Kissing Fortune (Man Season)

by McClung, Mila

  CHAPTER TWO

  He was still thinking about her an hour after she’d left, and damning himself for it. She was just a girl, one of a million in LA who thought the world owed them something because they were born rich. Sure, she was beautiful, who wouldn’t be with all that money at their disposal for botox treatments, hair weaves, liposuction, etc… Still, he knew she hadn’t used any of that junk. She was naturally pretty and naturally blonde – one glance while her panties were down was enough to prove that. He couldn’t get his mind off that either. It’d been too long since he’d had a woman, and every cell in his body was letting him know it.

  He opened the fridge in the galley, brought out a cold can of beer.

  “Is that your answer to every problem, Kiel?”

  He turned; saw a tall gaunt man with a regulation buzz cut standing on the stairs – Joe Smalley, his former partner in the secretive CIA unit known as Questor.

  “What of it?” he snapped then he poured the smooth amber liquid down his parched throat.

  “I’m glad I caught you before you left.”

  “Did Slater send you?”

  “He did. He wants you back, Kiel. We all want you back. You’re our best man for intel.”

  “There are a dozen guys out there better than me.”

  “No, there isn’t. We need you.”

  Kiel crushed the can, threw it into a pile of others, making a metallic clank.

  “I don’t need you, Joe. Can’t you get that through your head? You guys shanghaied me when I was eighteen, straight out of high school, for your filthy little techno unit. I did whatever you told me to because my dad and mom had just died and I was numb. But over the years I’ve come to hate every slimy, underhanded mission. I have to get away. It killed Jeri, and our baby. If I don’t leave, sooner or later … probably sooner … it’ll kill me, too.”

  Smalley stepped down into the living area. “We’ve told you before, Kiel … nobody leaves Questor … alive.”

  Kiel took another beer from the fridge; popped the top.

  “Don’t you realize I’m smart enough to plan ahead? I’ve got copies of documents, all sorts of little goodies, on a flash drive, just waiting with the right person. If I go missing or end up floating face up in a gutter they’ll email those copies to every news agency in the US!”

  “We can find the person who has them, you know that. We can make life a living hell for anybody who’s ever crossed paths with you until the right one yells uncle. What’s the point in that? You don’t want anyone else to be hurt because of you.”

  “No, I don’t. The ‘right person’ isn’t really a person at all. It’s a program. And you can’t weed it out no matter how you try. Give it up, and let me alone, Joe. All I want is a peaceful place where I can hide away … and forget everything I did for the last fifteen years!”

  “I wish I could help you, Kiel. You’re like a brother to me. But I’ve got orders.”

  “I understand that, Joe; better than you think I do. But I won’t go back. Tell Slater … tell him to go to Hell! And you can get off my boat!”

  Smalley made a move towards his pocket; Kiel grabbed a knife from a drawer and flung it with lightning speed – it hit Smalley’s wrist. He groaned, uttered a curse and wrapped a handkerchief around his bleeding hand.

  “Damn, Kiel, I was just reaching for a smoke!”

  “Sure you were.” Kiel walked over, searched the pocket, found a tiny but lethal gun with a silencer. “That was tacky, Joe, very tacky. I thought you had more finesse.”

  “Guess I’m getting careless in my old age.”

  “Right. Take a hike, Joe.”

  They stood eye to eye, neither backing down. But Kiel was a master at the staring game; Joe finally shrugged, headed back up the stairs.

  “It’ll have to be settled eventually, Kiel. One way or another.”

  “I accept that, Joe. And I’ll be ready.”

  He followed him up top, watched him until he was out of sight. A portly gent with an icy white beard came waddling over to him.

  “Trouble, Kiel?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle, Travers.”

  “Yeah, I guess you can handle just about anything. Heading out to Baja?”

  “Maybe.”

  “If anyone asks, should I say something different?”

  “Tell them what you like. I’ll have to face the bastards sometime, might as well get it over with quick.”

  “I can help you, boy, if you need a straight shooter.”

