 
Devil's Island

by Jason Halstead and J. Knight Bybee

Published by Novel Concept Publishing LLC at Smashwords

©2013

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Cover art © 2013 Willsin Rowe

Model Art by Macus Ranum

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Jason Halstead's website: http://www.booksbyjason.com

Devil's Island is book 1 in the Fallen Angels trilogy - keep an eye out for future books!

Prologue

Cassidy Hunter drew in a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. The crowd outside the rental car was bigger than she had both hoped and feared. They were here to congratulate her on her good fortune, and wish her well on her trip.

They were here to pity her.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" her mother asked from the front passenger seat of the car.

Despite the constant pain and agony her body was suffering, Cassidy put on her best face and smiled at her mother. Beverly Hunter had enough to worry about, without her daughter adding any more to it.

"I still can't believe any of this is happening," her father said, turning and smiling at her. "It's almost like a dream come true!"

Cassidy's smile cracked only slightly. She knew her father didn't understand how painful his words could be.

"Dennis!" Her mom snapped, slapping her dad's chest.

"What?" he asked and then realized what he said. "Oh, Cass knows what I mean, don't you, Cass?"

What she knew was that her parents were dying inside, because of what Cassidy was suffering. Each one was handling the situation differently. Her mom was babying her every step of the way, while her dad tried to pretend everything was normal, and that one day Cassidy Hunter would wake up and be whole again.

Only it can't happen that way. It can't. What she had wouldn't just go away, and despite all the money spent, all the tests ran, and all the embarrassing circumstances that she'd put up with over the last three years, she was still going to die.

Cassidy Hunter had cancer. Not just any cancer, it was stomach, liver, and pancreatic cancer. It had started out like a stomach ache and it spread from there. Metastasized, the doctors called it. Probably because a big word that she'd never heard before didn't sound as scary. What they thought was the flu didn't get any better. She had some good days, but those only made her think she was getting better. It kept her from the hospital. Kept her away from the people that might have saved her if she'd have gone sooner. Instead they waited, afraid to spend the money because her dad had lousy health insurance.

Her birthday was only two months away, and her dad had wanted to wait to do this trip until she finally turned eighteen. The Make A Wish Foundation insisted she do it before she became an adult. Besides, if the doctors were correct, eighteen might as well have been a thousand years away.

The young woman swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump that formed in her throat. That lump would go away, unlike the ones growing inside of her. She'd known for a while what was coming, and even though the media and Foundation were all out there for her, she wanted to make this cruise to the Bahamas as happy as she could. She was dying and it wasn't fair, but maybe she could forget, for a few more days, and try to have a good time. If she couldn't remember it, at least she could do it for her parents.

"It's okay, mom," she said, trying to relieve her father from her mother's formidable glare. "It really is a dream come true."

The smile Beverly turned on her daughter let her know that she knew what Cassidy was doing. What's important is that she appreciated it. Just like she didn't deserve cancer, her parents didn't deserve the burden she'd put on them. Cassidy had to turn away then, before her parents saw the tears forming in her eyes.

"Time to face the crowd," she mumbled to distract herself from the dark voices whispering in the back of her head.

Her parents got out of the car, but Cassidy had to wait. Her father got the wheelchair out of the trunk, while the media outside snapped one picture after another.

She wasn't anybody special, she didn't deserve the attention. She'd wanted to be a pop star someday. Or maybe a famous actress. Funny how wishing on a star didn't turn out the way she'd hoped.

"Everything will calm down as soon as we're aboard the ship," Beverly said as she opened the door and helped her into the wheelchair.

Cassidy did her best to smile and wave as her father wheeled her through the crowd. Despite having lived with her cancer for three years now, she still worried about how her picture would appear in whatever papers or news castings hit the public. Her eyes were sunken, and the blue scarf she wore around her head to hide her baldness didn't hide what the chemo had done to her.

The next few hours thankfully move by in a blur. They were shown to their special room, wheel chair accessible and outfitted with all the medical devices Cassidy needed. Make A Wish didn't screw around, they wanted to make sure she had a good time. Or maybe it was the cruise line going out of their way to help boost their image. Whatever the case, between the unpacking and checkups she received from the medical staff and ship's staff, they left port before she knew it.

