Unexpected terror grips Penny’s chest. The gruesome image of Zane’s battered body crushed in the twisted wreckage of a car invades her mind.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Penny says, clutching at his waist.
This makes Zane smile deeply. “Me too. But I’m glad it happened. In a way, I did die that day. I got a second chance.” He nuzzles her neck. “And I’m not going to blow it this time.”
Penny’s doubts and fears ooze into the ground beneath her, allowing her body to fill with light. By his ‘second chance,’ Zane means Penny. Her happiness is tinged with shade of guilt. Zane has no idea how complicated this is going to be.
“So,” Zane says. “There’s someone who’s dying to meet you.”
“Who?”
“My mother.” Zane looks embarrassed. He smiles broadly, looking up to the sky. “She won’t leave me alone about it.” He glances down. “And I want you to meet her too. I think you’ll like her.”
You can’t kill a woman you introduced to your mother, Penny thinks.
“Dinner?” Zane says, cocking his eyebrow.
Penny turns her head back, and kisses him briefly on the mouth. “I’d love too.”
Zane holds his stare on her. The small kiss seems to have awakened something in him. The desire is apparent in his eyes. He hooks one arm around her stomach, and the other around her chest, holding her tightly against his body. Penny turns her head to meet his, and their mouths tangle together.
Zane kisses her deeply. One hand squeezes her breast, while the other wanders down between her legs. His fingertips tease the edge of her shorts.
“We’re outside,” Penny says, cautiously.
Zane glances around the empty lake. “I don’t see anyone.”
A delicious thrill shoots up Penny’s spine. “Someone could walk up at any minute.”
With a devilish grin, Zane unbuttons Penny’s shorts, and helps her slide them down her legs. Zane pulls Penny’s hips back into his lap, letting her feel the hardness growing in his swim shorts. He’s not wearing underwear, so the only thing that separates the two of them are two flimsy pieces of fabric, the swim shorts and Penny’s panties. Zane pulls his shorts down, allowing his cock to spring out, then pushes Penny’s panties to the side, removing the weak obstacles.
“Sit back in my lap,” Zane whispers hoarsely into her ear. He holds her by the waist, guiding her down on him.
The daring excitement of this public display has gotten to Penny, and Zane slips easily inside of her. She grasps both of his strong thighs for leverage as she bounces her hips up and down. She’s trying to be quiet, but the rush of forbidden pleasure threatens to undo her resolve. She comes almost instantly, clamping her mouth shut to keep from screaming.
Zane winds his arms around her torso, then hoists himself up with his strong thighs. He spins Penny around. She’s on her stomach on top of the towel, with Zane lying on top of her. Zane takes a moment to lean back on his knees and admire her body. He swats her ass, watching it jiggle, then leans down and sharply bites her right cheek. Penny screams out with a mixture of pleasure and pain. Zane lowers his hips against her, and takes her from behind. Penny tries to watch the pathway for surprise visitors, but she’s quite distracted. In her prone position, she can feel all of Zane. He pounds deep inside of her, hammering pleasure points that bring about an explosive orgasm.
Zane emits a low, rumbling growl, then quickly pulls out of her. His sticky cum streaks her inner thigh. After wiping her up with the towel, he collapses beside her, and spoons her from behind.
“I’ve never felt so close to anyone,” Zane says against her neck. He lays his palm against her chest, feeling her heartbeat. “I love you, Penny.”
Penny’s sure Zane can feel the sudden increase in her heartbeat. She turns to him, and lightly kisses the tip of his nose. “I love you too,” she whispers into the air.
As always, there’s a dark edge to Penny’s happiness. Zane says he loves her, but he doesn’t have the complete picture. He doesn’t know that she’s actively lying to him. Penny promises herself that she’ll handle this carefully. Zane will know the full truth, but only at the right time.
*
Traitor.
