“I never would have guessed, Mr. Foss. I've seen you fly dozens of times. That never bothers you.” He asked as he tried to make conversation with his boss. “Too bad the weather is awful. We probably could have taken the chopper in. There is a small air field on the island.”
“Yes, too bad.” Marshall said through clenched teeth.
It was code for “Mind your own business and keep your mouth shut.” Marshall walked to the bridge to talk to the captain. He turned the moment Marshall entered.
“Good evening, Mr. Foss. I just spoke with Mr. May. Perhaps I could get you something for the anxiety. I know you generally prefer not to sail,” the captain asked as tactfully as he could.
“Thank you for your concern, Captain, but I am fine. I don't need any pills or tonics. Save those for the weak-minded.” Marshall replied wearily. He sat himself down and clung tightly to a table. Marshall had lied about needing pills. He had already taken more than the recommended dose.
The water had always terrified Marshall. His father, Nathan Foss, had seen it as a sign of weakness and never wasted an opportunity to remind Marshall of that fact. Marshall’s father had loved sailing. It was one of his greatest passions, second only to women. He often combined these passions, escorting all manner of attractive women on his impressive yachts.
Marshall had to learn to deal with his fear in order to deal with his father. When his father would send for him, he would almost always force him to travel by boat at some point in the journey. Marshall’s fear of sailing was one of the many disappointments his father felt for him.
The Foss family had a long history with the British Navy. His grandfather, whom he had never met, was a naval officer involved in some top-secret work during World War II. Nathan Foss often spoke of Marshall’s grandfather with reverence and respect. Marshall, too, had come to revere his grandfather's accomplishments as a model for him to follow in his own life.
Nathan, however, had never lived up to the standards of his father nor the standards he set for his own son. Nathan had largely been a playboy, leaving Marshall in the care of their nanny for most of his childhood. Nathan even went so far as to try and seduce his son's favorite nanny, resulting in her dismissal. Nathan had been a disgrace to the family but was largely successful in keeping up appearances.
Marshall was well aware of his father’s failings. Nevertheless, Marshall still craved the approval of his late father. He had been raised believing in the nobility of the Foss family. He wanted to expand the family empire and rebuild the Foss name that had been slowly declining for decades. Discovering the truth about his grandfather and Project Orion was his chance to do just that.
Marshall opened his eyes and lunged for the nearest garbage can and emptied the contents of his stomach. The anxiety and nausea were clearly taking their toll. He thought about Anne. Missy’s accident was the perfect way to bring them closer together. His visits and calls seemed to bring them closer, but it wasn’t enough. The abduction would have thrown her in his arms as he would have found her and rescued her and been her knight in shining armor. Unfortunately, his henchman failed both times, so he had to take matters into his own hands. But that plan was botched too. He used the anger and pain as fuel to fight his fear as the ship tossed and turned on the violent waves.
Marshall fought back the memories of his near-fatal encounter the last time he was aboard a ship. His father had summoned him as he was dying. He had wanted to speak with him one last time. Of course, he sent for him to come by ship. The trip had been much longer than a plane ride would have been.
By the time Marshall arrived to see his father, he had already died. He stayed for several weeks to deal with the funeral and will. Although Marshall was now exclusively in charge of the family fortune, he still felt the sting of his father’s disapproval. In the will, Nathan had taken the opportunity to shame his son's failings and weaknesses one last time. He had ignored his own failings, of course. Finally free from his father’s oversight, he decided to return home. He became used to dealing with his fear of sailing and he decided to endure one last trip. He kept the arrangements that had been made and sailed back on the same vessel that had brought him.
That had proven to be a mistake. A violent storm hit the vessel, which made it capsize. He nearly drowned before he was rescued by the crew. The experience left its mark on him. As he looked at the walls of the boat, he couldn't help but feel like they were closing in. He could feel the water rush in like it had the last time he went sailing.
But a boat was the only way to have his Anne, so he had to fight the fear.
Marshall thought about the good times he and Anne had together before she was taken away. They had met just after her divorce.
He thought about the gala he threw for her. He spent months planning it. It was a magical night. She was stunning in the blue sparkle dress she wore. She had her personal makeup artist make her look flawless and stunning. She needed to look good for the press, but Marshall knew she really wanted to look good for him.
Marshall invited every A-list Hollywood bigwig he could think of and was careful not to include anyone too close to Anne's ex-husband. She met and mingled and generally had a great time. Marshall, too, had enjoyed the night. It was a celebration of the success of all his hard work. He had spent more than a year working his way into the Hollywood scene. Now he was just what Anne needed, a handsome and well-connected producer. He could give her anything she wanted. He knew she would be totally his in time.
Toward the end of the evening, Marshall had found Anne standing on the balcony looking out at the stars. “There you are, my dear. What are you doing out here all by yourself?”
“I just needed a bit of fresh air,” Anne said.
“Are you feeling all right? If you are feeling too tipsy to drive, I can take you home” offered Marshall.
“No, it's nothing like that. It's just that I've been away from everything ever since… you know… and seeing everyone just kind of brought it all back.”
