my father would send; his were a large bouquet of yellow roses he’d brought me at the other hospital. These were a mix of several types of flowers. I decided to read the card before I threw the vase at Brack.

  Lilies reflect

  the soul of the departed

  and restore innocence after death.

  You will need thousands of lilies

  for there to be hope.

  It took a moment to register. Daisies… carnations… and lilies. I didn’t throw them at Brack. I hurled them in the opposite direction with a cry of horror.

  ***

  Brack had me out of the hospital in less than ten minutes. Mack, the man who had delivered my clothing, waited in the car at the side exit.

  “Mack is on my team. You can trust him with your life.”

  “And you,” I spoke quietly, all my previous fight gone.

  “If you’re turning to Mack, I’m already dead. Here’s a new phone for you. It has your father’s and Mack’s numbers. No friends, no coaches, and no practice partners. This guy is getting his information from somewhere and it ends now.”

  This was moving too fast for my aching head. “What about your number?”

  A small grin appeared. “You won’t be out of my sight, sugar. My number isn’t needed.”

  I was in too much pain to grit my teeth at the name ‘sugar.’ With the new security measures taken, I should feel safe. But none had worked up until now and I was afraid to have hope. To make matters worse, a tingling awareness of the man beside me had me sitting up straighter. I realized it had been months since my last sexual encounter and having this man beside me did things. Nasty things. Things I had no business thinking about with my life in danger. An
d besides, I had a headache.

  I mentally shoved my thoughts away from sexual need. “Is my father safe?”

  “He has his security detail, though he’s none too pleased with them. They’ll be on high alert. He’s not my problem, you are.” Brack changed the subject. “Your father told me you know how to shoot.”

  I couldn’t help a small grin. “Like most Texas women, I’ve spent countless hours at the range. Believe me, I can shoot.”

  “Do you have a preferred handgun?”

  “A Sig P938.”

  “Good choice. Mack will pick one up for you along with a conceal holster. We’ll be off the grid for a while and can’t have firearms where we’re headed. If this guy isn’t traced quickly we’ll have a backup plan that includes you being armed.”

  Part of what he said didn’t quite register. “My gun is at my father’s house. Have him pick up that one.”

  “We won’t be connecting my men with your father. The senator is too easy to trace. You are now officially off the grid and will remain that way until we have another plan in place.”

  I wanted to argue. No, I wanted to stomp my feet and scream at the top of my lungs. Another bout of exhaustion set in and I could do nothing but close my eyes.

  “Here,” Brack pulled my head to his shoulder. “Get some rest. We have a long drive.”

  It wasn’t like me to give in to bossy men, but I was too tired to care. I relaxed against his warmth and drifted off.

  Chapter Six

  “Come on, sleepyhead. Wake up.”

  At some point in our trip, Brack had moved up front. It enabled me to splay across the backseat with my legs pulled up in a fetal position.

  “You awake?” he asked.

  I sat up sleepily. “Yes, where are we?” It was no longer daylight.

  “A small airport. We’re taking off in about fifteen minutes and I thought you might want to use the bathroom and get a Coke and snacks out of the machine.”

  “You didn’t tell me we were flying anywhere.” The whine entered my voice. What the hell was wrong with me?

  “You didn’t ask, sunshine.”

  Sunshine… even I knew that was a stretch. “You won’t be so happy when I puke during the flight.” I replied grumpily. “Me and air travel don’t get along.”

  “Hmm, that could be a problem. I’ll make sure we have a plastic bag on board before takeoff,” he replied with apparent humor. The moron obviously didn’t believe me. He got out of the car and opened my door. “Time for you to get out. I need to get our bags into the plane. Mack checked out the building for safety. There’s a small bathroom and a couple of vending machines inside. Here,” he thrust a few dollar bills into my hand. “Get us both something. We’ll have everything we need once we get to the island, but I could use something to elevate my blood sugar during the flight.”

  Island? My brain was fuzzy and I was barely awake, but I really think he said island. I watched him walk toward a small plane that couldn’t possibly be taking us to an island. I squeezed my legs together—bladder first, then questions. I approached Mack who stood next to the door leading into the small building and gave him a hurried nod. He grinned slightly and held the door for me.

  The bathroom mirror didn’t lie. I looked worse than I had that morning. Yuck, something was growing on my teeth and I needed a toothbrush. I could also feel a neat row of stitches inside a bald patch on the side of my head. The area was sore, but my vanity ached more. I looked like absolute hell. I washed my face and rinsed out my mouth before opening the bathroom door. The two machines against the far wall drew my attention. I would love nothing more than a soda, but good in, good out was my philosophy. I got a couple of bottled waters for me and a Coke for Brack. The munchy machine had nothing healthy. Brack mentioned blood sugar, so I paid for carb-filled chips and a disgusting cupcake of some sort. There was no way the man lived off this crap or he wouldn’t look like he did. Muscled sex on a stick was a good analogy. I imagined long slow licks, musky sweat, and that deep voice saying my name. I was so bad. Too bad I currently looked like a Walking Dead zombie reject. Refusing to take a last peek at myself in the mirror, I went outside to get some questions answered.

