by Liz Everly
Jackson laughed. “Must be love then. Cheers!”
“Cheers, my friend,” Sanj said.
“Another G and T?” the bartender asked.
Sanj nodded. “Keep them coming.”
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Sanj said after a moment.
“It’s an illusion,” Jackson said. “I am a mess without Maeve. And wondering if she’s still alive.” His voice cracked and he took another swig of beer.
“Why are you in disguise?” Sanj asked. A guitarist took the stage and began to strum his instrument.
“I was being followed,” he said. “I think I slipped the sonofabitches.”
“Why?”
“I have something. Something very valuable.”
“What have you gotten yourself into?” Sanj asked.
“I can’t tell you right now. But what I have is stolen goods and I’m trying to get it back to the rightful owners. That’s all you need to know.”
“If you say so, Robin Hood. Where are you staying tonight?” Sanj asked after a moment, thinking a couple of more beers should get his old friend talking.
“With you, of course,” Jackson said and grinned.
Chapter 54
It was not over yet.
Sasha woke with the morning sun—or at least she thought it was the morning sun—streaming in through a very high window. She suddenly realized where she was. She had been here before, years ago. It was one of the apartments attached to Sam’s casino in Saint Lucia. The apartments were used for private parties.
She glanced over to where Maeve had been, but she was gone. Sasha’s heart began to race. Where could she be? She tried to look around the room. But her eyelids were heavy and the light hurt them. Part of the room was still dark. But she made out a crumpled heap of something on the floor. Was that Maeve?
“Maeve?” she said.
No movement.
“Maeve?” she said louder.
Last night she had given Sasha some advice. They had been moved since then—and one of her earrings was missing. So perhaps the plan would work.
“Sanj give you those earrings?” Maeve had asked.
“Earrings? Oh. Can’t believe they are still in my ears,” Sasha had said.
“Sanj?”
“No. His uncle Chandan.”
What was left of Maeve’s singed eyebrows hitched.
“The next time my hands are free, I’m taking one,” Maeve said.
“What? Why?”
“We need to leave one behind so people might find it. They are big and kind of distinctive.”
How could Sasha have forgotten how smart Maeve was? When she thought of Maeve, the thing she always remembered first was her goodness and heart. But, yes, she had smarts, too.
“Listen,” Maeve had said in a hushed tone. “I think they are coming back. Play dead. If they think you are still drugged they won’t give you more yet. Trust me.”
Sasha had shut her eyes and went limp. It wasn’t hard to do. She’d been playing dead her whole life.
But now the door flew open, shedding enough light for Sasha to see that, yes, the heap on the floor was Maeve—and she was not stirring. Fear ripped through her stomach. Maeve!
Maeve’s words of advice echoed. But it was too late this time. He had seen her awake.
The man who came toward Sasha kicked at Maeve as he walked across the floor. Once again, no movement. Sasha trembled. Was Maeve gone?
He grunted and reached into his pocket, pulled out a syringe. Sasha watched in horror as he slipped it into her arm. She felt the burn as whatever the drug was invaded her body. “What are you doing?” she managed to say.
“Shut up, bitch,” he said and smacked her across the face. She screamed as the pain ripped through her head, choking back a dry heave.
“You’ve got nice tits,” he said as he began to paw at them, twisting at one of her nipples. Sasha’s stomach and throat reacted by heaving.
Oh God, let the drug take me before . . . I don’t want to remember this. She trembled. He cupped both breasts and began to rub them furiously. “Just lovely. Such a whore,” he said. His hot stinking breath in her face. He was the fat one, the heavy breather, the one who stank of body odor and cheap booze. She screamed.
“I said to shut up, whore!” He smacked her again.
She heard a scuffle behind him. The door flung open again.
“No, sir. You shut up,” a foreign voice from behind said. “Step away from the lady. Put your hands up.”
Was she dreaming? Were they being rescued?
A handsome Indian gentleman in a uniform untied her and covered her with a blanket. So warm. So good. “We need the medics,” he yelled.
