Allure (Mercenaries Book 1)

by Tony Lavely

  Once everyone heard that Jamse and all the others were enroute and all were safe and sound, the cabin was as calm and settled as it could be.

  Morning was not quite gone when the stubby plane rolled up on its right wing to make the turn onto final to a runway that Mike, looking through the side port, thought compared nicely to the bike path running alongside it. However, it was long and wide enough, and the plane lumbered to the first hanger, parking within its rapidly warming interior.

  Everyone ambulatory was up and walking down the big ramp aft. Mike trailed the crowd with Melissa, who stopped him when she saw Kevin relegated to a wheel chair.

  “Let me give you a push, Kevin, please?”

  “Sure thing, Lissa. But please don’t let me get away on the ramp.”

  “How come the chair?” Mike asked.

  “Doc wants to make sure I don’t tear the muscle any more, so I’m to stay off it.” He looked down the ramp. “Hey, Shalin! Here! Here I am!” he called to a lovely woman with two kids in tow. She’d quickly gotten to him to give him a definitive hug. The twins were trying to crawl all over him.

  He made introductions, then said, “Lissa, if you keep pushing me, Shalin will be able to walk beside with the twins. We’ll go slow enough for Mike to keep up. I haven’t asked Shalin, but I think we might have space for you two, and Beckie and your folks at our place.”

  Mike and Melissa started to protest, but Shalin’s smile overcame their doubts. “Certainly,” she said. “They can use the new wing if they like, or Patrice’s cottage. It’s empty right now.”

  “We won’t hear of anything else. And there are your parents, Mike.” He pointed them out. “Go get’em, kids!” The twins bolted across the sand and coral pathway to stop, then drag the two adults back to their father. More introductions were shared. When Mike asked Kevin what Beckie and the others had been up to, he just said she was okay and the plane would be in soon. “We should wait here for a few minutes, instead of motoring over and then turning round to come back.”

  That allowed him to point out their home. It had been built on an adjacent island, separated from the airstrip island by a quarter-mile of brilliant blue water. It was white, set into the ground. Further study would reveal that it sported acres of windows. “A trick,” Kevin admitted when questioned, “to keep in repair during hurricane season, when even a seashell can be thrown around at 200 kph by the winds. But we’re not going to live in a cave, either.”

  The side they could see, Shalin told them, was the old wing, which they used. The cottage, not quite visible in the palms and dunes, was a more conventional design.

  The visitors agreed that whatever was easiest would be wonderful, and far more than they anticipated. Back in the desert, they’d boarded the aircraft with no idea what to expect.

  “The girls,” Kevin continued, “will go over there.” They looked across to another island, seemingly much larger, with several buildings visible along the near shore. “That’s the clinic we have to heal our team members.”

  “And broken wings who happen to fall in with them,” Shalin added. Mike was surprised to see the love in her eyes, hear it in her voice. He’d never thought of feelings being quite so obvious.

  “Like all those girls,” Kevin agreed. “Mike, you and I will spend some time there, but not much. They’ll want us out of the way as quick as they can shoo us out the door.”

  “If you weren’t such a beast when you’re in there,” Shalin teased. “The nurses barely know which way to run!”

  “That’s not—” His protest was cut off by the sight of the jet, following the pattern of the Hercules, rolling to make the right turn, lining up on the runway, landing in a flurry of noise, blue tire smoke and dust.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Trillian

  BECKIE HADN’T KNOWN HOW STRONG her emotions would be until she stood in the door awaiting her turn to debark. With the advantage of the hatch’s height, she saw Mike and Melissa beside a wheelchair, and her parents, and a beautiful woman. Two kids played around the group, close enough to see they belonged. A squint into the light and she recognized Kevin as the wheelchair bound person.

  Finally, she was at the foot of the stairs and running as fast as she could toward her parents. By the time the short run was complete, she was gasping for breath, having forgotten the eight kilos of body armor she had neglected to remove. It had, she was sure, not only exhausted her, but finished the job of removing her nipples completely.