  Mack and the car were nowhere in sight. Brack waited next to the plane with his stupid aviator glasses turned in my direction. Did he ever remove them? I guess he did for hysterical females. Maybe I could use that to my advantage. Hysterical was something I wasn’t accustomed to, but I would make an exception for those eyes. I turned my attention to the plane in order to take my mind off Brack. It was a very small plane. A tiny plane. How the hell would we fit?

  “Where are the remote controls?” I asked in a voice more chipper than I actually felt.

  “Controls?” he replied with apparent confusion.

  I fought to keep a straight face. “Yeah, you know. That little pocket device that flies one of these toys.”

  He rewarded me with a full, genuine smile. “You must be feeling better,” he stated as he guided me around the plane to the passenger door.

  Two seats. I looked up at Brack. “You’re piloting this thing?”

  “You’re very observant for a girl with a head injury.” His fingers circled my waist and he lifted me into the seat. Hell, he barely strained to do it.

  I tried calming my racing heart and underused libido. “You do have a pilot’s license, right?” I asked as he laid a blanket across my lap.

  His lips curled into another smile. “Yeah, it’s one of those mail order things. I answered a few questions, paid twenty bucks, and they sent the certificate.”

  Wow, the man actually had a sense of humor. “You said island. Were you serious?”

  “You’ll be safe there and your body needs to heal. There will be plenty of time to laze around in the sun and gain your strength.”

  Things had been going so well for all of three minutes. Now he pissed me off again. “Do you have any idea what it takes to compete at my level?” I gave him my fierce competitive eyes without giving him a chance to answer. “You don’t have a clue. I’ve played with sprained ankles, twisted knees, and pulled back muscles. A bump on the head won’t slow me down. Please tell me you have exercise equipment, a court, and someone who can give me a run for my money on that court.”

  His lips twitched. I refused to acknowledge the possibility that he was laughing at me. “All that and more, angel.” He closed the door and fiddled around with something on the outside of the plane before getting behind the controls.

  He started the engine and my adrenaline ramped up. The cockpit was smaller than any plane I’d ever been in. We were practically kissing the controls. Brack flicked switches and turned knobs like he knew what he was doing. I pressed my head back into the seat and closed my eyes when the engine turned over.

  “You really don’t like to fly?” he inquired over the rumbling sound.

  I practiced my airsick breathing hoping to keep the inevitable from happening. “No,” I mumbled in reply.

  “Sleep some more and we’ll be there before you know it. Drink some water first.” He placed a water bottle against my lips.

  I took a healthy swig without opening my eyes. I heard his low chuckle and shivers ran across my skin. This man did something to me and if I weren’t so intent on what would happen once we were airborne, I might give it some additional thought.

  His warm breath entered my ear. “Green is not a good color on you, baby.”

  I knew he was goading me with the silly name calling, I just didn’t know what the purpose was. I breathed out through my mouth and in through my nose. I heard him fiddling around some more and then a slight jolt as the aircraft rolled slightly. My fingers clenched the arm rests and for just a moment I held my breath.

  Something wasn’t right. Of course, when I flew, nothing was right. I had this nagging sensation somewhere in my brain that was telling me I needed to pay attention.

  “You’re not communicating with the tower,” I all but shouted. Deep laughter
was my answer. I opened my eyes and turned his way. He was watching the runway. Small white lights lit our path. “You can’t just laugh and not answer,” I hissed in irritation.

  “You watch too much television. This is an uncontrolled airport and radio communication isn’t necessary.”

  Okay, I could go with that. Oh shit. “This plane doesn’t have any lights does it?”

  Brack shook his head and sighed with seeming exasperation. “It has the required lights. Close your eyes and we’ll be there before you know it.”

  We picked up speed and I slammed my eyes shut. I began counting silently inside my head as we lifted off. Within a few minutes, the plane banked and then slowly evened out. About ten minutes later, my count was at two-thousand one-hundred two. My eyes popped open and I groaned, “I need…” That was it. What I had in my stomach spewed into the blanket in my lap.

  “Son of a bitch,” Brack shouted.

  I’m sure a few splatters hit him. I was just too sick to enjoy the moment. I heaved some more. He had no one to blame but himself. I’d warned him. I flew often and it always had the same effect on me. I couldn’t take certain drugs to calm my motion sickness because of the International Tennis Federation’s prohibited list. Dimenhydrinate, known as Dramamine, wasn’t on the list, but there were certain things I didn’t put in my body even if the ITF said I could. Puking was something I could live with. Well, maybe when there wasn’t a muscle-bound Hercules sitting in a confined space beside me. The overwhelming smell of regurgitated food filled the cockpit and after a final heave, for now, I just felt embarrassment.

  Brack stopped cursing long enough to ask, “Are you okay?”

  I used a corner of the blanket to wipe my mouth. “I’ll be fine for about twenty minutes.” I took a slow deep breath. “I warned you.”

  “You do this every twenty minutes?” he asked in obvious horror.

  I wanted to smile, but that was beyond me. “Like clockwork. I really hope you brought a barf bag or two like you promised.”