Hunter sits in a stark waiting room, wearing an old suit he’d found in the back of his closet. The fabric, which was no prize when the suit was new, is worn and itchy. He straightens his tie, feeling like an imposter. Hunter’s not normally a suit kind of guy. This one was purchased from a liquidation sale when he needed something to wear to his great aunt’s funeral. No, Hunter has no use for clothing like this. It’s better to wear comfortable clothing for the tedious work of digital guerrilla activism. He knew he’d never be a desk jockey, a slave to the corporate machine. When all of his friends were selling out to VC Solutions, he derided them, scoffed at their flashy new purchases, while regarding himself as a man of principle.
Yet, here he is, at a compound in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, waiting to meet Vincent Connor himself.
I’ve come full circle, Hunter thinks, wringing his hands nervously.
He thought the fear of getting caught was bad, it’s nothing compared to the shame that he feels now. It’s an infinite pit in the middle of his stomach. He’s about to commit the most abominable sin, one that would shock his twelve year old self.
Traitor.
Hunter hears the word in Ben’s voice, and he agrees with it. Yes, he is a traitor. Yes, he’s a big stinking pile of shit. But what else is he supposed to do? Sit around and wait for Penny to get caught? She’ll lead them straight to Hunter. He’ll get either life in prison, or VC Solutions would find other ways to deal with him, like the assassin they hired for Penny.
He’d tried to think of a way out. Amelia in Florida was never really an option. Hunter has known for a long time that the woman he spoke with on FaceTime, her face shrouded by the dark room, wasn’t the Instagram model he’d seen pictures of.
So, he decided to save his own ass. After Penny told him about the flash drive a few days ago, he’d called a general hotline at VC Solutions. He went through about five call room operators, and told them each the same thing, that he has information about the person who stole VC Solution’s classified documents. The case hasn’t been publicized, so he was taken seriously. Eventually, he was put through to Vincent Connors’ executive assistant. When the executive assistant answered the phone and said his name, Hunter tasted vomit at the back of his throat. He thought about hanging up, but he’d already said too much. Several VC employees had heard his voice. They could probably trace the call back to him.
Hunter stares at the floor while heavy footsteps clang through the room. He doesn’t have to look. He only has to smell the air to know who’s approaching him. His stomach gurgles, and he tastes vomit again in the back of his throat.
“Hunter fucking Greene. How the hell are you?”
Hunter bites back the bile as Jacob shakes his hand, simultaneously pulling Hunter up out of his seat. Jacob pats Hunter’s back a little too hard.
“It’s always good to see someone from the old neighborhood,” Jacob says. “How have you been?”
Hunter tries to avoid Jacob’s cold gaze. Those frigid eyes are exactly as he remembered them. Though Jacob’s smiling, his eyes tell a different story. They’re blank, devoid of emotion. How can he hand Penny over to this psychopath?
Traitor.
It’s her own fault, Hunter reasons with Ben’s imaginary voice. She should’ve given up when it got dangerous. I have to save myself.
Jacob grasps Hunter’s shoulder. “Listen, I shouldn’t be telling you this. But if this lead checks out, it could be a big opportunity for you. VC respects honesty, loyalty. And there’s always a position that needs filling around here.”
Hunter nods politely, while telling himself that he’ll never be on the payroll for these assholes.
“VC’s ready for you,” Jacob says, gesturing to a closed door. “Don’t be nervous. You’ll be fine.”
“Jacob,” Vincent barks.
“Yes sir?” Jacob says promptly.
Vincent tosses his hand. “Get the hell out.”
Jacob’s smile camouflages the disappointment on his face. He gracefully bows out. Hunter tries to concentrate on Vincent, but all he can see is a beautiful dead tiger glaring down at him. It stirs Hunter’s moral center. He loves to rant on Facebook about the super wealthy and their zeal for exotic hunting.
The man behind the desk isn’t much easier to look at. With his stark white hair, matching mutton chops, and cocky swagger, Vincent reminds Hunter of an old time sheriff, one that subscribes to his own code of honor. Vincent lowers his forehead towards Hunter, drumming his fingers on the table.