  But her tears were not from minor abrasions. Her feelings were wildly confused, quartering almost from pleasure at seeing them all; guilt along with love for Mike, and for Melissa; gratitude for Jamse’s bringing them all, and her here; grateful also for her parents’ gift of independence to her—and knowledge of what it had cost them—and love beyond anything she’d ever felt before for both of them.

  She ran right into her father, again forgetting the extra weight. He staggered and almost fell but for Melissa, who had stepped behind him. She steadied him when he bounced off her.

  Introductions had been completed when Elena and Sue approached, both grinning like mad.

  “I couldn’t stand to watch it, it was so… amusing.” Elena was clearly searching for a more neutral word than the one she meant. “From now on, remember: we take off the armor before we greet people, and never ever bring a weapon!” She removed the pistol and the belt with the sheathed knife. “Not even safed,” she moaned.

  “Not only do you not bowl them over,” Sue added, “it allows them to maintain the conceit that you’re not doing anything really dangerous.”

  Elena took Beckie’s hand. “Please excuse us for a minute.” Sue led them to a small room at the side of the hanger.

  “Guess that was really stupid, huh?”

  “Not really, but I don’t know how you could sleep with it on. That’s what always gets me,” Elena told her.

  Beckie stripped off the uniform shirt, but grimaced as she undid the fastener of the vest.

  “Oh, my,” Sue said as they all looked at Beckie’s breasts, nipples bleeding slightly from the irritation. “Well, since she’s not got a boyfriend here to kiss them better, I better put something on them.” Beckie guessed that her confusion showed, looking at Sue’s expression. “You don’t have a boyfriend here, do you?” The women giggled when Beckie shook her head, no; Elena went to fetch Sue’s pack.

  While they waited, Sue admired the scar, less noticeable now, and made a start at cleaning the blood away. “I think you’ll be fine once you get a bra back on,” Sue said as Elena handed her the aid kit. “For now, I’ll put some creme on them, and a bandage.”

  “Not a bandaid!”

  “No, one of these.” She held a 5 centimeter square of gauze. Beckie nodded, then winced as Sue applied the creme and taped the gauze in place.

  “I think this might help, too,” Elena said, handing her a cotton tee shirt.

  Elena helped her with the shirt and Sue dropped more of the gauze pads and a tube of the creme in Beckie’s pocket. “For after your shower, and at least twice a day.”

  Jamse was leaving Kevin’s group on his way to the hospital as Beckie returned. “Ian would like to meet with us, you, Mom and me,” her father told her, “tonight after things are more settled.” On that somewhat disquieting note—Beckie remembered Jamse’s promise before they opened the safe—the trip to the deVeel’s home was slow and quiet. Shalin gave the tour, helped unmercifully by the twins.

  Once in the “cottage,” Beckie and Melissa chose a huge double bedroom. “If this is a cottage,” Melissa opined, “Windsor Castle is the house!” Mike had a slightly smaller room; Jean and Jim took another of the large rooms.

  The girls were seated, Melissa on the bed, Beckie at the dressing table. “I’m gonna get out of this,” Beckie said, standing. “Toss me that bag, please.” Melissa did as requested, squealing in indignation as it opened at the zipper, freeing underclothes, shirts, shorts and the like to flutter out and drift to the floor.<
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  Beckie laughed at her friend’s consternation. “Don’ worry ‘bout that, Lissa. Gonna worry, worry about the meeting with Mr. Jamse tonight.” She collected a complete change of clothes. “This’ll do, jus’ throw the other stuff on the bed.” In the bath—also immense—she stepped into the shower, grateful for the feel of the blast of fresh hot water against her, except her nipples. Out and drying, she called to Melissa, “Can you bring the bandages and tube of ointment from my pants pocket, please?”

  Melissa came through the door, hands full, a worried look on her face. “What are these for?”

  To make Melissa laugh, Beckie said, “’Cause I don’t have a boyfriend, Sue said.”

  “Huh?”

  She dropped the towel so Melissa could inspect the damage. “My nips are all scrubbed raw. From the armor. I guess it’s fine when a bullet hits it, but it’s got this real coarse canvass outer layer. S’posed to be worn with an undershirt, but I didn’t have one.”

