Chapter 05
Sam threw back the thin blanket covering him, and froze when his arm hit something. Or rather, someone. The pain from a slight headache sat right behind his eyes. Memories of what happened last night—what he’d done—flashed through his head. He groaned as he turned to look at the girl sleeping beside him.
Tamara lay there, breathing softly. Her firm breasts, free to the air, rose and fell. Breasts that he’d had in his hands and mouth. He remembered working his way into her, and the grimace on her face at first. Then there were the other looks she’d given him. Looks no girl that age should know. He tore his gaze away from her chest, only to look at her sleeping face instead. Maybe it was the dim lighting in here, but she looked healthier this morning. Her ribs weren’t so prominent, her cheeks seemed a little fuller, and her lips. . . . the things those lips had done last night—No!
Sam turned away from the woman. Some of the things she’d done last night stopped him from seeing her as a girl any longer. Or was that his failing conscience?
As quietly as he could, he dressed, strapped on his running prosthetic, and slipped from the room.
“What have I done?” he muttered to himself as he got into his car. “She’s too young. She’s got to be half my age, damn it!” He hoped she was at least half his age, then she would be eighteen. She claimed she was but she couldn't remember anything other than her first name. He put his car in gear and headed for the beach. He needed to get his mind off his crime.
Only, once at the beach, he kept noticing all the young women sunning themselves, and his mind reverted back to last night, and the feel of Tamara on top of him.
It’s not like you talked her into it, an inner voice chided him. She wanted you.
Sam ran harder, trying to get away from that voice. What he’d done was wrong. Tamara was too young for him. It should never have happened.
But it had. And he’d enjoyed it.
He’d done so well, turning away from her advances, until that bastard cop pulled him over. He usually respected law enforcement, but Officer Jenkins knew how to rub him the wrong way. He still couldn’t believe that the cop had just up and left like that. He must have received some emergency call, pulling him away. Why else leave when the prick cop had a perfect opportunity to needle him some more?
Then Tamara had looked at him, and he couldn’t get the images of her naked out of his mind. He didn’t remember the drive home, but he remembered being the one to kiss her.
Sam tripped over something, and hit the ground hard enough to scrape his hands and cheek. “What the fuck?” he demanded, internally cursing himself for not paying better attention to the path in front of him.
On the ground was a small stick. He’d stepped on it with his false foot. If it would have been his good one, he would have felt it through his shoe, and compensated. Instead, he could see where it had snapped, throwing him off balance, and making it feel like something had tripped him.
“Hey man, you alright?” someone asked him. The man offered him a hand, but Sam waved him off. He wasn’t going to take charity or handouts from anyone. If he couldn’t do it on his own, then it wouldn’t get done.
“I’m fine,” he told the other guy. He tried to sound thankful, but it didn’t come out that way. “I’ve just got to pay more attention,” he added when the man continued to stare at him. “Thank you.”
Before the helpful man could say or do anything, Sam took off again.
He never saw the grinning man, hiding behind the low brick wall that separated the running path from the beach, that had thrown the stick in his path.
Devil's Island Page 7