

To the Reader:

Bliss Haven is a fictional island, tucked at the edge of the Caribbean waters of the Bahamas. It is made up of five major parishes: Crystal Bay, Governor's Creek, St. Rose's Garden, St. George's Close and St. Elmo's Valley. The latter two are considered to be the poorest of the five. The island is small with a populace of approximately seven thousand people. It is well-known for its dainty infrastructures – where sensational stories seem to thrive. The books in this series are centered on the Beaufort family and the people with whom they interact.

### SHATTERED DREAMS

(Behind Closed Doors Series – Book 1)

### H. H. Fowler

Smashwords Edition

Copyright© 2014 by H.H. Fowler

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

All characters, names, descriptions, and traits are products of the author's imagination. Similarities to actual people – living or dead – are purely coincidental.

### Other Books by H. H. Fowler

The Church Boyz' Series

Rod of the Wicked – Book 1

When Things Go Wrong – Book 2

My Last Cry – Book 3

The Church Gurlz' Series

Mother's Black Book – Book 1

In the Presence of My Enemy – Book 2

The Aftermath – Book 3

Behind Closed Door Series

Shattered Dreams – Book 1

Poison Candy – Book 2

Stand Alone Titles

Javier

Jezebel's Apple

The Devil Made Me Do It (Short Story)

Connect with H.H. Fowler on Twitter:

@fowlerguy1

Website: www.hhfowler.com

Blog: www.churchboyz.org

www.facebook.com/www.churchboyz.org

And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them. For it is a shame even to speak of those things which are done of them in secret.

– _Ephesian 5:11-12_

### Prologue

_Three Years Prior_ ...

A frightening echo followed after the metallic doors slammed shut. A woman's heels could be heard coming down the pitch-black hall toward a single stage light extending from the ceiling. Straight ahead, a nineteen-year-old male had been brutally shoved to his knees, eyes carefully concealed with a strip of cloth. A makeshift casket had been rolled in front of him, where a dozen hooded men stood in a semicircle in black monk-like robes. They were men with varying degrees of influence and had been assigned to conduct an initiation.

The woman brought her steps to a halt within two feet behind the young male. She was simply called Ms. V by her inner circle – a name synonymous with sex, wealth and power. She was a former porn star who'd turned businesswoman in the hidden world of sensual entertainment. A ruthless matchmaker whose expertise had eventually catapulted her to the rank of guardian over the organization's assets in the Caribbean hemisphere. In public, her cover as bank manager of Bliss Community Bank had been sealed tight for almost twenty years.

"As Christ has given His life for the ransom of men," she droned in her monotone voice, "let us take note of His example..." She took a gold goblet, which was in the shape of a human skull from one of the hooded brethren. Attired also in a black, flowing robe, her hood was cherry red as opposed to the full black the men were wearing. Her ethereal appearance made it seem as if she had appeared from another planet. "A worthy sacrifice of the holiest and of the purest and of the most divine order. His blood and His body were given as a reminder of His unconditional love for the human race."

She continued, "Likewise, we, the _House of gods_ , are inclined to follow this most holy pattern of commitment." She reached forth and traced the young man's ear with one of her long, well-polished fingernails – which just hours before she had used to seduce him on a bed of perversion. "May your life be destroyed if after drinking from the cup of the Lord you fail to follow His example."

In unison, the twelve men took a step forward as Ms. V tilted the young man's head back until the spotlight was shining directly in his opened mouth. He was the only male wearing a completely different color robe from the others. From the gold goblet, Ms. V slowly began to pour a red, thick substance down his throat. He gagged, but she continued until the goblet was empty.

"Newcomer!" she announced loudly. "What is your number?"

"Double seven."

"Why double seven?"

"Because Jacob loved Rachel and worked fourteen years to obtain her."

"Who is Rachel?"

"The mother of my brother, Joseph."

"What color are you wearing?"

"Pale."

"Why pale?"

"In the book of Revelation the pale horse represents death and I am in mourning over my brother, Joseph."

"Why?"

"Because he was sold into the hands of the Midianites. His supposed death has shaken his father."

"Where have you come from?"

"From going to and fro throughout the earth...I have no resting place..."

"Why?"

"Because I'm in search of the signs and passwords of the House of gods – the custodians of my people."

"And who are your people?"

"My brother, Joseph and all the Israelites that have come out of Egypt. They entered the promise land of Canaan..."

The eerie address between Ms. V and the young man continued for close to twenty minutes. When it was concluded, two of the hooded men took hold of the makeshift coffin and opened it. In the sign of the cross, they sprinkled fragrance oil on the pillow and then waited for the next command.

"Stand up!" Ms. V shouted at the young man. "Tell me your name."

"Chazz Brunswick."

"No!"

"I'm sorry...Dedicated One."

"Say it with some guts!"

"My name is Dedicated One!"

Ms. V yanked the blindfold from Chazz's eyes and spat, "In submission to the oath that you have taken to the House of gods, you will lay in this casket for one hour as a sign that you have willingly placed your life in our hands. From here on in, you will succeed in whatever your heart desires. But if you wander into the path of Judas Iscariot, this casket will serve as your final resting place. You have now entered into your first dimension..."

At those words, Chazz trembled. But he had been promised the world and there was no looking back. When he took the first step toward the casket – timid as it were – two of the hooded men seized him from behind and hauled him up in the air. Once they had secured Chazz in the casket, his hands were pinned over his chest and then the lid of the casket was slammed shut.

### Chapter One

In the mist of the early morning, Asia Beaufort exited her father's study and made an impulsive move toward the veranda. Last night she had run back to her room and soaked her pillow with tears, but she would not make that mistake again and allow her father to feel as if he had won. The walls in which she lived suffocated any shred of compassion. If she were to maintain her sanity amidst a family who did little to understand her desires, she had to find another outlet of escape. In anger, she looked behind her to make sure her father hadn't followed her to the veranda.

The Alsatians greeted Asia's presence uncomfortably, growling beneath their breath. But one quick sniff of their master's daughter, quelled their ferocious interest. Where Asia stood, facing east of St. Donovan's Chapel, the scene overlooked the luxurious backdrop of Bliss Haven. The Beauforts lived in the affluent parish of Crystal Bay. It was in this canopy of beauty where she and Jorge Bentley shared a few rushed evenings together – hidden in the thicket of her father's property. Jorge was the only boy who understood her pain, and to have him kicked out of her life by her meddlesome father was beyond anything that she could bear.

Just moments ago, Asia had been thrown at her father's feet by two of her father's property attendants. Fifty-one-year-old Gregory Beaufort rose from his antique seat, and with a quick flick of the hand, he immediately dismissed the attendants. He gently pulled Asia to her feet, attempting to reason with her. She was the apple of his eye. News had gotten back to him that a boy from St. Elmo's Valley – which was one of the poorest parishes in Bliss Haven – had been caught with his daughter in the toolshed.

The punishment of such a discovery was worthy of ex-communication, but in comparison to his two other daughters, Gregory loved Asia deeply and did not enjoy punishing her. However, Asia would have no desire to reason with her father. Jorge Bentley was her companion, one whom she planned to marry, and though Jorge was considered underprivileged in appearance, he provided her a stable dose of natural affection. Something she could not find in her house or anywhere else. Her father hadn't any business poking his nose into her love affairs.

Even with the whimpers of the Alsatians distracting her thoughts, Asia could still hear the resonance of her father's words, ripping through her darkened soul.

"... _I've told you one time too many, Asia," her father had spat, pointing his fingers pugnaciously at her. "That uneducated straggler is not a suitable man for you! Have you lost your mind, allowing the maid to catch you two making out in the toolshed? Such a filth of a man to disrespect you in that way! You have disgraced this family in the worst possible way."_

" _Jorge is a decent man," Asia argued. "He would not go that far with me!"_

" _Miss Rose said that you were naked, panting like a bloody dog in heat!"_

" _We did not do anything...I am keeping myself for when he marries me –"_

" _Stay away from him!" her father bellowed. "If I catch you two together again, you will regret every second you've laid your wayward eyes on him!"_

Asia suddenly whipped her head around to the sound of footsteps on the veranda. It was strange that she had even heard the sound, considering how unobtrusive they were. Fearing that it was her father who had followed her, Asia made ready to bolt, but she restrained herself at the last minute. Jorge Bentley made himself visible from the shadows.

"My father will kill you if he sees you." Asia paused in her panic, unable to stomach the fear that her father had created between her and her lover. She swatted her tears away, and hastened to join Jorge at the base of the steps. Once in his arms, she whispered emphatically, "I am yours – no matter what."

Jorge drew her in for a deep kiss, ignoring the danger his presence evoked on the Beaufort property. Unwillingly, he released her and enjoyed the way her onyx eyes danced with desire.

"I am a poor fellow with nothing to offer you," he told Asia. "My last name might be Bentley, but I was born and raised in St. Elmo's Valley –"

"It doesn't matter. Your past or your present condition has nothing to do with your future. You have so much potential, Jorge."

Jorge ran his fingers through Asia's thick curls, loving how she was loving on him. "But still, my love, St. Elmo's Valley is the least respected parish on this island. Your father will never let us get married –"

"Then I will run away with you," Asia said with a defiant tone. "I am nineteen. Old enough to do as I please."

From the start, Jorge had fallen in with Asia's audacity, but he knew it would not hold in the face of the odds that were stacked against them. Boys from St. Elmo's Valley simply did not fare well in the rich coves of Bliss Haven, especially with the gorgeous daughters of Bishop Gregory Beaufort. Their worlds were like night and day, two distinct cultures that Jorge often wondered how they coexisted for so long on such a small island. The poor stuck with their kind (as if they had a choice), as did the wealthy, who constantly tossed their noses in the air at such indigents as him. There were no middle class, per se, because those who were considered middle class were as well-off as their rich bosses.

Again, the Alsatians grew uncomfortable, their attention attuned to the subtle changes in the atmosphere. The September breeze rustled Asia's black tresses, as she met Jorge's dusty pink lips for one final, passionate kiss. However, it was short-lived, as the blast of gunshots ripped near the ground at Jorge's feet. The Alsatians flew into hysterics, their chains rattling madly against the pole they were fastened to.

"My father's silly men!" Asia screamed. "What is it the matter with them?" She pushed Jorge away in an attempt to protect him. "Go, before they catch up with you!"

Laughing at the excitement, Jorge planted a wet smooch on Asia's cheeks. He tucked his straw hat beneath his arm and took off through the lush greenery. It was about ten minutes before the sun would scatter the remnants of the evening shadows. If he safely made it to the main road, he would untie his battered bicycle from the tree and pedal back to St. Elmo's Valley as if he had ditched his senses into a pit.

"After that fool!" one of the men cried. "That scoundrel is trespassing on private property!"

Asia ran a little ways behind the men, attempting to hinder them with her screams. It wasn't long before the commotion stirred the entire house. Miss Rose, a stout maid from another Caribbean island, pulled open the screen door to the veranda. She waddled down the steps to reach for her master's daughter.

"Asia, stop this carryin' about before your daddy comes out!"

"It was you who caused it," Asia countered. "You had no right telling my father about Jorge!"

"I did it 'cause I love yuh," Miss Rose said, never one to mince her words. "Now come...lemme fix yuh a cup of warm cocoa. Your daddy will be upset –"

"I don't care about what my father says! You had no right to tell him anything!"

Asia let her burning tears dash to her cheeks. She folded her arms tight across her breasts, daring Miss Rose to lay a finger on her. Suddenly, two gunshots sounded in the distance, which was followed by an unsettling hush. The Alsatians quelled their barking to sporadic yelps. Asia gasped, in fear of her lover's fate. She looked up and saw her father standing behind the screen door, as if he'd designed the plot of that morning's fiasco. It maddened her that he could just stand there, saying nothing, when she knew exactly what he was thinking. She drew in her breath and walked defiantly toward the veranda.

"If your men have shot Jorge," she said acerbically, "I will kill myself."

### Chapter Two

Dana Beaufort heard the gunshots, but she made no attempt to get out of bed. She had grown immune to the incivilities of her husband and his men. Even if she had intervened, her presence would have only infuriated her husband. She was a thorn in his flesh, an opposing force that seemed to get in the way of how he wanted things to be done. The mere fact that they had slept in separate rooms for the last three years of their marriage, unashamedly revealed her husband's level of disinterest. It was certainly the reason for the cold attitude she dished out to him. However, out of respect for Gregory's position within the Episcopal Church, Dana had kept the charade going.

An hour later, when Dana felt as if the drama of that morning had subsided, she swung her legs out of bed and proceeded with her usual morning preparations, which included a lengthy soak in a Jacuzzi, filled with oatmeal and vanilla suds. Products containing other natural ingredients, such as mango and cucumber were applied as a separate regimen for her facial skin. Continuous use over time had given Dana a radiant, youthful glow. It was hard for strangers to guess that she was forty-nine years of age, because she looked like a woman who was in her mid-thirties.

Initially, Dana had started the regimen as a means to tease Gregory back into the bedroom, but after a period of time passed without any real breakthrough, Dana gradually settled into a routine that was more for her peace of mind than for her husband's desire. Gregory simply did not love her anymore and she wanted to believe that the feeling was mutual. But if the truth be known it would show that Dana still cared a great deal about Gregory. Maybe it was because she was the one responsible for the rift in their relationship that she held on to a marriage that really didn't exist.

For now, her Italian-designed bathroom, with its luxurious red cabinets, provided the perfect escape from her incessant distresses – if only for a fleeting moment of bliss. She exited her bathroom thirty minutes later, and then took the receiver out of its cradle. She dialed Miss Rose's extension at the maid's quarters, giving Miss Rose the same instructions she gave every morning for breakfast, which consisted of green tea with honey, along with porridge and a small bowl of fruit. It kept her immune system in top shape. Twenty minutes on the treadmill kept her muscles toned every day. Dana ground her teeth in ire as she sat on the bed to apply lotion to her legs. She thought, _What a pity that Gregory is letting such a fine package go to waste. How long will he let me suffer for my mistakes?_

In facial beauty and form, the residents of Bliss Haven compared Dana and her three daughters to the famous Kardashian family. Dana was of Caucasian ancestry and of course, as the mother, Dana was compared to Kris Jenner. Dana's youngest daughter, Asia, resembled Kim Kardashian, while Asia's sisters, Dallis and Candi, resembled Khloe and Kourtney Kardashian respectively. Their long, black tresses and onyx eyes were distinct features that drew attention from men and women alike. Their hips swayed with natural ease – almost too sensual for women living in the Bishop's lair. Gregory was a handsome, African American man with pecan-colored skin, but all three of his daughters had inherited their mother's, smooth creamy complexion.

Dana slipped into a form-fitting dress and stood in the mirror to admire herself. Soon, she would have to face her husband and the mess that he had created earlier that morning. Dana and Gregory argued fervently over their daughter's choice in men. If Asia wanted to destroy her life by getting involved with a dirty little pauper, Dana did not see why Gregory was throwing such a fit about it. Asia was nineteen, quite old enough to handle heartbreak. When that poor boy died of starvation, she would come to her senses soon enough. Asia would understand clearly that oil and water simply did not mix.

Dana certainly did not approve of Asia's affiliation with Jorge, but she was not going to get bent out of shape about it, enlisting men to frighten the boy off the property with guns. There were other sensible ways to deal with situations like that. As Dana began to work her slender feet into a pair of Casadei heels, Miss Rose gave several raps on Dana's bedroom door.

"Please, enter, Miss Rose," Dana called in a gentle voice. "I need your help with this dress anyway."

Miss Rose did as instructed, balancing a tray using the palm of her hand. Her stout figure always made Dana feel as if Miss Rose was secretly eating more food than her share.

"Oooh, Mrs. Beaufort, you lookin' nice," the maid gushed. Her hair was divided into eight thick plaits. She rested the tray on the dresser and placed her hands akimbo. "Goin' somewhere special, eh?"

"Don't I always look nice, Miss Rose?" Dana teased. "Here, zip me up."

"Of course, yuh always lookin' nice." Rose stood back and admired her boss with reverence. She then gave a small sigh. "I should get me a facelift."

Dana laughed.

"I'm serious, boss lady. No woman in her forties should be lookin' so young."

"Miss Rose, with all of this sweet talk, I supposed you want me to ask my husband to give you a raise."

Miss Rose slapped her thighs in glee. "Don't think nothin' of it, boss lady! I've never been happier where I am in all of my life. Oh, before I forget...Dallis said that she would be leavin' early for the rest of the week. Somethin' 'bout a huge competition comin' up at the swim complex. She needs to practice."

"Oh, well. I know what that means," Dana said. "We won't see her at all until next week some time. Dallis is very committed to that sport."

"Yuh tellin' me? She is a faithful soul, isn't she not, yes?"

Dana turned to face the maid, tickled by her heavy accent and poor use of grammar. Miss Rose had been with the family since Asia was two years old. She was surrounded by persons with superb intellects. Yet, in all of that time, Dana was amazed that Miss Rose hadn't improved the way she formulated her sentences. However, Dana would have Miss Rose to be no other way. She was a breath of fresh air to the madness in Bliss Haven.

"I was thinkin'," Miss Rose said, concern appearing in her expression. "You should talk to your other daughter, Asia. Her upset 'bout what happen this mornin'."

"I heard the gunshots," Dana said pragmatically. "If my husband doesn't control his resentment, he could soon end up behind bars with no one to blame but himself. But of course, I will have a talk with Asia."

"Asia loves that boy bad bad bad bad bad!" Miss Rose exclaimed. "I fear she gon' get into plenty problems. She mad wit' her daddy and she mad wit' me."

"You did the right thing, Miss Rose," Dana consoled. "Asia hadn't any business being in the toolshed with that boy. Don't worry. I know how to handle my daughter." Dana edged the bed with her buttocks. She lifted the mug of green tea to her freshly painted lips. Before taking a sip, she instructed the maid, "I'm going to take fifteen minutes to eat this food. Make sure Asia is dressed appropriately. We are going out for a drive."

Miss Rose smacked her thighs again, tossing Dana a knowing look. "I knew yuh had a plan, boss lady!" That big grin, however, was soon replaced by two, puckered brows. "But she not gon' listen to me."

"Simply inform Asia that I will be downstairs, waiting for her. No classes for her today. We are going to spend the entire day together. I have two clients interested in some of my paintings, so I will spend a few hours at the gallery and then Asia and I will spend the rest of it in St. Elmo's Valley."

Miss Rose's eyes widened with shock as the brazenness of Dana's actions turned her stomach upside down. Gregory wanted Asia to stay as far away from St. Elmo's Valley as possible. _Wrong move, boss lady. Mr. Beaufort is gon' be real mad wit' you_. Miss Rose spun her stout frame around and without adding another word, peeled out of the room as fast as her stubby legs could carry her.

### Chapter Three

" _Good morning, Bliss Haven," boomed the radio announcer. "This is yours truly, Hartlin Bodie, on 91.2 FM, where we bring you nothing but the freshest, and the funkiest gospel sounds here in the Caribbean and in Miami, Florida. Here today in the studio with me, is a very astute man who has been advocating for Christians to become educated about some of the secret things going on in the Christian church...His name is Reverend Frank Dubbin and for some time now, he has been talking about something known as the 'mystical realm of secret societies' within the ecclesiastical arena. Reverend Dubbin, the microphone is yours. Please, explain to our listening audience what is meant by this 'mystical realm'."_

Only out of sheer curiosity, Gregory turned up the volume. Frank Dubbin had been causing a stir among the Pentecostal Charismatics, complaining that they were too lackadaisical in their approach to contending for the faith of Jesus Christ. Their spiritual discernment had been swallowed up by their voracious lust to maintain their massive congregations and plush lifestyles.

" _I want to begin by quoting Ephesians 5:11," Dubbin began steadily._ **"'And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them. For it is a shame even to speak of those things which are done of them in secret'**. _Let me pause here to ask a question. Who is the scripture speaking about? I believe it is for those who profess Christianity, but are refusing to let go of the ungodly systems of the world. Christians must guard against an unwholesome interest in the works of darkness. Know that you will be exposed. Our Lord said in Matthew 6:24, 'No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other...You cannot serve God and mammon'._

" _Ephesian 5:11 can also be applied to those Christians who have taken part in any of the modern-day secret society organizations and feel justified that they have done nothing wrong. This scripture is speaking to you."_

" _Reverend," Hartlin interrupted. "Are you saying that all secret societies are evil or are trying to carry out some diabolic agenda against humanity?"_

" _That is exactly what I'm saying. The word 'secret' has a strong connotation, which alludes to the fact that certain information is carefully concealed from the general public. Now, when you add cryptic teaching, secret decrees, rituals and oaths, what now has been created is a demonic cult of great manipulation and deception. As it relates to the church, many of these cults have subtly wormed their way onto God's holy pews. More specifically, many of God's leaders have exchanged the truth of God for a lie. Their desire for Babylon is greater than the desire for the kingdom of God. In essence, they have joined the banquet at the enemy's table. Something is wrong with that picture..."_

Gregory turned down the volume as he swung the Jeep Wrangler in the short-term parking zone of the Bliss Haven Airport. He would catch up with Frank Dubbin at another time – or maybe not. He was too controversial for Gregory's taste. But if Gregory was honest with himself, it would reveal that Dubbin's words had rattled his nerves beyond what he was willing to admit. As a bishop, he may have done some things he shouldn't have done, like every Christian who had fallen short of God's law, but Gregory had long settled within himself the issue of guilt. What he had done could be justified and he was not going to beat himself up about it.

He stepped out of the Wrangler, pushed two quarters in the meter's slot and then headed toward the waiting area. He was there to pick up a young man from the United States whom he'd hired to fill the youth minister position. His search ended rather quickly, as the young man was standing outside having a very vigorous conversation with a taxi driver. Just like that his fifty cents went down the drain.

"Welcome to Bliss Haven, my friend!" Gregory interrupted. He opened his arms and pulled the new youth minister from the United States into a tight hug. "I'm pleased to finally meet you in person."

Izaiah Cahoon absorbed the embrace as if he'd known Gregory all his life, when in fact, he'd just met Gregory over the telephone a few days ago. Through professional online enquiries, Izaiah had applied for a job opening at the St. Donovan's Chapel, and amazingly, after just a twenty-minute interview with Gregory over the telephone, Izaiah was hired – effective immediately. He was then flown in to the small island, his expenses paid for by the church.

Gregory took Izaiah's luggage and loaded it into the trunk of the Wrangler. In no time, the two men were on their way out of the airport. The island of Bliss Haven was only fifteen miles long by ten miles wide, but what it lacked in size, was more than made up for in its lavishly adorned natural beauty. As far as Izaiah's eyes could see, Indian Date Palm trees lined the freshly paved asphalt. Lush, green grass decorated the backdrop, manicured into the shape of huge perfect squares. Many of the buildings were historic, but Izaiah could tell that they were carefully maintained.

He looked up, loving the crystal blue skies, which seemed to connect impeccably with the white sands and the aquamarine waters. With the ocean breeze whipping against his face, Izaiah felt as if he had come to vacation and not to do the Lord's work. Gregory watched Izaiah through his peripheral view, thoroughly pleased with the young man's handsome appearance. From the moment he'd seen Izaiah's picture in his email, Gregory knew right away that Izaiah was the right man for the job. His daughter, Asia would not be able to resist him.

"You look much younger than your photo suggests," he said to Izaiah.

Izaiah grinned, showing off the dimple in his left cheek, "I get that a lot," he said. "But I assure you that I am twenty-five. That's why I grew a moustache and a beard. I was tired of being mistaken for my younger brother, who is in his final year of high school."

"I am not concerned about how young you look," Gregory said. "I was impressed with your dossier in youth ministry. The youth department of St. Donovan's chapel is in dire need of a facelift. The majority of the young folks on this island don't attend church."

"What is the population of Bliss Haven?"

"Some seven thousand, maybe. About half of the residents are under the age of thirty-five. But who really knows? With the fast-growing population of illegal immigrants, we could have about ten thousand people on this island."

"Which is very minute compared to where I come from in Los Angeles," Izaiah said.

"But it does not negate the fact that the island is becoming infested with a breed of uneducated heathens!"

Izaiah gave a nervous glance at Gregory's acerbic tone. "You're implying that I have my work cut out for me?"

"I'm not implying anything," Gregory said. "But know this, St. Donovan has an academy of churches around the world. The plug will be pulled on those that don't perform well. Over twenty years ago, my family and I were stationed here from Wisconsin. I was an up and coming preacher – much like you – who had landed a very prestigious position."

Gregory continued with words that no longer pierced his heart, but was only saying it to make himself look good. "Back then, those were times when people loved God. We had a good crowd of faithful followers. However, in the last five years, this place has eroded into a mass of shameful depravity. I believe part of it stems from the infiltration of other pagan cultures coming to our shores." He glanced at Izaiah sideways to view his reaction. "I need someone who is passionate about helping me take this island back to the times when people trusted in the TRUE God – and not in some crazy fiends they've worked up from their imaginations."

Izaiah stared out at the aquamarine waters and chewed over Gregory's words. First of all, he wondered what kind of organization would close a church down because it wasn't performing well. Spiritual reformation was not an easy job, but if there were no places dedicated to God for His intervention, how little success they would have in rectifying the condition of the people. There was something sacred about having a church presence in the community. If Gregory was right in his assessment about the dwindling condition of the island, then they had better work hard to ensure that St. Donovan's Chapel remained open.

"When do I get to start work?" Izaiah asked, turning his gaze back to Gregory.

"As of right now," Gregory said, knowing his next set of words may not be received well. "Your first order of business is to spend time with my younger daughter. She has gotten herself into a bit of a jam with some boy."

Izaiah wasn't expecting to receive such a response, but out of fear that he may spoil Gregory's impression of him too early in their meeting, he kept his reservations hidden for the time being. "How old is your daughter?" he asked.

"Nineteen, but she is very strong-willed." Gregory brought the Wrangler to a stop in front of a traffic light. He felt Izaiah's eyes piercing him with questions, but Gregory would only satisfy Izaiah's curiosity with a challenge. "If you are able to transform my daughter's mind, then I know for certain that you are the right man for the youth minister position. Mentalities like those of my daughter have the power to destroy an entire generation."

Izaiah silently absorbed what was being told to him. Gradually, it became clear that he had been hired to 'fix' one of Gregory's personal problems, and not those of the church. Maybe the job vacancy was just an excuse to get him to Bliss Haven. The excitement of coming to the island suddenly abandoned Izaiah.

"This organization," he said, clearing his throat. "What was the grace period given?"

"For what?"

"You mentioned that the organization is considering 'pulling the plug' on the church in Bliss Haven."

"Oh, that." The traffic light turned green. Gregory eased his foot from the brake and moved the jeep forward. "You never know...it could be three months or three years. Don't worry, if you are half of who your dossier says you are, I am confident you will be able to get my daughter to warm up to you."

Again, Izaiah grew silent. He did not feel like a humble servant of the Lord, instead he felt like a male escort, hired to deceive some poor little girl. All because her father didn't see eye to eye on the way his daughter chose to live her life. But of course, he would not make mention of it. Izaiah had a tendency to please people more than he pleased himself. He drew in his breath and gave Gregory a guarded look, who returned Izaiah's gaze with a small smirk.

The remainder of the five-minute drive to the Beaufort Estate was completed in conversation about Izaiah's reasons for his unmarried status.

But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.

– _1 Timothy 6:6-7_

### Chapter Four

The influx of illegal immigrants had long been a problem for certain areas of Bliss Haven, in particular, St. George's Close and St. Elmo's Valley. With the island surrounded by massive amounts of water, it was a challenge for the government to police its borders effectively – especially with limited manpower that was attached to the Defense Force unit. So over the last two decades, a mix of illegal ethnicities had slipped under the radar and had made Bliss Haven their home.

Though the Defense Force executed raids three times a year, the financial drawbacks were devastating. The capture, retention and repatriation of illegal immigrants had cost the government close to three million dollars in annual expenses. The raids became less and less frequent while the illegal population continued to expand, contributing to the lack experienced in parishes such as St. George's Close and St. Elmo's Valley. It was also the reason for poor education and training skills, which resulted in residents with inadequate employment opportunities and low competencies.

The majority of the people living in St. Elmo's Valley either made their living through agriculture and fishing, or crafted items from natural resources to sell to tourists. Jorge and his friend, Anwar, had formed a partnership, making and selling jewelry to straw market vendors near the airport area. Their jewelry was molded from the conch pearl. Jorge was the artisan and Anwar was the sea diver. Their collaboration had produced dozens of breathtaking pieces, but the straw market vendors were only willing to pay chicken feed for all of their hard work.

"One day soon, man, I'm gonna get up out of this hell hole," Jorge spat out of the silence. He and Anwar sat side by side on the rock's edge, swishing their feet in the marine waters. "But first I will marry Asia and take her to the United States – far away from her crazy father."

Anwar sniggered at the foolish dreams of his friend. "You keep playing Russian roulette with your life, you're not going anywhere with Beaufort's daughter. You almost got yourself shot last night just for being on the compound. What were you thinking, man?"

"Asia is like a drug... I had to see her."

"Well, trying to have sex with a girl like Asia in the toolshed is certainly not the way to do it."

"I didn't sneak onto her property to have sex," Jorge said. "Asia is very philosophical and I enjoy that side of her very much." Jorge shrugged as his mind went back to those passionate moments in the toolshed. "One thing just led to another."

"I find that hard to believe," Anwar said. "Girls like Asia are too prissy to hold any meaningful conversation."

"There's nothing prissy about Asia," Jorge said dreamily. "Her beauty would stop any man in his tracks, but she is a whole lot more than just a pretty face."

Anwar felt a tinge of jealousy messing with his mind. He could not fathom how Bishop Beaufort's daughter could even be remotely interested in Jorge, who was not at all that good looking to begin with. He was average at best. It would certainly explain Asia's attraction if the reason had been based on good looks, but his friend, with a coconut-shaped head, lazy eyes and thick lips had somehow won Asia's heart.

Anwar stared at his reflection in the water, though a bit distorted, he could make out the sharpness of his features. He was a sexy nineteen-year-old stud. His mango complexion provided the perfect backdrop for his deeply set, hazel eyes and his powerful, straight nose. His curly hair had been cornrowed by one of the neighborhood girls. At other times he wore his hair Afro-style, which gave him a similar look to Shaggy – the famous reggae artist from Jamaica. It was a wonder to Anwar that Asia could not see that he was more her type of fellow.

"...she's not impressed with those rich, stuck-up chaps her father wants her to date," Jorge was saying. "She said all they talk about is their money and their business ventures in Europe."

"At least those men have money," Anwar quipped. "What do you have? A stupid dream that is gonna get your butt killed eventually."