Marshall put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “You don't have to worry about anything like that with me,” he said as he tried to comfort her. He wanted more of her, but he didn’t want to seem eager and pushy.
“Do you want to go for a drive?” she asked.
“I'll go with you anywhere you want. Shall we take the Maserati?” he responded with his chippy British accent.
“Heck no, we're taking my car,” she said adamantly.
“I was going to let you drive it,” he said.
“I know. I just prefer my car,” she headed off the balcony and out the door. As they walked to the car, the engine fired up.
“I wouldn't have thought this ‘80s relic would have remote start,” Marshall said as he smiled.
“My baby has a lot of surprises,” she said with a mischievous smile.
And I've never seen a remote-start work without pressing a button, Marshall thought to himself. She drove nicely enough until she got to a clear spot where she could show off a bit. She started to slide into the turns at speeds that he wasn't even sure his Maserati could take.
“I can see why you do all your own stunts,” Marshall said as he tried to contain the nervousness in his voice. It was an amazing display of driving talent. The combination of fear and excitement exhilarated him. If this was her idea of foreplay, Marshall couldn't wait to find out what the sex was like.
“So, I take it you made a few upgrades from the stock design. Did you find a single genius or did you hire a whole engineering team?” Marshall asked as they slowed and went through a crowded area.
“Neither. I would never let anyone work on my baby.” Anne said as she gently stroked the dashboard.
“So you made all those changes? How did you manage to get this old thing to stick to the road like that?” Marshall said skeptically.
“Like I said, my baby is full of surprises,” she reminded him. Soon afterwards, they arrived back at the party. She pulled into the parking lot
and parked next to Marshall’s car. They got out of Hawk and she held Marshall’s hand as they stopped at his car's door. He wanted to kiss her, but it might be too soon.
“Marshall, I really enjoyed tonight and your company. This really helped get my mind off of…”
“Shh…” He silenced her lips with his finger. He knew he had to show her that she was not at all like her ex. That would take time and he was willing to invest it in her. “I know dear. Things will get better over time.”
He gently kissed her hand.
“Thanks, Marshall. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?” She walked back to her car.
“Can I follow you home to make sure you get there safe?” Marshall offered.
“Thanks, but I doubt you could keep up,” she smiled and peeled out of the parking lot.
Marshall had been thrilled with how the evening went.
The more he thought about the how the car started without a key fob, and Anne’s incredible--almost symbiotic--driving, the more he realized that Anne was a very special woman. He’d read about people with different talents before in his grandfather’s papers. With someone like her at his side, he could make the Foss family legacy greater than it had ever been.
He was patient with her for months, always sending well wishes, flowers and gifts, only to receive a friendly hug in return. He needed something tragic to bring her towards him in her desperate time of need.
An accident involving her world-famous sister was perfect. He would be there and the world would see his presence and the tabloids would throw out romantic speculations of the two of them, planting a seed in her mind. The plan was perfect, until that annoying bodyguard Bulldog showed up.
“Sir, we are almost at the dock, and not a moment too soon. The weather service says the storm should be on us full force in twenty minutes,” the captain said as he came down to check on Mr. Foss.
“Secure the package. I want to move the minute we hit the dock,” Marshall called back. “Soon, we'll be in our home, and no one will ever take you away from me again,” he whispered to himself. He unlocked the door and gripped the railing tightly as he stumbled down the stairs. He weaved over and kneeled in front of Anne’s unconscious form.
He moved a lock of hair away from her face and gently planted a kiss on her lips.
“Soon, my dear. We will be together at last.”
Chapter 22
Even with the dry clothes and two hot cups of coffee, Dean couldn’t shake the chill that plagued him. He kept reaching out for Anne. “Come on, baby. Give me a sign.” Normally he felt a warm tingle when he thought about the person he wanted to track, then the room they were in, followed by a location that he could see like looking at a map. He got nothing when he thought of Anne. Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair and sat down on one of Jeri’s wooden bar stools in the kitchen.
Keith grabbed a cup out of the cabinet and poured himself some of the coffee from the coffee maker.
“Just got off the phone with Stan,” he said as he grabbed another bar stool and sat down. “They have not found the ambulance or any sign of Anne.”
“Son of a …” Dean got up and paced around the kitchen. Anger filled every nerve of his body and he just wanted to lash out.
“I’ve sent the word out to everyone I know to keep an eye out for her.”
Dean stopped and wrapped his fingers around the kitchen chair and squeezed. His fingers ached, but it didn’t help dull the pain he felt at losing Anne. He usually could sense someone from miles and miles away. She must be unconscious or … Dean shook his head as he remembered the feeling he felt after one of the terrorists he tracked was killed. Don’t go there, he screamed at his mind.
Sensing Dean’s inner turmoil, Keith walked over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find her, Dean. I’ve got some friends who are looking deeper into her past to see who would want to abduct her.”
“Keith, I can’t feel her.”
Keith’s eyebrow went up. “She actually let you tag her?”
He looked up at his friend, he knew that he could trust him unconditionally. “Keith, she has a special power.”
Keith’s expression grew serious. “What kind?”
“She can control cars.”
“As in make them do things she wants?”
“Exactly. I’m afraid someone found out about this and wants to use her.”