Her mom rushed around, stressing over every little detail, as the massive cruise ship sailed towards the Bahamas. Cassidy watched her check to make sure she had all her meds three times and wanted to laugh at her, but she was too tired. Cassidy was capable of walking, but with all of her meds, and what the cancer did to her, she was too weak to take more than a couple steps on her own. Even if she had, she'd probably have gotten dizzy and fallen over.

"They're calling everyone out to the deck, sweetie," Beverly roused her from where she was staring out the window with her mind drifting. "Your father's already up there, exploring the ship."

She didn't protest when her mother fixed the IV to the pole on the wheel chair and wheeled her out. It was easier that way. Sure, she could walk, but her mom felt like she was doing something this way. And she was tired. Even taking a deep breath took a lot of work.

Once they reached the deck and Cassidy felt the wind blowing across her skin, she smiled and closed her eyes. The sun warmed her face a moment later, making it tingle. Cassidy opened her eyes and blinked against the brightness of the Caribbean sun. Her mother muttered something about a sunburn and moved her into the shade. Someone spoke over the loudspeaker, letting them know the emergency procedures for this vessel, as well as where all of the amenities that this large vessel boasted of are located.

Afterwards, they met back up with her father for dinner at one of the buffets.

"Mommy, why is she in a wheelchair?" Cassidy heard a small voice ask, while she waited for her mother to bring her a plate of food.

Turning, she saw an older woman desperately trying to hush a little boy of two or three years, and giving her an embarrassed look. Cassidy wanted to smile, but the older woman moved away. Cassidy caught what the woman said to her son and wondered what she meant by it. It didn't sound nice, but for healthy and perfect people, she was the last person they wanted to spend their vacation next to. "Don't look at her," the woman had said. "She has a dark shadow around her."

Cassidy's mom showed up with a plate full of two different salads, slices of steaming roast beef, and some kind of vegetable medley before her. With what her appetite had become the plate was a feast that would take her the entire seven day cruise to eat. She offered her mom the smile the other woman never received.

"You wouldn't believe all the food over there, Cass," her father said, sitting next to her. "I swear I could eat something different for every meal of this cruise and there'd be food I didn't even see yet!"

Cassidy couldn't help but smile, seeing her father so happy. His luck hadn't been the best but he'd done as much as he could for them. Now with her sickness it didn't seem like he would ever catch a break.

"Dennis!" her mom snapped as he plucked a piece of shredded pork in his mouth. "You don't get a vacation from saying grace!"

He winced and nodded, then reached over to take Cassidy's gaunt hand and bowed his head before saying a simple blessing. Cassidy went along with it even though the words meant nothing to her anymore. Where was God to a girl who wasn't going to experience her own prom? Her first kiss? Her first crush that didn't involve a boy band poster taped to her bedroom wall?

By the time they were done eating, she felt worn out and exhausted. She hated how weak she'd become. She'd always wanted to be a cheerleader, or dance on her high school's drill team, but her cancer had robbed her of her dreams. Now her vision was shot, her breathing almost always labored, and staying awake for an entire day was nearly beyond her.

"I'll be right here if you need anything, sweetie," her mother said as she tucked Cassidy in that night.

"No, Mom," she protested, still trying to catch her breath from the ordeal of moving onto her bunk. "You never know when you'll be able to enjoy a night out like this again. Go with dad, and enjoy yourself. I'll be fine, really." It took some extra convincing, but finally her parents left her to herself so they could explore the ship and try to have a good time. Cassidy fell asleep before the door shut.

If there was one thing that was a positive to the cancer, it was that when Cassidy slept, she truly slept. Short of waking up to vomit, which was always worst after a treatment, Cassidy generally slept through the night.

When she woke up in the middle of the night, she stared at the odd shapes in her bedroom lit by the displays on her monitors. She didn't feel sick, which confused her. Was it the warm tropical air that had woken her? The next oddity came to her as she clearly saw the clock showing that it was one a.m. in the morning. Her parents weren't back yet. She was glad they were having a good time, but it didn't help explain why she'd woken up. She tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but soon realized that she was wide awake.