Jorge did not seem to discern the contempt in his friend's voice. "No, my friend," he said placidly. "I have a dream that will get me and Asia out of Bliss Haven. And I'm gonna start by enrolling myself in night classes. I want to improve my English skills, because someday I want to become an English professor."

"Well..." Anwar jumped to his feet and brushed the dirt from his hips. "I have a better plan than that."

Jorge looked up at Anwar and smirked, "Which is?"

"I'm gonna find me a rich, older woman to take care of me," Anwar announced. "I'm always getting hit on by the girls in our neighborhood. Just imagine if I could end up in the right place, at the right time."

Jorge threw his head back and laughed. "Boy, your dream is more foolish than mine."

"I don't think so," Anwar countered. "I have a plan and I guarantee you, that it's gonna work – sooner than you can wink those big, lazy eyes of yours."

****

Dana could sense the stares of the residents, as she cruised through St. Elmo's Valley in her silver Benz. The streets were narrow and were filled with potholes. Her braking system would need repair when she was done driving through the small village. A few small children in tattered clothing stood to the edge of the road with bunches of bananas and June plums in their hands. A sign made out of cardboard revealed to onlookers the cost of their produce. Dana turned to her daughter to get a glimpse of her reaction to the decrepit scenes, but the only sign of life Dana got was a blank stare.

"Do you want some bananas?" Dana asked to break the silence.

Asia barely shook her head in response.

"But you love bananas –"

"I don't want any," Asia spat. "I want to see Jorge."

"Well, I did not bring you to St. Elmo's Valley to see Jorge," Dana said stiffly. "You need a reality check."

Asia bit back her retort, because she did not want to start a shouting match with her mother. Dana was like a loose cannon, ready to detonate at any minute. She would try a more civil approach and hope it would get Dana to cooperate with the plan that she had concocted within her head.

"Do you even know what it is to be in love?" Asia asked.

"I know what you feel for that boy is not love," Dana answered.

"I did not ask you to interpret my feelings for Jorge."

Dana grew silent for a moment as she gave respect to Asia's question. Of course, she knew what it was to be in love. She and Gregory were presently sleeping in separate rooms, but things hadn't always been like that. There was a time when Gregory had made her feel safe and as if their relationship was the most important thing to him in the entire world. Dana knew what it was like to long for a man's touch – to stay awake, dreaming of spending time in the presence of her one true love.

But Asia was too blinded by her emotions to understand that a relationship between her and Jorge would never work. Their worlds were too far apart. Dana did not raise her three daughters to settle for less than they deserved. Her girls were intelligent, independent women, whose minds had been heavily steeped in Christian principles. They knew nothing of what it meant to live a hard life. That was because she and Gregory had endeavored to supply whatever they needed, so that jokers like Jorge Bentley wouldn't stand a chance.

"Do you wish to live in this battered village, which is filled with a growing population of illegal immigrants?" Dana said to her daughter. "Because it's the only thing that boy can offer you – a place that is not fit for you to survive."

"You're not going to answer my question, are you?"

"Asia, open your eyes and take a look at this place! Is this how you want your life to end up?"

"Money isn't everything, you know. I happen to really care about Jorge."

"Why?" Dana spat incredulously. "What is it about that boy that makes you act so unseemly?"

"Wouldn't you and everyone else like to find out," Asia jibed.

'Don't get gutsy with me, young lady. Your father's men could have killed Jorge last night. We don't need the town's eyes on us!"

Asia turned her head away from her mother and stared out the window. If her mother thought for one second that a stupid trip to St. Elmo's Valley would change her mind about Jorge, then her mother was as delusional as her father. Her mother acted as if this were the first time she had visited St. Elmo's Valley. Her parents needed to understand that Jorge's love meant more to her than the place where his navel string had been buried, or else her parents were simply wasting their time.

Pensively, Asia rubbed the center piece of a necklace that Jorge had chiseled from the shell of the Queen conch. The smooth texture reminded her of Jorge's talent and his devoted affection. He had given it to her when she had met him at the airport for the first time. Asia and her father were coming back from the Cayman Islands, where they had left her older sister, Candi to sit through a six-month training course. That afternoon in the airport, Jorge left an impression on Asia that had kept her staring up at the ceiling for several nights.

" _Let me get your bags, beautiful, I'm trying to make a little extra money."_

Asia looked away from the carousel and connected her gaze to a young man in cutoff jeans and a white T-shirt. Although she was seeing him for the first time, his toothy smile drew her in immediately. By her standards, he was not particularly handsome.

" _It's okay," she told him. "My father went to the restroom. He should be back soon."_

" _Where are you coming from?" the young man asked, totally disregarding Asia's rejection. "My name is Jorge, by the way." He moved closer to the carousel and reached for a set of leopard-striped luggage. "Are these your bags?"_

" _Yes, but..."_

" _Don't worry about the money," Jorge said, as he carefully lifted the luggage to the floor. "I was only kidding about that part. I hope you will forgive me for my silly assumptions. But when I saw you alone, attempting to pull that heavy luggage from the carousel, I almost had a heart attack."_

Asia rolled her eyes as if she had finally caught on to Jorge's stratagem. "Oh please, there are about a dozen other 'helpless' women that need assistance with their bags. Why did you single me out?"

" _Because a girl like you would have never talked to a guy like me, much less even look my way. I had to come up with a plan."_

" _You are quite confident, aren't you?" Asia said, hardly believing that she was having such a conversation with a stranger. But he was incredibly easy to talk to. She liked that. "You are right about one thing, though."_

Jorge wiggled his brows playfully at Asia, knowing all along that he was talking to Bishop Gregory Beaufort's daughter. He had seen her the few times he had visited St. Donovan's Chapel, though she had walked by him as if he were invisible. He only now had built up the courage to approach her. When he saw Asia blushing at his funny faces, he knew he had struck a warm spot in her heart.

" _I know I'm right," Jorge affirmed. "You would have never batted an eye in my direction."_

" _You are certainly filled with silly assumptions," Asia said, "because you don't know what type of girl I am."_

Jorge wanted to respond to Asia's retort, but he spotted Asia's father coming toward them. It was time to get lost, but he didn't want to leave without sealing the connection with something tangible. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a piece of jewelry. With an impatient smile, he handed it to Asia.

" _If you ever need to talk...just as a friend," he said affectionately, "you will be able to track me down by this necklace. I make them and sell them to the straw vendors."_

"Stop the car," Asia ordered.

"What?"

"Stop the car!"

Flummoxed, Dana pulled the Benz to the side of the road and before she could settle her curiosity over her daughter's behavior, Asia pushed the car door open and hopped out. Dana got out of the Benz as well, traipsing behind her daughter a little ways near a rivulet – to where the fishermen set up shop.

"Asia, what has gotten into you?"

"I saw Jorge..."

Dana stiffened into silence, as she watched Asia continue down the path. Her black tresses blew wildly in the wind, giving her beauty more of an ethereal appearance. The two young men who were walking side by side, turned at Asia's sudden screams. Screams that suggested that she was relieved to see that Jorge was alive and doing well.

In spite of his shock, Jorge dropped to one knee and opened his arms. There were no words to speak. The scene was like a dream come true. When Asia ran into his embrace, he squeezed her and inhaled her powdery scent. It seemed as if it were just the two of them in the world at that moment, causing them to give little thought to the consequence such action could produce. Jorge loved Asia deeply, to the point that his eyes burned with tears at the thought of losing her.

Dana looked on, gritting her teeth in disapproval. Her plan had backfired. It appeared as if her daughter treasured this stray boy more than she had anticipated. It was going to be hell, Dana thought, getting Asia away from him.

### Chapter Five

Gregory wanted Izaiah to become acquainted with his surroundings as soon as possible. So Gregory allowed his men to carry Izaiah's luggage into the guesthouse, while he and Izaiah took a tour of the compound. The main house was spread out on two acres of land. Six bedrooms, five baths, nestled behind decorative walls and expensive tile. It was an open floor plan, providing ample light and fresh air. The most outstanding feature of the design was the massive loft, which hovered above over half of the home. It seemed as if there were more palm trees inside than there were on the property. Dana's beautiful paintings were showcased everywhere, but Gregory intentionally did not mention to Izaiah that she was the artist. He did not want to give Izaiah any reason to be fond of his wife.

The men concluded their tour in the grand living room, exiting through the double French doors that led to one side of the veranda. Izaiah wanted to voice his concerns to Gregory about the plan to get close to Gregory's youngest daughter, but Gregory seemed so delighted to show him around, that Izaiah knew the timing would be off. He simply could not settle in his heart to carry out Gregory's dirty work. He was a straight shooting kind of guy who avoided trouble as much as he could. Such confidence Gregory had in him, Izaiah thought. Because what made Gregory think that a complete stranger would have any success in getting through to his daughter?

The Alsatians, who were at the far end of the porch, began to bark ferociously. The noise was horrendously loud, causing Izaiah to bump into Gregory. His pensive state had suddenly been thrown into a panic.

Ashamed, Izaiah expressed his apology. "I'm sorry. I have a terrible fear of dogs."

Gregory laughed. "So did I, at one time," he said. "But you should never let them sense your fear. They will befriend you quicker than you think."

The Alsatians flashed Izaiah their canine teeth and in trying to distance himself, this time, he almost tumbled over Gregory's feet. "No, thank you," he spat. "I would rather stay out of their way as much as possible. I had a frightening experience when I was a boy."

Gregory shot Izaiah a look as if to say that he understood. "You will be fine," he assured the young minister. "I only keep them around for the burglars."

"I don't believe such an island is predisposed to those types of crimes," Izaiah said. "It is so small."

"We've had two break-ins within the last four years," Gregory said. "Apparently, it is not small enough. That's the reason for the extra security. My men patrol the grounds every night to ensure the safety of everyone." He tossed Izaiah the keys to the Jeep Wrangler. "It's yours as long as you stay in Bliss Haven. Because of Asia's stubbornness, I have taken away her car, so, she will need you to chauffeur her around. She is also an excellent tour guide, if you decide you need someone to show you around the island."

Izaiah nodded his response as he followed Gregory to an open area of grass. What else could he say to such decisive instructions? To his immediate right, were a tennis court and a basketball court, which were simply divided by a three-foot passageway. Because of the moderate rains that had recently fallen, the plants and flowers blossomed with life. As Izaiah had experienced during the drive from the airport, he felt as if he were continuing his trek through the garden of Paradise. He could see why the island was named Bliss Haven.

"Do you play tennis?" Gregory asked suddenly. "Your body looks as if it is in pretty good shape."

"Of course it is," Izaiah teased. "I am only twenty-five, you know. Plus, I do seventy-five pushups every night. But seriously, I haven't played in a long time. The church where I came from was too busy to enjoy any sport."

"Well, that is simply too bad, because I haven't had a tennis partner since my oldest daughter, Candi went to Cayman."

Izaiah studied Gregory for a moment. Since he had picked him up from the airport a few hours ago, Gregory had barely mentioned anything about his wife, or about his other children. Whatever that meant, Izaiah didn't want to read too much into it. "I have heard of Asia, and now Candi," he said. "How many children do you have?"

"Three, all girls," Gregory answered. "Candi is twenty-four and works for the Bliss Community Bank as a sales associate. She was selected to go to Cayman to study a particular program. Dallis is twenty-one – the fastest swimmer Bliss Haven has ever seen. She is currently training for an upcoming national competition. Maybe you can join me when I go to see her compete. And of course, there is Asia. My heartstring...she's studying psychology at Bliss Haven Christian Academy."

The way that Gregory looked away suggested to Izaiah that Gregory was seriously disappointed in something his youngest daughter had done. Obviously, Asia was Gregory's favorite. However, as Izaiah had been doing since he'd met Gregory at the airport, he decided against speaking his mind and instead, opted to take the easier way out.

"Consider yourself to have a partner," Izaiah beamed. "I would love to play a few matches with you – of course, when the time allows."

Gregory grinned, his fine laugh lines becoming visible around his mouth. "How about we change into something comfortable, then have a crack at it?"

"Are you serious? It's almost six in the evening."

"Which is the best time to play," Gregory said. "The sun won't get in our way. Let's do it, young blood...the best out of five matches. Besides, you said so yourself that you did not get the opportunity to enjoy any sport. Now, you have no excuse."

"You make it sound so appealing." Izaiah smiled. "How could I resist?"

****

A little ways down from the Beaufort's estate, Chazz Brunswick watched as Dana swung her Benz through the wrought-iron gate. He wanted so badly to get her attention, but he knew now would not be the right time to approach her. He fidgeted in his 2008 Mazdaspeed, contemplating his next move. Dana needed to know the truth about her husband and the secrets he'd been hiding from her. Dana was a nice woman and she did not deserve to be mishandled by a man who would do anything to further his own personal cause.

Ever since Chazz met Gregory three years ago, his freedom was forcibly taken away – his young, innocent mind crushed by perversion. Although Chazz understood that the ultimate decision had been his to make, he blamed Gregory for stirring up his lust. The man was corrupt to the core; his Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde-type personality was only evident to those who really knew him. Gregory could be mild-mannered one minute and the next he would fly off the handle like a bat out of hell. A deadly human volcano that could get Dana killed. She needed to get away from that monster while she had the chance.

This was Chazz's third visit to the Beaufort's estate within a week and he was sure by now his 'scent' may have been picked up already by Ms. V and her hooligans. He was now considered an outcast from one of the top secret organizations in the world. But Chazz didn't care about the _House of gods_ and their incessant need to control its subjects through mind games and black magic. He was determined to expose Gregory, Ms. V and every member of the _House of gods_ who had deceived him into signing away his soul to the devil. He should have known that it was too good to be true.

Resigned that he probably would not see Dana any more that day, Chazz spun the ignition of his Mazdaspeed and then slowly rolled away onto the empty road.

### Chapter Six

Dana sprinted into the kitchen behind Asia, who had almost slammed the Mercedes' door off its hinges. For the twenty-minute drive from St. Elmo's Valley to the Beaufort's mansion in Crystal Bay, mother and daughter had argued relentlessly, to the point where Asia had threatened to move out and find a place of her own. The two women stopped short of the island, which was in the center of the kitchen where Miss Rose was about to pull a rack of lamb from the oven. The women argued a little more and then attempted to resume their trek through the kitchen.

Miss Rose hollered, "Stay put, boss lady! Hot pan comin'!"

"Where is Gregory?" Dana spat.

Miss Rose's eyes darted with suspicion. Earlier, Gregory and his male friend walked past her from the veranda. A short while later they returned wearing shorts and tank tops. Each had a tennis racket, swinging lithely in their hand. She could only assume they had gone on the tennis court to work up a sweat. It seemed as if Gregory was always surrounded by handsome young men and for a while, Miss Rose wondered about that. She could not understand how Gregory could avoid his sexy-looking wife for three years, but saw no problem in giving these men all of his attention. Something wasn't right about that scene.

"He went out back with a male friend," Miss Rose replied craftily. "Never seen this one before...very easy on the eyes."

Dana responded hotly, "Tell Gregory to come here now! I need to speak to him about Asia!"

"I am not speaking to you or my father until I'm allowed to marry Jorge!" Asia tossed a lock of her hair behind her shoulder and then added in a biting tone, "I hate the way you two are always interfering in my life."

"Well, you better get used to it," Dana said. "Because I'm not going to let you destroy your life, chasing after an impoverished dream. After what I saw happen today, I fully agree with your father. Jorge is not the right man for you!"

Asia spun swiftly to face her mother and said stiffly, "You need to look into the mirror and judge your own mess. I am not the one who has been sleeping in a separate room from my husband for the last three years of my marriage."

Dana gasped. She had never heard Asia speak to her with such brazenness. Although what her daughter said was the plain truth, Dana was livid. She swallowed her shock and backhanded Asia across the mouth. Miss Rose's eyes looked as if they would plop out of her head. While still holding the hot roasting pan, she bent her head and began to mumble the _'Our Father'_ prayer.

"Are you crazy?" Dana spat. "You don't get to talk to me that way and get away with it!"

Miss Rose stopped in the middle of her prayer and jerked her head back up. By the look on Asia's face, Miss Rose knew the situation was about to hit the roof. She rested the pan on the island and then continued with her prayer.

The lively banter of Gregory and Izaiah could be heard coming from the direction of the French doors. The way the kitchen was situated – opened toward the grand living room – it provided a clear view of the two men. All three women stood still and watched as the men strutted in, dripping sweat, with smiles plastered across their faces.

Dana was the first to notice how stimulating the men looked, showing off their strong legs and arms in skimpy clothing. They could pass for father and son, the way their facial structure had been chiseled. They had almost the same pecan complexion, with generously thick brows, lips not too full, but succulent enough to appear kissable. But where Gregory's hair was white at the temple and was closely shaved to his scalp, the younger man had a little more hair, which was jet black and was brushed into a particular wave pattern. His thinly-shaped beard was connected from one side of his face to the other.

"Two of my favorite ladies!" Gregory beamed, as he and Izaiah curbed their steps at the entrance of the kitchen. He did not seem to notice the frigidity between his wife and daughter. "Actually, I'm glad you are all here." He rested a hand on Izaiah's shoulder and smiled. "I want you all to meet my new tennis partner. The boy is superb. I've never sweated so much in all my years playing this sport...Candi is good, but he could easily give her a run for her money."

Everyone in the room was sporting a confused look, but for very different reasons. Izaiah, first of all, speculated on why he had been introduced as Gregory's tennis partner and not as the one to fill the youth minister's position. As much fun as he'd had making Gregory chase after the tennis ball, he did not like how evasively Gregory was behaving.

Dana continued to size up Izaiah. He did not appear to be a resident of Bliss Haven, but there was no doubt that Gregory enjoyed the young man's company. The time that Gregory spent with the boy should be time spent with her. How embarrassing it was to long for the affection of her husband who blatantly showed he didn't give one pence about her. Gregory hadn't played tennis with anyone since Candi went to Cayman five months ago, in spite of Dana's plea to join him on the courts. Now could she be blamed if she loathed her husband for making her feel jealous?

"...this is my wife, Dana and my lovely daughter, Asia," Gregory told Izaiah. "Two of the most gorgeous women in the world...well, four, if you add Dallis and Candi."

In spite of himself, Izaiah wholeheartedly agreed with Gregory's comment. Dana and Asia had the type of beauty that caused extreme palpitations, which he was presently experiencing as he stood in their presence. Their smooth, creamy complexion filled his eyes and Izaiah suddenly wondered if Gregory's two other daughters shared the same perfect genes. With a smile that showed the dimple in his left cheek, he extended his hand to Dana.

"If your husband hadn't said you were his wife," he started, "I would have thought you and your daughter were sisters." He shared his gaze with Asia, and was immediately smitten by her fierce expression. His heart started skipping beats like crazy. _Wow, Gregory. You didn't prepare me for all this beauty_ ..."Sorry, I meant no disrespect."

"None taken," Asia said dryly. Izaiah had extended his hand to her, but she ignored it, keeping her arms folded. "Would you excuse me? I was on my way to my room."

"I hope you will be back in a few minutes to have dinner with us," Gregory jumped in. "You know how we do it around here when there is a guest in our home."

"I'm not into it this evening," Asia said with her piercing gaze still parked on her mother. "I had a long day and I would like to have some time to myself."

"I don't think so," Gregory said. "I want you to join us. No excuses."

"Daddy, don't make me do this. I am really in a bad mood right now."

Izaiah noticed Gregory stiffen with anger. It was clear that Gregory had no problem chiding his children in front of strangers. But Izaiah did not want to witness such a beautiful girl being embarrassed over such a small matter. For the longest, he couldn't keep his eyes off of her and he soon realized that Gregory was staring at him. Probably observing how affected he was by Asia's beauty.

"It's fine with me," Izaiah spoke up. "I am a bit tired myself. I would prefer to take a shower and relax in my room."

"If that's what you want," Gregory said. He smiled within himself, thoroughly pleased with the way Izaiah came to Asia's defense. Gregory discerned that it wouldn't be long before Izaiah was head-over-heels in love with his daughter. "I'll have Miss Rose fix you a plate and take it to the guesthouse."

"I insist," Izaiah said and then grimaced. "I know my entire body is going to be sore in the morning. I haven't played tennis like that in a while."

"Well, if your muscles do act up," Gregory began with a grin, "I have something for them. Just call the number I gave you. Better yet, I'll send Miss Rose over with the product." The men began to walk off, continuing their banter. "Great job, my friend. Your form is really good. I'm looking forward to playing with you again while you are here."

That was Asia's cue to leave. Her thoughts were so captivated with Jorge that Izaiah's handsome face had little effect on her. Dana, on the other hand, was in shock over her husband's behavior. _Where has Gregory's anger gone all of a sudden? Has he become so fond of his new tennis partner that he could change his mood in an instant?_ Her husband had never done that for anyone. When Gregory was upset, the world would know about it. How strange, Dana thought, that a young man whom Dana had never seen in her life, could have such a strong pull on her husband.

"What you thinkin'?" Miss Rose probed.

Dana rested her perplexing stare on the maid and said, "The only thing I want to know is why Gregory brought that boy into this house and didn't say anything to me. Did Gregory mention anything to you?"

"Not a word. I was cookin' when Mr. Beaufort walked by. He hailed, but he did not allow the young man to start any conversation. Don't know why the boy is here and don't know why Mr. Beaufort didn't say somethin'."

Dana gritted her teeth. Izaiah appeared to be staying at the estate for what seemed like an indefinite time. That was news to her, as were a lot of things her husband did. Her heart dithered with disappointment. Why did she let Gregory get to her like this? This was always the way that her husband operated. He never included her in his decisions. It was one of the main reasons why they argued so much and it was a sharp reminder that Gregory thought of her as an annoying roommate and not as his wife.

"I have a headache," Dana told Miss Rose. She began to sway across the open floor toward her bedroom in her Casadei heels. "I'm going to lie down for a while. Bring me some painkillers and a glass of water. In the morning, I will get to the bottom of this."

Take heed and beware of covetousness: for one's life does not consist in the abundance of the things which he possesses.

– _Luke 12:15_

### Chapter Seven

The name Anwar meant 'luminous'. How ironic, Anwar thought, that the meaning of his name did not quite mirror his present condition. Though better off than most in St. Elmo's Valley, his family was financially deprived, which significantly decreased his opportunities of making a better life for himself. His father was a fisherman and his mother was a janitor at Bliss Haven Christian Academy. Their combined incomes were only sufficient to pay for shelter, the utility bills and provide the basic necessities, such as food, water, and clothing.

Although Anwar was thankful that they had done all they could to keep things going with the little that they had, he did not plan on following in his parents' footsteps. He could not accept his impoverished state as his destiny. Every day he looked in the mirror and told himself that he would become someone of great influence. A millionaire with luxurious homes and a fleet of expensive cars, parked in custom-built garages. He had big dreams and one day he was going to strut out of St. Elmo's Valley for the final time.

Anwar bent to tie the laces on his tennis shoes. It was only seven thirty in the morning, but he had somewhere to go. He had not been kidding with Jorge when he told him that he had a plan that would usher him through the gates of affluence. While he appreciated his partnership with Jorge, diving for conch to make cosmetic jewelry, Anwar was growing weary of it. The amount of money they received did not match the amount of effort that they put into the whole process of producing the product. Too much labor to be disrespected in such a manner.

It was a proven fact that rich people were revered. Even if they were as ugly as sin, it did not matter. It was because, as the Bible had so eloquently pointed out, _'money answers all things'_. Anwar was well acquainted with that portion of verse, because he had incorporated it as part of his daily mantra – even to the point of writing out the words on paper and sticking it somewhere for him to see. These days, it seemed as if it took money to do everything, especially when fulfilling one's dream of becoming financially independent. Like the old adage says, it takes money to make money.

Anwar resolutely decided that that day would mark the end of his days of lack. He snatched a newspaper clipping from his battered bureau and stepped out of his bedroom. The scent of eggs and bacon flew by his nostrils, but it was not enough to deter him from his mission. His mother cooked breakfast every morning before she left for her janitorial job at the academy. Not wanting to be questioned as to why he was leaving the house so early, he tiptoed past the kitchen and eased out through the front door.

Approximately half an hour later, Anwar stood in front of a building known as the Bliss Haven Swimming Complex – the only one of its kind on the island. He pulled out the newspaper clipping from his back pocket and studied the details of the ad as if it were his first time:

Fall Swimming Registration

_Term runs from 6 September to 19 December for competitive swimmers. Entry fees are as follows:_ _All swimmers are mandated to wear proper swim gear_ _. Senior competitive swimmers are required to purchase the team suit, along with their own team kit, comprised of fins, pull buoys, paddles, etc. Inquire within for further details._

Anwar wrinkled his nose in the hot sun, as he brooded over a few obstacles that he needed to overcome. He was already two weeks late for the registration and with it being his first time registering with the swim club, he wondered if he would be accepted. And even if he somehow managed to get his name listed on the roster, there was still the issue of paying the required fees. He only had enough to cover the entry payment. Hopefully, one of the coaches would be lenient with him and discern that he had a lot to offer. Besides that, his only other bargaining chip was his striking features.

"Good morning. Do you need some help?"

Anwar spun around at the crisp voice. A young woman, who looked to be about the same age as he was, greeted him with a warm smile. If she was smitten by his looks, Anwar couldn't tell, because he was too busy focusing on how her complexion glistened in the sun. Her black curls were pushed up into a loose twist. She appeared to be too young and too pretty to be one of the coaches, but Anwar asked anyway, for lack of something better to say.

"No, I'm not one of the coaches." She laughed. "I help out sometimes, but I am just a swimmer, trying to make it into the big leagues."

Anwar drank in the sexy build of her body, and tried not to come off as sleazy in his assessment. "By the way that you seem to look after yourself, I would have guessed that you are a swimmer," he told her. He extended his hand to see what it would feel like to touch her. "You're very pretty by the way...I'm Anwar Daxon."

The young woman gripped Anwar's hand firmly, appearing not to be flattered by Anwar's comment. "Nice to meet you, Anwar Daxon. I'm Dallis Beaufort."

Anwar stared at Dallis, clearly astonished. "As in Bishop Beaufort's daughter?"

"Yep. The one and only. Why do you seem so surprised?"

Anwar should have known. Asia and Dallis shared similar facial attributes and that smooth creamy complexion. Striking onyx-colored eyes. Mentally, Anwar patted himself on the back, because he knew he was in the presence of one of the wealthiest girls in Bliss Haven. Totally serendipitous. However, Anwar was more taken aback by the fact that Dallis had chosen to become an athlete rather than a supermodel. Why that had shocked him? He couldn't say for sure. He had always assumed that rich girls like Asia were superficial, and didn't take well to much strenuous labor.

"I'm impressed," Anwar finally said. "You don't seem stuffy at all."

That description, irrespective of whether it was intended to be funny, caused Dallis to toss her head back and laughed appreciatively. "You are a comedian, aren't you?"

With a lopsided grin, Anwar kept his hazel eyes locked on Dallis. He loved the way she took to him so quickly. It made him wonder if she would need a boyfriend to keep that toothy smile on her face.

"So..." Dallis said, now becoming aware of Anwar's staring, "I assume you're here for all of the obvious reasons."

"You mean there is more than one reason for being at a swim club?"

Dallis laughed again. "Of course," she said matter-of-factly. "You are either here as a participant or a spectator. A national competition is scheduled to be held here in a few days. Top swimmers are coming in from the outer islands to compete against us in Bliss Haven. That's why I'm here early. I need to get into the pool and prepare."

"So, you will be competing?"

"Yes and I'm very excited. The atmosphere of the races is usually very intense."

"Well, since you have put things into perspective," Anwar said, "then I'm here both as a participant and a spectator."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really," Anwar quipped. "I want to join the swim club, and I also want to watch you perform. What do I need to do to get in?"

Dallis looked over Anwar's shoulders and noticed her coach's Tahoe, rolling up the pebble stone path. She gave Anwar one of those reprimanding looks that would have been serious had she thought that Anwar's personality didn't make the cut. The fact that he was also drop dead gorgeous gave her another reason to sell his story to her coach.

"You do realize that you are already two weeks late for registration, right?" she said to him. "My coach can be moody sometimes."

"I'm sorry; I just stumbled over the ad yesterday."

"Don't apologize to me," Dallis said. "It's coach that you need to convince. How good are you, anyway?"

Anwar cracked his sexiest smile. At this point in the game, he was depending heavily on his charming skills. "Well," he said smoothly. "Put me into the water and you will find out."

"You are a little arrogant," Dallis shot at him. "But if you are as good as your talk, then maybe I can work something out. Wait here, I'll be right back."

_Wow, a woman with a little influence_ , Anwar said within himself. _Just exactly what I need_. He kept his grin in check until Dallis was at a safe distance. He then turned aside and furtively raised his fists in victory. Who would have imagined that the first person he would meet at the swim club would be Asia's sister? Jorge would never believe his good fortune. Jorge was not the only one who could swipe a rich chick and then live to tell the story. _So, this is what fate feels like. I've made up my mind to change the course of my life and now the entire universe stands in agreement with me_.

At the sound of Dallis' feet crunching over the pebble stones, Anwar spun to meet her gaze. He held his breath, trying to judge her countenance. However, when Dallis smiled at him, Anwar knew the outcome had been positive. In complete gratefulness, he looked up into the sky and blew a kiss. St. Elmo's Valley would soon see the last of him, because he was on his way to a very affluent future.

### Chapter Eight

Promptly at nine o'clock in the morning, Dana flounced down the hall toward Gregory's office, leaving her mesmerizing scent trailing behind her. Gregory did not like being disturbed so early in the morning with what he considered trivial matters, but Dana couldn't care less about her husband's silly directives. Enough was enough. Time out for their little arrangement she'd had to put up with for the last three years.

How dare Gregory bring another man into their estate without informing her about it? She couldn't sleep half of the night just thinking of how much her husband had disrespected her. It was the last straw. Dana wasted no time connecting her fist with the heavy oak door. She slammed close to a full minute before her husband stuck his head out, and peered angrily over his plastic-framed glasses. However, over the years, Dana had grown immune to Gregory's menacing glares. She folded her arms, posturing herself in a defiant manner.

"I need to talk to you right now!" she spat in her husband's face.

"Good morning to you, Dana," Gregory said dryly. "It appears as if you got up on the wrong side of the bed."

"You are so on target with your perceptions."

"No need for the sarcasm. I will be with you shortly. I am in the middle of a very important meeting –"

Dana pushed into the door, almost hitting Gregory in his face with it. "Don't swat me away as if I'm some annoying little fly. You owe me an explanation!"

"You did not have to embarrass yourself in such a manner," Gregory spat beneath his breath. "As I have said to you, I am in a very important meeting."