“I hear you have information that might interest me,” Vincent says.
Jacob takes a few quick breaths to pump himself up. “Before I say anything, I want to be promised absolute immunity.”
Vincent raises a wiry eyebrow. “Immunity? You do something wrong, son?”
Hunter shakes his head fiercely. “No, I- I just want to make sure I’m not implicated-“ Hunter wipes the sweat from his brow. “I don’t want you to think that I had anything to do-“
Vincent waves his hand, cutting Hunter off. “Just cut to the chase. You know who stole my files. Who is it?”
Traitor.
Hunter closes his eyes, trying to mentally remove himself from the situation. “Penny Waters. That’s her name. I don’t even know her that well. I overheard her saying that she broke into VC Solutions, stole some documents.” Hunter stops talking. He realizes he’s out of breath.
Vincent nods. “You did the right thing. The world needs more honest men like you. Do you know where to find this Penny?”
Hunter blinks rapidly. He was only going to rat Penny out, not help them track her down.
“I need evidence,” Vincent explains. “I can’t go prosecuting the wrong person. Listen, if you help me out, get a recorded confession, a photo would be great, I’ll make it worth your while.”
Hunter shifts his weight forward. “I don’t know-“
“Let me remind you,” Vincent interrupts. “That I didn’t promise you any immunity. You get me the evidence I need, or old VC might get real cross. You hear?”
Hunter feels himself nod. It’s enough for Vincent, who turns back to some paperwork on his desk.
“Now get the hell out,” Vincent barks. “Come back when you have something.”
Hunter stands to leave. Vincent suddenly looks up at him, pointing a sharp pen at him. “If I don’t hear from you within the week, I’ll find you.”
Chapter Eleven
Zane leans over the edge of the upper deck, watching the frothing water run along the bottom of the yacht. He’s been here for over an hour, and he’s already tired of the relentless sun beating down on his face and shoulders. The rocking of the boat has left him a little sick to his stomach. And Jacob, as always, clings close to Zane’s side.
Zane should have foreseen this. At a party on dry land, he could stay for around twenty minutes, show his face, and leave. But out here on the lake, he’s a captive. He’s locked in for as long as VC wants him to be. All around Zane, the party is lively. Hoards of bikini clad women roam the upper deck, taking selfies, and flirting with male executives who are dressed down in linen pants and shirts with tropical prints. Vincent walks around with his chest puffed out, shaking hands with his guests. Grace hangs on Vincent’s arm, looking particularly ravishing in a lavender bikini and gold sarong.
It’s a garish display that’s all too familiar to Zane. None of these women are truly interested in the men they entertain, and the men aren’t interested in more than the women’s curves, a reprieve from their wives at home. They are all after something for themselves. No one cares about making a real human connection. It’s like being on a boat full of robots.
Jacob opens his jacket pocket, revealing a full bottle of bourbon. “Got it from the bar,” Jacob says, twisting off the top. “Can I freshen up your drink?”
Zane guards his cup of seltzer water close to his chest. “No thanks. Alcohol and sun don’t mix for me.”
Jacob grimaces. “You do look at little green.” With a smile, Jacob clamps his hand onto Zane’s shoulder. “I know exactly what you need.” Jacob looks around the boat until he finds what he’s looking forward. He sticks two fingers into his mouth, and whistles sharply. “Dr. Wensel, over here.”
The two men are approached by a blonde woman, somewhere in her mid-thirties. She wears a white lab coat over a bright yellow bikini, and carries a clipboard. She tops off the smart/sexy look with a pair of black, wide-rimmed glasses.
“This is Dr. Wensel,” Jacob says to Zane. “We call her the Party Doc around here.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dr. Wensel says, extending a graceful hand. She has an accent, Swedish, or something similar, Zane guesses. “Can I put you down for something?”