  Kiel smiled but there was no joy in the gesture. “I know, man, and I’m thankful for the offer but I don’t think those grandkids could do without their Pappy. See you around!”

  He untied the rope, started the engine; eased his boat out into the bay. The sun was fading, though it wasn’t close to sunset. A veil of gauzy clouds was smothering it, turning the air chill.

  He let the breeze ripple across his bare chest, hoped it would calm the heat rising in his groin – that damned reality show girl. Why couldn’t he get her out of his mind?

  Jeri had been gone three long years. No one had even caught his interest in all that time. He closed his eyes; saw her as she was then – a long, leggy brunette with the bluest eyes this side of heaven, and a body shaped so perfectly it was like someone had molded her out of clay to fit exactly right in his arms. Her kisses melted him into lava; her moans drove him into a sweet kind of madness that he never wanted to be cured of. They were magical together. And then they were expecting – already knew it was going to be a girl. They even had a name picked out – Mandy.

  But his work – digging into the secrets of unfriendly nations for the government – had consequences. Someone breeched his security wall, discovered who he was. They came after him at his house in Virginia on the one night he was out playing gin with the Questor boys. Or maybe they’d known that and planned to target Jeri all along. Didn’t matter – all that really mattered was that they took her, and Mandy, from him forever – with a clear, clean shot.

  He’d gone after them, tracked them down and nearly beat the pulp out of the sniper but Kiel wasn’t a killer. He let the guy live; wanted him convicted, to see that thing called justice that everybody talked about so much. And he got it – but not like he thought. The sniper’s own people came after him, murdered him in his sleep to keep him from revealing their plans.

  Kiel tried to opt out then but Howland Slater, his boss, used guilt to talk him into staying so he could finish the operation that had cost Jeri and Mandy their lives. It was all done now. The crooks were in jail or dead, the plans thwarted – of course there were other crooks, other threats – it was never-ending. But Kiel was sick of it, wanted to be washed clean of the whole dirty business.

  He needed a new start, doing work that was honorable and open. He’d been thinking about his late parents’ hacienda in Baja. It was a gorgeous place, thick with waving palms and lush mango trees – the fruit was taken to market every season but it wasn’t being utilized to its full potential. He could make it profitable, easily. Seemed like a dream – maybe it was.

  The Questor bunch wouldn’t leave him alone – he expected that, had prepared for it, though he hoped they’d be called off. Once he reached Baja he was sure they’d be on his tail. There’d be a showdown, no doubt. If he made it out alive he could be free – to start fresh – to maybe even look up that girl, Tierney, to find out what she was like. He remembered the scent of her, like a French garden in April, and the way the sunlight glowed in her green eyes. He’d never bedded a popular girl. In high school they’d labeled him a nerd and that made him invisible. But he hadn’t been invisible to her. She seared him with her sexed up glances, made him uncomfortable, not out of embarrassment but from the urgency of his need for her. If only he could see her again, to kiss her, and taste her - but what was the use in dreaming?

  ***

  After a harrowing, unproductive round with the local police and another with some low-talking FBI mannequins in suits, Tierney
was taken to her parents’ mansion in Brentwood. She didn’t want to see Istvan, or Bodey, or anyone else. But when they arrived at the house, her brother Dennis was waiting; his left eye twitching as he paced the hardwood floor in their lavish white living room. Tierney took a seat on the enormous beige sectional; grabbed a red silk pillow and hugged it tight. Her mother’s Airedale, Huffs, came running, began to lick her face.

  “Whoa, fellow!” she laughed. “That’s enough! Well, I guess that’s one way to wash my tear-stained cheeks!”

  “I’m glad you can laugh after what’s happened, Tierney!” Dennis said with a snarl. “Anyone smart would be shaking in their designer heels!”

  “Well, I was smart enough not to get blown up, wasn’t I?”

  “Yeah, our Tierney, the hero! All the news reports are talking about your grand act of altruism, driving the car out to the beach to save any innocent bystanders. The reality show freaks will eat that up like candy!”