Gregory pulled the door open and to Dana's amazement, there were three men sitting at a round table. Izaiah to one side, along with two representatives from the youth arm of the government. The men greeted her cordially, but it was clear by their tight smiles that they were astonished by Dana's behavior. Right there, Dana wished the ground beneath her would open up so that she could fall in and disappear. Why did she allow her husband to pull her into this trap? Gregory knew that she was upset yesterday and that she would have approached him about the 'mystery' guest. Dana was too disconcerted to say anything else. She simply turned on her heel and walked away.

About half an hour later, Gregory joined Dana on the veranda. The Alsatians showed their appreciation of Gregory's presence by jumping on their hind feet. But Gregory was too incensed with his wife's intrusion to pay them any attention. Instead of sitting down next to Dana in one of the wicker chairs, he walked a little ways off and leaned on the wooden balustrade.

"It never ceases to amaze me the lengths you will go to upset me," Gregory told his wife. "You act too much like a bloody fool."

"Why don't you say that loud enough for your precious little guests to hear," Dana challenged. "Let them see how dreadfully you treat me."

Gregory spun and pinned his wife with a menacing scowl. "Don't forget that the failure in our marriage is your fault. Had you kept your legs shut from the gardener, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Dana stood up and closed in the space between her and Gregory. "Must you remind me of it every time we get into an argument? It's been three years, Gregory and I've been suffering ever since. I make no excuse for my mistakes, but at least you could admit that you contributed to the erosion of our marriage."

"Not on the scale you have hurt me," Gregory said. "The fact remains, Dana, you cheated on me with a boy who was young enough to be your son."

"And I have since repented and have reconciled with God. It is you who is still holding my sin against me. I no longer have a say in this marriage – if I could even call it that."

They both grew silent, seeming always to reach an impasse at this point in their deliberations. Sometimes Dana believed that a divorce would have been easier to deal with than the coldness of her husband. Apart from their intimate family and friends, no one knew that they slept in separate rooms. Everyone thought that they had the perfect marriage. But they were both big on appearances, which they were more than willing to keep up in the public eye.

"Who is the young man that you brought here, Gregory? I don't understand the secrecy."

Gregory stared at his wife with a strong level of mistrust. "Why do you keep asking? Are you interested in putting your hand into his pants, too? You know, he's just a few years older than the gardener was at the time."

Dana's expression fell at her husband's words. Before, she would have folded up and cried. Now, she had learned how to fight Gregory at his same level. She hardened her stare and spat viciously in his face, "Rot in hell, Gregory!" She turned to leave, but decided to pause in her graceful stride to deliver some news she knew would get Gregory out of sorts. "I thought you should know, I took Asia to St. Elmo's Valley to see Jorge...who knows, the way things are going between those two, they might be married before the month is out."

Every hair on Gregory's body stiffened to attention. "Now, why the devil would you go and do something like that?" he flung at his wife's back. "If my daughter marries that sorry excuse for a man, it will be your fault! Dana! Do you hear me talking to you? It will be your fault!"

Dana allowed a smile to spread her lips, as the screen door slammed behind her. She knew her husband would not be able to sleep at all that night.

****

Later in the afternoon, Izaiah walked over to the main house, determined to have a one on one chat with Gregory about his evasiveness. Earlier he hadn't been able to do so because of that impromptu meeting Gregory had made him attend in his office. For starters, the meeting had been too early in the morning for his taste, but nothing had prepared him for Dana's fiery display of emotion. He was certainly surprised to see her in that light, almost as if she'd come to settle a score with Gregory.

Izaiah wondered what Dana had been so upset about. Her tone had been brutal when she'd approached Gregory. Some things were not hard to figure out. It could be that his presence at the estate was causing a stir. Usually, Izaiah could sense things like that. People's moods and their behavior toward him. An uncomfortable feeling it was, but Izaiah had learned how to master the art of pretense. He would act as if he didn't see or hear anything. It was clear that Gregory and his wife were having problems in their marriage, but that was none of his business.

He had come to Bliss Haven to do a job and there were some things that he needed to make clear to Gregory. For instance, he was not prepared to go through with Gregory's request of befriending his daughter, even if it was for his own selfish reasons. Izaiah had had time to think about his decision the previous night while he lay awake on his back. Asia's beauty was enough to make any man want to spend time with her, but he could not deceive her like that. If Gregory was impressed with his dossier, why couldn't that be enough to give him the opportunity to prove his worth? Izaiah felt as if Gregory's decision to test him should have been done in the interview and not in the evasive manner he'd been experiencing.

The floor plan of the home was so spacious that Izaiah almost took a turn down the wrong hall. Miss Rose spotted him, looking like a boy who'd lost his mother in a department store. Miss Rose was a short, rotund woman, but she moved with haste. Izaiah couldn't escape her, even if he had tried.

"Boy, what you lookin' for?" Miss Rose grinned, her huge plaits giving her a real funny appearance. "House too big for you, I see."

Izaiah was too polite to laugh at Miss Rose. He asked in very professional tone of voice, "I am trying to locate Bishop Beaufort. Is he around?"

"He went through there." Miss Rose pointed in the direction of the veranda. When she noticed Izaiah stalling in his stride, she prompted him with a question. "Yuh wan' me to take yuh to him?"

"No, that's fine. Thank you."

"Yuh welcome, my boy."

Miss Rose shuffled away, as Izaiah turned his attention to the veranda. Although the Alsatians were chained to the pole, Izaiah treaded carefully. The last time he had been attacked by a dog, the bastard had been tied to something, too. Because he did not want to have a repeat of that terrible experience, Izaiah left enough distance between him and the Alsatians – just in case he needed to make a break for his life. They were chained to his left, so he stayed to the far right, praying Gregory was close by.

However, in Izaiah's haste, he accidentally bumped against one of the wicker tables. It screeched across the wooden floor and aroused the Alsatians from sleep. When the dogs saw that it was someone they did not know, they exploded into a barking frenzy. Izaiah froze, a look of horror covering his face. If Asia hadn't showed up when she did, Izaiah feared he may have soaked his pants right there on the veranda.

"Down boys, down!" Asia hissed firmly and then began conversing with the dogs as if they were little children. "Mr. Cahoon is no stranger, you met him yesterday. Now, be nice..."

The Alsatians simmered down to Asia's soothing voice, wagging their tails at her presence. When Izaiah saw that he had been spared to live another day, he picked up his heart from the floor and stuffed it back neatly into his chest. But he would have rather soaked his pants than to endure that imp-like smirk on Asia's face. By the time she got near to him, she was laughing openly.

"Mr. Cahoon, it has been a while since I've seen a grown man so afraid of two, little pooches," she teased.

Izaiah harrumphed, and tried to shield his embarrassment. "They are no pooches and they are certainly not little. Why are they chained on the veranda?"

"Would you rather they run free on the property?"

Izaiah's eyes widened at the thought, causing Asia to laugh even more. Her little snorts were cute and infectious. In spite of himself, Izaiah started to laugh.

"You are enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I certainly am," Asia answered. "I haven't had a good laugh like that in a while. Oh, wow, my tummy hurts."

Izaiah gave Asia a few more seconds to compose herself before he tried to shift the spotlight off of himself. But Asia would stop her giggles for a bit only to let them loose right after.

"Go ahead," Izaiah said. "I know I must look like a fool to you."

"No, it's not that...well, maybe." Asia chuckled. "I am imagining you being pursued by the Alsatians, trying to get away from them. Now that would be a real funny scene."

"Not if I fell down and got eaten alive," Izaiah quipped. "Now, can we change the subject? My ego has been bruised terribly."

"I'm sorry," Asia said, but she still could not flush that scene out of her head. Her tummy was rolling with laughter, but she did her best to keep her giggles at bay. "I shouldn't be making sport of such a serious situation. Why are you on the veranda?"

"I was looking for your father," Izaiah said. "Miss Rose said that I would find him out here."

The mention of her father seemed to push Asia right back into her sulky cocoon.

"Well, as you can see, he's not here," she spat. "What business do you have with my father anyway?"

"Quite a change in moods," Izaiah said. "I'm sorry if I said something that you didn't like."

"It's not what you've said; it's what you're not saying."

Izaiah wondered how best to handle Asia's inquiry. Gregory had not introduced him as the man to fulfill the youth minister's position, so Izaiah was careful not to overstep Gregory's 'way of doing things' until he sat down and had a talk with the bishop.

"Your father hired me to do a job."

"What kind of job?" Asia fired back.

"What's with all the questions?"

"This is my home," she answered saucily. "I have a right to ask any questions I want."

"If that's your take on the situation, I can't do anything about that. One thing I've learned as a young boy growing up in church is that one gets out of life what one puts into it...I am careful not to try and reform anyone."

Asia was struck by Izaiah's unusual reply. A mild rebuke to her impertinence, but she pushed away her conviction by refocusing her thoughts on another question.

"So, you are a Christian?"

"Growing up in a church does not make one a Christian."

"Don't beat around the bush," Asia said.

"Fair enough," Izaiah grinned. "Would it surprise you if I am a Christian?"

"I don't know you that well, Mr. Cahoon, for you to be a surprise to me. I just think you have a problem with being direct in your approach."

"Your father told me that you are studying psychology. Maybe that has something to do with the way you diagnose other people's problems. I wonder, when you have a problem of your own, whose shoulder do you lean on?"

Izaiah's comeback seemed to silence Asia's sharp inquiry into his life. She suddenly realized that he was no pushover. She also realized that Izaiah was using a little psychology on her as well. Maybe her father had told him about Jorge, which would explain Izaiah's strange question to her. It was intended to draw out her secrets. But she was not as naïve as her father thought. Asia would bet a million dollars that Izaiah's presence had something to do with her father's plan to keep her away from the only man she'd ever really loved. If that wasn't the case, then they would have to explain why they were being so secretive about Izaiah's 'job'.

"Speaking about psychology," Asia said, as she withdrew her steps toward the screen door. "I have a class scheduled within the next hour. Sorry I can't stay and play these little silly games with you."

"Wait up." Izaiah was not prepared to let Asia leave him alone with the Alsatians. He fell in behind her, pretending as if he also had business to attend to. "Your father gave me instructions to take you wherever you need to go."

Asia turned and smirked. "I'm a big girl. I can find ways to get around."

"Well, I hope the next time we talk, it will not end on such an unpleasant note," he told her.

"Mr. Cahoon, if I saw you a week from today it would be too soon. Have a nice day, I guess."

Izaiah stood in the grand living room and watched Asia saunter away in a colorful maxi dress. Her long tresses had been fluffed against her back, giving her a look that was more mature than her nineteen years of age. If Izaiah wasn't careful with his thoughts, he could easily dream of Asia all day, but he would not allow his emotions to get out of hand. He kept reminding himself that he didn't come to Bliss Haven to cause trouble, but to simply do the work of the Lord.

Resignedly, Izaiah moved his steps forward toward the guesthouse, but at the last minute, he decided to do something that totally went against his principles. With the keys of the Wrangler still in his pants pocket, he made a one-eighty toward the kitchen exit. He hadn't any intention to tour the island any time soon, but the way Asia brushed him aside made him want to get out and explore why everyone thought Bliss Haven was so interesting.

Bishop Beaufort had told Izaiah that it was his responsibility to take Asia wherever she needed to go, but Izaiah knew fighting head-to-head against a woman's stubbornness could have a negative reaction. He would do it his way and pray that he didn't aggravate Asia any more than he already had. Once outside, he got into the Wrangler and slouched behind the wheel. There, he waited for Asia to see what means she would use to get to the academy. _Maybe you don't want me around, Asia, because you are going to see that boy against your father's wishes_. Izaiah sighed nervously as he tried to reason within himself that he wasn't doing anything wrong.

### Chapter Nine

Bliss Haven Christian Academy was located on a beautiful property, five miles east of the Beaufort's estate. The academy was considered to be one of the top-rated Christian schools in the Caribbean, which provided students with a unique mixture of achievement, engagement and athletic accomplishment at the highest levels. It was surrounded by a quadrangle of culinary selections, fine dining and gift and specialty shops – all within walking distance of the academy.

Students could come and enjoy the fun-filled atmosphere and even find a quiet spot to catch up on their assignments. However, the "Quad" as it was commonly called around town, did not appeal to the students alone, but to everyone in Bliss Haven who was simply looking to have some time away from the distractions of life.

It was here Izaiah followed Asia, observing as she walked casually on the grey basalt toward a restaurant called, Big Fish. All the while she kept gazing at her watch. She climbed the three steps toward the entrance. But instead of going inside, she leaned against the wooden wall and looked out as if she was waiting for someone to show. Izaiah drew back behind a huge Poinciana tree to make sure Asia hadn't caught him following her.

Although he felt out of sorts stalking the bishop's daughter, Izaiah had a greater need to settle his curiosity. He wanted to see the young man who'd been able to win the heart of such a gorgeous beauty. He was sure it was the reason Asia was here instead of being in class where she belonged. She was willing to risk her education just to be with the one she loved. Somehow, that made Izaiah a bit jealous.

He watched as the light breeze collared strands of her long hair and scattered them over her eyes, which were oval-shaped and mysteriously alluring. Izaiah shook his head in awe. He couldn't believe God had made a woman so perfect in beauty and in form. Every bit of her movement was poised and was filled with a grace Izaiah rarely saw in women these days. However, his vision was soon tarnished by the mystery guy he had been waiting to see.

He watched as Asia broke out into a huge grin, as she tossed her arms lithely around his neck. They shared a light kiss before they disappeared into the restaurant. Izaiah was even more jealous now than he'd been five minutes before. He stood there contemplating his next move, but his conscience began to kick in and he suddenly realized how stupid it was of him to have interfered in Asia's private life – even if he'd done it innocently. He regretted coming and to prevent making a complete fool out of himself, he quickly spun away from the Poinciana tree and practically jogged back to the Wrangler.

****

About three doors down from the Big Fish restaurant, Chazz sat alone on a stool in John's Bar and Grill – one of four places located in the Quad where customers could gulp down three bottles of beer for less than five dollars. His plastic framed glasses that were fastened over his inviting eyes made him look like a frat boy from Harvard. He was about to down his second bottle of beer when he saw Ms. V saunter in, holding her head high as if she was the Prime Minister over the island.

Closely followed behind her were three men dressed in black suits. The waitress sat them in a corner booth and gave them menus to look at. Chazz studied the men for a short while, certain he'd seen them before. Those cocky smiles that went along with their air of arrogance were sure signs that he was looking at Gregory's property attendants. Chazz wondered why they were here with Ms. V and not at the Beaufort's estate doing Gregory's bidding.

Even though it had been almost three years since he'd last seen them, it was impossible to forget how cruelly they had treated him. It was all Gregory's doing, Chazz thought. It was he who'd wickedly dangled the bait of sin. Gregory used every means to ensure he had recruited Chazz successfully. Had he known that Gregory's indecent proposal would have eventually led to the gates of hell, he would have probably thought twice about jumping so quickly to accept it. Just as he would have thought twice about letting Ms. V steal his virginity. Those two events ended up being the two most thoughtless decisions he'd ever made in his life. But that was the kind of filth the _House of gods_ encouraged. Young men were often led deeper and deeper into debauchery.

Chazz ran his eyes over Ms. V. She was still an eye-catcher, but in a sick, evil kind of way. If other men found that appealing, then Ms. V would be their cup of tea. Chazz would never forget the first time he was introduced to her. Her first words to him were off the charts: _"Take off everything; let me see if you've got what it takes._ " Mesmerized, and being propelled by unbridled lust, he obeyed.

His naked form seemed to please her and without another word, she took him by the hand to her bedroom where they did all sorts of perverse things that afternoon. His inexperience with sex didn't matter, because Ms. V was an excellent teacher – that and a gamut of pornography he had been made to watch. He was then given basic level passwords and immediately placed on a three-month probation period as a means to measure his loyalty.

He had actually made it to the initiation ceremony and to the first dimension of power within the organization. But several weeks after the fanfare, his relationship with the organization began to take a downward turn. That was about the time he had met Dana. Chazz took full responsibility for his rebellion, because up to that point he was still trying to get his freedom back.

But such attention from Ms. V could make any man feel special. However, as Chazz later learned, Ms. V used sex simply as a tool to test the stamina of male recruits, who would eventually be put on display for the organization's high-end clients. Their lust was as deep as their pockets, and they would pay any amount of money to get whatever form of perversion they desired. Disgusted by his own thoughts, Chazz turned away and took a long swig from the beer bottle.

The more he thought of Ms. V and the secret organization that had messed up his life, the more he wanted to expose the filth that went on in that place. Starting with Gregory's wife... Chazz vowed that she would be the first to know. She'd been the only one who'd treated him with respect, even though he'd disrespected her in the worst possible way. Five minutes later, Chazz got up to leave before he was singled out by these evil people. He slapped ten dollars in front of the bartender and told him to keep the change. He slipped out into the September breeze and disappeared as quickly as he could.

Lay hands suddenly on no man, neither be partaker of other men's sins: keep thyself pure.

– _1 Timothy 5:22_

### Chapter Ten

Just over a decade ago, it wasn't considered dangerous to stroll through the streets of St. Elmo's Valley at ten o'clock at night. Even at midnight, it was still safe to leave front doors unlocked, but with the increase of armed robberies and other violent crimes, residents, especially those who lived in St. Elmo's Valley, were becoming more vigilant. Some of the illegal immigrants that came to the shores of Bliss Haven came with a beast mentality – taking that which did not belong to them. They had arrived empty-handed, but they did not intend on remaining in that condition.

Fortunately, Jorge and his family had never experienced being robbed nor had their home broken into. They didn't have much to offer anyway. With his parents not being able to find steady jobs, little money came in. So whatever they owned was sparse and outdated. It was almost as if Jorge was the sole provider for his family. The small amount he collected from selling his handcrafted jewelry kept food on the table and electricity running so that they could watch the local news on a small thirteen-inch TV.

The best set of clothing that Jorge had was two faded pairs of jeans, along with two dress shirts, one of which he had worn the other day when he met with Asia at the Quad. But once Jorge sprayed some starch and had painstakingly worked the iron over his clothes, they were presentable enough for him to even attend church, as it was this blessed Sunday morning. He was headed out to St. Donovan's Chapel. At the Quad, Asia continued to strategize ways to meet Jorge where he wouldn't be under the constant threat of her father's men.

With his straw hat tied to the back of his neck, Jorge jumped on his bicycle. St. Donovan's Chapel was roughly four miles away. If he pedaled fast enough, he should be there in under thirty minutes. But no matter the distance, he would travel it in a heartbeat, just to see his precious Asia. She was that special to him. He could remember the first time they'd spent hours together, sitting side by side in front of the aquamarine waters, conveniently located about half a mile down from the airport.

It had been two weeks since their first meeting. She had sought him out, wanting to talk to someone about her home situation. He had been hanging out with the straw vendors, just as he'd told her he would be. The time flew by and it had not seemed enough, as they talked about everything that was in their hearts. However, a portion of their conversation stood out in his mind, because it had always remained with him how impressive Asia's character truly was.

" _All of my friends at the academy are asking me about this necklace," Asia had said, as she slowly encircled the smooth surface with her fingers. "Jorge, you are quite talented."_

" _Thank you, but it's nothing," he said, trying to downplay her accolade. He couldn't believe that she had worn the necklace all that time. "I make those so that I can have a little money in my pocket."_

" _How much do you sell them for, if you don't mind me asking?"_

" _It depends. Some for three dollars, some for less."_

Asia looked horrified. "You're kidding, right? Jorge, your jewelry is top quality. Why do you sell them so cheap?"

" _That's all the vendors would buy them for. Sometimes, I can make ten dollars per piece, if I sell them directly to the tourists, but my partner and I are always being chased by the police. And if they are not chasing us, they are accosting us and stealing our money. So far, the straw market is the safest place to hang; nobody bothers us there."_

" _There must be something that can be done about that," Asia cried. "I can't believe such injustice goes on in Bliss Haven."_

" _Asia, welcome to the real world," Jorge said. "I am from St. Elmo's Valley, one of the most disgraceful parishes on this small island. Nobody is going to hand out any favors to me. I have to make life the best way I can."_

" _Can't the government do something about that? I mean, this island brings in enough money to take care of its people."_

" _Politics is not so clear cut," Jorge said resignedly. He grew silent, amazed that a well-to-do girl like Asia was showing such concern for him. She was gorgeous to stare at, a girl he knew would be hard to make his own. For now, he was simply thankful to be her friend. They had taken off their shoes and had buried their feet in the cool sand. He wished they could sit side by side forever, and not have to go back to their separate abodes._

" _Maybe my father can help," Asia said, breaking the silence. "Your work deserves better recognition."_

Jorge looked at her warmly, loving the way her concern made him feel. He had never felt so wanted in all his life. "I can't believe you would do that for me."

Asia seemed insulted. She locked her onyx eyes on him and said pointedly, "You are so easy to talk to, Jorge. I feel like I can tell you anything." She stared down at the sand, a bashful look to her face. "There is a connection between us that I can't explain," she continued. "I don't know you that well, but what I do know is that I like what I feel when I'm with you. So please, let me help in any way that I can."

"Pull over!"

The command slapped Jorge out of his rumination, and dragged his attention to a black, sleek limo, moving alongside him. His first reaction was to pedal faster, but he knew the limo would outride him within a second.

"What do you want?" Jorge called back. "I'm heading to church."

"Maybe tomorrow," one of the men said with a grin. "You are certainly not going anywhere at this moment. Pull over, or we will have to do something drastic."

Jorge didn't like the aura of these men. They looked like skilled mercenaries who'd been given orders to 'take care' of the problem. There was no question about who'd sent them, Jorge thought. What was more frightening was what were they going to do to him?

"Alright, I'll pull over," Jorge told the men. "But promise you won't hurt me."

Jorge's words elicited a derisive grin from the man in the passenger seat. How dare this pitiable vagrant bargain with them? He was lucky that they hadn't run him over with the limo. When Jorge slowed his bicycle up against the hedges of the street, the men swung the car in front of him and jumped out. There were three of them, huge, beefy men who looked as if they had swallowed a bison. They wasted no time in their attack. Fists balled to the size of a small coconut, they began to rain down a combo of punches to Jorge's body.

"I didn't do anything," Jorge cried. He dropped to the ground in the fetal position, in an attempt to shield himself from the blows, but his actions only caused the men to become more violent. They began kicking him with the steel tips of their shoes; their words were laced with strong profanity. It made Jorge wonder if it was a case of mistaken identity. But Jorge knew better. Gregory had sent the men to derail him from seeing his daughter, but Jorge suspected that they'd followed Asia to the Quad and saw him spending time with her. It was the only explanation he could come up with as to why Gregory's men were attacking him now.

Jorge cried out in pain, as the first sign of blood began to trickle out of his mouth. "I won't go near her again," he finally gasped. "I promise I will stay away from Asia, if that's what you came to warn me about."

At Jorge's concession, the men brought the attack to a halt. The boy knew who they were, but they couldn't care less. Mission had been accomplished. With menacing glares, they spat on the ground next to Jorge, openly showing their disdain for him. They climbed into the limo and screeched away in the direction of St. Donovan's Chapel, where they would sit in the back pew until Gregory finished his sermon.

In the stillness of the afternoon, surrounded by the scorching heat of the sun, Jorge lay motionless. He could not stop the tears from pouring out of his eyes. The pain of losing Asia was harder to endure than the blows he had received to his body. He felt like dying. Maybe if he stayed on the ground a little longer, his soul would eventually find rest in God's eternal paradise. Because there was no way he would be able to go on without Asia in his life.

### Chapter Eleven

St. Donovan's Chapel

Service in the chapel was already underway when Gregory pulled Izaiah into his office. The black cassock and the priestly biretta that Gregory wore made him appear like a different man in Izaiah's eyes. Gone was the man with huge grins in tennis shorts. Instead, a stoic expression preceded Gregory's words.

"Please, have a seat," Izaiah heard Gregory say. "I am scheduled to mount the pulpit in a few minutes, but I need to have a word with you."

Izaiah simply nodded.

Gregory cleared his throat as he zeroed in on Izaiah's questioning gaze. What he was about to say should put the young man's concerns to rest. "After this morning's service, I will announce to the congregation that you have been installed as the new youth minister of St. Donovan's Chapel. Do you have any reservations before I proceed?"

Izaiah raised his brows in surprise, because Gregory had been introducing Izaiah as his tennis partner to everyone they met. All week long he had been trying to get an audience with Gregory, to find out where he stood as far as the youth minister position was concerned. Why all of a sudden did Gregory choose to use the pulpit to stir up trouble? Izaiah wouldn't have minded so much if Gregory hadn't kept his family in the dark about the announcement.

"Do you still want the position?" Gregory prompted.

"Of course I want the position," Izaiah answered. "It's the reason I came to Bliss Haven. But why didn't you tell your family about it when I was first introduced to them?"

Gregory said amicably, "I'm surprised that it took you so long to ask me about that."

"What do you mean? I've been trying to talk to you alone all week."

"You seem upset."

"To be honest with you, sir, I am, because it feels as if I'm getting the run around. When I was accepted for the position, I was under the impression that I had been hired because of my skills and experience in youth ministry, not because you wanted someone to play tennis with, or to follow behind your daughter like a lost puppy."

Gregory chuckled.

"What is so funny?"

"I simply wanted to know if I could trust you, Izaiah. I know how pressing my wife and daughters can be. You did not divulge anything to them, despite me parading you around as my tennis partner. You can relax now, you have passed the test."

Izaiah thought of a spicy comeback to put Gregory in his place, because Izaiah still felt that Gregory was using him for his own personal agenda. But Izaiah really wanted the position. Getting Gregory upset over his smart mouth was probably not the wisest thing to do.

"I don't know if I should take that as a compliment," he told Gregory instead.

"You should," Gregory said, "because I rarely trust anyone."

_Including your wife_ , Izaiah wanted to add, but he knew for sure those three words would get him shipped back to the United States on the first flight smoking.

"What about your daughter?" Izaiah asked guardedly.

"What about her?"

"The part about me befriending her and all."

"Yes, that still stands." Gregory stood, which was a sign that he was ready to head to the pulpit. "My daughter needs someone in her life like you. You hang around her long enough, and eventually, you will not be able to leave her side, anyway. Her personality is very addictive."

As much as Izaiah didn't want to admit it, there was some truth to Gregory's twisted words. He got a foretaste of Asia when they were on the veranda the other day. Although the Alsatians had almost made him pee his pants, he could still hear Asia's infectious giggles ringing in his ears. He had even followed her all the way to the Quad and had gotten jealous over the boy she was secretly dating behind Gregory's back.

However, Izaiah did not like being a pawn in anyone's game. If he was going to befriend Asia, he would do it of his own accord. Not because Gregory demanded it. That would certainly take the pressure off of him, knowing that his friendship with Asia would be genuine. Following Gregory's lead, Izaiah stood as well and trailed Gregory out of the office.

****

As soon as the benediction was given over the service, a flock of women encircled Izaiah, congratulating him as the new youth minister of St. Donovan's Chapel. It was obvious the women were excited about this new prospect. Their Sundays would now be filled with expectation, fantasizing about the handsome, young minister. Izaiah was used to the attention, but he didn't want to give the women the wrong impression of his character. Just because he was smiling and holding his stare a little longer than normal, didn't mean he was looking for a wife.

He was relieved when Gregory pulled him aside to greet some of the people who would be working along with him in his new position. As Izaiah shook their hands, he noticed Dana had taken a seat at the back of the church – two benches away from Gregory's men. Her body was poised in a way, indicating that she was not in a rush to go anywhere. She did not wear those big-brimmed hats, or those lavish outfits Izaiah had seen on some first ladies. Compared to most, Dana's style was simple, but elegant enough to make her stand out. Her creamy, unblemished complexion was reason enough to stare.

Izaiah assumed Dana was bothered by Gregory's announcement, because she was the only one who hadn't congratulated him on his new position. But could he blame Dana for her actions? He would be upset, too, if he had been left out of the loop, especially because Dana was Gregory's wife. She should have not been treated like everyone else.

"Don't worry about her; she will come around."

Izaiah broke his gaze away from Dana, only to set his eyes upon a similar replica.

"Asia Beaufort," Izaiah announced. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with me."

"That was before I knew who you were," Asia said. "You could have just told me, you know. I've been behind my father to add some 'flavor' to the youth department. It has been quite bland for a while."

Izaiah chuckled. "I can see where you get your wittiness from. I would have never thought of that description to define lassitude."

"Like I would have never thought of 'lassitude' to define the condition of the youth," Asia quipped. She extended her hand, her onyx eyes searching him. "Congratulations on your new role, Mr. Cahoon – or should it be Reverend Cahoon? I do pray your labor at St. Donovan's Chapel will be rewarding."

Izaiah grinned, thoroughly impressed at how easy it was for Asia to control a conversation. "So this means that I have your blessing?"

Asia rolled her eyes. "Why do you need my blessing? My father seems to think that you are the right man for the job."

Asia began to back away, but Izaiah was not done with her. "It appears to me that you have a real passion for the youth," he told her. "Would you be willing to lend your assistance every now and then – if the need should arise?"

"I have no problem with that, Mr. Cahoon."

"Good." Izaiah looked around to make sure his next words were out of earshot. "And please, stop calling me Mr. Cahoon. Izaiah will do just fine. I am not that much older than you."

"I agree. Mr. Cahoon sounds like my old professor at the academy." Asia smiled teasingly, as she prepared to leave Izaiah's presence. "There seems to be another group of women coming down the aisle to greet you. I will go before I get stampeded."

"That is not even remotely funny, Asia..." Izaiah began, but Asia had already turned her attention elsewhere.

Izaiah realized that his heart was skipping beats again. No other woman had ever had that sort of effect on him. He turned away and tried not to read too much into whatever he was feeling for Asia.

### Chapter Twelve

Asia paced the grounds of the church, stealthily looking for Jorge to pop his head from the shadows. They had agreed to meet at a particular spot, but after fifteen minutes of waiting, Asia knew something had gone awry. Jorge would never disappoint her this way. If he vowed to show up at a certain time, he would endeavor to keep his word. If Jorge had minutes on his cell phone, she would have tried contacting him, to find out what was going on. She, then, thought of using her car to make the four-mile trip to St. Elmo's Valley, but she suddenly remembered that her father had taken her car keys away as a means to punish her for her supposed rebellion.

Evidently, those options were not available to her, but that didn't mean that she was about to give up trying to contact Jorge. Because of the stakes surrounding their relationship, their meetings had to be carefully contrived. If it happened that one of them could not meet at the designated spot, their alternative meeting place would always be at the straw market – the place where Jorge sold his handcrafted jewelry. Asia had ridden along with her mother to church that morning, but she did not intend to leave the grounds with her. There were more than enough ways to make things work in her favor.

When Asia spotted Mother Daphine walking to her car, she held her head, pretending to have a splitting migraine. Mother Daphine did not live too far from the Beaufort's estate in Crystal Bay, but Asia knew that Mother Daphine had to pass the straw market on her way home. It was the perfect setup.