“Shit. This is more than just a seriously obsessed stalker, then.”
Dean pushed the chair away and paced the room again like a lion trapped in a cage. “I swear if I find the bastard that took her, I’m going to beat the shit out of him.” He swatted at a hanging ivy plant.
“And I’ll be there to help,” Keith told him as he crossed his arms.
The front door opened and they heard Jeri’s voice as she talked on the phone. “Hang on he’s here. Dean, it’s Daniel. He’s got some information for you.”
He grabbed the phone from her. “Tell me some good news, Daniel.”
“I’m not sure if it’s good news, but it’s something you might want to know.”
“Hang on, I want my friend Keith to hear this. He’s helping me track down Anne.” He pressed the speaker on and held it up. “What have you got for us?”
“I started digging around and I found something interesting. Remember Marshall Foss?”
Dean stiffened when he heard the name. “What about him?”
“Well, he bought a house out on Mackinac Island right around the time Anne started filming in St. Joe.”
“Sounds like just a coincidence,” Keith said as he leaned against the countertop.
“Yes, but according to Missy, Anne told her that he was terrified of water or being anywhere near water because he was caught in a major storm years ago and almost died.”
“So why would he buy a house on an island that is surrounded by something that reminds him of death?” Jeri chimed in.
“Daniel, text me the address and we’ll go check it out.” Keith told him.
“Sure thing. I found something else, too. I traced his phone records and found that he called the same person around the same time as Missy’s accident and when Anne almost got abducted and right before Anne’s disappearance. Someone by the name of Enrique Diaz.”
Keith noticeably stiffened. “That’s one of Emelio’s aliases.”
“We’re going to pay the bastard a visit after we find Anne,” Dean muttered as he handed Jeri her phone and went into his room to pack.
Jeri thanked Daniel and hung up the phone as she walked over to Dean's room.
“Dean, it takes hours to get there.” Her voice was filled with concern. “And you can’t fly because of the high winds.”
“We’ll take Hawk. He’ll get us there in no time.” He grabbed a shirt and stuffed it into his bag.
Keith followed him. “Dean, we’re going to have to call in a few favors…”
“Wait!” he told him as he stopped and stared at the wall. He felt a very faint warm feeling. As he closed his eyes, he focused on the familiar feeling. The warmth that surrounded him and the stubborn resistance come through to him. It was Anne. She was alive! He focused again and narrowed his thoughts on her and her location. North, way north, past a bridge, deep inside on an island, big white Victorian house, upper bedroom.
His eyes flashed open and he looked right at Keith. “She’s alive and she’s on an island. We can’t wait.”
“My gear’s already in the car,” Keith told him as he headed out the door.
“Put it in Hawk.” He knew that Hawk would get them there the fastest. “And I’m driving.” Duffel bag in hand, he busted out the front door.
Jeri walked out on the porch and looked concerned for her brother. He practically ran over to Hawk as the trunk popped open and he put in his bag.
Keith squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll find her and bring her back. I’ll keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid,” Keith promised her.
“Thank
you, Keith. You are really a great friend.”
She wrapped her arms around him. Dean frowned at them, but he didn’t have time to worry about what their relationship really was all about.
Keith dug into his jacket and grabbed his keys. His car’s trunk opened and he walked over and picked up his bag. Hawk was already running and Dean was behind the wheel ready to drive out like a bat out of hell. As soon as Keith’s gear was in his trunk and his door was closed. Dean peeled the tires and sped away.
Chapter 23
Nausea hit her as she tried to open her eyes. Her muscles ached as her head spun in so many different directions. Was she on Dean’s boat?
“Dean?”
Her question went unanswered, and she tried to open her eyes. The rain pounded the window, which resonated in her head and made her start to gag as her stomach twisted and turned even more. As she buried her head in her pillow, she moaned and tried to slow her breathing to ease her misery.
Still, her mind reeled in a million directions. Where was she? What happened to her? The last thing she remembered was getting her makeup done and then everything went dark.
Dean. The terror in his voice made her heart sink in fear. She could have sworn that he held her when the darkness hit.
Hawk? Her tendrils of energy reached out and searched for him to help her pull that familiar flow that would heal her. Emptiness found her, and she forced the energy further away to find any kind of automotive energy that she could harness. Nothing. There was nothing out there.
Panic struck her as her mind tried to comprehend where she was.
Get up. She forced her body out of bed and pried her eyes open to look at her surroundings. Pain filled her vision as she saw the quaint Victorian-era room she was in. A white make-up table with a mirror was on the other side of the room and a dresser stood next to it. Two windows were on the opposite side of the room and had veils of water running down them.
She swung her legs to the side of the bed. They felt like boiled spaghetti and shook as she propped herself up and hobbled towards the window to look outside. Where was she? The constant flow of water across the window blinded her from anything outside. Her weak knees shook and brought her down to the floor. As she looked at the window, she forced herself to kneel, and she pushed up the window to open it, but it was useless. Her hand clasped the window molding, and she pulled herself up and ran her hand across the middle to unlock the window. To her surprise, there was no lock and she felt the slight outline of nail heads on the corner of the windows.
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