Maybe I’m dead, locked away in the Morgue, lying on a slab, waiting to be cut up? It’s so black, and they.... Oh, shut up!
Jeez, it was only reconstructive surgery after the accident. Dead people don’t lie around, thinking. Always ready to worry if there’s a little hitch somewhere. Nothing bad happened. Still, I’ve gotta get someone's attention.
Hey! Why didn’t I see that before?
How had she missed what was right in front of her… two shaded windows, a bare sliver of light glimmering at their lower edges. Dare she move, seeking aid? Still stymied by the strange aura of weightless floating on a glassy film of water, she tentatively stretches out a hand.
Am I actually moving? Eerie! I can’t really tell in this utter darkness. Her unseen fingers trip lightly across the base of the shades.
Success! Both spool noiselessly upward.
Finally! She winces, blinking at the sudden light, before her vision clears.
There, three men, standing in a small white room, two wearing blue surgeon’s scrubs, the other, the tallest, a dark suit. No second bed, no moveable tables, no guest chairs anywhere. No outside windows, either. Stark illumination from flickering fluorescent fixtures cast demonic shadows across their faces. She shivers, unassured by the sight of the trio of apparent doctors.
What is this place? A recovery room? Suddenly their voices are clear.
"I spoke to her husband," says the one in the dark suit, fingering the stethoscope looped around his neck. "He said she occasionally took both amphetamines and tranquilizers."
He said that? It was just this one time, and he said…
"Damn," from the taller of the two, "that wasn’t on the admitting form. We could’ve rescheduled. Drugs and anesthetics always cause problems."
Problems? God, I knew it. Damned hospitals! Damn, damn, damn!
"We’re checking,” the third man says. “I’m not convinced tests will tell us anything that will do us much good in court, if it comes to that."
What are they talking about?
She is suddenly struggling to breathe, her heart pummeling her breast.
Oh Jesus, something did happen! Something bad!
Head spinning, her world lurches surreally askew. She shudders.
I’m so cold! Her little lagoon churns from comfortable warmth into a bed of ice.
Something’s terribly wrong! Hospitals are supposed to fix things, but I had the same scary feeling while waiting for Daddy’s test results... and I was right!
Gotta find out what’s happened. Sucking in a ragged breath... worried about damaging her facial surgery... she grits her teeth before calling out.
"Hey!"
Don’t panic. They'll see me in a minute.
But they don't. Are they deaf?
"Over here!” Louder now, willing them to look at her.
"You, out there! Please help me."
The taller surgeon cocks his head and turns.
Thank God! He'll see me now.
He pauses, still as stone. Then his eyes flare wide, his jaw dropping. Snatching at the other doctor’s sleeve, he thrusts an almost accusing finger at her.
"Look," he shouts. "Look!”
“Her eyes! Her eyes! “They're open!"
≠≠≠
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Here’s an excerpt from
DEATH’S ANGEL
PROLOGUE
Free!
Free at last!
Imprisoned so long behind that dark wall.
It took a stranger, a kindred spirit, to shatter my bonds.
Finally, my chance to deliver sinners to redemption. Fear will fill their immoral, lust-filled hearts before I bring them to God’s ultimate glory.
Soon, I will begin my quest.
Soon, the World will know the virtue of my glorious mission.
Soon, they will learn I am amongst them, returning order and morality to their shallow lives.
Because I am finally free.
Free at last!
CHAPTER ONE
Jodi Gannon lifted her glass, leaving a circle of condensed moisture on the scuffed mahogany bar top, and studied the perfect pale imprints her pink lips left on its rim. She took another sip of the cold vodka, rolling it on her tongue, its sweet, cloying odor filling her senses. She swiveled around, drink still in hand, her shoulder-length corn-silk blond hair rippling with subtle sensuality. Resting bare elbows on the stained bar top, surveying the dimly lighted room, a smug smile teased the corners of her lush lips.