  “Could you be just a tad bit more asinine, Denny? You’d think you were jealous of me being targeted for murder!”

  “Really, now, darling, we know Dennis is only worried. Son, sit down and calm yourself. Aram has the FBI working on this.”

  Dennis shot a hard glance towards his father. “Why are they involved? Shouldn’t this be a job for the LA cops?”

  “The FBI was investigating some threats before it happened.”

  “What sort of threats?”

  Tierney jumped up, unwilling to hear anymore. “I’m going up to my old room. I need a nap!”

  “But Istvan should be here soon.”

  “You didn’t call him?”

  “Yes, Tierney, I did. And he’s bringing Dr. Lenz. And Bodey. Bill Weathering wants you to film a segment on the bombing.”

  “Oh, God, Mom, you didn’t say they could?”

  “I thought your fans might like to know you’re okay.”

  “My fans. Really?” She shook her head in utter bewilderment, dragged her weary body up the enormous winding staircase and into her childhood bedroom.

  A mahogany canopy bed stood beckoning to her, surrounded by pale melon colored walls, Persian carpets and a gray, limed-wood floor. The dressers and nightstands were Art Deco, in veneered mahogany, and the ceiling had a large copper medallion around a black wrought iron chandelier, which lit the room up like jewels.

  Tierney locked the door; stripped down to nothing but flesh and stepped into the shower in the adjoining bath. She let the steamy water pour over her aching muscles, enjoying the heat and the cleansing.

  “Wash me away,” she sighed. “Let me vanish down the drain like the last bits of my mascara.” But her wish was left unanswered. She shrugged, dried off and hurried to the welcoming bed. Once under the covers she let her mind drift back to Kiel Fortune as her hands drifted across her breasts and down between her thighs. She imagined him there, touching her, kissing her with that full, strong mouth, grasping at her with those long, slender fingers. She could almost feel the soft hair on his muscled chest, wanted to dig her claws into it as she begged him for release. She found it, too quickly. Then she cried, thinking she’d never really see him again.

  Tierney fell asleep, had strange, disturbing dreams where the people in her life chased her with guns and bombs, trying to destroy her at every turn. She asked them “Why?” but they refused to say, only came at her with wrenched up scowls and blazing red eyes. She woke screaming, heard a desperate pounding on the door.

  “Tierney, let me in!” It was Istvan. No doubt he had Bodey and that slimy Dr. Lenz waiting for her spontaneous breakdown in front of the camera. Well, she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.

  She ignored the pounding, threw on some faded jeans and a red T shirt from her closet, added a pair of checkerboard Chucks and a leather jacket, and tied up her hair in a red-flowered scrunchy. Then she escaped to the balcony outside, shimmying over the rail and down a lattice covered in pink bougainvillea as she had done a zillion times from the age of fourteen on. She sifted through the half dozen vehicles in the driveway, decided to take Istvan’s baby blue vintage Corvette – which she paid for – and backed it out as quietly as possible. She was clear down the road before anyone came out of the house. She could see their faces in the rear view mirror. Not one really seemed concerned for her – they were all scowling like the monsters in her dream – even her mother!

  “Great, Tierney, girl! You’ve made them all angry now.”

  She couldn’t trust any of them. It was plain to her - though she had to admit she might be overreacting. Still, she needed to get away – some place quiet and safe. But she would have to get money first.

  She drove to her Beverly Hills bungalow. It was locked. She searched under a rock near the porch, found her extra key and let herself in.

  The sun was disappearing below the hills, throwing orange sparks as it dived; the clouds heavy and black above it, threatening to storm. Tierney grabbed her secret cash stash from a red-striped tin can in a bookcase, and scribbled a note to Istvan, explaining that she needed space to think, and to feel safe. Then she left the house, and the Corvette, thinking it better to grab a bus ride.

  The night came down with an audible thud. Rain hit the pavement, pummeled the roofs and spat on her bare face as Tierney scurried down the docks of the Pierpont Bay marina, looking in vain for a certain boat called Sea Mistress. But it – and Kiel Fortune- were gone.