"I don't feel any pain," she murmured. Her eyes widened and she marveled at her fingers as she curled them into a fist and then straightened them. "I don't feel any pain!" she stated again, this time more loudly. Pain had been like a familiar passenger in her body, always present, and always making sure she was aware of it, only going on vacation when she slept or was on the strongest of painkillers.

Not only was there no pain, but she felt good. Hesitantly at first, afraid that this was all a dream, she pushed the blankets away from her body.

When she found she wasn't winded, she sat up slowly and continued to stare at the world around her. Even as she looked around her room, she couldn't believe how clearly everything appeared to her. She could make out the threads in the carpet from the light coming in under the door. She couldn't quite read the signs next to the door, but she could see that they were there.

"Am I already dead?" she asked herself, pinching herself, and flinching from the tiny pain. "Alive, then," she mumbled, still marveling. What was going on?

One by one, she moved her feet to the floor, then took a deep breath, and for the first time in over two years, she pushed herself to her feet. The heady feeling of finally being able to accomplish something on her own, crashed through her. She had to stifle a yelp of joy.

Her first step felt as though she had performed a minor miracle. When she followed it up with another, and then another, she couldn't contain her joy anymore. Laughing, she propelled her way to the door. She couldn't stop there, though, and pushed her way out into the hallway.

Where are mom and dad? She wondered. She had to find them. Something miraculous was happening. Maybe the climate or maybe some of her drugs were working. Maybe the cancer had gone into an impossible remission!

The hallways were empty, most of the passengers already in their bunks. Cassidy tried to remember where the announcer had stated the late-night entertainment would be. She hadn't planned on watching any of it so she'd mostly ignored the voice from the loudspeakers.

Even as she'd worked her way to the top decks, she still couldn't get over how wonderful she felt. Had she been cured somehow? The impossible thought wouldn't go away, but she couldn't understand how she felt so good. Cancer didn't just disappear.

She took a moment to stand at the railing, looking out over the ocean as the cruise ship moved steadily through the water.

Clouds filled the dark sky and blotted out the stars. The moon was full and enough of its silvery light broke through to create a kaleidoscope of reflected light off the waves.

She realized that she was giggling, and took a few moments to get herself under control. No one was around, but it wouldn't do to have someone thinking she was crazy. Even if she had to be. It didn't matter, she felt so good she didn't care what people thought of her.

A movement out in the water caught her eye, and she looked to see what it was. After a few seconds, she gave up the exercise as futile. Even with her restored eyesight, she would never be able to see something in the dark water beneath her.

Cassidy started to turn when a twinkle of starlight on the waves caught her eye. She looked and was certain there was something darker than the surrounding water out there. The water swirled behind it, upset by its passage.

She wondered if it was a whale, but if it was why didn't it come to the surface to breathe?

For a good three minutes she watched the thing swimming out there. She had the uncanny feeling that the creature was aware of her. She gasped when it turned sharply and headed straight for the boat.

Turn, she silently urged the creature, not wanting it to hurt itself against the side of the cruise ship. It swam on, heedless of her wishes.

When the shadow was maybe fifty yards out, it melted back into the surrounding water.

"What are you doing out here?" a masculine voice asked, making her jump.

Cassidy turned, and saw one of the Make A Wish Foundation workers approaching her.

"I woke up and felt great," she said, still surprised at how good she truly felt.

"Where are your parents?" he asked next. Cassidy noticed a weird gleam in his eyes, but dismissed it. He must be as happy as she was about her newfound health.

"I came up looking for them. Have you ever heard of someone suddenly waking up, and feeling better? I wonder if it has something to do with this climate." Cassidy turned back to the railing, breathing in the salty air. If it was truly making her feel better, then she wanted all she could get.

"These things happen for a reason," he said as he came up to stand next to her. He offered her a smile and added, "And sometimes they need a little help."

Cassidy gasped as the man's hand clamped around the back of her neck. It felt like a steel vice squeezing her and left her too stunned to do anything. His other hand grabbed the back of her pants and lifted. She yelped but it was a breathy squeal that was barely loud enough for her to hear, let alone another person on the cruise ship.