The man who was on Sasha was being dragged away by two other men. She could hear Sam in the next room, yelling. “Who the fuck do you people think you’re dealing with?”
A blond man ran into the room. “Sasha! Sasha!” he said. “Where is Maeve?”
The drug coursed through her and she could barely move her heavy mouth. She nodded in the direction of the corner where Maeve was lying so still.
“Oh God,” he cried. “Maeve! Maeve.” He sobbed out loud as he kneeled next to her. “Medics, please!” he yelled through his tears.
A handsome Indian man approached her tentatively, tears in his eyes. Sanj.
She was lifted and dropped onto a stretcher. In the corner, the man’s sobs became screams and they tore at her heart. Who was that man?
“Give these women the best care possible,” Sanj said.
“Sanj,” she managed to say.
He took her hand. “Quiet, my love. It’s going to be okay.”
She felt warmth spreading through her—the blanket? Drugs? Or love? If she had the strength to grin or laugh, she would have at that moment. Love? Sasha?
Sanj went to the man in the corner as Sasha was being tucked and tied into her stretcher.
“She is still alive,” Sanj said.
“Barely!” the man screamed. “He said she barely has a pulse!”
“She will make it,” Sanj said. “She will!”
Sasha was being carried into the other room and outside, where a crowd had gathered. She lifted her head and saw Snake in handcuffs. His eyes met hers in defeat—or maybe it was shame.
So much commotion. Red lights flashing. The uniformed men shooed people away. But one small woman, dressed in a cocoa Armani suit, broke through the crowd.
“Mr. Everidge,” she said, coolly. He turned to face her. She pulled a gun out from her Chanel handbag.
“I am Yvette Delvechio. This is for one of the men you killed, my ex-husband, Paul,” she said, aiming the gun and firing so quickly the uniformed men did not have the time to stop her.
Blood oozed from Sam’s chest through his shirt and then he fell.
Good shot, Yvette, was Sasha’s last thought before drifting.
Chapter 55
There was nothing. No darkness. No light. Diminishment.
Then a touch. A warm handing holding hers, pressing it tenderly.
A voice. She knew this voice. It was the voice of comfort, passion, and love. It was the voice of home. It was Jackson. He was there. This thought comforted her as she allowed herself to stop struggling to awaken and move. She allowed her body and mind to rest deeply now. For Jackson was here. And it would be all right.
She closed her eyes and dreamed of the soft rolling hills of Virginia, walking barefoot on the white sand of Saint Thomas.
It would be all right, as long as Jackson was next to her.
“The pain,” she found herself shouting the next day, waking dripping in sweat. A blur of Sanj’s face receding.
“Get her more meds!” Jackson yelled. “More meds!”
A rushing of people all around her. Him fading into the distance.
“Jackson!” was the last word she formed before slipping into more cold blackness.
Chapter 56
“She has a concussion, a broken rib, broken arm, an
d you don’t want to know about the internal lacerations and bruises,” the doctor said.
“So she was raped,” Sanj said.
“I’d say,” the doctor said. “You know, she’s lucky to be alive.”
“But—” Chandan started to say. He was next to Sanj in the office.
“But she is a survivor,” the doctor said, then looked at Sanj. “But it’s going to take some time.”
“Certainly,” Sanj said. “Whatever we need to do.”
“The broken bones and the concussion are treatable, as is the rest of it. But the psychological trauma . . .”
“We’ll get her help,” Chandan said. “The best help we can find.”
Sanj looked at his uncle, grateful for his stepping in, and was amazed at his capacity to want to help him and Sasha. Given who she was. Given who he was. The doctor sat back in his chair. “One more thing,” he said, playing with his pen. “In the forty-eight hours she was captured, she was drugged.”
“Yes, we knew that,” Sanj said.
“She’s clean now. But we found that it was heroin. It’s one of the most addictive drugs. Usually it takes longer than forty-eight hours, but in this case, given her history, it’s difficult to say.”