“You can get a B12 shot, a hydrating IV, all designed to help you drink more.” Jacob clinks the liquor bottle against Zane’s water. “She’s even got shots of botox if you’re into that.”
Dr. Wensel poises her pen over her clipboard, looking at Zane with expectant eyes.
Where were you when I was partying? Zane wonders. He would’ve loved the fact that he could get drunk off his ass, sober up with an IV, and start drinking again. But now, older, wiser, he considers the hell he’s already put his liver through.
“Nothing for me, thanks,” Zane says.
“You sure, man?” Jacob says.
“Actually, do you have any seasickness pills?” Zane asks.
Dr. Wensel nods with understanding. She marks something on her clipboard, and walks away. Once she’s gone, Jacob and Zane are approached by Vincent and Grace.
“I see you met the good doctor,” Vincent says. “One of the best hires I’ve ever made. How are you doing, Mr. Celick. Enjoying yourself?”
“You have a beautiful boat,” Zane says, politely.
“That’s thanks to me,” Grace says, stepping forward. “I redecorated it after we were married.”
Vincent laughs, heartily. “She had to toss out anything bought by my old wives, right into the water.”
Grace giggles, hugging closer to Vincent’s arm. A bit more small talk ensues. While Zane sips his seltzer water, his curiosity turns to Grace. What’s she doing with someone like Vincent? It can’t be real love. Yet, she’s so convincing in her performance, the way she lovingly caresses his back, and laughs at his jokes like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard.
“How long have you two been together?” Zane asks.
Vincent’s face turns red. He takes a big swig of his brown liquor. “That depends on who you ask. There are two different timelines, the one my divorce attorneys presented in court with my last wife, and the real one.”
Zane looks into Grace’s glittering eyes, hoping to find some spec of truth. But she smiles radiantly, not giving anything up.
“We’ve only been married for six months,” Grace says. She raises Vincent’s hand to her lips and kisses it. “Six months going on forever.”
Why don’t you cut the shit? Zane thinks. But who is he to judge this woman?
Vincent kisses his wife’s temple. “I have some business to discuss with the men. Go and enjoy the party.”
Grace gives them a little wave, then saunters off. When she’s out of earshot, Vincent leans into them, a smiling twitching at the corners of his lips.
“Gentlemen,” Vincent says. “I have good news. We may have located the terrorist. We’re just waiting on a final confirmation.”
Jacob pumps his fist into the air with a, “yes,” escaping his lips.
Zane doesn’t have the same reaction. Before, this job he was hired to do was an abstract concept, something to take place in the murky future. Now, it’s right here in front of him. He’s already been having serious doubts about taking another life. And he doesn’t want to taint what he has with Penny by getting more blood on his hands.
“Did you hear what I said, son?” Vincent asks.
“I did,” Zane says, snapping himself out of it. “I’m just- at a loss for words.”
Zane feels Jacob take a step back. Vincent steps forward, his eyes boring into Zane.
“Surely I don’t need to remind you what’s at stake here,” Vincent says, a menacing edge to his voice.
“No, you don’t. It’s perfectly clear,” Zane says. And it is. Zane has already sat through several lectures on the nefarious deeds of this terrorist. According to Vincent and the government officials Zane has met with, the person in question has hacked into the electrical grids. They suspect the terrorist is planning an attack. If their plan is executed, they project widespread power outages, planes falling from the sky, and underground subway systems ramming into each other. It could also be coordinated with other kinds of attacks, like bombs.
“Then show a little pep,” Vincent says, punching Zane’s bicep. “You’re about to be back in the field, about to get your hands dirty again. What I wouldn’t give to be a young man with an opportunity like that.”
It will all be over soon. Zane imagines closing his eyes and pulling the trigger, just like before. Then he can collect his paycheck and be on his way, off to start his new life with Penny.
Zane decides to play ball. He forces a smile on his face, and grits his teeth.
“If anyone’s ready to waste that son of a bitch, it’s me,” Zane says.
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