"Can I get a ride home, Mother Daphine," Asia groaned. "I feel as if I'm about to die."

Mother Daphine dropped her huge bag on the driver's seat and gave Asia her immediate attention. "What is wrong with you, child?"

"Nothing serious, I hope," Asia rubbed in. "I have a blinding headache and I think I need to lie down for a while."

"I left your mother sitting at the back of the church; do you need me to get her for you?"

"No, I would rather you just take me home. My parents are known to hang around forever." Asia grunted, as if she had suddenly experienced a sharp jab of pain. "I need to go now."

Mother Daphine wrinkled her forehead with concern. She was suspicious of Asia, too, because as long as she had known the family, Asia had never asked to be taken to the Beaufort's estate. "Child, I don't want you dying on my hands. It looks as if you need medical help. Headaches can be a sign of something serious."

"I know," Asia agreed. "That's why I need to go home and have Miss Rose look after me."

"Is Miss Rose a doctor?"

"No, ma'am, but she would know what to do."

"I don't fancy that," Mother Daphine countered.

Asia almost gave up on her pretending. _If I knew it was going to be this hard, trying to convince the old geezer, I would have simply caught the public bus_. But at the last minute, Mother Daphine seemed to pull back on some of her suspicion.

"How will your mother know that I have taken you home?"

Asia wanted to grin, but she squelched it and instead, showed Mother Daphine her cell phone. "I will call her the minute we leave," she said. "God bless your heart, Mother Daphine. You are certainly a wonderful woman of God."

Asia climbed into the passenger seat, already fabricating in her mind her next move. She had succeeded in getting Mother Daphine to take her from the church; all she had to do was figure out a way to get the old woman to drop her off at the straw market, instead of taking her home as requested. In the meanwhile, Asia allowed thoughts of Jorge to add fuel to her playful gambits.

****

Anwar leaned back and tossed his feet up on a bureau. He began to scan through some of the documents that the coach had given him at the swim club, but after a few minutes, he shoved the documents aside. He could not really get into it, not while his friend was sprawled on his mattress in battered form. About two hours ago, while on his way to Jorge's house, Anwar found Jorge on the side of the road, twisting in pain. A brief inquiry revealed that Jorge had been assaulted by a company of men.

But when Anwar suggested taking Jorge to the public hospital, Jorge resisted, mumbling that he did not want his parents to fret over what had happened to him. Their grief of poverty was hard enough to bear. Anwar, of course, was sick with worry, because he was not sure how serious Jorge's condition was. But when Anwar saw how Jorge had worked himself to his feet, he thought that maybe Jorge's injuries weren't life threatening and that maybe a bag of ice would keep the swelling away.

But by the time they'd made it to Anwar's bedroom, Jorge's left eye was swollen shut. He groaned constantly, and complained that his sides pained him. Anwar soon regretted listening to his friend. Suppose there was internal bleeding, or a couple of broken ribs that needed fixing? Anwar wouldn't be able to live it down if Jorge's condition suddenly deteriorated. There was no way he could keep Jorge locked up in his room forever, anyway. Their parents would eventually come snooping around and what would Jorge be able to say then?

"Anwar..."

Anwar jumped at Jorge's weak call, not sure that Jorge had actually called him. He swung his feet off the bureau and inquired with a little reservation, "You awake?"

"I wish I wasn't," Jorge moaned, remembering the sweet face of his precious Asia. Because of those heartless ruffians, he would probably never see her again. "I want to die. What can I do to speed up the process?"

"Hey, man. Don't talk that morbid stuff around me. Tell me who did this to you."

"I don't know."

"Of course you know!" Anwar fired back. "You can't tell me this doesn't have anything to do with that Asia chick..."

"Don't refer to her that way," Jorge hissed, which aroused a stream of painful coughs from his abdominal tract. He held his sides and made his face into a grimace. "Asia has class; remember that."

"You and your Asia," Anwar said with feigned disdain, but his heart went out to his friend. Love seemed to be such a bittersweet experience. "I swear, that girl will be the end of you...and to think that I swam with her sister the other day. What a crazy coincidence that was, or, should I call it fate?"

Jorge held his head now, more out of pain than from Anwar's biting revelation. Asia did mention a little about her sisters, but right now, Jorge was a little fuzzy in trying to figure out which one was the swimmer and which one was the banker. The right eye that was less swollen, Jorge used to focus in on his friend's animated visage. As far as he could discern, it did not seem as if Anwar was making the story up. _Maybe, there is still a chance to see my Asia_ ...

"Those Beaufort girls are trouble, if you ask me," Anwar continued fiercely. "They might be fine as hell, but they come with a whole lot of ammunition." He turned swiftly to Jorge and then wagged a finger in his face. "But you are partly to blame, man. You should have left Asia alone when I told you to. Her father is out to put you out of your misery."

Jorge tried to sit up to respond, but ended up falling to one side. He gritted his teeth and screamed.

"Man, that's it! I'm taking you to the hospital."

Jorge shook his head and said dismissively, "It'll get better in a few days."

"You sound as if you are in labor, man!" Anwar exclaimed. "I can't take this screaming in my ear all night. I'm a dude who loves to sleep my full eight hours, and I'm not gonna let you mess that up for me."

"You're always thinking about yourself, aren't you?" Jorge teased. "You are not really concerned about me."

"Aw, man, don't go getting mushy on me. I could have left you on the side of the road."

"Which one did you meet?" Jorge managed to get in, after a little chuckle.

Anwar stopped in his stride, and faced his friend with a spark of incredulity. "Are you still thinking about those Beaufort girls, after one of them has almost cost you your life?"

"I bet it won't be the last time you will swim with Asia's sister," Jorge quipped. "You don't have to pretend with me, Anwar. We are different in many ways, but we have similar taste in women. I can see that you're actually ecstatic over your 'good' fortune. So just tell me, which one of Asia's sisters did you meet?"

Anwar couldn't stop that subtle twitch, which soon lifted his lips into a mischievous smirk. "You don't believe me, do you? That's why you're asking me to tell you her name."

"I'm inquiring because I need you to cut me a favor," Jorge said. "Is it Dallis or Candi?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Because it will determine if my message will get into Asia's ear, without her father finding out about it."

Anwar smiled perceptively, "Three sisters that look alike, but their personalities are like night and day. That is some terribly interesting information – helps me better with my choosing. Well, to put your mind at ease, the mystery woman is none other than the gorgeous Dallis Beaufort...she acts as if she isn't, but I could tell she knows."

Jorge's expression fell a bit. "I had a feeling. Asia calls her goody two shoes. She is a strict Christian, who does everything by the book. She will not help me communicate with Asia."

Anwar frowned as if Jorge was referring to a completely different person. "I didn't get that impression from Dallis...she seemed nice...then again, it just might be my sexy swagger that disarmed that side of her."

Jorge sighed. "You must try to help me, Anwar. Asia and I were scheduled to meet at church, but of course, I was intercepted. I don't want her to worry. She needs to know that I am all right."

Anwar paced away from Jorge, his thoughts shifting a million miles a minute. "I don't know if I can do that, my friend."

"Why not?" Jorge spat. "I'm not asking you to break into the Beaufort's estate to rescue Asia from that tyranny."

"Because," Anwar explained, as he turned to set his eyes on Jorge. "If Dallis discovers that I'm friends with you, she will figure out that I am from St. Elmo's Valley. I don't want to blow my cover – not when I have just walked through the gates of affluence."

Jorge grew silent for a minute, and tried to absorb what his friend had just said to him. When Anwar mentioned that he'd had a plan to get out of St. Elmo's Valley, Jorge hadn't anticipated that Anwar would have moved with such decisiveness. Wanting to include Asia's sister in his ploy rattled Jorge more than the disgust of his friend's greed. Jorge turned his head to the side and let out another sigh, clearly disappointed over the path that Anwar had chosen to tread.

"I can't believe you would mistreat me for the sake of money, Anwar. We did not grow up like that. Being manipulative as a means to get what we want out of life is not the way to go. Too much of that is going on in Bliss Haven. Why do you want to become a part of that disgusting trend anyway?"

Anwar kept his gaze fastened on Jorge, seeming not to be moved by Jorge's admonition. "Because I am fed up with never having enough, Jorge and if there's an opportunity for me to improve my condition, you better believe that I am going after it. Now, I'm sorry that doesn't sit well with you, man, but I desperately need a change."

"But at what cost?"

Anwar shrugged. There was nothing Jorge or anyone else could say that would deter his mind from doing what he wanted to do. "I'll be back. I'm gonna make you some lemonade."

"Remember, without integrity," Jorge tossed at Anwar as he left through the door, "nothing good can come out of your dealings with Dallis."

"We shall see, my friend," Anwar retorted casually. "We shall see."

### Chapter Thirteen

It was a remarkable fact that Dana had not started out wanting to become a paint artist. When she married Gregory at the age of twenty-three, she had recently completed a bachelor's degree in English, and was focusing her attention on becoming a junior high instructor. At the time, Gregory was already deeply involved in the church and much of their first year of marriage was spent building Gregory's dream to move up the ranks in the ecclesiastical arena. Her husband was good at what he did and it wasn't long before the powers that be recognized her husband's persistence.

They had lived in Wisconsin and life was comfortable, as Dana remembered. She was excited about her husband's future and did not think it was unusual for a young wife to give up her dream as an English instructor. At least until Gregory had settled into what he was going after. In the third year of their marriage, she became pregnant with Candi – their eldest child. It was at that time when Gregory announced that he had been offered an influential position by the church's leaders. Dana brimmed with joy, only to have it crushed when Gregory told her that they would have to migrate to the Caribbean.

A very lofty move, which meant more money and more exposure, but Dana was not certain of the opportunities that a small island would present. But she loved Gregory deeply and would have done anything for him back then. Three months after Candi was born, the family moved to Bliss Haven. Upon arrival to the estate that the church had paid for, Dana suddenly realized how prestigious her husband's position truly was. It was hard not to fall in love with Bliss Haven.

With its sandy, white beaches, along with its luxurious foliage set against a clear blue, sky, calling Bliss Haven home would be quite easy. The people on the island were amazingly receptive, as Dana recalled. The first time that Gregory had stood behind the podium in St. Donovan's Chapel, the building was jam-packed with people, eager to hear what their new Bishop had to say. Dana sat in the front pew, proud of her husband. She knew then that she would remain at her husband's side. His dreams would become her dreams.

So, when Dana drove into the market square to purchase some supplies for her paint gallery that afternoon, it quickly dawned on her that she was slowly becoming unhinged from her husband's successes. For a long time, she had heavily depended on Gregory's position with the Episcopal Church as a way to define her professional identity. Ironically, the joy she'd had working side by side with her husband began to wane as the years rolled by. Gregory had become very powerful in Bliss Haven and everyone seemed to want a piece of him.

He met with government officials regularly, as plans for the church grew. Then the community meetings followed, along with a cluster of other events that Dana could not keep up with. Some of the meetings supported a strong showing of testosterone that would make the most liberal woman uncomfortable. Soon, Dana was beginning to be left out of the picture, which forced her to focus on becoming a housewife. By then, she and Gregory were the parents of three pre-teen girls and although Miss Rose had been very helpful in raising the girls, Dana needed something to replace the emptiness she'd felt.

As Gregory's time spent at home became less and less, Dana's heart grew lonely, to the point where she would have sustaining bouts of depression throughout the day. When she was with the girls, she didn't focus on it, but as soon as they were off to school, there was nothing left for Dana to do, except lose herself in her itinerant thoughts. But Dana was a very studious person. She also had an artistic nature, being able to see things as they 'did' look and not as they 'should' look.

The days she would lay in her bed alone and just stare at the wall, allowed her to notice varying degrees of patterns. She would then look at the wood her dressers were made out of and noticed the swirls and mixed shades and soon, this sort of thing became a habit. It wasn't long before she decided to do something about it. She went to the local store and purchased an easel and some paints, just sufficient supplies that would be enough for her to experiment on her burgeoning ideas. She would go to the park and sit on a bench, observing everything around her.

No two people were alike; no two leaves were the same. The position of the sun when it shone, the uneven blades in the grass, the shadows of certain objects. Dana began to see that 'art' was everywhere. She took out her easel and began to experiment. Two years later, when Asia had celebrated her fifteenth birthday, Dana sold her first painting for two hundred dollars. She, of course, was elated. She had regained some measure of sense to her life. That first sale opened the door for many others to be sold. Eventually, she moved her showpieces from the estate and rented a space in town. She'd had the art gallery for almost four years now and business was exceptionally good.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Beaufort. How are you doing today?"

Dana placed the various shades of acrylics on the countertop and gave the seventy-year-old cashier an earnest smile. "Hello, Wendy. I'm good, thank you. I just came to gather a few supplies."

"A few?" the old woman parroted. "Doesn't look so to me. That little business of yours has surely taken off, hasn't it?"

"It all seems so surreal to me," Dana said. "I suppose we all have a little something in us that people want to buy."

"You can bet that's right, girlie. All of us were born with a talent or two. It's a pity I never knew what mines were." Wendy cackled and then slowly slipped on a pair of glasses. She began to ring up Dana's items, moving as deliberately as a snail. "Let's see what you have here...four acrylic paints...cadmium red...azo yellow...phthalo blue...and...burnt umber...two filbert brushes...and one palette knife..."

Dana shifted her weight to the other foot, wondering why Wendy always read off everything while she rang up her customer's items. It was a good thing that she wasn't in a rush or else she would have told Wendy to have them shipped to the art gallery. Finally, Wendy gave Dana her change and with quick strides, Dana exited the store. The skies were clear, but the sun was spanking hot, which caused Dana to add a little more speed to her stride. She couldn't wait to make it back to her Mercedes, where she would blast the air conditioning in her face.

"Mrs. Beaufort, wait up a sec!"

Dana froze. She could recognize that cultured tone if she was fifty feet under the ocean. She did not turn for fear that her pounding heart would fall out of her chest. A young, muscular male in a Dickies overall, brought his steps in front of Dana. When he showed her that dimply grin, her heart had gone from pounding to a puddle of water. It was Chazz Brunswick, her former gardener – the reason why she and Gregory had been sleeping in separate beds for the last three years.

"Chazz," Dana could barely look at him without remembering what they did. "It has been a long time."

"I know, but when I saw you coming out of the store," Chazz paused, as if trying to be prudent with his words. He took off his straw hat and then swiped his tongue over his luscious lips. It was an unconscious habit that had always pushed Dana's thoughts into ungodly places. "I just wanted to say hi and that I'm sorry for the way things turned out. Well, the truth is, I have been wanting to talk to you about your husband."

Chazz's nervousness made him ramble on, especially because of the way Dana was staring at him with those bedroom eyes. He had secretly followed her here from her art gallery, hoping his little ruse would pay off. And since they had been intimate at the deepest level, he couldn't figure out why his nerves were embarrassing him like this. "I work for myself now, doing a little landscaping whenever someone calls. It doesn't pay a whole heap of money, but it pays the bills. I'm here to get some soil...strange that we ran into each other like this –"

"What do you have to say about my husband?"

"Can we talk somewhere in private?"

"I don't think that is a good idea."

"Mrs. Beaufort, don't make me beg..."

Hearing Chazz called her Mrs. Beaufort only reminded Dana of the disgrace she had brought to her family. Even though they'd had sex multiple times in various rooms of her home, Chazz still referred to her as if he hadn't lost any respect for her. It was this charming, innocent feature that had initially drawn Dana to him. That day when Gregory brought him on staff, Dana hadn't any idea that he would become her eye candy.

When Gregory left the house in the mornings, Dana would go to the window and watch Chazz work the garden in overalls – the sleeveless ones that showed how ripped his body was. His black skin would glisten in the sun, awakening those shameless desires that Dana should have only felt for her husband. Even now, as she fought to keep her thoughts sanctified, Chazz's black skin was glistening in the hot sun. His lips were moist and his eyes were soft and respectful. The plastic frames over his eyes gave him an even younger and more appealing look.

Chazz was the kind of man that a woman would want to bring home to meet her parents. But there was an animalistic side to Chazz that Dana knew all too well. He hid it behind those boyish features and that peaceful demeanor, but behind closed doors, Chazz had made her consider leaving Gregory during those sinful sessions. She, however, would quickly come to her senses when she realized that Chazz was three years younger than her oldest daughter. The sex was powerful, but the guilt was bone crushing.

"It wasn't your fault, Mrs. Beaufort," Chazz said, prompting Dana back to the present. "Your husband is a monster."

Dana looked around to make sure no one was within earshot of their conversation. "It's water under the bridge, Chazz. Why dredge it up now?"

"Because I still care about you and I hate how I ruined your life."

"Well, I'm getting on just fine. Gregory has found a way to live with it and I think you should follow suit." Dana walked around him, trying not to let Chazz see the way he was affecting her. Being so close to him was enough for her to renege on the promise she had made to God. A boy, who could be her son, had offset her sanctified equilibrium. "Excuse me, I want to get out of this hot sun."

"Mrs. Beaufort," Chazz called behind her. "I'm sorry...please know that I am truly sorry...can I call you sometime?"

"That's not a good idea, Chazz. I am done with that part of my life."

Dana pressed the fob to her Mercedes, unlocking the doors. She climbed in and tossed the art supplies in the passenger seat. She reversed next to him, but wanted nothing more than to peel out of the parking lot. When she was at a safe distance, she eased her car to the side of the road. First came the tears and then the angry outburst. Why did she have to suffer this way? She was stuck in a marriage with a husband who didn't want to have sex with her. Then Chazz showed up out of the blue, acting as if he still cared about her.

Dana was livid. It had been three years. She wondered how Gregory had been able to pacify his flesh. There had to be times when his body felt as if it were on fire. Dana knew her husband. His sexual appetite had not waned overnight. If he wasn't sleeping with her, Dana was almost certain that he was sleeping with someone else. She was angry enough to put her pride aside and stalk her husband's every move, because she did not deserve to be deprived of the one thing a wife needed from her husband. Dana dropped her head in a quick prayer, which was less heartfelt than one she'd prayed that morning.

_Lord, help me not to do anything stupid_ ...

### Chapter Fourteen

When Dallis Beaufort arrived at home that evening, she was surprised to see that no one was downstairs in the kitchen. Usually, Miss Rose would be shuffling back and forth with trays of food, but there was no such activity to be seen. Flummoxed, she dropped her swim bag on the hardwood floor and stared out at the openness of the grand living room. Soon, a little smile crept on her face. Through the glass of the French doors, Dallis could see her father, bending his head in amusement. She wondered what it was that tickled him, when it seemed he had little to be happy about these last three years he'd been married to her mother.

Dallis and her sisters were well aware of the rift in their parents' relationship. But they all walked around and pretended as if the situation would heal itself. Her parents were two of the most stubborn people she knew, refusing to fully forgive one another for their mistakes. Dallis had done what she could to help her parents reconcile, but she grimly realized that infidelity was a powerful demon, which made it near to impossible to restore trust. The poisonous venom of infidelity had not only destroyed her parents' marriage vows, but also the communication in the entire family. They were barely tolerant of one another. Dallis believed if they got that issue sorted out, the hardest part of the battle would be won.

Wanting to join her father on the veranda, Dallis filed her troubled thoughts away and pushed the French doors open. She did not expect to see three additional men sitting on the opposite side of her father. Two of them were dressed in white shirts and black ties – their faces alive with conversation. Dallis' suspicion came alive as it always did whenever she saw her father with a group of men. They were always young and good looking, and always seemed to be reveling in her father's presence. _Maybe her father was doing 'things' with them that he should only be doing with her mother_. She would be lying if the thought hadn't crossed her mind more than once. Immediately, her father stood to greet her.

"Dallis!" Gregory announced, moving gleefully toward her. "I am so proud of you – the fastest swimmer that Bliss Haven will ever know."

Dallis gave a little coy smile, already making plans to retreat.

"Don't be bashful, my daughter," Gregory said. He then gestured toward the table at the men. "This is Peter, one of our community representatives, and this is his right hand man, Herman. And this fine young man is Izaiah Cahoon. He was recently installed as the youth minister of St. Donovan's Chapel."

"So I heard," Dallis said. She didn't focus too much on Peter and his right hand man. She was staring at Izaiah, trying to guess his age. He didn't seem to be a day over nineteen years old, but she assumed he was older. Her father wouldn't have handed such a heavy responsibility to a kid.

"...I wanted you to meet Izaiah sooner," Gregory was saying, "but we kept missing you."

Dallis said laconically, "I'm sorry, but I've been training in the pools all week...I thought Mom would have passed on the message."

"You know your mother forgets everything," Gregory said with a dismissive air. "But I assumed you would be spending a lot of time at the swim club. A competition is coming up, is it not?"

That question generated a smile on Dallis' face. "It starts tomorrow, at ten in the morning," she beamed. "Will you be there to watch me race?"

"Of course!" Gregory exclaimed. "Izaiah and I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Izaiah noticed a wilt in Dallis' expression. He quickly gathered that Dallis was expecting Gregory to bring along his wife, and not someone she had just met for the first time in her life. Dallis' expression reminded Izaiah a little of Asia. They were strikingly similar, but there were still distinct differences between the two. Asia appeared to be a maxi-dress type of girl, whereas Dallis appeared to be a t-shirt and jeans type of girl. And whereas Asia kept her tresses fluffed against her back, Dallis seemed to keep her tresses pulled into a tight ponytail, which plainly showed her complexion – a shade darker than Asia's. Izaiah guessed it had to do with the sport, but otherwise, he was greatly impressed by the sister's flawless beauty.

"Where is everyone else?" Dallis inquired. "The kitchen is empty."

Gregory shrugged. "I have been in a meeting with these men for the last two hours. Are you hungry?"

"No, I'm good. The house just seems so quiet, that's all." Not wishing for her father to continue cosseting her, Dallis began to retreat into the living room. She offered him a reassuring smile and said, "Well, I'll let you get back to your meeting. It was nice meeting all of you...pleasant evening."

Dallis pulled the French doors shut, and hastened out of the view of the men. She could feel their eyes on her – an unsettling experience she'd had to deal with ever since she hit puberty. Everywhere that she and her sisters went, men stared at them as if they were a scrumptious plate of food. Candi loved it, Asia handled it, but Dallis simply hated it. When she was not in the pools, she wore baggy clothes, which she hoped would act as a deterrent to such perverted scrutiny. Her body was the temple of the Lord and she was careful not to be the cause of anyone's sin.

****

Asia heard a little noise in the hall outside her bedroom. Hoping that it was Dallis getting in from the swim club, Asia hopped out of her bed. Because her nerves had been jumpy all night, she hadn't been able to sleep a wink. _Where was Jorge Bentley?_ A question Asia had been chewing over ever since she'd gotten Mother Daphine to drop her off at the straw market. Even though the vendors were afraid of Gregory and the far-reaching effects of his influence, Asia had become good friends with some of them. So she knew if she asked them to tell her the truth, they would do so in a heartbeat.

None of them, however, had seen Jorge and in response, all of Asia's fears were magnified. She stumbled back to the estate in confusion. Her mind kept replaying the night when her father's men had chased Jorge off the property with their guns. Maybe, she thought, they had gone back to finish the job. As terrifying as that scenario was, Asia knew she couldn't allow herself to focus on it, because it would send her tripping out of her mind. Her heart had never felt this way about another person in her entire brief life.

Asia tapped on Dallis' bedroom door, twisting the doorknob at the same time. Her sister had just pulled her t-shirt over her head, exposing her brassiere. Dallis protested her sister's entry, but Asia had already closed the door behind her.

"That's a very bad habit you have, Asia," Dallis scolded. "I could have been walking around naked."

"Then you should lock your door," Asia countered. "Besides, you don't have anything that I haven't already seen a thousand times. We used to bathe together, remember?"

"That was before puberty, Asia. As an adult, I cherish my privacy."

Asia let out a quick sigh, not in the mood to tussle with her sister about old memories. She jumped right into her perturbations over Jorge's lack of communication. "I need to talk to you...do you have a few minutes?"

Dallis stared at Asia warily, her expression appearing in her tone, "Is this about Jorge?"

"Am I that transparent?"

"No, but you have not been acting like yourself ever since you started seeing that boy."

"Why does everyone refer to him as _'that boy'?_ Jorge Bentley is one of the most respectable men I've ever met."

"Apparently, you haven't met that many," Dallis quipped. "If Jorge is as respectable as you claim, then he shouldn't have been caught in the toolshed with you. Those are very sneaky actions, if you ask me."

Asia watched as Dallis turned her back and slid into a pair of cotton pajamas. "What do you expect us to do?" she inquired sorely. "Daddy won't let us spend any time together."

"Maybe Daddy has his reasons."

"You sound just like the rest of them," Asia spat. "Just because Jorge doesn't have a lot of money, it doesn't make him the wrong man for me. I know if Candi was here, she would be on my side."

Dallis turned to face her sister, "Then why are in my room, Asia, if my advice to you doesn't mean anything? And of course Candi would be on your side. Her morals are more unstable than water when it comes to men."

Asia softened her approach by walking over to Dallis' bed, edging the mattress with her buttocks. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I am just so worried about Jorge. We were supposed to meet at the church yesterday and if he couldn't make it, we agreed to always meet at an alternative location."

"I'm guessing he didn't show at all," Dallis said.

"No."

Dallis took a seat next to Asia on the bed, and genuinely tried to understand her sister's dilemma. "How long have you been seeing Jorge?"

"Officially? Four months. We just talked a little before that."

"Asia, four mouths is hardly enough time to throw yourself to the wind – for anyone. It means you may have to give up some of your dreams, your family, your friends – is Jorge even a Christian, which I think is the most important aspect in all of this drama?"

"You make it seem as if I don't have a clue of what I'm getting into," Asia said defensively. "I love Jorge and he loves me. Now, as far as his faith is concerned, he is in better condition than I am. Because he was the one that prevented us from having sex in that toolshed, not Miss Rose."

"Miss Rose said you were practically naked."

"That big mouth maid is good with exaggeration. I took my blouse off because I was hot in that toolshed. Jorge never took advantage of me. He says he wants us to marry and then consummate. If that isn't Christian, I don't know what is."

"I've never seen you so determined, Asia and honestly, it frightens me."

Asia gave her sister a defiant look. "Whenever Jorge proposes to me, I'm going to tell him yes. We talk about being married all the time. There isn't anything anyone can do about it. Not Daddy, not Mom, not anyone."

_That's if Jorge is still alive_ , Dallis wanted to say; but instead, she asked, "What are you going to do, as it relates to you getting in contact with Jorge? Didn't Daddy take your car keys away from you?"

"I don't care what Daddy does," Asia spat, a dreamy mist now appearing in her eyes. "He bought the silly thing, anyway. But where there's a will, there's a way. And there's more than enough will in me to swim across the Atlantic Ocean. One day, Dallis, you will experience what it is like to love a man – until it feels as if your heart is breaking in two."

Dallis contemplated Asia's words. Of course, she didn't have any idea of what it meant to love a man or to be loved by a man. All she got was a flood of impious looks, which had caused her to shy away from any sort of romantic relationship with the opposite sex. Then Anwar Daxon showed up at the swim club, looking like an unblemished mango in the sun. Certainly, with his mannerly ways, and easygoing style, there had been an immediate connection. But Dallis pretended not to be interested in the possibilities of a relationship. God was first in her life and then her swimming career. She didn't have time to be torn in her decisions – as her sister clearly was.

She wrapped an arm around Asia, pulling her closer. "Let's just pray about it, lil' sis. Who knows what the future holds...Jorge just might be the one."

Asia sensed the ambiguity in Dallis' voice, but she decided to let the conversation rest. She could not blame Dallis for being prudent, though excessive at times, it was who she was. Asia eased away from Dallis' grasp and with forlorn steps, dragged herself back to her room. Her tears hit the floor before her face touched the pillow. She wished her family could see that Jorge was all that she wanted, because if they continued to get in her way, she would make it very difficult for her family to live with her.

****

Izaiah walked into the guesthouse and then quietly closed the door behind him. He was becoming a little weary of Gregory's impromptu meetings. He must have sat through five of them since coming to the estate. There was always someone new for him to meet to discuss things that Izaiah felt could have been put in an email. Izaiah did not have any interest in hearing about the agenda of the Bliss Haven government. He could barely stand the political campaigns at home in the United States. So his input into these meetings was minimal at best.

Then there was the issue of Gregory always asking Izaiah if he trusted him, his piercing gaze seeming to search for an opening into Izaiah's mind. It appeared as if Gregory wanted to share some dark secret with Izaiah, but at the last moment, would change his mind with that pragmatic smile. It made Izaiah uncomfortable, but he didn't know how to tell Gregory about it. For the moment, Izaiah allowed his thoughts to focus on Asia, which he found he was doing more often than he wanted to.

For some reason, he always made her laugh, but he was beginning to look forward to sharing those humorous moments with her. Her personality was certainly addictive; however, he could not let his heart get caught up in the excitement. Gregory's words constantly reminded him that Asia was deeply smitten with someone else. He had seen with his own eyes the passion that Asia had for that boy. And even now, he still couldn't get out of his mind the image of Asia tossing her arms around his neck. It showed they had a connection and Izaiah was jealous of that.

His job was to neutralize this 'phase' of Asia's life, so that Gregory's anger could be appeased. Izaiah sighed, as he eased down on the mattress of his king size bed. He had made up his mind to do it his way, but that didn't mean he had the first clue on how to go about this situation. Izaiah genuinely wanted to spend time with Asia, but he feared that somehow Asia would find out about her father's little ploy, which she obviously would construe in a negative light. He could imagine how ugly things could get after that. He knew trying to explain would only make the matter worse.

A few moments later, Izaiah picked up his Bible from the nightstand and immersed himself in the life-giving power of God's Word – a discipline he'd kept since the first day he became a Christian. His world was slowly changing before him and it felt as if he could do nothing to stop it.

They sacrifice to devils, and not to God: and I would not that ye should have fellowship with devils. Ye cannot drink the cup of the Lord, and the cup of devils: ye cannot be partakers of the Lord's table, and of the table of devils

– _1 Corinthians 10:20 &21_

### Chapter Fifteen

" _Tell me your name?"_

" _Chazz Brunswick."_

" _No!"_

" _I'm sorry...Dedicated One."_

" _Say it with some guts!"_

" _My name is Dedicated One!"_

" _Do you have the password?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Give it to me."_

" _The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy...The Lord is gracious, and full of compassion; slow to anger, and of great mercy."_

" _Will you drink the cup of the Lord to prove your devotion to the House of gods...that you swear with your life to remain faithful and true?"_

" _I will."_

" _Whom will you choose this day?"_

" _The Lord; He is God."_

" _And who is your God?"_

" _We all are gods, co-existing as one as the immaculate Holy Trinity."_

Funeral music began playing in the background. Chazz felt something lift him to his feet and shove him toward an open casket. He was suddenly alone in the dark with eerie noises now seeming to erupt from the casket. He was handed a gold goblet in the form of a human skull, but he couldn't see who'd given it to him. It was overflowing with a thick, red substance that began to spill over his hand as this force continued to shove him toward the casket.