  “Now what?” she sighed as tears forced their way out of her eyes.

  “Hey, you’re going to drown out here!” a graveled voice called from her left.

  She turned to see a rustic old fellow, beer gut swaying, white beard flying. He looked like Santa Claus on vacation in Bermuda shorts and a green tank top.

  “I was looking for someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Kiel Fortune. Do you know him?”

  “Sure, everybody in the marina knows Kiel. What you need him for? Wait, come on into my boat. I hate to see a pretty gal looking like a drowned rat!”

  He ushered her onto a fairly new but small yacht. Once inside the dry, warm interior, he handed her a fresh towel and offered her a cup of coffee, which she took, gladly.

  “I forgot to have dinner!” she exclaimed as she sipped the dusky brew. “God, this is good! Thanks!”

  “You’re welcome. My name’s Travers, by the way. I’ve got some potato and bacon soup on the stove. There’s plenty, if you don’t mind simple fare?”

  “I don’t mind. I’m famished!”

  She finished drying her hair, combed it out with her fingers and sat down at Travers’ square black lacquered table. Along with the soup they ate fresh-baked bread and a wonderful salad filled with spinach and radishes.

  “How do you like it?’

  “It’s great! Are you a chef?”

  “Actually, I was, for a time. Been just about everything … a teacher, a laborer, a salesman … I hated that!”

  “What are you now?”

  “I’m retired; though I do take clients out for deep-sea fishing now and again, when the coffer is running low.”

  Tierney glanced at him, her mind working on an angle.

  “I’d like to go deep-sea fishing. Never have before. How much do you charge?”

  “A fair rate. But I don’t think that’s what you’d be hiring me for, Miss Evans.”

  “Oh, you know who I am?”

  “Yeah, my daughter watches your show. I’ve seen it a couple of times when I was at her place in Pasadena. Got three grandkids … two boys and a girl … all a bunch of wild towheads!”

  “What’s a towhead?”

  “A white-haired blonde, probably like you were at that age. My daughter’s hair is about the same color as yours is now.

  “Oh. Well, I need to get away. I don’t think I can trust anyone I know. Could you help me?”

  “What makes you think you can trust me?”

  “I don’t know you.”

  “Ha! That ain’t a good way to tell, little
lady. But you can trust me. Tell me all your troubles and I’ll see what I can do.”

  She related the facts as she knew them and her instincts as she felt them, while they finished up dinner and washed the dishes.

  “So, you’d like to find Kiel. Why?”

  “I … well, I … kind of fell for him, at first sight.”

  “Did he seem to feel the same?”

  “I’m not really sure he likes me at all.”

  “Kiel is a complicated man. He’s had a rough life. He lost his parents to an earthquake, lost his first love to a murderer. And she was pregnant at the time.”

  “Oh, no, that’s horrible!” Tierney had to stifle her tears. “I felt like he wanted to be near me but something was holding him back. Or maybe it was only my imagination. I usually get any guy I want.”

  “I’ll bet you do. And now you want Kiel?”

  “I at least want a chance with him. And I want to get away from LA. I’m not safe here.”

  “What about your folks? They’re not safe, either.”

  “I don’t know about that. I think my dad was lying about those threats. When I was leaving, I could see all of them, staring at me. They didn’t seem upset for me, or worried. It was frightening, Mr. Travers, but I’d swear they all were in on trying to get rid of me!”

  The tears broke loose. He stood, comforted her with a pat on her back.

  “Cry it out, girl. Then you can get your mind clear and think about the future. I can take you to Baja. I’ll get a fishing permit online tonight! But now, if you don’t have any documents with you …”

  “I brought my passport. My driver’s license was in the car when it exploded.”

  “Hum, could be trouble if the Mexican Armada stops us. But I ain’t never had any trouble with them before, so I probably won’t now. They know my boat. You can bunk in the guest room. It’s on the right, just through that door. We’ll be leaving bright and early, so get you some good beauty sleep! Wouldn’t want Kiel seeing you all puffed up and red-eyed!”