“Whoa,” Sanj said. “Do you mean she has another addiction?”
“It’s hard to say where one addiction begins and the other ends,” he said. “It’s really not my area of expertise. But we have a facility here that I’m going to recommend to you for her. It’s a rehabilitation facility. We’re blessed to have it here. Really good people. She’d be in good hands,” the doctor said.
“Let’s look into it,” Chandan said as he rose from the chair.
Later, in Sasha’s room, they bought the subject up to Sasha.
“I’d be happy to go there. I want to thank you for everything,” Sasha said to them both. “I’ll get better, I promise.”
Sanj brushed her hair back off her forehead and kissed it. She beamed. “Sexy?”
He laughed. “You know it.”
She closed her eyes and slept, looking so serene. Something caught in Sanj’s throat. If only she was at peace as she looked. Would she ever get over this?
“What a woman,” Chandan said as he sat down in a chair.
“Indeed,” Sanj said. “You see why I want her in my life.”
Chandan sighed a deep sigh from the bottom of his stomach. “Yes,” he said with a weariness.
“I’d marry her tomorrow. If she’d have me,” Sanj said.
Chandan laughed. “That’s a big if. She herself said she’s not the marrying type. And she’s not so sure about you.”
“True,” Sanj said, noting his uncle’s mischievous grin. But he was solid in his feelings for her. This he knew. Could he turn his back on the expectations of his family, his Ramsha, to be with her? He could. Why not? They could live in bliss in the south of France or Italy or even New York City. Yes, near Jackson and Maeve.
But his heart sank. Would he ever be happy not accepting the responsibility he was obligated to? What he was raised for? Leaving Ramsha? His home?
“I can’t think,” he said almost to himself.
“Then let me do your thinking for you,” Chandan said. “We will figure it out together.”
Josh sauntered in the room with bags of takeout from the nearest Indian restaurant.
“Finally,” Chandan said. “Real food.”
“Yeah,” Josh said. “I hear it’s pretty good. “
He slipped a box of something next to Sasha’s bed.
“What’s that?” Sanj asked.
“Chocolate,” Josh said. “What else?”
Chapter 57
Sasha sat in a wicker chair on the patio that looked out over the pool. A rugged beach with rocks and gnarled palm trees stood in the distance. The sounds of the waves lulled her and Sanj. She was here. She was alive. And she was his.
“Concubine, heh?” she said, grinning.
“Well, that’s the closest English word we can find,” he responded. “But it means you are a bought or earned woman—but it’s a place of honor in my state. You will be my first official female companion, but without any of the constraints imposed on a wife.”
He looked at her big, brown eyes, her blond hair blowing around in the breeze, and watched as she smiled the biggest smile he’d ever seen on her. Tears rimmed her eyes. Was she going to cry? Be angry? What?
“Oh Sanj, it’s perfect,” she said and slid onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her.
The two of them content to sit on the patio overlooking the mountainside pool. Sanj thought he’d never been more happy.
She’d been out of the rehab center two days now.
“How are you feeling?” Sanj said softly, rubbing her long, lean thigh.
“Happy. Grateful,” she said.
“Oh God, look at you two love bugs,” said a male voice entering the patio. “Don’t you ever answer your cell phone?”
It was Jackson, not blond, back to his dark handsome self, with a camera slung around his neck. “God, this is a gorgeous view.” He brought his camera to his eye and began to take photos. “The light on your skin, Sasha,” he said.
“Hey, stop taking pictures of my woman,” Sanj said and laughed.
Jackson sat in another wicker chair.
“How is Maeve?” Sasha asked.
He shrugged.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Sanj said.
“I figure she can answer for herself,” he said and looked toward the doorway, where Maeve entered on crutches with a grin on her gaunt face.
“Maeve!” Sasha stood and ran to her.
Sanj felt tears prick at his eyes.
“This calls for a celebration!” Sanj said. “Let’s have a feast tonight!”