Life was good, and with the magazine already on the stands, things promised to get better.
A lot better.
A whole page in all her erotic glory! Naturally blond was the clincher. None of the other girls could compete with that. Might Playboy even consider her for a centerfold? Either way, this was a big boost to her modeling career, and maybe even a chance at the movies.
Seeing her own nude photo prominently featured in "The Girls of the Southeast" pictorial in this month’s issue was a real turn-on. Only seven days, and she'd already been approached by two new agencies, vying to represent her. Then there was the deluge of male attention that might intimidate another girl, however gorgeous.
But Jodi Gannon could always manage guys fantasizing about wrapping their arms around her slim waist, burying their faces between her glorious C-cups. Rebuffing horny college kids at the University of Miami, where she was a junior, was no challenge.
Nothing wrong with a hot night with the right guy, but she'd had her fill of hormone rich, inexperienced boys, too much in a hurry to get off. Jodi Gannon craved a virile, mature lover who knew how to give a woman pleasure.
And there just might be the guy, at the same little corner table the last four times she'd visited the lounge.
She knew nothing about him, except that lately, whenever she came into the Hurricane Bar, he'd be there, alone in the dim lighting. Each evening he'd send her a drink via the cute, buxom little waitress. Cute, but not in Jodi’s class. Jodi was always surprised at the absence of a corny note, but all she got was a barely perceptible nod. No follow-up; no invitation to sit with him; just those dark, magnetic eyes, appraising her. It was kinda sweet, and not at all pushy.
He was getting to her. She found herself looking forward to this evening's encounter. He just might get lucky tonight, because God knows, she was ready!
A covert glance revealed him staring openly at her again; a guy of maybe 35, totally out of place a joint full of college kids. Why was he there? To see her, of course. Goosebumps tap-danced down her spine, bringing a familiar wetness. Good thing she was wearing panties for a change. If he sent a drink today, she might even overrule that cautious little voice lurking in her head. Make a cautious move and test the waters. She suspected once she went for that “swim,” she might paddle clear across the lake.
She shrugged. Though innately hot-blooded, she wasn’t promiscuous. But he'd been a gentleman, patiently wooing her from afar, and his hook was in her now. This evening might end with some (hopefully) hot sex. Maybe she wouldn't even want to get away, after that. She hoped not!
Rotating her stool, Jodi turned to take another sip of cold vodka. Glancing at the gilt-framed mirror, she saw him. Despite the deep shadows, she sensed his eyes riveted on her, unwaveringly. She flinched, startled by a light tap on her shoulder, almost spilling off her perch. Fran, the waitress, was holding a tray with a fresh drink. This time there was a small piece of paper.
"From yer ardent admirer again. Waxing poetic is he, Jodi? Some gals got all the luck. A little T and A in Playboy, and the World's yer oyster." The smile was playful and friendly.
"Thanks, Fran. Yeah, they're all hot for my bod, but that's nothing new. Guess it's a curse to be beauti
ful, but I’m not trading it in." She leaned closer to the waitress.
"He seem like an okay guy, Fran? Not a psycho or anything?"
"Acts pretty normal to me,” the barmaid answered. “Good tipper, too. Never got a real good look at him, but he seems kinda rugged lookin’. Real well built. Wish it was me he was sendin’ drinks and love letters to." She laughed as she moved off to serve two young men at another table.
Glancing at the man across the room, wrapped in a mantle of dark shadows, she picked up the paper. Could that be a little smile there? Flipping open the note, she read the brief message, neatly printed in simple, block letters:
"Haven’t we played this game long enough?"
She turned back to the room, her violet eyes measuring him, certain now he was smiling.
Hell. Why not? He'd been a gentleman. Not a bit pushy. If he turned out to be a jerk or a pervert, she'd split. She had a brown belt in Karate, and could take care of herself.
Self-reassured, her heart-stopping smile seemed to illuminate the lounge. Three young men, hungrily watching the exquisite blonde, silently groaned, glaring at this fortunate interloper, enfolded in the soft tapestry of darkness at his corner table.