" _DRINK IT!" A loud voice commanded._

Chazz tried to refuse it, but his will was so weakened by his worldly desires that he simply put the goblet to his mouth and drank. The next thing he knew, he was laying in the casket with his arms crossed over his chest like a dead person. He soon felt things crawling all over him. When he looked down, snakes and worms of various lengths were beginning to eat his flesh. He wanted to scream, but it felt as if someone had slapped their hand over his mouth. A tiny light appeared over his head and when he stared into it, he saw Ms. V's face. Her grin was evil personified, which matched the evil in her eyes. She moved her hand from his mouth and placed it around his neck. She began to squeeze with all of her might.

" _Die, you unfaithful soul," she began screaming. "Die! Die! Die!"_

Chazz jumped up and slammed his head against the headboard. After gathering his composure, he held his neck and rubbed it. He was grateful to still be alive, but he didn't like the feeling of terror lingering in the pit of his stomach. He'd had nightmares in the past, but this one was the most disturbing. Why? Because he'd been trying to distance himself from Ms. V and her imps for almost three years, but it seemed as if everywhere he turned they were there to remind him that he belonged to them. They were now coming into his dreams – even though he'd had no direct contact with them.

He was never the same ever since he'd placed that gold goblet to his mouth and swallowed its contents. It felt as if his soul and spirit had been disengaged from his body. He would see things moving in the night while he tried to sleep and the more he tried to ignore it, the more he was tormented. Chazz even tried to pray, but whatever it was in his room wouldn't allow him to pray. A voice would speak to his mind in a derogatory manner, and mock his words as he cried out for help. _Who are you talking to? God? Don't be stupid, Chazz, because no one is listening to your weak prayers. Pray to me and I will give you the world. I can make you to be your own god..._

On and on the voice mocked him in derision. So, Chazz gave up praying and started plotting his revenge. Because of one little slip up he'd made, the organization got all bent out of shape about it. Well, in his eyes his mistake didn't warrant the way they had ex-communicated him. Truly, everything that glittered was not gold. Why did he ever allow his lust for financial freedom consume his opportunity to think things through? Now he was in survival mode. His next order of business was to find another way to meet with Dana, because Chazz believed she was the only one who could help him bring down this powerhouse of secrets.

His wristwatch showed that it was ten minutes to four in the morning – too early to begin his morning rituals. He stood to his feet anyway and made his way to the bathroom. After he took a warm shower, he slid to the floor with his back against the wall. He purposely kept his thoughts focused on Dana and the intimacy that had been shared between them. Those experiences were some of the few good memories he had left and he wanted to hold onto them for as long as he could. It kept him sane and somewhat hopeful that when he told Dana the truth about Gregory, she would leave him to spend the rest of her life with a more faithful man who actually cared about her. Chazz was confident that man would be him.

For now, he would continue to fine tune his revenge, because whenever he launched his attack, he expected it to be fatal. The House of gods would never be able to recover.

****

8:44 a.m.

Miss Rose propelled her stout frame around the dining table, arranging the flatware in the way she had been taught. The forks were placed directly to the left of the plate. The knives, directly to the right, with the sharp edge facing the plate. Since breakfast would begin with a portion of Miss Rose's tasty cream of broccoli soup, soup bowls were centered on top of the plates, with the spoons resting to the right of the knives.

Gregory and Izaiah were the first to be seated, as they were the first to arrive before everyone else. Soon after, Asia joined them, looking as if she needed to go back to bed. Gregory opened his mouth to comment on his daughter's appearance, but Dallis swooped in, complaining that she was late for her final swim practice. The big race was in two hours and she needed to be in top shape to perform. She planted a kiss on Gregory's cheek and apologized for leaving so abruptly. Izaiah noticed that Dallis had barely maintained eye contact with him. It confirmed that his presence was really causing a stir. But why? Didn't everyone now know the reason why Gregory had brought him to Bliss Haven?

"Rose, where is my wife?"

"Sir?"

Gregory cut his eyes at the maid and said sardonically, "I know you heard my question quite clearly."

Miss Rose rolled her eyes nervously around the room, sensing that Gregory was in a foul mood. Whenever her boss used that tone with her, she knew he and Dana had just come out of a nasty argument. "I don't know what to tell yuh," Miss Rose said. "She did not answer the door when I knocked. So, I will fix her a plate –"

"You will do no such thing," Gregory spat. "Tell her to come and join us."

Nonplused, Miss Rose stared at Gregory. In a situation where she knew she didn't have any clout, Miss Rose wondered what Gregory expected her to do. Did he expect her to drag his wife into the dining room by her feet? Miss Rose feared Gregory, but she was not that stupid to overstep her boundaries with Dana. If Gregory wanted Dana to join them for breakfast, he would have to leave the table and fetch her for himself. She turned her plump bottom around and walked outside to take a smoke – even though she'd promised the Lord at least a hundred times that she would quit the disgusting habit. It helped her blow off some steam when Gregory got on her nerves.

"Well," Izaiah said, wishing to break the awkward silence. "I don't mind if it's just going to be the three of us."

"Well, I do!" Gregory stood up and slapped his napkin on the table. "Excuse me. I will be right back."

The wind that Gregory left in his wake almost knocked Izaiah out of his seat. He looked at Asia through the corner of his eye and wondered what was going through her head. She had to feel embarrassed by such an exaggerated display of emotions. For a man of God, Gregory's attitude was deplorable. Izaiah's first reaction was to reach over and cup his hand over Asia's, but he feared his touch would be received beyond a simple gesture of affection. He did what he did best when he was caught in an uncomfortable situation, which was to try to relax the tension with a joke.

"Do you want to know why I am so terrified of dogs?" Izaiah began, hating that he was about to humiliate himself. "When I was a kid, I was bitten on the rear end and had to be taken to the hospital for fourteen stitches."

Asia did not respond right away. But soon, images of what that scenario must have looked like began to pour into her mind. Her lips twitched humorously, as she also recalled the scene when she'd saved Izaiah from the Alsatians the other day. The look of terror on his face was a Kodak moment.

"I haven't even completed my story and you are already laughing." Izaiah chuckled.

"I am not laughing," Asia protested.

"Of course, you are. You see me as one big joke, don't you?"

Asia turned to face Izaiah. Although her onyx eyes were droopy from lack of sleep, she appeared interested in what Izaiah had to say. Apart from Jorge, Izaiah had been the only one who had been able to put a smile on her face these days.

"What choice do I have?" Asia said. "Something funny always seems to be going on with you. Tell me what happened and I promise that I will try to be sympathetic."

Izaiah grinned. "Well, I'll tell you the whole story if you agree to work along with me on a program that I want to implement in the youth department."

"Is this an attempt at manipulation?"

"I did not say that as a means to manipulate you," Izaiah explained. "I genuinely want your help. You seem to be passionate about the youth."

"Did my father put you up to this?" Asia asked suddenly.

Izaiah's heart skipped a beat. He would have thought that Asia was very discerning of her father's antics, but he knew she was grasping at straws. It showed that she was still suspicious of his intentions. Izaiah had an uncanny feeling that Gregory's little plan would soon come back to bite him in the butt, like that dog did when he was a kid.

"I asked because you said that you would consider becoming part of my team," he told Asia. "Has something changed from Sunday to now?"

_A lot_ , Asia want to say, but instead, she let out a miserable sigh.

"You know," Izaiah said warmly. "You can talk to me about anything. I've been told that I am an excellent listener, as well as an excellent observer. And right now, I can tell that something is twisting you up on the inside."

"Wow," Asia shot sarcastically. "You figured that out all by yourself? Are you sure my father hasn't been whispering stuff about me into your ears?"

Izaiah ignored the sarcasm and simply said rhetorically, "So, there is something going on? Well I won't pry; however, what I do want from you is your decision to work along with me in the youth department."

"I thought you said it was a program, now it's the entire youth department? Which is it, because my time is very valuable to me?"

"Boy, you are really snappy this morning," Izaiah said. "I wouldn't like to see if I really got on your bad side."

Asia shifted her eyes from Izaiah, as Miss Rose came in from the kitchen exit. She seemed to be a little more composed. Grabbing a cooking spoon from the counter, she began to stir the contents of the pot, singing a Negro Spiritual that Asia had never heard in her life. Yet, on some level, it massaged the pain that she was carrying on the inside.

" _O a little talk with Jesus make it right, all right...Troubles of ev'ry kind, God I'll always find...that little talk with Jesus make it right...Of trials and temptations, make it hard for me and you, but Jesus is a friend, He'll keep us to the end..."_

"If you do change your mind," Izaiah said, drawing Asia's attention back to him. "A few of us are going to St. Elmo's Valley on Friday. We want to start canvassing that area and try to minister the word of God to the people. I heard that it's one of the poorest districts in Bliss Haven..."

Asia hadn't really heard anything else except, 'St. Elmo's Valley' – which conveniently was the hometown of her lover. A one-time opportunity she would not dare to ignore. She arrested Izaiah with a very intense stare. "Count me in," she said, as she struggled to contain her excitement. "I have always wanted to witness to those folks about the Lord."

"Whoa," Izaiah remarked. "This is quite a change from the sulky mood I experienced a moment ago. Where did that Asia go?"

"She didn't go anywhere," Asia said. "You have explained what the program is about. Now, I am excited to work along with it. Is that so hard to believe?"

Izaiah chuckled, pleased that he'd been able to pull Asia out of her slump, if only for a few minutes. If St. Elmo's Valley had done the trick, then he would ensure that they would spend a lot of time there, witnessing to those lost and forgotten souls.

Izaiah extended his hand to Asia and said with a glint in his eyes, "I'm excited to have you on board. Welcome."

Asia took Izaiah's hand, simply offering a tiny smile in response.

### Chapter Sixteen

Gregory pushed Dana into the room and slammed the door behind him. "What the hell is your problem, locking yourself in this room like a bloody hermit? We have a guest in our home and this is how you act?"

"It didn't bother you before," Dana said calmly. "For three years you ignored me and pretended as if I didn't exist. Now, you wish to show me off to your little choir boy, who could barely keep his eyes away from Asia's breasts...are you sure you made the right decision in selecting him as the new youth minister of St. Donovan's Chapel?"

"Enough!" Gregory roared. "Because you're not getting any sympathy from me!"

"Oh, I don't want your sympathy, Gregory. You have become quite a bore to me, anyway."

"Is that so?" Gregory sniggered at his wife's pathetic attempt to fight back. She knew she could not win against him, but yet she paraded on his turf as if she had finally gotten the upper hand. He snatched her hand and pressed it against his moist lips. "I know you still want me, Dana," he told her menacingly. "I can see the longing in those tired eyes of yours. Is it sex you want, like the way we used to do it on the balcony outside of our bedroom? Maybe that's why you're acting like a spoiled little brat. All you need is some good...sweet...sex..."

Dana pulled her hand out of Gregory's grasp and slapped him across the mouth. "I know you're sleeping with someone else!" she spat. "Why do you have to come here and rub it in my face?"

"Because you are a slut!" Gregory growled. "You're only getting what you deserve."

"You're not denying that you're sleeping with someone else?"

"What's it to you who I'm sleeping with now? When the gardener got lost between your legs, I was working hard, trying to make life better for you and the girls."

"No, Gregory! You were neglecting us, doing what you felt like doing – living life on the edge with the high rollers, while I cried myself to sleep. I gave up my dreams for you."

"But that was no excuse for you to have sex with that young boy!"

"Why do you constantly remind me of that? It's been three bloody years, Gregory. Let it go and move on with your life!"

"As long as you live under this roof," Gregory challenged. "You will obey my rules and carry out my dictates! That means, get your behind downstairs and join us at that dining table. Don't make me repeat myself."

Dana stiffened her resolve against her husband's threats. In the past, his little tyranny would have made her skip into action, because he would withhold certain privileges from her. But after three years of enduring the worst of Gregory, she had had enough. She did not care what the hell Gregory did from this point on. In one defiant move, Dana turned away from Gregory and sashayed to a spot she had set aside for her art work. She pulled up a chair in front of an easel, took her pencil and began to sketch the image that was in her mind, which was a caricature of Gregory's angry face.

Of course, Dana's action did not digest well with Gregory. He was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it, with no questions asked. He followed the same trail Dana had used to get to her easel. He gripped the ends of her chair and yanked it backwards. Dana, along with the easel, fell with a crash to the floor.

"You bastard! What is the matter with you?"

"Get up!" Gregory thundered.

Dana scampered out of Gregory's reach, and stopped her speed on the next side of the room. "I wonder what your little guest is thinking at this moment," she shouted at him. "I can imagine the noise everyone is hearing downstairs. Why would you go to such lengths to impress another man? It is beyond me. You revel in the company of these boys and neglect me. Am I to think that you are sleeping with them, too?"

Dana's words sobered Gregory to a standstill. He laughed, but obviously he did not find anything humorous about what his wife had said. She was good at getting out of a jam. He gave her that much. However, he was not going to allow Dana to continuously make him look like a fool in front of Izaiah. If Dana didn't fall in line, there were other ways of getting her to respond the way he wanted.

"Suit yourself, Dana," he told her. He walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

### Chapter Seventeen

The majority of the swim competitors from the other islands had arrived and were now loading off of the tour buses. They appeared to be clustered in teams, and as they entered through the gates of the complex, Dallis couldn't help but feel nervous about the outcome of the race. While this race didn't carry the weight of the bigger meets, it was still a very important one. It was the first in the swim season, but emphasis was being placed on qualifying time. By the third competition, the fastest six swimmers from the Bliss Haven team had been selected to go on to represent in other national meets.

Dallis was already in the pool, stretching her limbs, and making sure her blood was flowing well. She wanted to get the feel of her strokes, but she didn't want to waste her energy, so she did short, hard sets, but tried not to go over eighty percent of her maximum speed. However, when Dallis noticed the pool had started to get crowded with some of the other swimmers, she decided to slip out for a minute to eat a protein bar. The competition was set to begin in about forty-five minutes – just enough time for it to digest and keep her energy levels up.

"Dallis, I will be cheering for you in the stands," a male voice said behind her.

A smile immediately appeared on Dallis' face. She spun around to say 'thank you', only to become temporarily speechless by the sight she saw. Anwar Daxon was glowing in the morning sun, wearing his attractiveness with ease. But when she saw how his eyes began to roam about her body, she felt a wave of disappointment wash over her. He did it every time that they were together. Didn't he know that his licentious gaze made her feel uncomfortable?

"I don't mean anything by it," he said, seeming to read Dallis' expression. "I just think you have a very athletic build – better than most of the girls that I see walking around here. Why are you ashamed to show off your body?"

"I am not ashamed," Dallis said. "I just don't like the attention."

Anwar tilted his head and smirked. "Well, Dallis, I must say that you are the first girl I've met who's said that. Fat, out-of-shape girls flaunt it audaciously, but you, with a body that would put any model to shame, prefer to hide it behind jeans and t-shirts. It amazes me that you chose a sport that will keep you wearing little clothing."

"Please, stop talking about my body like that, my father is on his way over here."

Anwar grinned. "Then I promise to be on my best behavior."

Dallis moved around Anwar toward her father. Izaiah lagged behind and Dallis could tell that Izaiah was uncomfortable with her cold attitude. She simply didn't understand why her father had him tagging along.

"You're here early," Dallis said, greeting Gregory with a kiss to the cheek.

"Well, you know me, honey," Gregory said. "The early worms get the front seats."

"So, where are Mom and Asia?"

"I don't know. When Izaiah and I left the estate, they were nowhere to be found. But don't worry your little head about it. I'm here. Isn't that enough to take that frown off your beautiful face?"

"I suppose."

Gregory saw when Dallis' shoulders slumped in disappointment, but he pretended as if he didn't notice. He was not going to talk about Dana in a positive light, so, it was best that he avoided the subject altogether. "How are you coping with the excitement?"

Dallis showed her father the protein bar. "You know I eat when I'm nervous, but it's to also conserve my energy. Coach Erin says this year's competitions will be stiff. There are a lot of top swimmers coming in from the region."

Gregory waved a dismissive hand at his daughter. "You are the best and you know it."

"That's what I've been telling her," Anwar butted in. He stepped forward and extended his hand to Gregory. "I'm Anwar Daxon. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I just want to say that your daughter is one of the fastest swimmers I've seen in a while. I think she's even better than me. She's like a fish in the water."

Gregory's words lodged in his throat as he tried to demystify the young man's connection to his daughter. Strangely, he found himself immediately drawn to Anwar's personality.

"Daddy, Anwar is new here at the club," Dallis explained. "He's been practicing with the team over the last week, but coach says it's too soon for him to participate in the race."

Gregory released Anwar's hand, but kept his gaze locked on him. He could detect the nervousness in Dallis' voice, which was an extremely peculiar sign. It was rare that a boy could rattle Dallis in this manner. There was no question she was attracted to him and Gregory could see why. Anwar was the quintessential Casanova, dignified and gracious in his looks. Gregory had to admit that he found the boy to be interesting, but that did not mean he wanted him hanging around Dallis.

"What part of town is your family from?" Gregory asked.

"Daddy..."

Dallis thought her father's inquiry was rude, but in all honesty, she was happy the question had been raised. Ever since Anwar had joined the swim club, she had been trying to get him to tell her where he lived, but he had always taken the evasive approach. She couldn't wait to hear what his answer would be.

"My family lives on the mainland – New Providence to be exact," Anwar said, his tone as convincing as his smile. "I'm staying with some friends until I decide whether or not I want to enroll in the academy. I heard it's one of the best on the island."

"New Providence? A settlement with a very stable economy," Anwar's reply seemed to please Gregory immensely. "Well, BHCA is certainly one of the best colleges you will find anywhere and it is surrounded by a strong selection of shops and restaurants. My youngest daughter is enrolled as a psychology major. But what's hindering your decision?"

"Daddy, now is not the time to get into this with Anwar."

"She's right," Izaiah said, speaking up for the first time. "The stands are getting full. It will defeat the purpose of our having arrived so early."

Gregory reached into his wallet and pulled out a business card. He handed it to Anwar with a warm smile attached. "Son, I am well known on this island. Give me a call and I will see what I can do. As a matter of fact, I have a proposition for you."

Anwar secured the card between his fingers, returning the smile. A smile that did not require any words, but the intention was well understood. "Thanks. I just might take you up on your offer."

Dallis was confused. Never in her life had she seen her father act so cordially toward a guy who clearly had an interest in his daughter. Maybe it was because Anwar had said that he wasn't from St. Elmo's Valley, or maybe Anwar had been so forthright in his greeting that it had piqued her father's curiosity. Whatever the reason, Dallis was a bit relieved, because it would certainly save her a ton of explaining and hours of pointless questions. Her biggest problem with her father was getting him to see that she was an adult, who was capable of making her own decisions.

"Daddy, I have to go," she said. "The teams are getting into place. Pray that all goes well for me."

"Don't doubt yourself, honey," Gregory assured. "You are well within your element."

When Gregory and Izaiah were at a safe distance, Dallis turned to Anwar and shook her head at him in a disapproving manner.

"What did I do now?"

"I know you are not from New Providence," Dallis said. She walked off, leaving Anwar to flounder in his thoughts.

But they that will be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition.

– _1 Timothy 6:9_

### Chapter Eighteen

_10:23 p.m_ .

Nothing was too sadistic for Ms. V's taste. Whatever her clients wanted, she provided, guaranteeing their fantasies would be met with the swiftest arrangement. But Ms. V was more than just a face behind cupid. She had been mandated by the organization to carry out its rules and regulation, and to ensure the protection of an elite group of people who had the power to change times and seasons. Any aberrant behavior was promptly dealt with. Rebels weren't tolerated, no matter the smallest infraction. So, when Chazz Brunswick appeared on the radar again, Ms. V immediately slipped into mercenary mode.

With the help of modern technology, they had been monitoring Chazz's behavior, especially after his initial threat to reveal the organization's true identity. Ms. V barely saw much of Chazz after she'd instructed Gregory's men to teach him a lesson on secrecy. The pounding that Chazz took to his body sent him running into hiding. They could have easily found him at any time they chose, but since he wasn't causing any problems, they left him alone. It was only of late that Chazz seemed to have surfaced with a revived agenda against the organization.

Ms. V unlocked a safe and retrieved some old photos of Chazz, which were taken when Chazz was initially inducted into the organization. A virile specimen of a man. She'd had the opportunity to feel what it was like to be caught in his powerful grip. She had taught him well... so well that he had turned into a sex animal. Sadly, it was the only thing she cared to remember about him. If he hadn't gotten hung up on Dana Beaufort, the organization would have given Chazz the best that life had to offer. Fine cars, a huge estate and money to go along with it. But Chazz was too stupid to know that he had wasted his opportunity on a woman who could never be his.

Ms. V suddenly smiled to herself. She knew exactly what had triggered Chazz's interest in resuming his crazy attempt to expose the organization's secrets. Ms. V had been informed that Chazz had been trying to restore the lines of communication between him and Dana. Recent photos showed him sitting in his car outside the gates of the Beaufort's estate. One showed him sitting in John's Bar and Grill at the Quad, gulping down a beer. And one showed him talking to Dana in front of a store in the market square. It was the most recent contact between the two and Ms. V was confident that Chazz would try to get in touch with her again. He couldn't help himself – even if he was blind, deaf and dumb.

Ms. V allowed her smile to develop into a sly grin. She slowly slipped a strawberry into her mouth and savored its sweet taste. Unbeknownst to her, Dana Beaufort had just signed Chazz's death warrant.

****

Same time

HOT, younger males for older women...call now 710-555-0006...Electrifying, Discreet Encounters...

Dana stared at the advertisement that flashed across her flat screen TV. The ad was based in Florida, but that did not hinder the appeal in Dana's mind. She had already tasted the forbidden fruit, so, she knew exactly what it felt like to be with a younger man. Dana was convinced that men half her age were more agile and experimental, especially when it came down to certain sexual positions. Dana could think of three off the top of her head she and Gregory had never tried, but she had explored with Chazz Brunswick.

Maybe it was because of Chazz's addiction to porn, where he'd learned to master the art of such debauchery. The steamy thoughts made Dana let out a nostalgic sigh. It was within these lonely moments when temptation was at its worst. Fights with her husband only increased the pressure to slip back into those old, sinful desires. Before long, she would hear a voice whispering at the back of her mind to take action; _it's been three years since you have been with a man. What are you going to do about that?_

Dana could feel her body responding to the unwholesome images on the TV. The dark, chocolate models reminded her of Chazz and the explosive sessions they'd had in several rooms of the house. The guilt had snaked her like an annoying demon, but her deep longings for Chazz had always out maneuvered her conscience. Maybe, it was because Gregory was never around to catch her in the act. But that only lasted for so long. Dana could remember as if it were yesterday, when Gregory stood over her and Chazz, caught in one of the most unholy, compromising positions.

" _Mrs. Beaufort," Chazz had called from the foyer. "I am about to take off; do you need me to do anything else before I leave?"_

Because she was under another bout of guilt, Dana wanted to tell Chazz to leave, but she could sense the raw desire in Chazz's voice. It was his polite way of asking if she wanted to have sex with him. He was so mannerly, even during the process of his sins. She slid off the stool in the kitchen, and channeled her steps toward Chazz's call.

It was another one of those sultry afternoons when everyone was out and about their business, but Dana felt as if she was ready to put her cheating days behind her. But when she laid eyes upon him, showing off his maleness in a sleeveless overall, all of her defenses plummeted to the floor.

" _I remember the first time you spoke to me," she started. "You were standing in that same spot, asking for a glass of water."_

Chazz nodded deferentially, seeming almost too bashful to look at Dana. "Yes, ma'am."

" _Now, you're asking me to repeatedly go against my conscience."_

" _Yes, ma'am."_

" _Chazz, I'm old enough to be your mother. Do you realize that?"_

" _Yes, ma'am."_

" _Please, stop answering me like I'm your slave master. I would have expected by now you would have lost all respect for me."_

Chazz stared at Dana, his desire refusing to wane. When he ran his tongue over his flushed lips, Dana immediately experienced havoc in her lower parts. Without another word, she turned around and began to walk off. Chazz kicked off his dirty shoes and followed Dana like a love-sick puppy.

Their clothes were off before they even hit the bed. Chazz used his strength to lift Dana, swinging her around his waist. In ecstasy, he let out an animalistic groan, overcome by the ethereal goddess that was in his grasp. Their sin had reached a level that was completely out of control. Dana wanted Chazz and Chazz wanted Dana – both seeming to hold on to every shred of companionship. Not long afterwards, Dana's eyes flung open, only to receive a severe jolt of surprise.

" _Oh. My. Goodness!"_

Gregory swung and almost tore off Chazz's head with his briefcase. "Get up – the both of you!"

" _Gregory, I am so sorry, let me explain."_

" _Shut up! You can't explain a thing to me! Have you no shame, Dana? You're that turned on that you had to bring this filth into our bedroom? You ungrateful slut."_

The knocking on her bedroom door pulled Dana out of her reverie. She switched the TV channel to a less questionable station and then swung her feet to the floor.

"Who is it?" she queried.

"It's me, Mom...Dallis. Can we talk for a minute?"

Dana unlocked the door and stepped aside for her daughter to enter.

"Looks as if you've been locked up in this room all day," Dallis told her mother.

"I wasn't feeling too well," Dana said. "I had a splitting headache from this morning."

"I guess that would explain why you didn't show up for my swim meet."

Dana's expression showed sincere regret. "Oh my goodness, Dallis. I totally forgot. I have so many things on my mind."

"I'm not upset about it. Daddy and Izaiah were there."

"That old swine," Dana spat. "Your father intentionally did not remind me. He came up here and created a scene. I don't understand what's going on between your father and that young boy from the U.S., but Gregory is working overtime to impress him."

"You're not interested in how I performed in the race? I placed third, you know –"

"Of course I'm interested, Dallis...and congratulations, darling. I think that is excellent, actually, but I was simply trying to get back into your good graces."

"By berating my father?" Dallis pinned her mother with an annoyed gaze. "When are you two going to be done with this senseless arrangement?"

Dana paused to fully observe her daughter's disposition. She was dressed in a grey jogging suit, and her curls were twisted messily behind her head. Dallis rarely expressed feelings of anger. So when Dana experienced it, she wanted to make certain she gave Dallis her undivided attention.

"I'm not making any excuses for Gregory," Dana said, wanting to get back to praising Dallis for a job well done, but her daughter clearly preferred to change the subject. "But you know the decision is not up to me."

"Are you even trying to fix things? Because you seemed pretty content to put up with Daddy's games. No husband of mine would have me sleeping in a separate room from him."

Dana sighed heavily. She had been down this road dozens of times with her children. Gregory was a stubborn man, who was hell bent on making her pay. "What choice do I have, Dallis? As far as your father is concerned, I'm the one totally responsible for the breakdown in our relationship. He dangles my sin in front of me as often as he can, reminding me that I'm a carbon copy of Rahab, the prostitute."

"But it has been three years," Dallis spewed incredulously. "This is not a marriage, especially if he can't find it in his heart to forgive you."

"Infidelity is not so easy for some people to get over, sweetheart. Your father is one of them. I'm not so sure if I would have been so forgiving either, if the shoe were on the other foot."

"Do you still love him?"

"Of course I still love your father, but –"

"It's complicated," Dallis finished. "Well, Mom, I would have you to know that I'm tired of all the pretending."

Dallis took a seat on the bed and locked her hands between her knees. It was another sign that Dana was acquainted with. Something else was troubling Dallis, besides the race and this situation between Dana and Gregory.

"Let's deal with my craziness another night," Dana said lightly, in an attempt to break the tension in the air. She pulled herself up next to her daughter. "I gather something else is on your mind. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really..."

"Uh oh...I know that tone."

"Then you know that I don't want to talk about it," Dallis blushed.

"What's his name? You can hardly look at me with a straight face."

Dallis rested her face in the palms of her hands. "I can't believe that I'm that transparent."

Dana laughed. "You're not, but it just means that I know you pretty well...come on, just spill it."

"Okay," Dallis looked at her mother warily. "Please, don't mention any of this to Daddy."

"He's not my favorite person these days, so, you have nothing to be worried about."

"I'm attracted to someone," Dallis confessed. "But I don't know what to do about it."

"Girl or boy?"

"Mom! His name is Anwar Daxon, if you are that desperate to know."

"It was just a question, sweetie," Dana stifled her laugh and tried to put on her serious face. "It's a nice name – sounds like a doctor. Where did you meet him?"

"He recently joined the swim club and we've been hanging out by the pools ever since."

"Awwwhhh...I'm getting the picture now. I'm betting he's real cute, because it takes a lot to get you off kilter."

Dallis turned away and blushed.

"I must meet him at once, Dallis!" Dana exclaimed. "You've turned completely red in the face."

"Mom, stop teasing. I don't want to get my hopes up."

"Why? You don't think the feelings are mutual between you two?"

"No, it isn't that. Daddy took to him right away, which shocked me, because you know how Daddy gets when boys start coming around. He even gave Anwar one of his business cards."

"Your father got to meet him before I did?"

"Mom, stay focused."

"Where's Anwar from?"

"He says he from New Providence."

"Well, that explains your father's behavior," Dana said. "New Providence is a very affluent little island, much like Bliss Haven."

"No, I think it's something else. There was a real connection between Anwar and Daddy. I've never seen Daddy so willing to help anyone in my life."

Dana wasn't all that surprised. Back in the day when Gregory was just another name on the church roll, helping people had been his passion. Maybe, in some ways, Gregory was starting to reacquire some of those benevolent traits.

"It is very hard to understand what your father does these days," Dana said. "But I can relate to what you're saying. I get a similar vibe when I see Gregory going out of his way to impress Izaiah, a young boy who doesn't have half of the experience that Gregory has."

"But I'm okay with Daddy wanting to help Anwar," Dallis said. "I'm not okay with Anwar being dishonest."

Dana frowned inquisitively, which prompted Dallis to elucidate.

"I don't think Anwar is from New Providence."

"Do you have proof of that?"

"No, but I've been trying to get him to tell me where he lives since he joined the swim club. But he keeps changing the subject somehow. He takes the public bus, always refuses my offer to give him a ride to his house. Now, when introduced to my father, he's quick to give up information I couldn't get out of him. I hope you see why I'm very uncomfortable about my attraction toward Anwar. I don't want it to blind me to something I should be paying attention to."