Later, the four of them sat at the dining table with mounds of cacao-themed food in front of them. Sanj had hired a chef from a local resort for the evening. He watched as Maeve ate the cacao-crusted goat cheese.
“I’m not a big goat cheese person,” she said. “But this is pretty good. I like the mixing of flavors.”
Still, she was too thin, which was hard to see on such a lush woman. She was not a small woman—her usual proportions were Rubenesque. Her skin tone was still off—but it looked like her appetite was returning.
Maeve had suffered more than any of them, of course. Both legs had been broken, as well as several ribs, and her wrist. A woman who despised drugs, Maeve now found herself struggling with a heroin addiction as well.
“I can handle the pain from the broken bones,” she had told them earlier. “But the constant pain from wanting the drugs is the oddest sensation. I’m not sure how to manage.”
“We will manage together,” Sasha said.
And they all would, Sanj thought as he looked out over the table and his dearest friends.
“You’re wearing your earrings,” Maeve said to Sasha.
Sasha nodded. “I love these earrings. I had them take out the tracking device in them. I don’t think the Ramsha security force needs to know my whereabouts now.”
“Thank God for them,” Jackson said. “How did the king of India know?”
Sanj shrugged, ignoring the king-of-India bit, taking a bite of the cheese. “My uncle makes me his business. When he learned of my involvement . . . he investigated. His men were certain of an attempt to take Sasha. And they were right.” He reached out and took her hand. “For once I’m grateful for my uncle.”
“I love your uncle,” Maeve said. “He was right about you and Jennifer. I tried to tell her myself.”
“Speaking of Jennifer, where is she?” Sasha asked.
“Jennifer quit her job,” Jackson said. “Took off for God-knows-where with Detective D’Amico.”
“What?” Sasha said.
“Must be a hell of a guy,” Sanj said, lifting his glass. “To Jennifer and her new man!”
“Hear, hear!” Maeve said.
“Aberdeen Angus prime beef with dar
k-chocolate port wine sauce. Now served,” said the server. “It’s matured and infused with cacao nibs, hand-cut fries, port wine chocolate sauce, and cacao-nib local spinach.”
“Sounds fabulous, bring it on,” Jackson said, smacking his hands together, almost looking like the eighteen-year-old Sanj had met all those years ago, except for a bit of gray at his temples.
After a dessert of molten chocolate, the four of them sat in a culinary stupor on the patio looking out over the sunset.
“One more thing, Jackson,” Sanj said. “Have you gotten rid of your stolen goods?”
Maeve sat up quickly. “You told him?” she hit him playfully. “What’s wrong with you?”
“It was the criollo. The ancient one. The genome,” he explained. “Maeve discovered Mozingo had stolen it from the Trinidad government and replaced it with a fake.”
“All this for a plant?” Sanj said.
“A plant worth millions,” Maeve said. “And now delivered to the proper authorities by my dear husband.”
“Good for you, Jackson,” Sasha said.
“Sometimes justice does win,” Sanj said, thinking of the dead Sam Everidge and the imprisoned José Mozingo, facing murder charges, as well as pending charges on the Ivory Coast mass grave. That would take years. Those twelve children and their families would see justice if it was the last thing Sanj did.
Maeve sighed. “I’m sorry, my friends. I’m off to bed. My energy is not up to par yet.”
“Good night,” Jackson said as he joined his wife and left the patio.
The sky flamed in orange and pink as the sun drooped closer to the sea, reflecting in the distant water, as well as the pool water in front of them.
“Care for a swim?” Sasha stood and lifted her dress over her head. Sanj’s eyes swept over her lush body, as his own body reacted with stiffness. “Swim?” he said. “Nah, I just want to fuck you.”
She laughed and dove into the pool, then came up out of the water glistening wet. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
Sanj drew in a breath and slipped out of his pants, hard-on already pressing against his stomach. Last night, a spanking that left his ass red and tender in delightful ways and an orgasm that seemed to stretch for minutes. And tonight? Who knew? With Sasha, it could be anything.