Before she could draw in breath and try again she felt her stomach rise into her chest. She flailed, realizing she was free, and then saw the dark waves rushing towards her. She hit the water hard, knocking her senseless.

The shock of the warm water rushing into her mouth and nose spurred her into action. She thrashed in the water and struggled to reach the surface. Her lungs burned for want of the air she hadn't breathed in before she fell in. Her heart crashed against her ribs as she kicked. Fear gave her strength that she didn't know she had. Her fingertips broke through the water into open air.

New hope surged through her. She was going to make it! There were cameras everywhere, surely someone would have seen what happened to her and stop the ship. She gasped in air, the need to breathe more important than the burning in her throat and chest from the saltwater.

The vessel towered above her as it moved, silhouetted by what moonlight broke through the cloud cover. Any minute now, she begged with all her heart, the ship would stop and they'd start searching the water.

She pulled in another deep breath so she could yell for help. The burning in her sinuses and the ache in her chest wouldn't be denied any longer. Instead of a shout she let out a hoarse cough. She gagged and vomited up seawater that she'd swallowed. She thrashed, struggling to keep her head above the water. Hot tears burned their way down her cheeks. She'd thought the ocean was supposed to be easier to float in, but she could barely tread water between hiccups and sobs. The cruise ship slipped away, threatening to become just another shadow in the darkness.

I have to live, she told herself. I'm not going to get better, only to drown out in the middle of the ocean!

She couldn't hear anything over the sound of the receding boat. She waved, trying to get anyone's attention. Her voice was still weak, but she put all of her fear behind it, afraid it wouldn't be enough to be heard over the ships engines. A light turned on in a room. Was somebody awake? Were they on their balcony? Did they see her?

Cassidy kicked and opened her mouth to yell when something grabbed her foot. She panicked and froze. Whatever had her was hard and sharp. It cut through the sensitive skin on her bare feet. Before she could fight her paralysis it yanked her beneath the waves.

Her lungs burned as more saltwater filled them. She tried to cough it back up but without air to replace the water she only made herself convulse in agony. She sagged as whatever held her dragged her deeper and deeper. The pressure continued to build, pushing against her. She was going to drown. Maybe she already had? She wanted to fight but she was so tired.

The water was warmer than she remembered. It felt good. She was floating and so sleepy. All she had to do was just let go and fall back. She'd be caught by a bed of a pillows. Or maybe clouds. Was this what heaven was like?

Chapter 1

"Yeah, you'd better fucking run, before I take my leg off and beat you with it punks!" Sam Mendez yelled after the three kids that had teased him. He was only slightly out of breath after the two miles he'd run. His left leg throbbed where it met up with his prosthetic. "Disrespectful punks," he muttered, turning to look out over the beach. Even though the morning was still young, he noticed not a few fine young women already sunning themselves on the beach. It was the reason he ran by the beach, instead of in a gym. The sun coming up over the water was the second best thing to look at.

Placing his fingers against his neck, Sam checked his heart rate. He'd lost some momentum but it wasn't like he had anything better to do with his time. Besides, if he ran fast enough he could outrun his memories.

It took him only a few steps to get back into the rhythm of running with his false leg. The rounded arm of the extension made an odd staccato next to his natural footfall that he didn't think he'd ever get used to.

Soon the pain where his left leg ended was absorbed into the sweet ache in his good leg and lungs.

His watch alarm went off, letting him know he'd been moving for most of forty-five minutes. Slowing to a walk, he stopped against the half wall separating the beach from the jogging path. The sun shone down on the pink sand of the beach. Crystal blue water lapped against the shoreline. Tanned bodies laid out, soaking up the sun's rays. Sam enjoyed looking at all the firm flesh on display. Of course there were some not-so-firm bodies out there, but he could turn a blind eye to those. Just like they probably looked away from him as soon as they realized he was a cripple.