"If only Asia could take a page out of your book," Dana remarked, "I would be less worried about men taking advantage of her. I could come up with several reasons as to why Anwar would want to keep his background hidden, but I would prefer to err on the side of caution. Always take heed to your intuitions. I wish I had taken heed to my own advice. Maybe, I wouldn't be in this predicament with your father. But for whatever it is worth, I think your approach to the situation is quite mature and commendable. Your best ally is time. Time will reveal all."

### Chapter Nineteen

Over a week had gone by since Jorge was attacked by those three men, who obviously belonged to Bishop Gregory Beaufort. Should he have reported the incident to the police? Sure, but where would that have gotten him? The mere fact that he lived in St. Elmo's Valley, automatically placed him at the bottom of the law's list of concerns. The police probably would have taken a written statement, but Jorge knew the system. His file would be buried among the slush pile until some Good Samaritan decided to do something about it. That was just the way it was when certain types of incidents occurred in St. Elmo's Valley.

If he'd been living in the lush coves of Crystal Bay, then the outcome would have been entirely different. His case would be plastered all over the news, with a contingent of police officers assigned to bring the culprits to justice. The island was only so big, so Jorge knew it wouldn't have been a difficult task for the police to find his attackers. But why waste both his time and the police's time? The line of demarcation between the rich and the poor was clearly defined. It was unfortunate, but money and fame ran the show.

By now, both of Jorge's parents knew that he had been attacked. Surprisingly, it was at their behest that he did something about it. Normally, his parents preferred to take the passive role of 'turning a blind eye' to a situation, but Jorge assumed he looked so banged up that his parents were compelled to speak out of their anger. He could not blame them, though. The amount of injustice that went on in St. Elmo's Valley sometimes provoked acts of vigilantism. But Jorge assured his parents that he felt much better than his face looked. Most of the swelling had shrunk anyway, leaving only a bit of soreness between his ribcage. He was thankful that there were no broken bones.

The real pain, however, was wedged deeply within Jorge's lifeless soul. A missing he could not describe, except what he supposed was a taste of manic depression. Jorge never imagined in his life that he would fall for a girl so hard. And not just any girl. He had fallen for someone who was far out of his league – well, maybe in terms of wealth and public eminence, but the reality was, Asia Beaufort was like an adventure that would be best left unexplored. Why had he put himself in that predicament? He should have known that Asia's father would do everything in his power to prevent his daughter from dating a poor jewelry maker from St. Elmo's Valley.

Jorge could remember the first time Asia had introduced him to her father. She was desperate to secure funding for his jewelry business. She advocated that such a gift should be treated with respect and not be prostituted in the straw market for chicken feed. Obviously, Asia was excited about the prospects of her brilliant idea, but what Asia didn't anticipate, was her father's churlish attitude toward Jorge. Even now as he sat alone on the dock, splashing his feet in the crystal clear water, Jorge could picture that malignant scowl on Gregory's face.

" _You really don't have to do this, Asia," Jorge had told her, as they curbed their steps in front of Gregory's office door. "I'm getting by for now."_

" _Don't be a wuss," Asia teased. "My father is not going to maul you to death...he's a reasonable man."_

" _Is that so?" Jorge turned to Asia and was taken away by the confidence he saw in her eyes. She really believed that things were going to work out in their favor. "Well, here goes."_

Asia knocked and then pushed the door open to her father's office. Gregory had his head bent, appearing to be engrossed in something on his desk. Asia held Jorge's hand and pulled him toward her father.

" _Daddy, I want you to meet Jorge Bentley. He's the one I've been telling you about."_

Gregory lifted his head to acknowledge his daughter and her guest, only to be thrown off by Jorge's scruffy appearance. Well, in Gregory's eyes, it was not the quality of clothing he would have worn if he was going to sit in a meeting that would change his destiny. He blatantly examined Jorge from head to toe, ignoring the excitement he saw on his daughter's face.

Gregory cleared his throat. "Have a seat, Jorge."

Asia followed suit, but Gregory appeared to have plans of his own.

" _I will talk with Jorge alone," he told her. "Give us a few minutes, darling."_

" _No, it's okay. I want to be here," Asia said._

" _It's not necessary, Asia. You have briefed me about the proposal and now I wish to speak to Mr. Bentley one on one."_

" _Asia, I'll be fine," Jorge assured her, even though his heart was slamming mightily against his chest. He could sense that Gregory had already formed a negative opinion of him in his mind._

" _Okay, then, I'll wait for you in the living room."_

Jorge watched his love drag her steps out of the office. They had only been dating for two months at the time, but the connection was so strong between them that it felt as if she was leaving him for good. When Jorge refocused his gaze on Gregory, that dismal vibe he'd sensed a minute ago now seemed to explode from Gregory's presence. There was a strange-looking pendant hanging from a small stand on Gregory's desk. It had the impression of a pyramid, with an eye in the center of it. Jorge only noticed it because as a jewelry maker, he was drawn to other people's talents. However, a pendant of that sort looked out of place in Gregory's office.

" _Where are you from?" was the first question that Gregory chucked at him._

" _St. Elmo's Valley," Jorge answered guardedly, because everyone knew St. Elmo's Valley had a heavy influx of illegal immigrants. So in an attempt to validate his citizenship, Jorge tossed in a little history about his background. "My family was born there in the mid-sixties, when conditions were much better than they are now –"_

" _I am not an idiot, Jorge," Gregory cut in. "I know exactly what is going on between you and my daughter and I don't approve of it." Gregory spent the next several minutes drilling Jorge about his relationship with Asia, trying to see how far they'd gone in the expression of their love. He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of him. Jorge wouldn't be the first boy he'd tried to thwart from his daughter's path, but there was something about Jorge he genuinely did not like. "I have a proposition for you; if you're wise, you will consider it very carefully."_

Jorge immediately rejected the proposition. That moment, as Jorge remembered, turned into five minutes of pure hell on earth. Gregory did not hold back on his venomous threats, as a slew of derogatory tags accompanied his rant. Jorge considered himself to be a tough cookie, but by the time Gregory got through with him, his eyes were stinging with tears. That meeting should have never happened, because it was at that point when Jorge's relationship with Asia took a turn for the worse.

"There you are, man," Anwar said out of breath. "I've been looking all over for you."

"So have I, my friend," Jorge quipped. "I barely saw you at all this week, so I went back home to my parents. Do you remember that we have a business to run? I can't get much done without you, especially trying to recover from the attack."

"I'm sorry about that, man," Anwar said. "But I have plans with Dallis."

Jorge removed his straw hat from his head so that he could get a good look at his childhood friend. Anwar was immaculately dressed in what seemed to be brand new casual wear. His burgundy Polo shirt blended tastefully with his tan, knee-length chinos. Jorge examined Anwar's feet and was amazed to see that his friend even had on a brand new pair of leather sandals. Jorge decided to mess with him a little.

"When you said that you were moving up to higher ground, I didn't anticipate you robbing a bank to get there."

Anwar smirked, even though he was annoyed by Jorge's remark. "I didn't rob a bank, knucklehead. I just know how to save my money."

"Those sandals are Nordstroms...the last time I window shopped, they were on sale for eighty bucks. Our business doesn't make that much money in a week."

"Well, I've been saving for a while," Anwar fired back. "I told you, I have a plan to get out of this hell hole. You can relax and chase your pathetic dreams of being with Asia all you want, but until you make yourself some real money, no one is going to ever respect you on this island."

"That depends on who you want to respect you, my friend. Money and fame attract some of the most unscrupulous human beings, who only expose you to more problems. There's nothing wrong with humble beginnings. When you try to manipulate the system, most of the time it backfires. Work hard, believe in yourself and you will eventually find success."

"And look where that has gotten our parents," Anwar retorted. "I don't want that for my life, man...I'm not hurting anybody...I'm just seizing my opportunities." He pulled out a twenty dollar bill and stuffed it in the pocket of Jorge's shirt. "I will dive for you next week. That should be enough to keep you until then."

"I don't need your money."

"Keep it...I can get more, if I need it."

"What are your plans with Dallis?" Jorge called after his friend. "I'd be lying if I told you that I'm comfortable with what you're getting yourself into."

Anwar threw his hands up in the air, letting a mischievous grin pull his lips to the side. "We're just spending time together. I'll catch up with you later, man; the universe is finally starting to agree with me."

Jorge stared after Anwar a long while before returning his pensive gaze to the water. Though his motives were misguided, it seemed as if Anwar was getting what he wanted. But Jorge could not say the same for himself. The one thing he craved, and probably would have died trying to hold on to, had slipped through his unsuspecting fingers.

### Chapter Twenty

Izaiah was impressed to see Asia waiting for him in the grand living room. Always attired in well-fashioned dresses, with a bubbly personality to match. Izaiah now thoroughly enjoyed spending time with Asia. He had thought about her strange obsession to accompany him to St. Elmo's Valley, and how she persistently questioned him about their itinerary. Would he travel with them in groups, or would he trust the teams to handle the visitations on their own?

Gregory purposely did not inform Izaiah about the details of the young man Asia was involved with – like his name and where he was from. Izaiah guessed Gregory intended this to be an adventure of some sort, because without the specifics, it could be a challenge wooing Asia away from her obsession. Asia was being tightlipped about this boy, too, but based on Asia's conduct earlier that morning, Izaiah was able to determine that she had an agenda she intended on carrying out – which was to use the mission as an excuse to spend time with that boy Izaiah had seen Asia hugging at the Quad that afternoon. He wondered why he hadn't figured this out before now.

For a moment, Izaiah's thoughts shifted back to Gregory, as he thought of how evasive Gregory could be. Izaiah was almost certain that the 'organization' never intended to close the doors of St. Donovan's Chapel. Because ever since that day Gregory had picked him up from the airport, Gregory had never revisited the issue. Moves like that continued to make Izaiah feel as if the job offer had all been a ploy to get him to Bliss Haven – for reasons Izaiah was still trying to work through his head. He needed to know the real reason why Gregory wanted him in Bliss Haven, because Izaiah could not shake the feeling that something bigger was going on behind the scenes. Especially the way Gregory kept staring at him, as if he wanted to divulge some deep, dark secret.

"So, how does it feel to be the youth minister of such a prestigious church?"

Izaiah was behind the wheel of the Jeep Wrangler, which Gregory had gotten for his use while he was on the island. He glanced at Asia in the passenger seat and smiled. He knew her question was just a stepping stone to get to the real thing that was on her mind. Nevertheless, he decided to indulge her.

"Well, I don't know – is there a 'special' way I'm supposed to feel?"

"You see? That's the problem I have with you," Asia said. "You never answer a question without beating around the bush."

"Now, is that any way to speak to your superior?"

Asia looked at Izaiah sideways. "You had better be joking with that, because it's that kind of mindset that's gonna get you tossed into the same boat with my father. I despise men who have an inferiority complex."

"Ouch!"

"And no, that doesn't mean that I despise my father."

"I wasn't going to ask you that," Izaiah said. "Relax, I was only teasing you."

To keep the air amicable between her and Izaiah, Asia decided that it was best to remain silent. So for the rest of the drive to St. Elmo's Valley, she was careful not to allow Izaiah to engage her in any meaningful conversation. Her mind was somewhere else anyway. She needed to stay focused, and come up with a successful tactic to see Jorge. It would be difficult with a team of neophytes swooning around her, but Asia believed she could pull it off. If she had swayed Mother Daphine, who was one of the most suspicious women Asia had ever met, she could run circles around Izaiah.

****

When Asia and Izaiah arrived in St. Elmo's Valley, the remaining members of the youth team were already there. Izaiah was quick to organize their efforts, dividing everyone into three groups of fours. Asia didn't think it was a coincidence that she had somehow ended up in Izaiah's group.

"Remember," Izaiah advised. "We are not here to argue about what we believe. The gospel is the 'good news' of Jesus Christ, not a platform for us to condemn anyone. But with love and patience, let us present the message in a way that will appeal to the heart. Do your best to avoid contentions."

"I like that," a young man said. "But I heard St. Elmo's Valley is barren ground. It's hard to get people to come to church."

Izaiah smiled as if he'd heard that line a thousand times. "Well, that's why we are bringing the church to the people. Some folks have a preconceived notion of attending church. Our job is to break down those barriers with the love of Christ. It won't be easy, but God's grace will accompany us."

Izaiah studied the faces of the young men and women that were gathered around him. Some appeared eager to get on with the mission; some appeared to be nervous wrecks. Izaiah was quite experienced in evangelistic work, but he tried not to appear impervious to other people's fears. Witnessing could be daunting, especially for first timers. However, with his tender supervision, he hoped to make the experience a smooth transition.

"Now, do any of you need a brief summary on soul winning? I know we just went over quite a bit of it last evening, but I don't mind if you still feel unsure about something."

"Well, why don't we just walk around and give out the tracts? Do we have to engage the people in a conversation about salvation?"

"No, it's not mandatory that we strike up a conversation about salvation," Izaiah said to the young man. "As a matter of fact, many times I simply introduce myself and say the church I attend. You would be surprised to know how effective that can be. People love meeting people. Other times, I feel led to just be myself. I talk about sports, music, cars, movies, but I try not to lose focus on the reason why I'm visiting with that person. But we should rely solely on the Holy Spirit for direction. And one of the ways the Spirit leads is through prayer. If there aren't any more concerns, I would like for us to hold hands and offer a prayer for guidance."

Asia held the hand of the person next to her, but she couldn't stop staring at Izaiah. He sounded so mature and in control. She admitted that that part of him was very appealing. She hadn't attended any of the soul winning classes that Izaiah had held at the church, simply because she felt as if she was above such foundational knowledge. But now she suddenly felt out of place. She couldn't remember the last time she had talked to anyone about her faith. Asia was convinced that Izaiah was somehow aware of that fact and was only summarizing last night's lesson for her benefit.

As the team concluded in prayer, Asia slipped back into her calculating mode. She had to find Jorge and talk to him before the mission was over. The problem was, how was she going to elude Izaiah when he was trotting so tightly on her heels? Asia breathed in deeply to calm her anxious soul. Maybe this was more than she'd bargained for. There was no way she could have the privacy that she and Jorge needed, except to break away from the group. Her mind scrambled for the best possible solution.

Izaiah soon directed his team to a washed out, wooden structure, which seemed to be leaning to one side. He climbed up three rickety steps, which led to the front door. He knocked and waited to see what would be revealed behind door number one. A frail-looking woman, who appeared to be in her mid-seventies, pulled open the door and stuck out her grey-covered head.

"How are you?" Izaiah greeted cordially. "We are from St. Donovan's Chapel...we're just in the area to get acquainted with our neighborhood friends –"

"Well, good," the old woman cut in. "It's 'bout time somebody visit us from the church. What you say your name is?"

"Izaiah Cahoon...and this is Peter, Sonia, and Asia."

"I won't remember any of 'em," the old woman laughed. She turned slowly, rocking from side to side. "Come, come...follow me, chillen. I'll make you some bush tea...you like bananas and cod fish? I have plenty in the pot."

Asia immediately felt her stomach heave in response. She pulled on Izaiah's hand to get his attention. "I don't think I'm cut out for this," she whispered. "I think I'm about to pass out from repulsion."

Izaiah grinned. "And here I'm thinking that you're such a tough cookie."

"Well, I'm not! I can't go in there...I don't do bananas and cod fish."

"You don't have to eat it," Izaiah said, ditching the merriment in his voice. "I'll do the talking. You just follow my lead."

"Why don't you and the others go and I'll stay outside?"

"Won't work, Asia."

"Why?"

"Because you are the bishop's daughter and everyone will think that I'm giving you special treatment. You know how young minds behave. It won't be long before everyone says that you and I are involved in a relationship."

Izaiah had a point, but Asia believed that he was simply making a show out of nothing. They didn't need her. She only agreed to come along on this mission trip because she wanted to see Jorge. She was the bishop's daughter, alright. She did not need to fall in line with everyone else. However, despite her defiance, Izaiah's piercing stare was enough to get Asia to pick up her steps. She sat next to him on a sofa that looked as if it had been baptized in mud. The floors were black with shoeprints and the air reeked of stale food.

Asia could have handled that, because she was quite familiar with the conditions of the area, but when the old woman placed a bowl of mashed bananas, mixed heavily with minced cod fish in front of her, her stomach flipped to her throat. The presentation was a slimy version of overcooked oats. Asia looked at Izaiah in horror. The other team members were looking to Izaiah as well, conjecturing their next plan of action. Luckily, they did not have to wonder for long, because what came next would be their cue to leave. Asia suddenly keeled over, and vomited all over Izaiah's black leather shoes.

### Chapter Twenty-One

" _This is Hartlin Bodie with 91.2 FM and I want to extend gratitude to our listening audience who've been calling in with their questions and expressing their opinions over the weekly fifteen-minute segment with Rev. Frank Dubbin. If you are joining us for the first time, please feel free to call in with your opinions and let me know what your views are on what Rev. Dubbin has dubbed, the 'mystical realm of secret societies'. I would certainly love to hear from you..."_

Gregory moved his eyes from his laptop and let them rest upon the radio that was on the desk in his office. The volume was turned low, but he contemplated turning it off completely. Frank Dubbin was quickly becoming a household name in Bliss Haven, but not for the reason Gregory deemed appropriate. He wondered how a conservative gospel radio station could stomach such sensationalism. But Gregory admitted that Frank Dubbin had a way of pulling his audience into his crazy little mind. He demanded to be listened to and Gregory hated that about Dubbin, because as much as he wanted to turn the radio off, instead, he found himself turning up the volume.

Dubbin began by quoting 1 Timothy 4:1, "' _Now the Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils. Speaking lies in hypocrisy, having their conscience seared with a hot iron'_ _. The Apostle Paul said that the last days will be marked by certain dangers, which are accurately foretold as the danger of apostasy, the danger of deception and the danger of false teaching. We should not be confused as to whom this scripture is speaking. The Christian church has been infiltrated by evil men, who are teaching doctrines of devils and trying to subvert the gospel of Jesus Christ."_

" _Wait a second, Rev. There are those who may think this all sounds like a conspiracy theory...I am not trying to bash your opinions, because we all are entitled to –"_

" _Mr. Bodie, this is not an opinion," Dubbin interrupted. "The book of Jude confirms the truth of our times. And I quote..._ _'there are certain men crept in unawares...ungodly men, turning the grace of our God into lasciviousness, and denying the only Lord God, and our Lord Jesus Christ'_ _. This tells me that many of our churches have been defiled through the deception of the enemy. And may I dare say that many pastors and bishops and people with prestigious titles in the ecclesiastical arena have departed from the faith, and have given heed to seducing spirits and doctrines of devils._

" _Preachers are committing adultery and other sexual sins at an alarming rate and they think this is okay. They say God's grace is sufficient to cover their weaknesses and then do little to live free from such sins. But the Apostle Paul said,_ _'Shall we continue in sin, that grace may abound? God forbid. How shall we that are dead to sin, live any longer therein?'_

" _Let me warn you, my Christian brothers and sisters," Dubbin continued fervently. "Beware of such cults that teach errant doctrines. There is nothing godly about believers joining forces with these demonic secret societies or incorporating 'another' gospel apart from what Jesus and the apostles taught. As I have said before, it is impossible to be dedicated to two masters at the same time. If God be God, serve Him, but if Satan is your master, then serve him and stop straddling the fence. What shall a man give in exchange for his soul?"_

For the second time Gregory attempted to shut the radio down, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to do it – even though he was silently seething with anger. He just sat there as the words of Frank Dubbin began to break down the walls of resistance to his heart. He thought that side of him had been long buried, along with his pesky conscience. But it seemed as if all it took were the right words, with the right amount of power to uncover the little light of truth that had been left. _But isn't it too late for me? How can I change what I have done when I've helped to destroy dozens of lives? Furthermore, my wife would never forgive me for all the pain I've caused her. What's the use anyway? I am in too deep to get out._

Despite the battle that raged on within him, a strong sense of conviction began to descend upon Gregory – similar to what he had once felt in his earlier days as an up and coming preacher when he knew he had done wrong. He felt the first set of tears settle at the bottom of his eyelids. So comforting was the feeling that he leaned back in his swivel chair and allowed the tears to crawl down his jaw. He was spiritually, emotionally and physically drained – just plain tired of trying to keep up the appearances on all fronts. The radio rolled on and so did Gregory's tears.

" _So, Reverend, let us talk about this mystical realm of secret societies," Hartlin said, continuing with the last segment of the interview. "The last time you were in the studio you said that Christians need to become more educated about what is happening around them. You said Christians are too tolerant of sin."_

" _And I stand by that, Mr. Bodie. In relation to everything I've said, these secret societies are taking the sacred things of God and are making a mockery out of them. They use scripture, holy sacraments and biblical lingo to hook their recruits. I can see how a new convert could get confused. But I expect better out of a seasoned Christian."_

" _Reverend, what do you think would be the reason why some 'seasoned' Christians would fall prey to what you are describing?"_

" _Simply put, Mr. Bodie, too many of God's people are consumed by their lust for fame, wealth and power. It is from this platform the devil is able to set up shop and wreak havoc in the body of Christ."_

Gregory suddenly stood to his feet, feeling as if he was being suffocated by an unexplained presence in his office. Fresh air was what he needed, just enough for him to breathe. He grabbed his car keys and made his way out to the driveway. The nearest beach was two miles away. There he would take a swim, hoping that when he returned home, his mind would be unclogged. Maybe he had allowed too much of Dubbin's dogma to get the best of him.

But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness: and all these things shall be added unto you.

– _Matthew 6:33_

### Chapter Twenty-Two

Anwar hugged the sidewalk and tried to appear inconspicuous to the natives in this section of Bliss Haven. It was his fourth time in two weeks and he had to admit that the sensual atmosphere was becoming quite addicting. He'd been given basic-level entry and if he wanted to continue climbing the ranks to deeper 'truths', he was instructed to obey strict orders at all times. Be faithful and prove himself worthy of success. He was also advised that one slip up could cost him dearly. He would be immediately ex-communicated and possibly killed if any of the organization's secrets were leaked. It was a bargain made with the devil, but Anwar was willing to do practically anything to get through the gates of prosperity.

At a quarter to seven, he crossed the street to what appeared to be a gated community. He pulled out a small, black pamphlet from his pocket, which contained information he would need to gain access to the property. Even though the security guards had recognized his face from previous visits, he still wouldn't be let in without the two-sentence password. It was what was required of him, especially because he was still considered a newbie. Newbies, as Anwar understood, were placed on a three-month probation and did not immediately inherit all of the perks that came with such a powerful secret organization. He had to be tested, proven beyond a shadow of doubt that he was worthy to be fully inducted.

Nevertheless, Anwar's name was quickly being promoted within the secretly held gatherings. His magnetic features, along with his gallant performances, had awakened a new stream of wicked attractions. And, even though Anwar wasn't quite aware of his burgeoning fame, he knew he was well-liked by the clients. It hadn't taken him long to adjust to his new surroundings, which was a plethora of lust, wealth and beauty. Getting his fingers properly wedged into its abundance would certainly bring about a change in his financial status.

When Gregory introduced Anwar to this 'business', he did not flounder in his decision to take Gregory up on it. The money being offered was more than Anwar would see in a year if he continued working with Jorge. Suddenly, selling jewelry for a living had become a bitter offense to his soul. That day at the swim club when Gregory handed him his business card, Anwar wasted no time using it. He went home, ate supper and then went out to find a pay phone. Somehow, Anwar sensed that Gregory held the answers to his life-long dream of becoming financially independent. Gregory answered the phone and was incredibly excited when he found out that Anwar had taken the initiative.

" _You are serious about changing your destiny, aren't you?" he'd said to Anwar._

" _Yes, sir. I believe you can help me."_

" _Well, I can lead you to a very lucrative path. It'll be your decision to work hard and remain loyal. Tell me a little more about yourself and what it is you want most out of life."_

Anwar delved into a history of his life, making up a few stories as he went. He still maintained that he was from New Providence and not from St. Elmo's Valley, fearing he may spoil his chances with Gregory. He then explained to Gregory his desire to become a successful businessman – all of the key points Gregory had been wanting to hear.

" _Do you mind if I ask you something personal?" he said to Anwar._

" _Ask me; I don't mind."_

Gregory cleared his throat, and repeated a line he always used to reel in any potential recruit. It gave him a quick look into the individual's integrity and the values they supported. It also helped him make a decision about whether to proceed with additional information that may be too sensitive for someone with narrow-minded thinking. "Tell me the one thing you will never do for money."

Anwar chuckled nervously as he thought about his answer for a few seconds. "Well, that's easy," he said. "I will never murder my parents; I don't care how much money is being offered."

" _Good answer," Gregory replied. Anwar valued family just as Gregory valued his. "Take note of this address and I will meet you there tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. We will discuss your future and the opportunity for you to make a lot of money. I promise you; your life will never be the same. Are you excited?"_

" _Hell, yeah – excuse me – I mean, I am extremely happy. Thank you very much, sir! I really appreciate it."_

Anwar would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised to find out what it was Gregory had offered. _"Pay these clients a little attention and they will handsomely reward you."_ Words Anwar would never forget from someone who was supposed to be a man of God. But the way Anwar saw it, Gregory's hypocrisy had nothing to do with him wanting to get ahead in life. He was just thankful for the door that had been opened. Jorge would have to find someone else to dive for his pathetic conch shells, Anwar thought, because he did not intend on going back to his poverty-stricken past.

The buildings were large and opulent, just the way that Anwar imagined his new life would be. If it had been told to him two weeks ago that he would be staring his dreams in the face, he would have probably slapped that person silly. But now it was real and he sensed that it was just the beginning of opportunities being presented to him. Nothing like being in the right place at the right time. Stuffing the little black pamphlet back into his pocket, Anwar continued toward the lobby area, feeling large and in charge. He made eye contact with one of the clerks behind the front desk, different from the one he'd seen the other evening. They were all pretty, except for this one, whose nose and lips looked as if they had been filled with embalming fluid.

"Hi there. I am here to see Ms. V," Anwar greeted.

"I didn't get your name."

"Anwar Daxon...she's expecting me."

The clerk turned away from Anwar and spoke rapidly into the phone. A short while later, she refocused her gaze on Anwar and offered him one of those smiles that said, 'I-know-exactly-what-you're-up-to. But Anwar couldn't care less; she had a job to do just like everyone else.

"She is on her way down. Would you like to take a seat on the sofa over there?"

"No, thank you, I would prefer to stand," Anwar said.

"No problem." The clerk kept that perceptive smile on her face. Although she worked for the 'organization', it didn't mean she agreed with everything they did. As in exposing unsuspecting kids to a life that was both manipulative and destructive. "How old are you?"

"Huh?" Anwar was thoroughly surprised that the clerk had made an attempt at conversation. He stared at her swollen nose and lips and almost laughed in her face. Knowing he could not pretend any longer as if he hadn't heard her question, he said in a proud tone, "I'm nineteen, will be twenty in a few weeks."

"Not getting into your business and all, but you seem a little young to be coming around these parts."

"Come on, nineteen is not that young," Anwar grinned. "My mother was already married by that age. How old were you when you did something you weren't supposed to do?"

The clerk sensed that she was being mocked. To salvage a bit of her pride, she managed a tight smile and concluded her advice in a clipped tone. "You be careful, because I've seen many your age come and go, and today they are either dead or their lives are one big mess."

Anwar noticed Ms. V through his peripheral vision, sauntering as if she was modeling the latest designs. He returned the same tight smile to the clerk, which he knew came off as offensive. "Thank you for your advice," he said. "But I don't think I will need it."

Ms. V gave Anwar a minuscule wave, signaling him to follow her. The clerk behind the counter became a faded memory as scenes of the property began to unveil before Anwar. At first look, Anwar thought it was a spot where rich retirees would come to live out their final days on the warm sand. Everything was pristine and breathtaking. However, as Anwar had recently learned, the place was owned by a self-made billionaire who only rented the units to those who were members of the secret sect. Getting in would be next to impossible, because its location was carefully concealed from the general public.

It was a place where people lived out their sadistic fantasies. Doctors, lawyers, politicians, pastors, bankers, athletes and other persons of high standing, could all be seen, slipping in and out of private rooms. Some were local names; others flew in from all over the world. Anwar was amazed to see some of the familiar faces he'd either seen on TV or roaming the main streets of Bliss Haven. However, his shock was immediately neutralized by the irreversible oath he had been made to take.

"Are you studying the material in that black book that was given to you," Ms. V asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes, every night."

"Good, because there will come a time when you will be required to repeat every bit of it back to me. I'm hoping you will stick around until then." She handed Anwar a bag of some sort. "Get changed," she said. "You have a client waiting for you."

Anwar entered one of the dressing rooms and looked for an empty cubicle. The open space was teeming with boys and girls his age, all undergoing some form of transformation. Some of the boys were dressed in female costumes, applying heavy makeup to their chiseled faces. The first time Anwar laid eyes on the scene, he gagged with disgust, but when he noticed one of the boys tallying up a wad of U.S one-hundred-dollar bills, he relaxed and began to accept the exchange. The patrons paid top dollar for what they wanted. No matter how kinky or how gross the service rendered, at the end of the day, there was an abundance of money to be made. This was an underground world of perversion the general public hadn't any idea about.

As Anwar began to undress in his cubicle, an Asia-looking girl playfully poked him in his side. She looked like Bozo, the clown, with her white-covered face and her rainbow-colored dress. Anwar wanted to laugh, but he hid it by raising his brows.

"Steven, is it?" she queried. "Rumor is that you're meeting with a very important person this evening. Do you know what this means?"

"Yes, it means to keep your nose out of my business," Anwar said, not bothering to even correct her about his name.

"That kind of attitude is not gonna work around here," the girl snapped, clearly injured. "Just because Ms. V has a soft spot for you, doesn't mean you should be so snobby. Just remember, in a place like this you will need a friend."

Anwar kept his comment wedged in his throat, watching as Bozo quickly swayed to her cubicle. A little smile began to mess with his lips. He was not aware of that tidbit of information about Ms. V. The woman was tall and strikingly beautiful, but she reminded Anwar of Morticia, the wraithlike character from the TV show, "The Addams Family". She appeared to be void of emotion, only showing an air of stately professionalism. But it was exciting to know that his presence was already causing a stir.

In a full-length mirror attached to the wall of his cubicle, Anwar admired his form. He had never worn a pair of leather pants in his life, but it certainly made him look desirous. He poured some scented oil in his hands and then slapped it against his chest, and other areas of interest his client may want to explore. He'd serviced two female celebrities so far and had made close to three thousand dollars. A wave of guilt was surfacing, but Anwar's lust for money and power was beginning to rule his conscience.

_I'm not really hurting anyone_ , Anwar tried to convince himself. Everything was being done undercover, controlled by codes and secret gestures. There was no way the 'organization's' mode of operation could be penetrated. The patrons had more to lose than the boys and girls who provided the service. With such rare opportunities of wealth coming into his path, Anwar refused to let a little guilt ruin his evening. Fully dressed in his leather getup, he pulled out a whip from the bag and let it dangle to the floor.

