July 13
"I hope you don't mind meeting me so early in the morning, rachel," I said, as I passed her the Krispy Kremes. "I'm on a new case. And I'm supposed to be in the office at nine o'clock sharp."
"I don't mind. Which one's cream-filled?"
I pointed. She wolfed. Rachel is my beautiful, effervescent, clear-skinned, sixteen-year-old niece, who is good for a smile even at this godawful time of the morning. How I loved her. She was the only real family I had now, but there was a lot more to it than that. Everyone who knew her loved her. I certainly did. Which was why I finally abandoned the custody battle and left her in foster care.
She licked a dollop of cream out of the center with a quick flick of her tongue, an Ingrid Bergmanesque-move, if Ingrid Bergman had been as lovely as my niece. "I get up this early every morning anyway. Basketball practice."
"Ah. Of course."
"City league. I was on the school team before, but since it turned out I wasn't half bad, I thought-why not?"
That was my girl. Well, David's late brother's girl, but still. Mine. Initially I had been hostile to the idea of her playing basketball, not to mention joining a youth group and a church group and everything else that was her foster parents' idea and not mine. But they had worked wonders with her. They were sweet old folks, straight shooters. Honest as the day is long. Boring as hell. But you could see where there might be some value in that, when you're raising a teenage girl.
"So," I said, as I started my second coffee. I know, I shouldn't, but cut me some slack-it's my last remaining addictive substance to abuse. "Anything new in little Rachel's life?"
"Not really." Her head turned down, her face shrouded by her gorgeous auburn hair. "I mean, nothing important. Nothing worth, you know, nothing-"
I decided to put her out of her misery. In a little singsong voice, I said, "Ra…chel's got…a boy…friend…"
"I do not!"
"Do so."
"Do not. Not really."
"Meaning, Rachel wants a boyfriend?"
"No! Ugh! I mean, okay, not ugh, but, you know, yuck."
Fortunately, I speak fluent teenager. "So there is a guy and you like him but you're not sure if he likes you yet."
She stared back at me. "You know, you're really amazing."
"Well, I am a trained psychologist. So is this that-what was his name-the skateboard guy?"
"Bobby? Oh, God no. He is so yesterday."
"Just as well." I smiled and snarfed the last cruller. "Look, Rach, if you really like the guy, just tell him."
"Easy for you to say. What about you? Have you been out on a date lately?"
"No. But Amelia and I have been running around some. Keeps me off the streets. Look, I'd better get you back to the Johnsons."
"There's no rush."
"Rachel, it took that man three months to trust me enough to let me take you out of his sight. I'm not going to blow it now by being late."
"I know. But-" She hesitated, and this time I really didn't know what was on her mind. "I-I wanted to give you something."
"Unless I've really lost track of time, it's not my birthday."
"No, I meant-" She swallowed hard, then plopped it down on the table. "I saved this when Lisa moved you out of your apartment, while you were in the clinic. It's-"
"I know what it is." No explanation required. I carried the thing around for almost nine years, till I started getting so drunk every day I forgot to put it in my pocket. It was a good luck charm, a tiny four-leaf clover, a real one, encased in translucent acrylic.
"Guess I used up all the luck it had for me," David said, while he was lying in a hospital bed in the recovery room. "Why don't you take it? Maybe it'll still work for you." And it did, a least for a little while. I got David.
David's father was not pleased. Not about David giving away the charm he'd given his son when he was twelve or, for that matter, anything else. Or more specifically, anything relating to his son and me being together. I could see where David's father might be overprotective-he'd already lost one son, Rachel's father. So when David was wounded during a 405 pursuit-armed robber, gunshot to the upper thorax-his father went on twenty-four-hour orange alert.
"I guess I haven't been shy about my thoughts regarding this relationship," his father had said.
"That's all right," I replied, lying through my teeth. "I think it's best to be up front with each other."
"Well, I've done some checking up on you, miss. And most of what I've learned I haven't liked. You're not exactly…"
"Donna Reed?"
He took it in stride. "The image of what a man sought in a woman when I was courting." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "David is very vulnerable right now. He needs someone who can look after him. He needs a woman who really cares about him."
"I would not lie about this," I said, looking his father straight in the eye. "I love your son. More than I've ever loved anyone in my entire life."
He met my gaze for a long, long time, then finally nodded. "Take care of my boy, Susan."
Light filled my eyes, and I felt them watering of their own accord. "I'm so sorry," I said, not even realizing I was speaking aloud. "I'm sorry I let you down."
"What?" Rachel said. "What are you talking about? You've never let me down in your entire life."
I blinked, then dragged myself back to the present. "Sorry. Daydreaming. That good luck charm-"
"See, that's why I kept it for so long. I was afraid if I gave it to you, it would just bring back memories…that maybe it was better you forgot."
"No, you did the right thing. This is a treasure. This…will always be a treasure to me." I clutched it tightly in my hand. "Thanks, Rach. You're a hell of a girl."
"Susan, if you start swearing, Mr. Johnson will revoke your visitation rights."