Jodi picked up her drink and the small piece of paper, and slipped off her stool. A wide, bead-studded leather belt divided her short swirling white skirt from a flowered silk sleeveless blouse, unbuttoned well into her considerable cleavage. The outfit accented her slender waist, emphasizing the sway of full hips and the natural jiggle of her breasts. She flowed across the room, a sensual cat, prowling. Reaching his table, she smiled once more, holding out her hand.
"Hi. Thanks for the drink… again. I'm Jodi Gannon."
"Hi to you." He pressed her slender, crimson-nailed finger gently to his lips, his face still thickly shadowed by the peak of his ball cap.
"I'm Angie Dedios, and I know who you are. Just like any other red-blooded guy who reads Playboy.”
His head tilted, fathomless obsidian eyes engulfing her, igniting hot little sparks across her skin. The flutter of hummingbird wings assailed her heart, flooding her with delicious anticipation of… what? She wasn't sure.
"You're the most beautiful women I've ever seen." He still held her hand, his thumb lightly caressing her palm.
"I can't believe I actually ran into you." Goosebumps ridged her neck and back, spinning her into free-fall, swallowed by the dark abyss of those haunting eyes.
"Glad you joined me, despite that corny little note." He stood, pulling out a chair for her. "Frankly, I’m a little nervous. First time I've done something like this.”
"That's so sweet.” She sat, back in control, crossing her legs, her laugh the tinkle of silver chimes.
Jodi sipped her drink, tearing herself away from those hypnotic orbs, seeing him clearly for the first time. She understood Fran's assessment. The face looked hewn from granite… definitely attractive, in a rugged sort of way. About six feet tall, broad shouldered and hard muscled without being massive, he exuded a lithe grace. He was darkly tanned. The hands were strong but nicely kept. An Armani sport shirt bespoke of affluence… maybe a lawyer or a businessman? His smile was filled with warmth.
And those eyes! Those galactic black holes, pulled at her, filling her head with the roar of her own pulse. She barely heard him say Playboy should consider her for a centerfold. She'd be a lock for "Playmate of the Year."
She blinked, looking away. Sipping her drink, she fought to calm her thundering heart. This was so unlike her.
“Yeah, I'm getting a new agent, and we'll be discussing that with them. It's all very exciting." She smiled, back in control now .
"It should be. You're sensational!” He had taken her hand again, gently stroking her fingers.
“Coming down here like this isn’t like me. But there was something about you in that photo… something more than just beauty. Playboy must have seen it too, giving you the only full page. I wanted to see you in the flesh… no pun intended. I guess I wasn’t so unique." He nodded toward several other tables, filled with mostly college men, openly staring at them.
Jodi shrugged, mesmerized by the gentle warmth of his voice and the haunting depths of those eyes.
"I never expected to meet you," softly squeezed her hand, smiling a little sheepishly, "and I'm flattered you accepted my very corny invitation. Jeez, I'm prattling on like a love sick kid." His smile broadened as he searched her aqua eyes. She grinned, back in charge, despite the heat infusing her.
"Oh, the note was kinda cute, and I like that you're not one of these college guys. Frankly, I'm tired of over-hormoned, self-styled studs that only want to get me in the hay. They're in such a damned rush, a gal doesn't feel very special.
"You're a mature guy, and that’s different. I’d like to get to know you better."
"Good. So, tell me about you…where you're from, and how’d you decide on U of M?"
CHAPTER TWO
As they talked, she covertly appraised him… a little older than she first thought, and just a bit better than average looking. Nothing special to account for his magnetic sensuality. His obsidian eyes caressed her, firing tingly little bumps across her neck and arms. She preened, knowing she looked magnificent.
Jodi Gannon, a Nordic Minnesota goddess, was slender waisted, with natural breasts even girls with implants would kill for. She strolled through life with an easy, athletic grace, pursuing modeling and hopefully, a movie career.
