I FOUND SOME PAJAMAS in my battered suitcase which now lay open on a chair near the bed. I had no idea what was in the concoction she’d left on the nightstand, but it must have worked. I was asleep almost before my head hit the pillow. I was woken suddenly by another crash outside the house and was relieved to find her curled up beside me, sound asleep. It was still dark outside, and I tried not to move, but it wasn’t long before she stirred and nuzzled a little closer.
Murmuring “This is nice,” she pressed her backside against me and moved still closer. I was obviously aroused, and she rolled over to face me. We kissed and she wrapped her legs around my waist. Unfortunately, the grip of her legs resulted in excruciating pain to my bruised ribs. I couldn’t help a little gasp, and still worse, I went limp.
I felt the creeping flush of embarrassment, but she shook her head and put two fingers over my mouth. Before I could say a word, she curled up next to me, and we were both soon fast asleep.
I woke slowly the next morning, stretching like a cat, reaching out for her, quickly aware of her absence. I threw some water on my face and rushed into the kitchen, immensely relieved to find her at the stove frying sausage.
I watched her from the doorway for a few seconds, but she heard me, turned, and smiled. “Why don’t you take a shower and get dressed while I finish up here. Be sure to use the special soap I left out for you. Mosquitos tend to swarm after a storm; they’ve been known to carry off a polecat. I’ll rewrap your ribs after breakfast.”
The warm water streaming over my sore body felt terrific, but I showered and dressed quickly, glad to find I’d managed to stuff jeans and a golf shirt in my suitcase.
The storm was still raging, its furor an ever-present reminder of the protection it provided. I almost wished it could last forever.
When I returned to the kitchen, she was sitting at the table sipping from a mug of coffee. She motioned me to sit down and said, “I feel like I owe you an explanation.”
I pulled out the chair across from her and took a second mug from her outstretched hand.
“You don’t owe me anything,” I said. “I should be the one…”
“Please,” she interrupted. “Let me explain.”
I nodded. She was clearly bothered about something.
“After you went to bed, the eye of the storm came through. For a few minutes the Wi-Fi was up and running, and I could see that your message had been sent. I hope Stella gets it in time, but even if she does, I figure it’s better than even odds that both you and I will be dead in the next day or so. They’re after you, but they can’t let me live. I’m a witness—collateral damage.
“I thought what the hell. I’ve been attracted to this man since the moment we met. If I was going to die in a matter of days, why wait? I mean, you can’t take your regrets with you. I crawled into bed with every intention of having my way.
“But I forgot I’d given you an extra dose of medicine—you were sound asleep. I curled up beside you, hoping you’d wake up, but you didn’t move a muscle. I could almost hear the Fates laughing. I have to say, even asleep you were an excellent bed partner. I slept like a baby.
“I hope you don’t think less of me,” she said without a hint of a smile. “Anyway, I felt I owed you an explanation. And if you still want to have dinner in New Orleans, the answer is still ‘yes’.”
She came around the table, gave me a quick kiss, then turned to pull a tray of biscuits out of the oven. She’d pushed the sausage to the edge of the pan, and I watched as she carefully dropped eggs into the middle of the sizzling skillet.
No mention of my ribs or anything else that had happened. Maybe I had dreamed it, but I didn’t think so. Damn the Fates. I fumbled for a response but might as well have been talking to a wall. There wasn’t much I could say, so I let it go.
Breakfast is my favorite meal, and this one did not disappoint—country sausage, fried eggs, and biscuits already slathered in butter, waiting for strawberry jam. We both ate quickly, and I volunteered to do the dishes while she checked on her lab again. About the time I had returned the last dish to the cabinet, the house began to shake, and I heard what I thought must be a train, or maybe an earthquake. I braced for whatever was coming, but it was over almost before I could move.
“That was close—not a direct hit, thank goodness! I’ve made the lab as secure as I can, so let me wrap your ribs one more time. We need to be ready to leave as soon as the storm lets up—your ‘friends’ will surely be on their way, and it wouldn’t hurt for us to get a decent head start.”
She was all business wrapping my rib cage, but when she began to massage the soothing cream into my bruises I couldn’t resist, pulling her close with every intention of completing what I had failed to accomplish the night before. She didn’t resist, and we fell back on the bed, mouths meeting and hands exploring. Her clothes slipped off easily, and I had just pulled her to me when the screech of a very loud alarm tore through the room.
