Kraken kicked off his old, paint-stained boots, unstrapped his belt, and stuck the knife into the bedpost above Ravenna’s head. Her heartbeat echoed its erratic pace in her ears as she yanked the sheet up over her, trying for some barrier before she made a break for it. She had to get away from him.
“Don’t fight it, girly girl. You want this rough? Is that it, my red-haired beauty? You like it rough, is that what you want?” The air around him smelled of old socks and musty garlic, making Ravenna nauseous.
Kraken tried to pull down the sheet from around her, which she held clenched tight in her hands. It came loose. He was strong. His eyes grew wide, admiring her beautifully sculpted body through the opening in her robe. He leaned close, almost touching her.
She closed her eyes and mentally searched the room for a nearby potential weapon—scissors, hammer, nail file, anything to keep him away. Her purse—her eyes blinked wide. On the counter on the other side of the room. If she could only get to it and retrieve her Berretta. His smell overwhelmed her again as he came closer.
Sitting up abruptly, she caught Kraken unaware, and with a clenched fist stabbed his Adams apple with her knuckles, pushing him back. A loud wheezing cough rang out as he grabbed his throat with both hands, unable to speak.
“Get off of me,” she screamed at him. She was ready for a fight, dropping the sheet around her, making her move. Enough of this jerk, she thought and sprinted for her purse but tripped over the excess fabric of the sheet and her robe that pooled around her ankles. Ravenna landed hard on the tiled floor. Kraken wasted no time grappling to get on top of her, even though he was still unable to speak, capable of making only screeching, rasping noises.
It was then they both heard the loud, metallic tapping noise on the red tiled floor behind them.
Cold steel pressed hard into the side of Kraken’s skull. He turned, not knowing what it was that took him away from his delicious mission and came face–to-face with a double-barreled shotgun.
The barrels were pinned against his face.
“I can’t miss at this close a range, my friend,” Trevor said in a strong calm voice Ravenna had never heard before.
He placed the shotgun under Kraken’s chin and slowly moved him away from Ravenna until he had backed him up against the wall. They were face–to-face as Trevor leaned against the wall, holding the awesome weapon in his hands. His hands were steady, his eyes never leaving the young Albanian.
“This close, it will cut your head clean off. Do you want to die like that? Huh?”
Kraken was speechless and just stood there, not sure of what to do. This man was a lunatic; his eyes glowered as Kraken stared into them and nothing else.
“Well, do you?” Trevor demanded, his loud voice bouncing off the walls of Ravenna’s small apartment. He pressed the barrels of the shotgun hard into Kraken’s head.
Kraken was lost for words and could only shake his head while trying to swallow.
“Do you understand me, you little piece of shit?”
The Albanian swallowed hard but could only manage a weak, “Yes,” in response.
“Ravenna, call the police.”
Crimes on the island did not happen often, but the old cop Roberto came quickly. He was dressed in civilian clothes, sporting a gold police shield pinned to his shirt. He handcuffed Kraken and took everyone’s statement for the record before taking him away.
“Are you okay?” Trevor asked her afterward, his arm encircling her.
“Yes, I’m fine. That little creep. He surprised me and at first I was scared. Then I said, this little punk needs to be taught a lesson. Then I fell and really felt stupid. Dumb. Thanks, Trev, you’re my hero.”
“I heard some voices and well… I’m just glad that you’re okay, that’s all.”
She kissed his forehead, saying, “Thanks again.”
“Goodnight,” he said, as he moved a long strand of red hair away from her face and kissed her hand, then her forehead, then headed toward her lips.
She pulled back, quivering. “Don’t, Trev. Please don’t.”
He looked at her with his caring eyes, so vulnerable before him. Time to leave. Say goodnight.
“Goodnight, Ravenna. That creep won’t be back. Holler if you need me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Trev.”
The next morning at breakfast, over British tea and crumpets, they sat outside on the terrace watching a large yacht sailing past the island far out in the Aegean sea.
“Tell me about this Yank. He must have made some impression on you.”
This was the old Trevor. Ravenna smiled at him. She always liked his direct, no-nonsense approach. Trevor and she were friends, good friends. He would have liked their friendship to go much deeper, but Ravenna always held her heart at bay, secluded and safe from harm.
“I have known him since we were young. We grew up together as kids in St. Louis and I fell in love with him the moment I first saw him. Then, when I was a teenager, my parents died in an accident and I moved back to Ireland. I could never get him out of my mind. Years later I happened to see a newspaper article about him and his firm winning an award and called his office. It was then someone in his office told me he died in an accident. I was devastated.”
“Is that when you came here?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“And all this time I thought you came here because of my charm and sales pitch.”
She laughed softly but didn’t say anything for a moment before she continued, “Then he shows up here, at the hotel. He got off on the wrong island. Fate. Go figure. I fainted when I first saw him here in the hotel.” Ravenna massaged the bruise on the back of her head, chuckling to herself. “Just like him to show up here out of the blue.”
“So what happened? Obliviously he wasn’t dead.”
“No, he wasn’t. He was very much alive.”
“Is he married?”
“No. He was, but his wife and daughter died in a tragic accident in Paris three years ago. He is still grieving from their deaths. We became close again. It was as if the last twenty-eight years had never happened. We just picked up where we left off.”
“So, what is stopping you two from getting together?”
“He’s on his way to Australia for work. He’ll be there for the next two months, and…”
“Ravenna,” he said, shaking her by her shoulders, pulling her close, “if you love him, don’t let him get away. Do you hear me? Do you hear what I am saying to you? I let that happen to me once and I never forgave myself.”
“Trev, it’s more complicated than that. There are a lot of other things to consider.”
“Wait a minute! I hope you are not using me as an excuse for not going after him?”
“Ahh… No, not at all. I just need some time.”
“Ravenna,” he grabbed his cane and walked away from her, saying, “for someone as smart as you, to pull such a dumb stunt, well, I just can’t believe it. My vote would be to get the hell out of here and go find that lucky Yank. I can take care of myself.”
She was silent. Neither one of them ever brought the subject up again. She heard what he said, but she knew he would need her help and support as he became weaker and could not care for himself.
In the weeks and months that followed, Trevor and Ravenna eventually settled into their timeless routine on the picturesque island. She could tell as the days and weeks went by that he was growing weaker. The tremors and shakes became worse, and it was more and more difficult for him to lift anything; even something as small as a tea cup gave him problems. He needed her care now more than at any other time.
She cursed herself for letting him persuade her to stay on the island and not go with him to England. She should have known better and she should have overridden his objections. Damn him. He was so much weaker now.
Day-to-day tasks made him wince in pain, but he would take his medicine and try to work through the pain. Soon, even the potent pills did little to help.
He was confined to a wheelchair full time, and his pride made him fight her when he could no longer bathe himself. Eventually, his protests became weaker, too. They talked and laughed constantly or at least whenever they could, as friends rather than as doctor and patient.
While she was angry at Trevor for leaving to go to England, Ravenna was glad she’d made the decision to stay, because if she had not, she never would have seen Jack again. She missed him terribly.