"Good thing you know how to keep a secret." I gave her a squeeze on the shoulder. "Get in the car, you squirt. I've got work to do."
Lady Danielle had to move quickly, before her captors returned to the ship and discovered that she had escaped. This was the pirates' first chance to go ashore for months, and they jumped at it, the whole scurvy lot of them. They were certain to take advantage of the pleasures to be had: the grog, the gaming, and the lusty wenches all too ready to serve. But she couldn't count on them all staying gone, not for long. Captain Longsword knew he was carrying valuable and potentially dangerous cargo. He wouldn't be absent any longer than necessary. Once he'd paid for the necessary supplies, he'd likely return in the first transport that rowed out from the shore. Which made it all the more important that she hurry. It was not easy, maneuvering through the hatches of a ship, up and down ladders, through the narrow passageways, all while wearing a full petticoat. But she had to discover where they had imprisoned Mason. Before it was too late.
"I don't have time for modesty," she muttered, as she loosened the fastener and slithered out of the petticoat, leaving herself in a tight laced bodice and white frilly bloomers. Now she was able to move quickly. She brushed her golden curls behind her shoulders and threw open the door to the captain's private quarters Mason was hanging from two chains suspended from the ceiling, his head bowed. Was he asleep, unconscious? Or worse? He was naked from the waist up, his muscled hairy chest marred by the scars from his recent flogging. (Once again, Mason's pride had interfered with his judgment.) She should have realized he would be in here. Longsword wouldn't risk having him anywhere else. Plus, this gave the vile captain the opportunity to torment him all day long if he liked. To eat like a pig right under Mason's nose, when he had been given nothing but stale biscuit and water for days. To luxuriate in his plushly appointed quarters-the end result of his ill-gotten gains-while Mason hung like a slab of meat in constant agony.
The sound of the door closing brought his head upright. "Lady Danielle?"
"It is I."
His face reddened. At first, she thought it must be from the pain, but then she realized-"I hope you will forgive my indecent appearance. Female attire is not well-suited for pirate vessels."
"Indeed not," he said, nobly averting his eyes. "But-you should not be here, my lady. If the pirates return-"
"I could not leave you at their mercy."
"My lady, I am but a humble stable boy. Unworthy of your notice, much less-"
"You saved my life. You defended my honor when Longsword threatened to make me his by force. I will not leave you in your time of need."
Mason's chin rose. "He keeps the key to the chains in that desk drawer."
Lady Danielle found them. The lock was old and rusted and turning it required great effort. To get at the lock, she was required to stand on a chair and lean against Mason, her bodice pressed forward. They were both all too aware of the physical contact. Her breathing accelerated. His chest heaved.
At long last she managed to spring the lock. Mason fell to the deck, but quickly righted himself. He stretched and massaged his arms, flexing his magnificent muscles, slowly restoring his circulation. She stepped down from the chair. They were still very close to each other.
"My lady…I do not know how I could ever repay this kindness."
"By staying alive. By…by…"
An instant later, their lips were pressed tightly together. He wrapped his strong arms around her in a tight embrace.
"My lady," he repeated, as he lavished kisses up and down the side of her neck, "this is wrong. If your family learned-"
"Family be damned," she said, seizing the waist of his trousers and all but tearing them loose. "Perhaps I have lost all reason, but my heart is in-flamed and I cannot resist you. From the moment you were brought on this boat, I've done nothing but think about you, dream of being with you. And I am a woman accustomed to getting what she wants." Once his pants were gone, she removed her own remaining clothing with intense speed. They stood naked before each other, their hands in erotic exploration, their kisses reaching a violent intensity.
"But the pirates," Mason said, even as he maneuvered her toward the captain's bed. "They could return-"
"Not before the sea change. This is our time, Mason. Time for you to give me what I have craved all these long, lonely days at sea. My heart aches with desire for your throbbing manhood-hey, wait a minute!"
A face appeared from behind the camera. "Problem, Danny?"
"Yeah. Where's his throbbing manhood?"
Everyone on the set broke up. Everyone, that is, except the actor playing Mason.
"What do you think we pay you studs for, anyway?" Danny said, removing her wig. It itched and after too much exposure to the klieg lights, it started to smell. "The Vegas standard for studdom is definitely declining."
"Cut me some slack. It was a long scene. And this is the third take."
"Yeah, yeah. Excuses, excuses. Where's the fluffer?"
"Right here." A young woman in a pink halter top stepped forward. In the adult film business, it was the fluffer's job to keep the male studs looking studly. Take after take.
The man behind the camera pointed at his watch. "It's almost quitting time, Danny."
"Not till we get this scene in the can. Then the boys can set up for the captain's bed/bondage scene and we can start fresh on that first thing in the morning."
"As you wish, my lady," he said, grinning. "And you still want Mason to be the one who gets tied up? Usually it's the other way around."
She smiled as Gina, her personal aide, handed her a robe and a cup of Yorkshire Gold, her favorite hot tea. "Not in my movies."