  “But what’s this about a boyfri— oooh.” She understood. The blush surprised Beckie; they’d been through more than that. Her friend recovered. “I’m sure you could get help if you asked,” she said with a dangerous grin on her face.

  “No, I think this will be just fine.”

  Melissa teased a little more while she spread the creme, massaging the salve in gently but fully. Beckie donned white shorts and a dark red button up shirt once the clean gauze was in place and they walked out to find Mike. Dad said, “Look on the beach.”

  The sound of the waves grew louder as they topped a dune. Beckie’s dream was spread out before her.

  She spent some time telling Melissa and Mike the things that had happened that she’d seen—most of them, the ones she thought they’d be able to deal with.

  “So, that’s pretty much what happened. Like I told Lissa, Mr. Jamse wants to meet with me and Mom and Dad later today. I have no idea what that’s about…”

  “Well, I don’ think he’s gonna say anything bad,” Mike encouraged.

  “Yeah, I know. But, I can’t think what he’d want…”

  “I can,” Melissa giggled.

  “Stop that! That is so… I don’t even know what that is, Lissa, but—”

  “Okay, okay. I’m sorry…” Beckie doubted her sincerity; she could see gaiety shot through her friend’s face and attitude even as she continued, “Do you think it’s ‘cause you went back?”

  “I’m thinking yeah, that’s what it’s about. Oh, well. I’ll just take it like a man, I guess.”

  “Or a woman,” Mike pointed out.

  “Yeah.” Beckie grimaced, then sighed and pushed her fingers through her hair. “Elena pointed out Mr. Jamse’s house. I’m gonna go there while he’s at the clinic; see if I can see Trillian again.”

  “Okay,” Mike said. “You won’t mind if we stay here?”

  Beckie nodded as she walked up the beach.

  She wasn’t clear on protocol here, but she found the house. It shared the island with Kevin and Shalin’s home, and the cottage, but was out of sight behind the dunes and palm trees. Like Kevin’s, it was white, but more what she expected. Or thought she expected, at least. She felt comfortable with it, though it looked like a one story version of the British Governors’ homes in several pirate movies.

  The front door was open, with a grated screen door keeping visitors to the outside. Large, no, very large windows. She looked again. While the windows were set in period framing, they were huge. And they had no curtains or drapes that she could see. Roll-down shutters would protect them during storms. The roof looked like copper, all one piece, though she knew it couldn’t be. But it was beautiful.

  “Hello, Miss,” came from inside the front door. “May I help you?”

  Beckie loved the hint of a British accent. “This is Mr. Jamse’s home?”

  “Yes, but he’s not present at the moment.”

  “That’s okay. I’m Beckie Sverdupe, and I just wanted to see Trillian again.”

  “Again?” The note of surprise caught Beckie off guard. “You are Miss Sverdupe?”

  “Yup. I met Trillian in Hawai’i, and wanted to see her again, since we missed her in London. Are you… Mr…”

  “I am Boynton, yes, Miss.”

  “Please call me Beckie. Miss sounds so… I don’t know… Just, I don’t think I want to be associated with anyone called ‘Miss Sverdupe.’”

  “Very well,” Boynton said with a discreet laugh.

  “Should I call you Mr. Boynton? I don’t feel comfortable with just, you know, your last name. Sounds disrespectful, somehow.”

  “If Boynton fails to trip off your tongue, try Maurice, my given name. Though I must warn you, no one else will know who you mean.” He chuckled again.

  Beckie smiled. I’ll bet Mr. Jamse will. She walked toward the door. “Thanks, Maurice. Did I say it right?”

  “You did. Now we are on a first name basis, won’t you come in? I can find some lemonade, or perhaps tea? We can await both Trillian and Mr. Jamse as we sit on the lanai. Would you prefer hot tea, or iced?”

  After a half-hour of conversation with Boynton, Beckie realized that he knew a great deal about her, while she had learned almost nothing about either him or Jamse.

  “I have to tell you, I don’t think I’ve ever been so throughly interrogated,” she laughed. “But it’s worth it; the tea is wonderful! Could I have just a little more?”

  “Indeed you may.”