Sam pushed the thoughts of his disability away. His therapist had told him not to be so hard on himself, but his therapist hadn't lived through an IED exploding under his ass either. He shook his head to help clear it. Getting in a funk this early in the day wouldn't do him any good. He focused on the beach and tried to distract himself with the crack of dawn and the cracks of the Cindys, Shannons, Jessicas, and all the other vain young woman that came out here before they had to rush off for work. Most of them were well up on the sand, but he noticed one young woman lying where the water met land.

Looking closer at the woman in the surf, he could make out that she was on her side and curled up.

Thinking it was already too late, Sam hopped the short wall, and worked to get through the sand. The pad on the bottom of his false foot wasn't meant to move on the soft grit, and he started yelling. "Girl, hey girl! Are you alright?"

He didn't even notice the odd stares he received as he continued moving.

Memories of screaming soldiers—including himself—as he was hauled out of a burning HUMMWV, flitted through his head. For a moment he was back in Afghanistan.

"NO!" he screamed, mentally forcing himself to come back to the present. He wasn't there anymore. The sand was nothing like the sun baked dirt and rock over there. He was in no danger, but there might be someone else who was.

Reaching the curled up woman, he fell back into his training as a combat medic. He rolled her onto her side and could already tell she wasn't responding to him. Her chest wasn't moving. The pulse at her necks was weak.

"Someone call 911," he yelled without looking up. He didn't need to, some of the bathing beauties had gotten up and approached, he could see their feet out of the corners of his eyes. Sure, leave a girl lying and the beach and nobody cares, but as soon as a Hispanic guy approaches her suddenly it's interesting.

Sam tilted the girl's head back and brushed her matted light brown hair out of her face. He brought his lips to hers and exhaled. He could feel her chest rise, proving her airway wasn't blocked. Her chest lowered and he heard a slight rattle when he pulled away. Another breath, and then another. His own heart was thundering in his chest as his mind played tricks on him and tried to take him back to the last time he'd done this. He forced the memories away. He'd been in the dark and cold then, a surprise night attack. It was light and warm here. And nobody was shooting at him. At least not yet, when the cops arrived and saw a crippled Mexican on top of a white girl all bets were off.

The girl started coughing, shaking Sam out of his thoughts.

He sat up and let his eyes rove over her body. Bruises dotted her arms, but no blood dotted her thin t-shirt, or jean shorts. Her clothing clung to her frame, accentuating her slight curves. She was thin. Scary thing, he realized. A golden heart locket with the letters C.H. stamped into it hung from her neck.

Water spewed from between her lips, and as she moved her limbs, it looked like nothing was broken.

"That's it," he encouraged her. "Cough it all out." He refrained from patting her on the back, not wanting to make her choke worse. "I think you're going to be alright," he told her, when it looked like her coughing was under control.

She looked at him appreciatively, her brown eyes looking worn and weary.

"What happened to you?" He asked. Her clothing wasn't designed for swimming in the ocean. He looked out across the water and wondered if there was a boat nearby she'd fallen off of.

"I. . . ." she stopped, looking confused for a moment, before placing her forehead in her hand. "I don't know." Her voice was soft, but sounded scratchy, as though it had been worn out. Likely the salt water, Sam thought.

"Are you here with someone, or by yourself? What's your name?" he asked in succession. The sound of sirens could just be heard, and he looked up to see a medical vehicle plowing through the sand.

"I don't know," she repeated, shaking her head.

He began worrying about her. She didn't know what happened, or if she was alone? Carefully, he placed his fingers on her head, but she flinched away from him.

"I just want to check your head for injuries," he told her soothingly.

"I-I'm fine," she said, but her eyes stayed locked on his.

The medics arrived, and Sam was shoved out of the way as they began checking her over. She couldn't answer their questions any better than she had his.

"Is she with you?" one of the medics asked.

"I just found her here," he said, still looking at the woman. Something about her eyes. . . . "I'm, uh, I gave her CPR. She wasn't breathing and her pulse was weak."

"He's my friend," the girl rattled, surprising him. Hadn't she just flinched away from his touch?

Sam blinked, caught off guard by the girl's admission, but before he could refute it the medic started giving orders.