Whoever his client was, had to be one of the craziest freaks he had ever encountered. Why in hell would someone want to be beaten as if they were a prisoner from Alcatraz? It was impossible for Anwar to imagine that pleasure could be derived from such torture. Well, Anwar thought as he grinned, as long as he was getting paid, he wouldn't waste time stressing about it. If his client wanted to be disciplined, Anwar would make sure his client's backside glowed like fire.

### Chapter Twenty-Three

9:11a.m.

Chazz was sprawled on one of the lower steps of Dana's art gallery. When Dana saw him, her first instinct was to put her Mercedes in reverse and escape for her life. But she questioned the maturity of such a decision. It was obvious she and Chazz had some unresolved issues, despite her telling him she had moved on. But it was not okay for Chazz to start making these sudden appearances. How could he act so irresponsibly, knowing her marriage was already treading on thin ice? Dana jumped out of her car, ready to give Chazz a piece of her mind.

"I thought I made myself clear, Chazz."

"I had to come see you –"

"You had to come see me?" Dana parroted sarcastically. "If my husband catches you here, he's gonna kill you."

"Maybe he would," Chazz said. He sprang from the steps and followed Dana to the entrance of her art gallery. "I came here to talk to you about your husband, anyway."

"You shouldn't be here, Chazz."

"Mrs. Beaufort...Dana..." He gently pressed his hand against the door, preventing Dana from going inside. "I'm not here to create problems for you. I'm here to clear my conscience. When I'm done telling you what I've come to say, I will leave you alone."

Somehow Dana didn't believe that. But with Chazz being so close to her, she could barely breathe. His maleness was all up in her face, bringing those sensual desires to the forefront of her imagination. Dana couldn't understand what it was about Chazz that made her feel so out of control – so out of her element that in order to keep her flesh tamed, she had to constantly remind herself that she was twenty-five years older than him. What a disgrace for a full grown woman like her to be so turned on by such youthful innocence.

"Chazz, I am really not comfortable with you being here," she said. "You must know that."

"I know, and I'm sorry that I'm making you feel that way, but I need to talk to you face to face. Things are getting worse – not only for me, but for this entire island." Chazz paused, as a pang of fear seemed to twist his stomach into small knots. His thoughts had suddenly switched somewhere else and it showed in his disjointed words. "I'm having trouble sleeping at night...too many bad dreams about my past...I wish I could go back and change some things."

Dana turned to face Chazz. She searched his gaze for interpretation, but all she saw was a man wanting to bare his soul. His boyish looks made her want to cuddle and protect him, which was causing so many conflicting feelings within her. However, Dana knew it was better to keep her hands to herself than to start an inferno in front of her business door.

"I hope this isn't one of your ploys –"

"Mrs. Beaufort," Chazz cut in respectfully, seeming to come to himself. "Give me ten minutes and then make your judgment."

"You have five minutes," Dana said resignedly. "Don't make me regret it."

Chazz removed his hand from the door, relief appearing in his expression. "I'd prefer to take this inside," he said.

The look in Dana's eyes held enough emotion to send Chazz scampering for cover. It was obvious she found his suggestion preposterous.

"Don't be upset with me," he winced. "I just feel a need to protect you."

"I don't need you protecting me!"

"That's because you don't have a clue about what's going on around you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I am trying to explain it to you."

"Then, say whatever is on your mind, Chazz, and stop speaking in riddles! I don't want you hanging around my place."

Chazz felt the ground shifting beneath him. After all that time they'd spent together in sexual ecstasy, how could she talk to him like that? He cared deeply for this woman, but she wanted nothing to do with him. But could he blame her for the way she was lashing out? He had ripped her world to shreds. What else did he expect?

He sputtered out unevenly, "It was Gregory's idea to set you up and I was paid to go along with it."

"Paid to do what?" The last word in that question landed heavy on Dana's tongue.

"To seduce you, Mrs. Beaufort...your husband paid me to have sex with you and then plotted to catch us in the act."

Dana drew back and connected her palm against Chazz's face. "You waited three years to tell me this nonsense? Get out of here before I call the police!"

Chazz ignored the sting and kept his intense gaze on Dana. "It's the truth," he insisted. "Gregory wired five thousand dollars to my bank account; I couldn't even spend the money. The guilt was killing me because by that time I had ended up falling in love with you."

"Stop it!"

"Listen to me, Dana. Your husband is not who you think he is." He gripped Dana's shoulders, desperate for her to lose the suspicion in her eyes. "There are things you need to know that are going on in Bliss Haven. Gregory knows everything about it. There is a secret organization, located just outside of Crystal Bay. Every filthy thing that you can imagine goes on there. Perversion at its worst. And I'm sad to say that it was Gregory who recruited me and introduced me to a woman named Ms. V –"

The glass in Dana's showcase suddenly shattered into a thousand pieces. Chazz instinctively wrapped himself around Dana, as he barely glimpsed a black limo gliding by in slow motion. He felt a searing pain strike up his spine. Then he heard the thundering of gunshots, peppering at them without mercy. It seemed as if he had gone deaf for a second. Maybe his breath had left him and came back. The pain burned like fire, but he had to protect Dana. It was his fault that he had gotten her caught up into this mess and he would die trying to get her out of it.

With his remaining strength, Chazz pushed their bodies through the door, both of them landing on the floor with a painful thud. Quickly, blood began to seep around them, as the final blast of shots tore Dana's art sign to shreds.

****

Gregory gestured for Izaiah to join him on the veranda. Coffee cup in one hand and a fountain pen in the next. He had gotten back from the beach and was feeling refreshed. For the most part, it appeared as if he'd succeeded in pushing Frank Dubbin's words out of his mind and was now able to refocus on the business at hand. Of course, Izaiah did not want to interrupt when he noticed Gregory's disposition, but when he remembered he also had reasons of his own to meet with Gregory, he gladly obliged. Before Izaiah sat, Gregory stealthily minimized a file on his laptop, which contained photos and information about dozens of young, handsome men between the ages of sixteen and thirty. Gregory had been gazing at an unretouched photo of Izaiah, trying to decide what to do with him as per the mandate placed on him by the organization.

"Would you care to give me an update on what is going on with my daughter?" Gregory said without preamble. "I noticed she can't keep anything down in her stomach."

Izaiah wondered how he knew Asia was sick. Gregory was not around when Asia had wobbled up the stairs last night.

"Miss Rose doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut," Gregory said in response to Izaiah's curious expression. "She told me that you took Asia to St. Elmo's Valley. Is that so?"

"I took a team with me to share their testimonies with the natives," Izaiah said. "I asked Asia to accompany me. Was that a problem?"

"I trust you, Izaiah. Do you trust me?"

Izaiah was beginning to hate that line that came out of Gregory's mouth. "What does that have to do with –"

Gregory interrupted, "Let that be the last time you or anyone else visits that Godforsaken place. You need not waste your time on those pitiable stragglers. Do you know that they are infected with incurable diseases?"

Izaiah raised his brows in shock. It was not so much because of Gregory's rude inflection, but rather the fact that Gregory despised the very people he had an obligation to lead to Christ. Such words should never come out of a bishop's mouth. A righteous man, who had the love of God in his heart would never ignore the needs of those who were lost. It led Izaiah to believe that Gregory was not all he purported to be.

"In the parable of the lost sheep," Izaiah began, "Jesus said that 'it's not in the Father's will that even one of these little ones should perish –"

"Stop..." Gregory raised his hand. "I don't need a spiritual discourse on the salvation experience. I'm quite aware of what this island needs and you're not going to get things done by tossing your pearls to the swine." Gregory sipped a little of his coffee and then placed the mug on the table between them. "Frankly, I think you are out of line and if I was not fond of you, I would have dealt with you a bit more harshly. Please, follow my orders and do not go back to St. Elmo's Valley."

Izaiah decided to challenge Gregory's authority with one word. "Why?"

"Because I said so."

"Wow..." Izaiah slouched back into his chair, thoroughly confused. The whimpering of the Alsatians suggested a change in the atmosphere, but this time Izaiah was not afraid of them. He was too busy trying to piece together what kind of man Gregory Beaufort truly was. "May I ask you a question?"

"By all means," Gregory said.

"Does the 'organization' still intend to close the doors of St. Donovan's Chapel?"

"I don't know. And I have never given you a definite word that they would."

"But you brought it up," Izaiah pushed. "I was under the impression that things were rapidly heading downhill. Excuse me for lack of a better description, but part of the reason I accepted the youth minister position was because I believed that I could be of some use. To put into practice my few years of experience." Izaiah sat back up to the edge of his chair. "Sir, my life's mission is to win the hearts of the young people for the kingdom of God and now you're preventing me from doing that."

"Very commendable traits, Izaiah, but don't get yourself into a hissy fit. You're young, good looking, and have all of the trappings of an eligible bachelor. The only heart that I'm concerned about you winning is my daughter's. Get Jorge Bentley out of her system!"

"Now, you've finally given me a name," Izaiah spat. "What if I told you that I am not interested in interfering with your daughter's life?"

"Of course you are," Gregory countered, a sly grin creeping across his face. "I see the way that you look at her. Lust plagues every man."

"It is not lust," Izaiah rebutted in disgust.

"Oh, really? Are you implying that it's something more?"

Izaiah had a few more choice words to say to Gregory, but he was frightened into silence by Miss Rose's dramatic entrance onto the veranda. The rotund maid flung her bottom into one of the chairs and wailed as if she'd taken on the voice of a cockatiel. Both men jumped to their feet to console her.

"What is it, Miss Rose?" Gregory inquired sorely.

"The police called," Miss Rose said in her heavy accent. "Somethin' bad happen to boss lady!" Miss Rose threw herself against the back of the chair, violently pulling at her bosom. "My heart gon' fail me...feel like me gon' die...oh God...help a heart so tender..."

Gregory shook the maid. "Stay with me, Rose! What has happened to Dana?"

Miss Rose blurted out, "Boss lady was shot and she's in the hospital fightin' for her life!"

Gregory felt the ground move beneath his feet. No other words were exchanged. Like a man who had consumed a shot of Absinthe, Gregory staggered through the French doors. He could not explain why the news struck him so hard, but all he knew was that he had to get to the hospital to see what state Dana was in. Shot? You just not too long ago left here this morning, Dana. Where in the world have you been to have been shot? Gregory could not fathom the thoughts.

With Izaiah supporting him both men somehow made it into Gregory's car. The drive was quick, but it was filled with absolute dread as the realization set in that Dana could be dead by the time they got to her bedside. The thought had almost caused Gregory to pass out in the passenger seat. Why did it matter to him? Because deep down, Gregory realized he still cared about the one woman who had stood by him all these years and if she left this world without knowing the truth about his actions, he would not be able to live with himself.

For the second time that day, tears began to fill Gregory's eyes as he and Izaiah raced through the glass doors of the hospital. He had to wonder if God was trying to send him a message.

### Chapter Twenty-Four

Dallis had never been stood up before by the opposite sex. Well, to put it another way, she hadn't dated that much to have experienced it, but she had hoped Anwar's word was trustworthy. She had waited for him to show his face for over an hour at a restaurant located in the Quad. Dallis felt an hour was more than enough time needed to make a fool of herself. Anwar was not coming and she needed to accept that. This was one of the reasons why Dallis had reservations about dating. She hated to put her feelings on the line, only to have them crushed. Disappointed, she stood up from the table and made ready to leave the restaurant.

_Maybe I should have listened to my intuition_ , Dallis thought. _Anwar Daxon is not a boy I should get involved with. I'm not even sure what he really wants from me...the way that he speaks about my body is totally inappropriate_. Her mind was castigating her decision, but her heart was singing a different tune. It had only been a little over a month since Anwar had joined the Bliss Haven swim team, but it felt as if she'd known him forever. It was that easy to carry on a conversation with him. The way that he listened to her, made her feel special. It had been his soothing words that kept her from falling apart after she'd finished third in the swim competition.

" _I can't believe you are sitting here moping," Anwar had said, a wide grin on his face. He seemed genuinely impressed with her performance. "I didn't know you had it in you, girl."_

Dallis turned away from him. "What are you talking about? I came in third."

" _Girl, with that crazy lineup of raw talent, if I had come in third, I would have been spinning on my head. I loved every minute of it! I can see that you will be a force to be reckoned with."_

Even though Dallis hadn't shown it that day, those words warmed her heart. She was able to go home and not cry about the results. However, Anwar's loyalty was questionable. Lately, Dallis noticed Anwar had not been coming around the swim club that much. If she recalled correctly, she may have only seen him two times within the last two weeks or so. Although the change in behavior appeared minimal, Dallis could not overcome the uneasiness she felt inside. She could not understand why she'd even agreed to meet Anwar, knowing she had conflicting feelings about him.

When Anwar had suggested they spend a little time together, she assumed he wanted to come clean about his little lie he'd told her father. She had called him out on it and then sat back and watched to see what he would do. Now, she had an answer. Anwar seemed to be one of those boys that would break her heart and leave her to moan over her regrets. Dallis did not intend to follow after Asia's footsteps, when it came down to choosing a mate. There were always signs a woman should pay close attention to, especially when a man could leave a woman hanging alone in a restaurant, without having the decency to call.

Dallis crossed the street to her blue Kia Rio hatchback – one of three custom designed cars her father had bought for his daughters, each having a huge spoiler attached to the trunk. She had made up her mind about Anwar. She would befriend him, and would help him with his swimming career, but as far as exploring her feelings for him, she would nip it at the root, while it was still early in the game. Her heart was too precious to give to someone who clearly was not interested in receiving it. From now on, she would continue to hone her relationship with her Creator and wait on His choosing for her. Because human beings were bound to make stupid mistakes.

****

The empty beer bottle slipped out of Anwar's hand, and landed on the ceramic tiles. The sound exploded in Anwar's ears, causing him to jump out of a deep sleep. Lethargy was in his bones, but Anwar knew it was a nasty hangover from last night's corruption. He eased up against the headboard and stayed there for a minute or so. It felt as if the entire room was spinning. He did not dare try to stand to his feet for fear of crumbling to the floor. He dragged his lazy gaze to his left and noticed that his client was still asleep in the bed – completely denuded of clothing.

Anwar slapped a hand to his mouth to stop the urge to vomit. He could not believe he'd spent the night with that mess next to him. A fat, out-of-shape, fifty-eight-year-old Saudi Arabian billionaire, who looked as if he'd swallowed a bloody whale. He'd heard Ms. V call him Mustafa. Anwar had already made up in his mind that no matter what gig he was given to perform, he refused to have sex with another man – as some of the other boys were doing. He'd never allowed a man to even look at him funny, much less let one of them put their hands on him. Ms. V must know that he was only interested in females and that his preference would never change. Didn't his persona tell Ms. V that he was a ladies' man?

Last night, when the client moved closer to touch him, Anwar's first reaction was to draw back and knock him into next week. However, Anwar had to remind himself that clients were slapping briefcases of U.S. money on the table, matching the various levels of their filth. To keep his client from reporting him to Ms. V, Anwar decided to relax a little and proceeded to put on a show for the fat beast. Anwar was an excellent dancer and hoped his moves would thwart his client's interest in having sex. It seemed to work for a short time, but after a while the client still wanted to run his fingers along Anwar's body.

Anwar had to come up with another ruse, and quickly, because he realized his dance moves had only aroused that fool's sexual appetite. The refrigerator was stocked with expensive wine and other alcoholic beverages. To proceed with anything, Anwar explained that he needed to loosen up by drinking a couple of strong drinks. His client agreed and before both men knew it, they were drinking heavily and laughing at every silly joke. Anwar staggered over to the spot where he had rested the whip. Ms. V had told him that his client loved to be disciplined for his rudeness.

The idea quickly became an obsession for Anwar. He would enjoy whipping the hell out of this fat pervert, which was sort of a reprisal for such an indecent request. The session went underway with the client stripping out of his suit. The first whack landed heavily across the client's fat butt. He screamed out in pain, but Anwar kept the whips coming fast, striking the client with as much power as he could muster. After several minutes, both men collapsed into a heap of drunkenness.

Soon, a knock on the door alerted Anwar back to the predicament that he was in. He was still dressed in his leather getup from last evening, but a horrible odor emanated from his body. He was dying to take a shower, hoping to wash away the dirt surrounding him. But instead, he staggered to the door and pulled it open. The mischievous smirk on Ms. V's visage suggested something sinister. Anwar could tell she was surprised that he had ended up spending the night with the client. But it wasn't even close to what she thought.

"This usually never happens," Ms. V teased. "You must have outdone yourself last evening. But it's all a little too soon. I don't know if I'm impressed with it..." She wrinkled her nose, and took a few steps back into the hall. "What is that awful smell?"

"I know I need to take a shower," Anwar groaned. "It's the alcohol...I think I might have vomited all over myself. My head hurts and I could barely keep my eyes open. I feel terrible."

"Go easy, my young stallion," Ms. V advised. "I don't need you dead before your next gig. Come see me in my office when you're done cleaning up."

"What time is it?"

"Five o'clock."

Anwar's eyes immediately livened with shock. "As in the afternoon?"

"You had that much fun that you don't even realize the time of day?"

"I had somewhere to be at two thirty, that's all." Anwar rubbed a hand over his cornrows, disappointed that he had not kept his word with Dallis. "Oh man, I've really messed up; I need something to clear my head."

"Tomato juice and celery," Ms. V offered. "I find that it works for me. A Bloody Mary works just as well, but I don't think your system can handle it." She tilted her head, which gave the impression that she wanted to express compassion, but had a hard time pulling it off. "Do me a favor, Anwar. Take care of that pretty little face, because I would hate to see it go to the pits."

Ms. V sauntered away, carrying her smothering presence along with her. Anwar staggered to the bathroom and turned on the warm water in the shower. He did not want to think about the consequences that awaited him when he got back to St. Elmo's Valley. By now, his parents may have already called Jorge, trying to find out where their son had spent the night. He knew Jorge would cover for him, but he was at a loss as to how he would explain this to Dallis. She was a very perceptive girl. One false move and she would read him like a book. He had to come up with something to tell Dallis, because he knew she would demand an answer.

The water pressure was strong, so when Anwar stepped in under the blast, it felt as if six pairs of hands were massaging his entire body, making it an incredibly enjoyable experience. However, it hadn't even been five minutes when Anwar heard the bathroom door open. Alarmed, he peeked through the haze of the shower glass and noticed the fat beast was standing there, in all his naked glory. Anwar was overcome with repulsion.

"Do you want some company, my little friend? Maybe you are ready for me now."

Anwar slid the shower door open and yanked a towel from the rack. He tightly wrapped himself. Without a hint of a smile, he stared at the fat beast and said firmly, "Hell, nawh! I have to get up out of here. My mother is worried about me and probably has the police combing this entire island..."

It was something Anwar had made up on the spot, but he would be damned if he'd let this sadistic pervert push him into a corner and destroy his manhood. Anwar could see the lust drenched in his eyes.

"I will pay double for you," the client said. "When are you coming back?"

Anwar yelled behind his shoulders, as he hurriedly slipped his legs through his pants. "I don't know. Talk to Ms. V about your concerns. I probably won't be back for a couple of weeks, though. I have to study for exams."

Another lie, but Anwar was all about protecting himself. He had not signed up for this foolishness. By the time his client had walked back into the bedroom area, Anwar was exiting out of the front door – shoes in one hand and his shirt in the next. Better to get dressed in the hall than to stay in the lion's den.

Every man is guilty of the good he did not do.

– _Voltaire_

### Chapter Twenty-Five

Gregory had stopped every white coat in passing until he found someone to give him some information about his wife. He was told by the surgeon that a bullet was found lodged near Dana's left kidney, which the surgeon deemed a very fortunate circumstance. Had the bullet entered an inch to the right, Dana's condition would have been much worse, possibly fatal. However, she had struck her head against the floor, putting her into a temporary coma. The doctors could not tell to what extend the fall would affect Dana's brain, but were positive that she would open her eyes soon. Gregory sat with Dana in a private room where she would begin the recovery process.

There was a tidbit of information that had dozens of questions attacking Gregory's mind all at once. For starters, the medical examiner explained that the lifeless body of a male was found on top of Dana, which seemed to be an act of protection that had saved Dana's life. With no form of identification on the male, there was no way of knowing who he was at the moment. Gregory couldn't explain it, but he had a gut feeling that it was Chazz Brunswick. So he made the medical examiner take him to the morgue.

Certainly, it was the kid he'd paid to seduce his wife. He hadn't seen him or heard from him in a while. If Gregory said that he was surprised that Chazz and his wife had been together at the time of the shooting, he would be telling a lie. Maybe in her disillusionment, Dana had found her way back to Chazz. He had been a strong temptation for his wife. Maybe it had been Chazz who contacted her, but whatever the reason, Gregory was now livid – even though he had been the one to set up the ruse. It was the whole idea of Dana not being able to say 'no' to Chazz's seductive wiles. She wanted Chazz then and she wanted him now. That was why he blamed Dana for the rift in their relationship. Ruse or no ruse, Dana would have cheated on him with Chazz.

But Gregory did not resent his wife or Chazz to the point of such brutality. He would never wish for anyone to be shot to death. However, five thousand dollars had been wired to Chazz's account, so Gregory was sure that this chapter of his life had been closed. The purpose for the ruse had been served and he didn't need Chazz's services anymore. So, two questions needed to be answered: Why all of a sudden had Chazz and Dana begun communicating again? And why was he targeted, along with his wife? Deep down Gregory knew the answers, but he did not want to acknowledge that maybe this could all be his fault.

Soon, the feeling of resentment slowly began to ebb away when he thought of the selfish reason why he'd paid Chazz to seduce his wife. But he maintained that this tragedy wasn't supposed to happen. He had been promised that his family would be protected if he stuck to his part of the bargain. Gregory closed his eyes, and shook his head despairingly. He did not like how things were turning out. But no sooner had he closed his eyes, they popped back open, as if he'd received an electrical jolt.

Gregory stood up from the chair that was in front of Dana's bed. She had not stirred since she'd been wheeled into the private room. She looked so peaceful, just lying there in her own little world. Gregory lowered himself and then softly pressed his lips against Dana's. The connection almost stopped his breath, because after nearly three years, he had forgotten how it felt to kiss his wife. He sighed regretfully. He was in too deep with his mess for her to understand what was going on. Gregory exited the room in haste.

****

Izaiah had been in silent prayer the entire time, asking God to intervene on Dana's behalf and to allow her to rejoin her family at home. He opened his eyes, just in time to see Gregory sprinting past the waiting area. Izaiah attempted to derail him.

"How is Mrs. Beaufort?" he inquired. "I've been praying for her."

"Thank you. You can go in to see her," Gregory said. "Considering the circumstances, she is coming along." Gregory scanned the area for the rest of the family members, even though he had instructed Izaiah not to call them until Dana was out of surgery. "Where are Rose and my daughters? I thought they would have been here by now."

"Rose and Asia are on their way," Izaiah said. "I couldn't get in contact with Dallis. It seems as if she turned off her cell phone."

"Well, keep trying," Gregory said. "I almost lost their mother; Dallis would want to be here. I will call Candi in Cayman and let her know what is going on."

Izaiah nodded his response, adding in a concerned tone, "When you were passing, it seemed you were in a rush to go somewhere."

"Yes," Gregory paused, as if trying to decide how much he should reveal to Izaiah. Despite Izaiah's little defiant streak, he genuinely seemed to care about people. Gregory was impressed and had grown very fond of Izaiah over the past few weeks, but Gregory feared that Izaiah wasn't ready to handle certain levels of information. He did not want to scare the boy back to the United States. "I will be right back, should you need a lift back to the estate."

"Take your time, sir. I can find my way back, if the need arises."

Though Gregory could see the questions pooling in Izaiah's eyes, he appreciated Izaiah not prying into the situation. It would be for Izaiah's own good anyway, Gregory decided, that he stayed on the righteous path that he was on. Because Gregory knew better than anyone that one wrong decision could create a lifetime of painful consequences.

By the end of the day, however, Gregory was convinced that he would have all the answers to his questions regarding the deadly attack on Chazz and his wife. Because this was not supposed to happen.

### Chapter Twenty-Six

Jazz music. Scented candles. A Jacuzzi filled with French Vanilla bubble bath. A half glass of chardonnay clutched between the fingers of one of the most erotic women in Bliss Haven. At forty-seven years of age, Ms. V was still at the top of her game. However, tonight's celebration was not so much about her, as it was about the organization. Another rebel had bitten the dust. Just like that, Chazz Brunswick was history – like all the others who had tried to expose the secrets of the organization. What a pity that Dana Beaufort had gotten caught in the crossfire.

Ms. V slipped deeper into the Jacuzzi, allowing the water to cover her entire face. Being under water like that was euphoric. She wondered how it would feel to come close to drowning. No doubt it was one of the worst fears in the world, but she imagined the bliss of having a sexual release, right before that moment of losing consciousness. She had been choked to the point where her eyes flipped to the back of her head. She had allowed six men to gang-rape her while blindfolded and chained to the bedposts. Totally sadistic, but those escapades had been some of the most intense sexual experiences she'd ever had in her life. When Ms. V pushed her head up out of the water, a man was standing in her bathroom.

"I could have easily killed you, Viola," Gregory said grimly.

"I know, but you don't have it in you," she said in an even tone, even though she was alarmed by Gregory's sudden appearance.

Gregory looked at Viola like he was staring at something hideous. "You knew I was coming, didn't you? That's why you left the door unlocked."

"What can I say? You know me all too well, my darling."

"Would you stop being so bloody flippant? My wife has been shot!"

Ms. V raised one leg out of the water and seductively rested it on the edge of the Jacuzzi. Her eyes always looked as if she wanted to have sex. "Gregory, why don't you join me? Maybe, a little pleasure will help you come to your senses. Dana survived, didn't she?"

"That isn't the point," Gregory spat. "We had an agreement."

"I am quite aware of the agreement! But there was a situation and we had to take care of it."

"By almost killing my wife in the process?"

"What's with you, Gregory? All of a sudden you're showing concern for your wife. You certainly weren't thinking of her when you hired that fool to seduce her."

"Are you kidding? I did that for us –"

"And now you're having second thoughts about what you've done." Ms. V climbed out of the Jacuzzi and stood naked before Gregory. She grabbed her breasts and shook them with a purpose. "You smothered your face between these for years, had sex in every spot of this suite, while your pathetic wife was waiting for you at home. You could have said something then. Too late for regrets...you've made your bed, now lie in it!"

Gregory recognized that tone, which meant that Viola's tolerance level had gone out the door. Ever since he'd joined the organization, he'd always had a healthy dose of respect for her. It amazed him how they ended up sleeping together, because his reason for being a part of the organization had never been of a sexual nature. Twenty years ago, the organization offered him a prestigious position with the church, fancy cars, a large estate and more money than he could ever spend in a lifetime.

Of course, he didn't explain any of this to his wife back then. He knew she wouldn't have gone along with it. She simply assumed he was being rewarded for his faithfulness – and in a way, he thought he was. But as a young up and coming preacher, it was an offer made in heaven. In exchange, he gave up his integrity. But never in his wildest dreams did he imagine his life would have taken this downward spiral into such evil.

"But why did you have to kill Chazz?"

Ms. V turned away from Gregory and slipped her arms through a red, satin robe. "The question you should be focusing on, Gregory, is what was Chazz doing with your wife?" she snapped. "There are audio recordings of him reaching out to her. I'm sorry to break it to you, but your precious little Dana knows that you had set her up. You should be thankful that she is in no condition to confront you about it."

"You didn't have to kill him!" Gregory shouted, peeved that Viola was showing little concern about the situation. "He was just a kid."

"Chazz had resurfaced to expose the identity of the organization. We couldn't let him live. He had blown his chance."

"I could have talked to him, Viola. I was the one who introduced him to this organization, remember?"

"And say what, Gregory? That boy was never a true member. Accept that Chazz turned out to be a renegade. We all have an obligation to protect the secrets of this organization. Don't go attaching your emotions to your targets!"

"Targets...wow. That's all these young men mean to you people?" Gregory scoffed, as he leaned against a wall in frustration. "When I first came into this organization, I was excited about the opportunities afforded me. I could see my vision of becoming a bishop, finally within my grasp. If only I'd realized what I was getting myself into."

"Of course you did," Ms. V said. "Everything has a price. Did you think all of this was for free?"

"That was not how the organization presented it to me. I sincerely thought the organization was genuine in its approach to helping young men fulfil their dreams."

"Oh Gregory, it is so commendable to see that you still have a heart. But you failed to realize this one thing: A dream for one man is different for another and depending on what is inside that man, you would be surprised to know what a man would do to fulfil that dream." She paused and allowed a priggish grin to crease her face. "Just look at what you've done. You paid a young, dark-skinned hunk to seduce your wife. How would you explain that? Was that the organization's fault, or you being drawn away by your unbridled lust? You see, Gregory, we always have a choice."

Gregory grew silent. He recognized Viola's motives for what they were, self-absorbed and streamlined to suit the organization's vision, but he could not help but feel as if he was being rebuked by God Himself. Gregory knew he had strayed from the discipline of scripture, but how unsettling it was for a woman like Viola to remind him of it.

"...the only thing the organization does," she was saying, "is make the offer. The choice is always left up to the individual. Now, the problem comes after that choice has been made. Either that man's dreams are fulfilled or they will be shattered. Keep a steady head, Gregory and all will continue to go well with you and your family." Ms. V started to walk away, but paused in her stride to give Gregory a devilish smile. "I hope this little resurgence of conscience won't interfere with your recruitment skills. How's the sexy youth minister doing, by the way? I had hoped to see him in these parts by now."

Without adding another word, Gregory turned away and marched out of Viola's suite. By the time he made it back to the lobby, his thoughts were a mass of confusion. There was no way out of this evil prison. He'd been careful not to get Dana and his daughters involved with this mess, because he knew the danger behind it. However, because of his desire to keep his family ignorant of his secret lifestyle and wanting to maintain his level of affluence, the organization forced his hand to recruit promising young men who would be furtively hired as "high class" male prostitutes. Clients would pay an excessive amount of money for chiseled features.

With their freedom stanchly secured in the grips of the organization, many of the young men hadn't any idea how much they would have to endure to keep their pockets fat with money. Chazz rebelled and ended up paying for it with his life. Anwar was too caught up in the moment to see the danger ahead. Now Viola was asking about Izaiah. Gregory was not certain about how to proceed. Because ever since that day he'd picked up Izaiah from the airport, he had sensed a completely different vibe from him. It was obvious that Izaiah came from a strong background of morality and somehow Gregory knew it wouldn't be easy to play with Izaiah's head, as he'd so easily done to many other young men.