Few men passed without snatching a wistful second look. Since her early teens, she’d learned to capitalize on her beauty, and very little eluded Jodi’s grasp if she wanted it badly enough… especially from men.
She smiled, porcelain-white teeth catching the dim lights.
"Are you into sports, Angie?" she asked. "You look like an athlete."
"I don't go in much for the team stuff. I love the outdoors: fishing, hunting, camping. Things like that.
"Joined the Marines when I was a kid and had a short stint in Afghanistan. Took a bullet in the shoulder. Just bad enough to keep me out of action. I was glad to get out of there alive." He grimaced, looking embarrassed. She nodded, squeezing his hand.
"I'm busy with my work, and don't get out much. The dating scene’s very intimidating, with all the AIDS, herpes and psychos out there. But when I saw your photo in Playboy, I had to find you. I had this sensation, as if I knew you from another lifetime. Figured nothing would come of it, but I was compelled to try. I'm happy I was wrong." His bottomless eyes pulled at her, triggering a delicious shiver, her heart jumping into her throat. She moistened her lips with the tip of a pink tongue.
"Mind if I ask what you do for a living, Angie?" She wouldn't hook up with some loser, however attractive he was .
"Got my own company, doing a special type of security work. Only one client, but he's the biggest in the World. Top secret, though, so I can't talk about details. Maybe, when we get better acquainted… " He winked, sending more eruptions cascading across her spine and neck.
Gotta be Uncle Sam. Who else is that big? His own company, too!
Yeah! Haven’t lost my touch. His political connections can’t hurt her career. She'd probably go bed with him, regardless, but this was so much more exciting.
Hook him first, then see what he can do for me. Her eyes searched his, unaware they were harboring surprisingly different views of the future.
Three U of M students began setting up musical instruments on a small podium along one wall, near an open area used for dancing. They played three nights a week at this popular lounge. Soon, the strains of a new country song filled the air.
"You dance?" she asked, taking his hand and standing.
"Sure, if they stick with the slow stuff." He followed her to the quickly filling dance floor.
Finding an open spot, she snuggled into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder as they began to move to the slow, erotic beat. Her nipples, swollen and erect, teased his chest through his thin cotton shirt. She undulating against him
as they swayed to the music. Not surprisingly, an obvious hardness grew there. Her fingers caressed his neck and the back of his head, as he buried his face in her hair, gently nibbling an ear.
Angie seemed unembarrassed by his obvious arousal, which excited her. He was very hard and very large. She’d intended to play him along for a few days, but flaming ardor filled her now, jack-hammering her heart against her ribs. She needed that big thing in her… soon.
Can't wait another night! Pampered all her short life, she freely indulged her lust for instant gratification. Jodi had no doubts about this man, trusting her judgment implicitly, never considering for a moment she may be wrong.
After two slow dances, they returned to his table, where they continued their Q and A.
"I'm a drama major, and do some modeling,” she said, sliding her chair close to his. “Well-built chicks are in demand these days, so I've been doing pretty well. They say the camera really likes me. And now the Playboy spread is bringing more dividends."
As she talked, his hand found one of hers, fingers lightly interlocked. Her other hand came to gentle rest on his thigh. They verbally preened, two peacocks in a mating dance. Then, without speaking, they knew it was time to go.
Courting was finished. Mating was about to begin.
They departed the noisy lounge arm in arm, leaving the green beast of envy glittering in the eyes of the young men who remained inside.
The evening air had cooled, but their passions flowed like hot lava, each inflamed by their intense lust.
Angie pulled her into his arms, eyes locking, answering questions silently asked. The kiss was slow, lingering… tentative, yet demanding, searching for a truth not easily discovered amid such carnal heat.
Eventually they separated, gasping slightly for a fresh breath. She looked again into those bottomless orbs, her smile radiant, simultaneously heart-stopping and pulse-racing.
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