"Load her up. Sir, I'll need you to come with us. We're going to need some questions answered. You know CPR? Are you trained and licensed?"

"What? Yeah, sorry," Sam saw the paramedic's eyes drop to his leg and then back up to his face. He nodded. "I used to be a medic."

The paramedic reached out and offered his hand to him. "Thank you," he said and then he turned away and helped his partner load the girl onto the stretcher. He motioned for Sam to follow as they took her to the ambulance.

Sam was already getting into the back of the emergency vehicle, before he realized what was happening. He'd become so used to following commands from his time in the Army that he hadn't even thought to tell the man he had no idea who this girl was.

As they started driving away, he felt her hand grab his wrist. "Thank you," she mouthed, and then he was shouldered out of the way again as they hooked her up to an IV and other medical equipment. He was tempted for only a moment to tell them that he knew nearly as much as they did about this equipment, but stopped. They were doing their job and had treated him with respect. Maybe some pity too, but it was more than he was used to. More than he expected, at least.

He realized that one of the medics was talking to him, and shook his head.

"What's her name?" the man asked, obviously a bit annoyed at having to repeat himself.

Sam's eyes landed on the girl's locket again, before rising up to meet her eyes.

"Carly," he lied, not entirely sure why he did. "Carly Hansen."

The young girl laid her head back, closing her eyes.

Why had he lied? He wondered immediately. That wasn't like him.

He still didn't have an answer by the time they reached the hospital, and they wheeled her back to an examining room. The orderly had taken one look at him, and known he wasn't family. Not with his black hair, and obviously Hispanic features.

"Do you know where her family is?" he was asked by the other paramedic, this one an older sour looking woman. He shook his head. "Do you know if she has any insurance?" He shook his head again. He could see the wheels begin turning in the lady's head. "How long have you known her?"

"Look, ma'am," he started, his voice firm, "I'm no child molester. I was running along the beach, when I saw someone washed up on the beach. That's all I know."

The woman gave his left leg an obvious glance and frowned. Yeah, it was a prosthetic leg but it was designed for running, not walking. But most people didn't know the difference. The other paramedic came to his rescue and said, "That's an athletic prosthetic. Like that guy in the Olympics they called Bladerunner?"

"The one who murdered his girlfriend?" she asked.

Sam winced. He glanced at the friendly medic and he sighed. "Okay, I'll stop trying to help."

Sam realized he was the only one who could help himself. Just like after his leg had been cut off, he had to deal with and make himself better. "I don't even know what I'm doing here," he said. The way she kept looking at him, made him feel guilty, even though he'd done nothing wrong. Hell, he'd saved that young woman! "Can you call me a cab, so I can get back to my car?"

She sniffed, before holding a clipboard out for him. "Please fill this out, in case there are any questions that need to be answered. I'll call that cab."

Sam filled out the personal information, having no doubt that the old hag would likely check with the cab company to verify that he was dropped off at the address he wrote down. He wondered what she'd think when she found out he was going back to the beach.

"Can you at least tell me how she's doing?" he asked her when he gave the clipboard back.

He didn't like the way she smiled, as though she were going to enjoy her answer. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can only give that information to family members."

Bitch, he thought but only nodded, and waited for the cab to arrive.

* * * *

The TV in the waiting room had the news playing. It was the story about the tragic young cancer patient that had been lost off a cruise ship. That had been two years ago today. The news seemed to focus on her story, harping on the tragedy of the cancer patient with less than months left to live, dying at sea. The news loved tragedy. The video from one of the ship's cameras showed the young woman standing at the railing, and then suddenly went blank. The cruise line claimed it was some sort of malfunction in their recording equipment, but Sam rather doubted the convenience of that.

For a moment he wondered if the girl he'd rescued could be her, but immediately dismissed it. That girl was lost at sea two years ago. It had to be a coincidence that Cassidy Hunter had the same initials as Carly's locket. No one could survive out there that long, and then wash up hundreds of miles south of there, two years later.

When they showed a school picture of her before she'd been terminally diagnosed with cancer, he was certain it was a different girl.

Cassidy Hunter had blue eyes.