Sighing heavily, Gregory exited the hidden property and cautiously made his way back to his car he'd parked many feet away. He eased behind the steering wheel and allowed his head to connect with the headrest. Gregory thoroughly believed that Izaiah would be a better match for his daughter rather than being used for the organization's selfish motives. But knowing how ruthless Viola was, Gregory knew it was only a matter of time before she took action. He closed his eyes with a film of tears beneath his lids. A prayer of regret could be heard falling from his lips.

### Chapter Twenty-Seven

Anwar slept through the entire night and when he awoke that morning, he was relieved to discover that his parents were nowhere around. He could not deal with the drama he knew his parents would create. So with the house to himself, he decided to use the time to put some things in perspective. Beginning with his phone call to Dallis. He did not call her last night simply because he hadn't any idea of what to say. He needed time to think of his story, making sure there were no holes in it for Dallis to poke at. He kept reminding himself that Dallis was unlike any girl he'd ever met. She looked through his soul as if he were transparent glass.

Clutching his new iPhone 5, he dialed the number at the swim club, the most likely place where Dallis would be. He was surprised to know that she was there, because he was half-expecting the coach to tell him that she hadn't come in that morning. It would have been the perfect excuse to elude the confrontation a little longer. When Dallis spoke into the phone, Anwar could sense both disappointment and sadness in her voice.

"How have you been?" he asked her.

"You tell me, Anwar. I was the one who was stood up."

Anwar squeezed his eyes tight and prayed his apology sounded sincere. "I'm sorry, Dallis. I don't know what else to say...I got caught up somewhere –"

"Doing what?"

"Come on, Dallis..."

"No, Anwar. Don't you think you owe me an explanation? If you'd had the decency to call and tell me, I wouldn't have minded so much. But clearly, whatever it was you were doing, was more important than keeping your word to me." Dallis sighed, depicting a sense of finality in her voice. "But you know what, Anwar, I am so over it and I have learned my lesson."

"Wait, Dallis, don't hang up..."

"I'll see you around, Anwar – whenever that is. I just received a call that my mother has been shot and I'm on my way to see her at the hospital."

Anwar heard the _click_ in his ear, signaling the conversation was over. It lasted less than sixty seconds, but there was a lot left to be said. Anwar dropped his head toward his knees. He deserved Dallis' anger. Yet, Anwar felt as if the tidbit of information that Dallis mentioned about her mother, seemed to be a ploy to get him out of the house. In some twisted way in that female head of hers, Dallis was asking him to meet her at the hospital so that they could resolve the issue. Anwar suddenly grinned. He was so vain as to think that Dallis would be in the presence of mind to talk to him. What sane woman would want to talk about a stupid date when her mother had just been shot?

Despite his reservations, Anwar decided to get dressed. What was the worst that could happen? It wasn't like he and Dallis were seeing each other exclusively. If it ended before it started, big deal. He would chalk it up and move on with his life. There were plenty of other gorgeous-looking girls besides Dallis Beaufort. A short while later Anwar was pushing his feet into his leather sandals. He swiped his iPhone from the dresser and as he made ready to leave, he heard a knock on the front door. Anwar invited the person in, but he was not happy to see who it was.

"What you want, man? I'm on my way out."

"I can see that, my friend," Jorge quipped sarcastically. "These days, you're always rushing off to go somewhere, or spending your nights somewhere else."

"What's it to you? I told you that I'm busy now."

"At least you could show a little gratefulness in your attitude. I've been telling your folks you've been staying at my place. But that will only last for so long. Be real with me, man. With such an expensive phone in your hand, I can see that your standard of living is changing – no, _has_ changed."

Anwar started for his room, desperate to get out from beneath Jorge's piercing gaze. "Back up off me, man and mind your own bloody business. Don't act like what I'm doing is a surprise."

Jorge gave a little chuckle, but it was borne out of disappointment rather than dry humor. "Actually, it is a surprise to me. At this rate, I won't see you in St. Elmo's Valley at all."

"Well, you know that is my intention," Anwar responded stiffly.

"We've discussed it..."

"Then, why are you sweating me about it?"

"Because I know whatever it is that you're doing is not legit."

"How do you know what I'm doing is not legit? I didn't break into anyone's home or do anything stupid like that –"

"Come on, Anwar, you're not fooling me," Jorge said. "In less than a month, you were able to acquire a whole new set of clothes, shoes, and now this phone, which I know cost at least five hundred dollars. What job would pay that kind of cash in such a short space of time?"

"It's an honest pay, man. That's all you need to know."

"Then, how come you didn't tell me about it when you know both of us are trying to get out of St. Elmo's Valley?"

_Because you're a goody two shoes, like Dallis. You wouldn't know a good opportunity if it slapped you hard in the face_... Anwar's thoughts rambled on, but he dared not utter any of it to Jorge. He continued on to his bedroom and tried to slam the door in Jorge's face.

"Something is going on with you, man," Jorge said, as he forced himself into Anwar's room. "Tell me now, or I will have to talk to your parents."

"Get out of my room!"

"I am not going anywhere," Jorge countered. "Talk now or I will have to do something about it. I won't allow you to destroy yourself –"

Anwar had never felt more enraged than he felt now. If he didn't want to divulge his personal affairs to Jorge, he felt he should be given that respect. It was extremely irritating to Anwar when people forced him to do something that he didn't want to do. "I don't need you judging me," he spat, "telling me what I should or shouldn't be doing with my life! Go and harass Asia and leave me the hell alone!"

In spite of his friend's unapproachable expression, Jorge remained firm, only to have his mind flash with a bit of revelation. Somehow, the way Anwar mentioned Asia's name triggered a conversation he'd had with Gregory some five months back in his study. Jorge leveled his gaze with Anwar, not wanting to believe his own thoughts.

"... _I am not stupid," Gregory had cut in. "I know exactly what is going on between you and my daughter. But Jorgie boy, I have a proposition for you; if you're wise, you will consider it very carefully. I can change your entire life with one phone call. You'll have money – more than enough to establish your little jewelry business, fast cars, and a better place to live. I will make a man out of you."_

" _Oh, yeah?" Jorge smiled. "It sounds very tempting, but what's the catch?"_

Gregory leaned forward, his eyes fixed with a deadly glare. "Leave my daughter alone."

" _Wow. After all you're willing to do for me, you would still have a problem with me being with your daughter? Somehow, I don't buy into that line you're trying to toss at me. Sorry to break it to you, Mr. Beaufort, I can't accept your offer. I love Asia and someday, I plan to marry her."_

" _Over my dead body. You will live to regret the day that you walked into Asia's life. You're too darn ugly, anyway, for my line of business."_

Jorge snapped back into the situation at hand. "Oh man," he lamented. "Why didn't I think of this before?"

"Think of what?"

"I am so disappointed in you...Dallis...the swim club...it all makes sense now."

Anwar bristled. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Gregory, man! He got to you, didn't he?"

"I don't know –"

"Don't lie, Anwar. He tried to reel me in, too. Does _'I have a proposition'_ sound familiar to you? I bet he tells that to every young guy that he meets. Something strange is going on with that fellow."

"Man, you're crazy."

"No, I'm not crazy. I'm right!" Jorge rested his hand on Anwar's shoulder, in an attempt to turn Anwar to face him. "What did he offer you? Money? Cars? Women? It had to be something you want more than you value your own life."

"Man, don't you put your hands on me!"

"Fine, but nothing good comes just like that, Anwar, especially for dudes like us who were born in St. Elmo's Valley. What did you have to give up to get into Gregory's good graces?"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't? Man, I know exactly what I'm talking about."

"No, you don't..."

Jorge folded his arms, determined to keep the heat on his friend's back. "What deal did you make with the devil, Anwar?"

Anwar scoffed. He turned away again, but more out of embarrassment than defiance.

"Okay, I can play your game, too," Jorge said. "Stop me when I hit the nail on the head. Was it drugs? Blackmail? Fraud? Money for sex?" Jorge shook his head at the level Anwar had forced him to stoop. "Knowing how you think, it was probably the latter...I just hope you're not prostituting your body –"

A right hook connected with Jorge's face. He staggered and crashed into the TV stand.

"Shut up, man, just shut up!" Anwar cried out. "You don't know when to stop!"

Jorge corrected his balance and then pinned Anwar with a settling gaze. "If you don't care about your life, I do," he said. "I think I'm going to have a little talk with Gregory."

His fight waned, Anwar grudgingly took a seat at the edge of his bed. He made no attempt to stop Jorge, as Jorge pulled open the bedroom door and walked out. He wouldn't get the opportunity to talk to Gregory anyway, Anwar thought – not if Gregory's property attendants had anything to do with it. They would probably let the dogs out on him this time. Anwar could imagine the scene of those hungry creatures snapping viciously at Jorge's behind. He leaned back on his elbows and began to laugh derisively. In a short while, Jorge would find out how silly it was to have poked his nose in where it didn't belong.

### Chapter Twenty-Eight

Izaiah slowed the Jeep Wrangler at a traffic light, and then took the opportunity to observe Asia. With her head pressed against the window in the passenger seat, she appeared as dismal as he expected her to be. He guessed visiting her mother in the hospital contributed to her mood, but within the short space of time he'd known Asia, Izaiah could tell something else was picking at her thoughts. She'd had the same kind of aura when they got back from St. Elmo's Valley the other day.

The strange longing in her eyes, the slump in her disposition, all pointed to signs that Asia was seriously in love with Jorge Bentley. Thanks to Gregory, Izaiah could finally put a name to the face of Asia's mystery man.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

Under different circumstances, that question would have appeared cliché, but the tenderness that Asia felt in Izaiah's tone reached her heart in ways she couldn't explain. She turned to Izaiah, taking in his handsome face. "I don't know," she said unevenly. "I just can't believe my mother has been shot and that we almost lost her."

"Well, you have an assurance from the doctor. Your mother is expected to have a complete recovery."

"And I am indebted to God, but it kind of makes me stop and think how short life really is – if you know what I mean."

"I do know what you mean," Izaiah said. "Two years ago, my younger brother was involved in a serious head-on collision. He was minutes away from the college campus when a drunk driver swerved into his lane and struck him. My brother wasn't wearing his seatbelt. He flew through the windshield and broke his neck."

"Oh my God, Izaiah," Asia exclaimed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Izaiah smiled, showing his appreciation for Asia's concern. "My brother was a quadriplegic for a short while, but he is relatively functioning at full strength. Actually, you can't tell that he's had a serious injury."

"Thank God for happy endings," Asia said. She settled back into her seat and stared out of the window again. She then said conversationally, "My mother and I aren't getting along."

Izaiah feigned a surprised look. "Really?"

"Come on, Izaiah. I know you can see that we are not the perfect family."

"Well, show me a family who is. I know mine is not perfect. We have a few alcoholics, several dissolved marriages and a couple of jealous cousins. Oh – how could I forget? My father abandoned my mother after the birth of my brother. But thank goodness our mother rose to the challenge and raised us with some dignity."

Asia turned her gaze back to Izaiah. "You talk about it so cavalierly."

"I'm just being real, Asia. Every family has things to work through. I am just fed up with people pretending as if they had dropped from sky, knowing every now and then they catch hell just like everyone else. However, it is not my place to pry into your family's private affairs."

"So, you're saying that my father didn't hire you to pull me and Jorge apart?" Asia deadpanned. A small smile creased her face. "Don't look so stunned. I know you know by now who Jorge Bentley is. Your job as the youth minister could just be a cover."

Izaiah felt his blood pressure drop to subzero. Asia could be so exact without even knowing it. It didn't matter that he'd consistently fought Gregory on the issue of interfering in his daughter's life. The fact remained that he appeared to have gone along with it. Asia would not understand that, but would only see him as a betrayer of her trust. The canny way her eyes searched him, took away his courage to admit the truth. Why did he allow himself to walk into such a trap?

Suddenly, as Izaiah was contemplating his next move, a frightening sound erupted out of Asia's mouth. Izaiah slammed his foot on the brakes and followed Asia's gaze. A slim-built man was on a bicycle, swiftly pedaling away from the Beaufort's compound.

"That was Jorge," Asia said wide-eyed.

"Are you sure?"

"I should know how Jorge looks, Izaiah."

"I was only saying –"

"Don't worry about it. Just follow him."

Izaiah stared at Asia with a bit of incredulity. "Are you serious?"

"No, I was only pulling your leg," she replied sarcastically. "Of course, I'm serious. Look at the direction Jorge is coming from. Looks to me as if he has just left our home."

"You're not sure of that."

"Of course I'm not sure, but I will soon confirm it...let's go."

"I don't think we should, Asia. Your father –"

"To hell with what my father thinks! He has controlled my life for far too long." Izaiah's hesitation was getting beneath Asia's skin. She felt like pushing him out of the jeep and then climbing behind the wheel to do the job herself. "Why are you still stalling, Izaiah? Follow Jorge before we lose him!"

Like an obedient slave to his master, Izaiah lifted his foot from the brakes and allowed the jeep to roll forward.

****

Sweat poured from Jorge's head as he raced to pedal back to St. Elmo's Valley. He had done a stupid thing, confronting Gregory. What did he expect to accomplish? Gregory was as obstinate as a mule. Jorge was surprised that Gregory had given his men the command to stand at ease, as they exchanged an onslaught of hurtful words about Anwar. Jorge called Gregory out on his manipulating ways, recruiting young men for his sadistic pleasure. Gregory reprimanded Jorge for his lack of respect, brutally pointing out that Jorge was not fit to marry his daughter.

Gregory was inflamed with hatred. At that point, it became futile for Jorge to remain on the compound. So after delivering the strongest threat he could toss at Gregory, Jorge hopped on his bicycle and made his fiery exit. However, he did not anticipate running into the three men who had violently attacked him several weeks ago. They were waiting just outside the wrought-iron gate. They sneered, boldly showing Jorge how much they loathed him.

One of the men pulled out a pistol and took aim. At first, Jorge thought that the man was simply playing around, but when the first shot grazed his ankle, Jorge experienced an immediate adrenaline rush. He could sense that these men were up to no good and they weren't going to let him slip by. He began to pedal like a bat out of hell. His ankle was on fire, but he could not stop to assess the damage. The men had climbed into a black limo and were now in pursuit.

Jorge's only route of escape was to ride between small spaces, but as he looked over the horizon, there spread before him were acres and acres of lush, green grass. He cried out to God for intervention, but instead, he felt a cloak of darkness descend upon him. Jorge soon realized that the black limo was right next to him, its wheels spinning ominously in the hot sun. His fear was heart stopping. His body had grown rigid. He stared into the face of one of the men, only to behold a grin so malevolent that it pierced right through Jorge's soul. As he rode under an overpass and came out to the other side, the first bullet entered into his back and wedged itself deeply into his lungs.

Jorge tumbled off the bicycle, writhing in shock. The second bullet struck him in his stomach. Thinking that he would not live through this ordeal, Jorge thought of the only person he believed might lead the police to his murderers. The rush of adrenaline was quickly ebbing, so was his strength. He crawled a little ways into the dust and legibly scribbled the name of the person.

The last thing Jorge remembered hearing before he'd unwillingly slipped into a state of unconsciousness, were the panic-stricken cries of his one true love. His dreams, his desires, his aspirations, seemed to be shattered in that one moment. Asia Beaufort would never be his bride. All because he had fought to uphold his integrity.

****

Izaiah swung the Wrangler in front of the scene. He pulled out his cell phone and immediately tried to contact both the ambulance and the police. Asia staggered out from the passenger side, feeling as if she had just walked onto a horror set. They had been a little ways behind the limo, when they saw it pull next to Jorge and fire two shots at him. Everything happened so quickly that Asia's mind took a few seconds to catch up. But when it finally had, her earthshattering screams could be heard a mile away.

Asia fell to the ground and hovered over Jorge's body. It did not matter that her hands and parts of her dress were now covered in her lover's blood. She needed to be near him. She needed him to know that she was by his side and that she still had plans to marry him. She refused to believe that this was how things would end between them. As difficult as it was, Izaiah stood for a moment and endured Asia's pitiable lament. Her pain broke him down to size and before he knew it, a thin blanket of tears touched his eyelids.

All Izaiah wanted to do in that frozen state of time, was to wrap his arms around Asia and let her know how much he cared about her and the pain that she was experiencing. Such a beautiful creature who did not deserve to be pulled into such an unexpected tragedy. However, it was obvious that if he touched her now, he would only aggravate her emotions. The scene appeared too intimate for his intrusion. But to his amazement, as he was turning away to get rid of his tears, Asia pulled on his shirt. She then practically stumbled onto his chest, holding onto him as if life was about to slip out of her as well.

"Oh, Izaiah," she groaned bitterly. "I can't believe they did this to Jorge...make him get up from that ground, because he's not listening to me. Doesn't Jorge remember? We have dreams to fulfill."

Izaiah's heart shuddered at the poetic blues flowing out of Asia's pain. He squeezed her gently and tried to comfort her as best as his words would allow. His spiritual background was a good source to glean from, but even that didn't seem to be enough, because he'd never felt such dismay in his twenty-five years of life.

"Every step of the way," he told her. "I will be here to help you get through this. I promise you that we will find the persons who are responsible."

Although she felt that Izaiah was sincere, Asia scoffed at his words. She did not need to figure out anything, because she already knew who was responsible for Jorge's murder. She abandoned Izaiah's embrace and returned to Jorge's lifeless body. She began to plant soft kisses all over his face, speaking into his ears in hopes that by some miracle he would hear her.

Izaiah, however, was not prepared for what came next, so much so that it completely knocked the wind out of his lungs.

"Oh, my sweet Jorge," Asia continued to weep. "We both know that my father has done this to you...we are not going to let him get away with it...I will see to it, Jorge, that my father spends the rest of his miserable life behind bars."

### Epilogue

The coroner hoisted Jorge's body into a white van. By that time a team of investigators, led by Detective Richard Shelby, had already been dispatched to the scene. They questioned Izaiah and Asia, but both of them had been too shocked to pay any attention to details – as in trying to identify the license plate number of the limo. Asia did report, however, that she believed the last place Jorge had visited was at the Beaufort's estate, explaining that Jorge's murderer was her very own father.

****

Gregory hadn't imbibed alcohol in a long while, but that afternoon, he decided to pour himself a shot of brandy. Miss Rose kept a portion of it in the pantry to be used in her cakes during Christmas. He was too overwhelmed to simply settle for a cup a coffee. He leaned back in his swivel chair and tried to unwind. With his wife recovering in a hospital, and Viola pressuring him to stay 'focused', he did not have the patience to deal with Jorge and his crazy antics. The argument they'd had had left him drained. As soon as Asia got home, Gregory planned to have a serious heart-to-heart talk with his daughter about Jorge and his silly dreams of marriage. Whatever it took, he would make Asia see that Izaiah was the right man for her.

****

After two days of being in the hospital, Dana's eyes fluttered open for the first time. She looked over to her left and noticed that Dallis was fast asleep in the chair that was next to her bed. However, Dana did not know where she was, or the reason why she was there. The most recent memory she had was about two months ago. She tried to move her body, but soon realized, she found it impossible to even wiggle her toes.

****

Anwar waited for Jorge to return from the Beaufort's estate so that he could assess what damage had been done to his 'newfound opportunities'. However, after twenty minutes his irritation eclipsed his patience. He was not going to sit around and drive himself crazy. If Jorge wanted to betray him, then so be it. There was nothing much Jorge could do anyway. Preferring to put his mind in a place of relaxation, Anwar used his new iPhone to dial Ms. V. She told him that there was a gig available. All he had to do was show up and perform.

****

Candi Beaufort had one week left in the Cayman Islands, but when she heard the news about her mother, she made reservations to fly out on the next available flight. She would be landing in Bliss Haven within two days – bringing all of her pomp and attitude along with her.

THE END

CHECK OUT A SNEAK PREVIEW OF BOOK TWO AT THE END OF A BRIEF MESSAGE TO YOU, MY READER.

In the meanwhile, if you want to get an automatic email when H. H. Fowler releases a new book, sign up here. Your email address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.

### FROM THE DESK OF H. H. FOWLER

To my loyal readers, please, if you dare, join me in Book II of the Behind Closed Doors series, _Poison Candy_ for the conclusion of the unfolding drama. I promise you that it will be an adventuresome ride! Please visit my website: www.hhfowler.com or my blog: www.churchboyz.org and leave your comments about my story. Huge appreciation to all for your support and encouraging words. I always say, without you, the reader, we writers could not be successful.

### POISON CANDY

(Behind Closed Door Series – Book 2)

H. H. Fowler

Sin is like poison candy. It offers instant gratification but with demonic enhancements attached. It entices and then lures its subjects until their destiny is wasted in the market square of life.

\- Frank Dubbin (Bliss Haven Preacher)

Chapter One

It was approaching seven thirty in the evening when Izaiah eased the jeep onto the Beaufort's driveway – three hours since he'd left the fatal scene of Jorge Bentley's murder. Asia, Jorge's love interest, did not waste any time reassessing what she was about to do. She hopped down out of the jeep before Izaiah had the opportunity to assist her. In broad daylight, she had witnessed her future husband being shot to death like a dog in the street. Everything inside of her screamed that her father had something to do with it. And even though Izaiah tried to reason with her, she would not let him convince her otherwise. She was determined to confront her father with her suspicions.

"Come on, Asia," Izaiah pleaded. "You are not sure that Jorge was coming from the direction of the estate."

"Maybe you are not sure," Asia spat indignantly. "Jorge wouldn't have come up to these parts except he had a reason. My father hated Jorge and would have done anything to tear us apart."

"So you think your father had Jorge shot? I find that hard to believe."

"Well, I don't! Everyone knows my father is a bully. If he didn't do it, maybe he got his stupid men to do it. I wish I'd gotten the license plate number of that limo."

"If that is the case, then why don't you let the investigators do their job? You are in no condition to deal with this tonight."

"Oh, please, Izaiah, don't baby me! Jorge was from St. Elmo's Valley. When those investigators discover that little tidbit about him, his file will be immediately tossed into the slush pile. Better I give them a helping hand, don't you think? They'll have no other choice but to give Jorge's case priority."

"I see that you have little faith in the police department..."

"It is what it is, Izaiah. Welcome to Bliss Haven."

Asia climbed up the steps that led to the grand oak doors. With a forceful push, the doors swung open. Asia's dress was splattered with Jorge's blood, which only added fuel to her anger. At this time in the evening, the only place her father would be was in his study. She did not knock, but barged in as if she was the superintendent of police. Gregory jumped out of his seat, toppling the remnants of his brandy to the rug.

"Asia, what the devil has gotten into you? Charging in here as if –"

Asia got right into her father's face and demanded, "I'm not asking you if you killed Jorge, because I know you did. Just explain to me how you did it!"

The question threw Gregory into a tailspin. He stared at Asia's bloody dress and then stared at Izaiah for an explanation. Asia's claim could not be true, because Jorge had not too long left the compound – alive and well. Gregory wondered if the brandy was causing him to hallucinate, but Asia's fiery glare was enough to convince Gregory that he wasn't hallucinating anything.

"So, you're just gonna stand there and pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about?"

"I'm not pretending, because I really don't have a clue to what you're accusing me of. Now, calm down and tell me what happened to Jorge."

"Cut the act, Daddy!" Asia fired back. "How could you be comfortable with yourself, knowing what you've done to an innocent man?"

Whether he'd killed Jorge or not, Gregory didn't take too well to his children talking to him as if they were in set with him. He pointed at her, putting some authority behind his tone. "Now, you listen to me, young lady. I realize that you are upset, but it's no excuse for the way you're behaving. You're not getting any answers out of me until you sit down and express yourself in a civilized manner."

Asia didn't miss a beat. "So, now you want to talk about being civilized? Well, let's go there, for a minute. From the day I introduced Jorge to you, you plotted to tear us apart. You threatened him, scorned him – did everything in your power to turn me against him. Do you remember several weeks ago how your silly men chased him off the property with guns? I knew it was only a matter of time before the situation would escalate to this point. Jorge was shot down like an animal in the street! Tell me, Daddy, how civilized was that? To have a young man murdered because he simply wanted to marry me –"

"I'm not playing games with you," Gregory spat. "Get out of my office until you've gotten yourself together."

"I'm not going anywhere until you admit that you killed Jorge!"

Gregory glared at Asia, but directed his words to the youth minister. "Izaiah, take this young lady out of my sight before I say something that I will regret!"

Asia swung her deadly gaze to Izaiah. "It's best that you don't interfere. You put one finger on me and I am done with you."

"Do as I say, Izaiah!" Gregory countered. "This young child thinks that she can rule me."

Izaiah planted his steps in place to think things through. What should he do in a situation like this? Such intensity could be felt between father and daughter, and he was caught right in the middle of it. If he sided with one, he knew he would make an enemy out of the other. But Gregory was the one who paid his salary as the newly installed youth minister. If he planned on staying in Bliss Haven, Izaiah felt Gregory's authority should eclipse that of his daughter. Humbly, he approached Asia, and prayed for the right words to fall out of his mouth.

"Asia, I can't imagine how all of this is affecting you. I did not know Jorge, but I was there when he was shot down off his bicycle and I continue to express my –"

Asia cut him off sharply, "Izaiah, please leave. I would like to have a word with my father alone."

"Asia...please."

"Leave, Izaiah. You should not have gotten involved in this mess anyway."

"Too late, I am already involved," Izaiah said morosely. At times, Asia's brassiness was more difficult to bear than Gregory's angry bark. He turned toward the exit.

"Now wait one minute, Izaiah. Who is in charge here?" Gregory inquired. "Did I not instruct you to take my daughter out of my office? Don't let her scare you with her churlish remarks!"

Asia dropped her arms from her breasts and took a casual stroll to one of Gregory's plush chairs. She plopped down in it and shot Gregory a look of irreverence. "Well, Daddy, you both will have to physically throw me out of here, because I am not leaving until you admit that you had Jorge murdered. By the way, I alluded that much to Detective Richard Shelby and he seemed quite disappointed in you."

Asia's statement knocked the wind out of Gregory's sails. Richard was a good friend of the family, whom Gregory respected very highly. With a quick flick of the wrist, he dismissed Izaiah and then fell back into his swivel chair. His daughter knew exactly what to say to get his motor running.

### Other New Releases

Jezebel's Apple

Nineteen-year-old, Beatrice Bencardi, daughter of a prominent Bahamian preacher, is a modern-day Jezebel who is as manipulative as the ancient queen herself. She will use every trick in the book to get anything she wants. A betrayal spawned by her doings makes her boyfriend, and the father of her two-year-old baby attempt to kill her. Fighting to save her life, she storms into the police station and falls at the feet of the devilishly handsome Police Constable, Darville Cobbs. Through her manipulation, he eventually becomes emotionally entangled with her.

Beatrice's sister, Oznee Bencardi, is a third-year medical student at the University of South Louisiana. She is loyal and well respected by her family. Oznee professes to be a Christian, however, Beatrice makes it impossible for her sister to live her conviction in peace. Beatrice is jealous of her sister's success and tries everything to debase her. So, imagine when Police Constable Darville Cobbs begins to show interest in Oznee. It sparks forty-five days of pure hell, because Beatrice is determined to make anyone suffer who gets in her way.

The Devil Made Me Do It (Short Story)

The devil made me do it... Is that statement really true or is someone else to blame for our sins? Bishop Errol Jackson, chairman over a college of bishops in the Caribbean islands is put to the ultimate test when an alluring young woman strips off her clothing in front of him. He is shocked. What would be the outcome of Errol's response, who'd spent the last fifteen years of his life living as a righteous example? Find out in this short tale that is packed with food for thought.

### Other Books by H.H. Fowler

The Church Boyz' Series

Rod of the Wicked – Book 1 – Synopsis

Imagine sharing the spotlight with a ruthless blackmailer, whose only intention, is to take all of which you've worked hard to achieve – your wealth, your fame, and your church of seven thousand members. For Pastor Leroy Paxton of Mount Moriah Baptist Church, this is no imagination. Five years ago, he committed a toxic sin and almost lost his life trying to cover it up. He now comes face to face with his past, which haunts him from the pulpit to his bedroom. And the only way out of this nightmare is to make a decision that could cost him everything.

When Things Go Wrong – Book 2 - Synopsis

The drama continues to unfold. Leroy Paxton, pastor of Mount Moriah Baptist Church, thought he had found a way to get rid of Shaniece once and for all, but had underestimated the power she uses through blackmail. With new secrets surfacing about his past, Leroy sadly discovers that Shaniece isn't going anywhere, anytime soon. She is determined to bury everything that he cherishes, including his marriage of twenty-six years.

My Last Cry – Book 3 - Synopsis

_In My Last Cry_ , the race to the finish line is paved with suspense and intrigue. Determination is everything. Which side will win the battle between good and evil?

The Church Gurlz' Series

Mother's Black Book – Book 1 - Synopsis

How does it feel to be treated like dirt beneath someone's shoes? Or no matter how hard you push to get into someone's good graces, you are continuously batted away as if you are an irritant pest? Ask Tara Lamont, hairstylist and fiancée to Wynton Lakatos – who struggles hard against the burgeoning attacks of Wynton's mother, Doreen Lakatos. Doreen is no pushover. She might be the First Lady of Brandon View Baptist Church, but like most mothers she wants the best for her children. To Doreen, that means Tara is not good enough for Wynton, and that she will stop at nothing until she kicks Tara as far as she can -- out of Wynton's life.

In the Presence of My Enemy – Book 2

The manipulation continues as Doreen Lakatos releases her deadly venom against Tara, her son's fiancée, who tries to blackmail Doreen about a secret Tara has stumbled upon. But Doreen refuses to be backed into a corner. She knows some of Tara's secrets, too. Both women fight to the bitter end, as they realize that they both have something precious to lose. Who will end up as the one on top?

The Aftermath – Book 3 - Synopsis

Doreen Lakatos is six feet in her grave, but there is a new sheriff in town. Mother Veronica Stephens, newly appointed Women's pastor of Brandon View International Church, is a self-righteous bigot who goes after the inheritance of the Lakatos men. She is sharp, determined and willing to do anything to create the biggest scandal in Church history.

Stand Alone Titles

Javier (urban crime/romance) - Synopsis

Three boys who can't stay out of trouble on the streets of New York - Pedro, Caleb and the manipulative Javier, put Rachael Raymonds' faith to the test, as she tries to save them from the unscrupulous Detective Macino and from themselves. She must resist the seductive charm of the sensual 17-year-old Javier, who could easily corrupt the household. The opposing worlds of the Safe House Sistahs and the Gangsta kids collide under the one roof and sparks fly. Can the caring women at the safe-house bring their last-chance residents back to sanity? In Putnam County, the laws and codes of the rival gangs, Vipers and the Cobras, reach deep into young men's hearts; the struggle for power that finally explodes in death and vengeance will leave Putnam County staggering.