  He left through the sliding doors. A quick motion caught Beckie’s eye, then Trillian was on her lap, front paws against her chest, teeth… Fangs! Beckie screamed silently, against her throat.

  “Aye,” Boynton said, arranging her fresh iced tea. “That’s her usual greeting. She recognizes you, I think, as there’s blood when she doesn’t.” He chuckled again, in what she now thought was a completely inappropriate, dry British way.

  When Beckie turned toward Boynton, Trillian dropped to the floor beside her. The cat looked up, watching. She reached, but tentatively, toward the cat’s head, but before her hand touched, Trillian put her paws on the chair and began to wash her thigh.

  “My God, Maurice, her tongue feels like, I don’t know, broken glass, maybe.”

  “Yes. She uses it to clean all the flesh from the bones of her prey, as she requires almost all protein in her diet. But I doubt…”

  The two watched as Trillian jumped back into Beckie’s lap, and curled up with her head almost between Beckie’s legs. The purring was incredibly loud.

  Beckie moved again, hesitantly reaching to scratch the cat’s neck and ears. Trillian raised her head, then pushed against Beckie’s hand as if to say, “Scratch here! Beneath my ears,” before laying back. Beckie scratched and as she did, Trillian rolled to keep Beckie’s hand where she wanted it. Her fur is wonderful! So soft! Trillian reached out a front paw; Beckie looked at the large pads and distinctive talons. These are weapons of mass destruction! she thought as she touched one. So sharp!

  “I must arrange a few things, if you will forgive me?” Boynton turned back as Trillian leapt from Beckie’s lap, leaving four pinpricks of blood on her leg. The cat was through the door before the pain registered. “I believe that Mr. Jamse is coming in the front.”

  “Ow!” Beckie rubbed the spots, grateful they weren’t the slashes she thought they could have been.

  “Good afternoon, Rebecca. A pleasant surprise, finding you here.”

  Beckie smiled in spite of the pain in her leg, but before she could respond, Trillian dropped from Jamse’s shoulder to the floor and returned to her lap, firmly nuzzling her hand. Sure her surprise must look completely foolish, she looked down and began to scratch behind the cat’s ears.

  “Well…”

  Beckie looked up. The look on Jamse’s face was wide-eyed incredulity. Boynton was smiling, that small, British, calming smile. He nodded to her.

  “I guess I better go, Mr. Jamse. Maurice, I’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you very much.” She bent to rub he
r nose against Trillian’s coat. “Thank you, Trillian.”

  “If you would wait one more moment, I will walk with you, as I am going to a meeting at Kevin’s home.”

  “I’d like that, but I’m off to find Mike and Lissa on the beach. Before, you know… Before they get too comfortable.” She picked Trillian up. “Oof. She’s heavy,” as she set the cat on the floor. Beckie was pleased that Trillian followed her out the door, at least until she turned toward the beach. She looked back and waved.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Ian’s Meetings

  SHORTLY AFTER 3PM, JAMSE WALKED up to the deVeel’s home; knowing the security system had announced his presence, he merely tapped the door. He had brought Sue and Derek, immediately behind, and Karen, a further step back beside Willie. Shalin opened the door, invited them all in.

  They grouped with Kevin in the conference room.

  “I would like to review yesterday’s action,” Jamse began, “now that we are together again. In addition, we need to act quickly on at least one front—”

  “Ian,” Derek stopped him. “I expect we’ll regret not including Beckie in this meeting.”

  “She has not accepted—”

  “Because it’s not been offered,” Sue countered. “We’ve all observed that she’s, not desperate exactly, but highly motivated to help.”

  “I cannot ask without her parents’ presence.”

  Kevin took up the baton. “We don’t have to make the offer now, just invite her in so she’ll know what’s happening when you do. Besides, she had a big part yesterday; she should be part of the debrief.”

  “True. Are we agreed, then?” When they had all signified agreement, “She was just at my home, entrancing Trillian and Boynton.” He ignored the looks the others gave him. “When she left, she said she was headed to the beach, to meet Michael and Melissa.”

  “I saw them go in a couple minutes ago,” Kevin said as he fetched the phone and asked Beckie to come over. Shalin brought the nervous, windblown girl to them in another three minutes.