I looked around wildly, but the noise stopped almost as quickly as it had begun. What now, I wondered—another tornado?
Abby was trying unsuccessfully not to laugh. She gave me a sweet kiss, then jumped up and grabbed her clothes. “Don’t worry—it’s just my alarm system. They’re putting their boats in the water. The alarm is linked to the sensor closest to the sheriff’s boathouse. Looks like they’re going to brave the tail of the storm and try to get here before we slip away. I’ll be right back.”
She pulled her clothes on and was gone before I could say a word. I found my own clothes and dressed quickly, muttering a few choice words about timing and the ever-laughing Fates.
When she returned, she had pulled a poncho over her clothes and wore a pair of surgical gloves. She thrust a second set in my direction, and I threw the poncho over my head.
“I need you to sit on the front of the boat—watch for logs and keep us out of trouble. We need to be as quiet as possible until we hear them, so I’ll keep us real slow. Make sure you wear the gloves, too. We can’t go very fast anyway, too many trees down and lots of debris in the channels. I know the way to Cary’s like the back of my hand, but nothing will look the same after this storm. At least it will be just as tough for Mitch and Ted.”
She lowered the boat into the water, and we both climbed in. She handed me a long pole with a gaff on the end and motioned me toward the bow. The water was choppy, and the rain made it all but impossible to see. I found a rope tied to one of the cleats and wrapped it around my left hand a few times, determined not to fall, either inside the boat or into the water. She laughed and we slid out into the bayou. I wondered why I needed the gloves, but figured she knew what she was doing.
“Be careful,” she hissed. “Gators are hungry after a storm.”
“Great. Not only do I have to worry about running into a log, but I’m also supposed to watch for gators. Next thing, you’ll tell me snakes will be crawling into the boat. I hate snakes.”
“Oh, snakes are the least of your worries. After a hurricane, flesh eating bacteria multiply like wildfire. It’s one of the phenomena I study. That’s why we’re wearing gloves. Try to keep your hands out of the water.”
Here I was worried about a bunch of thugs coming to kill me, when I should be worrying about flesh-eating bacteria?
I managed to shove away the various stray logs and branches lying in our path as we crept forward. Once I shoved a form that wasn’t a log. It quickly rolled over and swam under the boat toward shore. I took a deep breath, but said nothing, hoping we both would live to tell our tale. We were making slow but steady progress when we heard motorboats approaching the house. Abby quickly revved up the motor and shouted, “Hang on.”
Suddenly a bright flash of light appeared, followed by a large boom. I could hear Abby’s voice coming through a loudspeaker.
“You are trespassing on private property! Leave immediately or suffer the consequences!”
The sound of Abby’s voice faded as we sped away from the house. I wished I could have seen and heard the reactions of the guys on the boats.
“I told you I set traps set for anybody who comes to my house without permission,” she shouted. “If they’re stupid enough to keep going toward the house, they’ll learn I’m not joking. It won’t be long before those boats are full of holes, and they’ll be running from hungry gators.” I could hear her giggle over the motor.
We didn’t hear anything more coming from the house, but the steady hum of an engine, increasing to a dull roar, made it clear the motorboats were headed in our direction. Abby pushed the engine to its maximum. I could hardly see a thing—Abby clearly had better eyesight. The boat swerved every which way without warning. Only after we had passed an obstruction in the water did I see the danger.
The drone of the other boats was constant. They didn’t seem to be getting closer or farther away. It was if they knew where we were going. Had they hacked the email Abby had sent Stella? If that were true, we were headed into a trap, a trap I had set.
How to protect Abby? Should I tell her to drop me off somewhere in the swamp and send her back to her house? That wouldn’t work, and I knew it. My mind was racing, but it was going in circles, getting nowhere.
We continued to make progress toward our destination, the other boats following at a safe distance. Our only hope was to go aground and seek some form of shelter. Or maybe, just maybe, Clovis had seen the message.
Abby didn’t look even vaguely worried as she guided her boat through the swamp. The sun was beginning to peek through the trees, but she remained concentrated on dodging debris and on what now appeared to be a dock in the distance.
It wasn’t long before I could read the sign—Cary’s Landing.
Abby made a beeline to the pier. Surely she was aware that our followers were closing the gap. I saw the figure of a lone man at the end of the pier. He was wearing army fatigues, and he certainly wasn’t the size or shape of Clovis.