It occurred to him that Cassidy Hunter would have been only a little older than his own daughter, now living with her mother half a country away. He wondered how he would take it, if his sweet Megan, or his son, Sammy Jr., were taken away like that, never to be seen again. He sympathized with Cassidy's parents.

Chapter 2

Carly was scared. She didn't even know where she was. Sure, she was in a hospital, but there were hospitals everywhere. She didn't recognize anybody but most of the doctors and nurses were Mexican. She wasn't sure how, but she understood them when they switched to Spanish. How she understood Spanish and English were just two more things that made her head hurt.

There was one thing Carly knew. Her name. It wasn't Carly. The best she could come up with was Tamara, but that wasn't quite right either. When she rolled the name around on her tongue and whispered it out loud it sounded right, but it didn't feel right. Was she spelling it wrong? Had her parents wanted to make her unique by giving her some goofy way of spelling her name? She had no idea, but she was beginning to accept that nothing made sense. Even her skin felt weird, like it was stretched too tight.

She was skin and bones, she'd seen herself in the mirror. If she'd lost weight her skin should be loose, not stretched taught across her ribs so that it looked like she was struggling for breath when she inhaled. The only padding she had was in her chest and her butt, but even those looked like they belonged on a thirteen year old boy instead of a woman.

She tilted her head and let her eyes flit about the room. Was she a woman? She felt like she'd been through a lot. Never mind that she couldn't remember any of it. But she looked like a kid. What she saw in the mirror was a stranger's face staring back at her. Who was she and why couldn't she remember? What happened to her?

She'd heard whispered comments from the men checking over her. Comments about the needle marks in her arm and the bruises all over her body. They thought she was a runaway and a junkie. Maybe she was, she wasn't sure of anything. Is that why she couldn't remember her past? Had she overdosed and walked out into the ocean in some sort of doped up daze?

"How are you feeling?"

The words snapped her back to the present. The speaker was a Latina woman a few pounds and a few grey hairs past her prime. As she moved over to the side of the bed the glint of something under her smock caught Tamara's eye. Tamara tried to get a better look but it stayed hidden beneath the woman's scrubs.

"When can I leave?" Tamara asked. She was tired of lying in bed. She felt like she should be doing something. What that something was escaped her, but anything was better than waiting on doctor's to tell her she was fine.

"You're tests came back fine. As soon as we can find a guardian you can go," the lady said with some sort of an attempt at a smile. "Do you remember anything, yet?"

"Yeah," she lied, hoping to get out., "I'm eighteen. My birthday is December 25th."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Christmas?"

Tamara shrugged. The smile that made its way on her face was real, but she didn't know why it seemed funny to her. "Yeah, it always sucked.""

The nurse frowned and looked at the marks on Tamara's arms. "Can you tell me how you got all those bruises? Or those marks on your arms?"

"I'm not a junkie," Tamara insisted. "You said your tests came back fine. You'd know if I was strung out."

The woman opened her mouth to say something more, but Tamara swung her legs off the bed, and stood up.

"Look, I don't want to be here, and you can't keep me here."

"Can you prove your age?" the nurse refused to back down.

The more Tamara lied, the easier she found the action becoming. "I keep my ID in my purse, but that never made here. So I've got a lot of phone calls to make when I get out of here to make sure nobody's pretending to be me and stealing my identity."

The nurse's brow furrowed. "You don't look old enough to have much of an identity to steal, but you don't sound like a little girl either." She sighed and flipped her hands up in defeat. "I can't help you if you won't let me."

Tamara fought to keep the grin off her face until the nurse finished making her notes in the chart and left the room. As soon as she was gone Tamara rushed to where her folded clothes had been placed. They were dry but stiff from the ocean. Crusted salt and sand broke off and fell to the floor as she straightened them out and slipped them back on. Her clothes were uncomfortable but anything was better than the gown they'd forced her into after bringing her to the hospital.

She poked her head out of the door and looked around. The ornery nurse was nowhere in sight. She started out, walking fast towards the sign marked with, "Exit," when she realized she didn't know where she was headed. Out of the hospital, sure, but beyond that she was clueless.

She stopped at one of the information desks, and tried to put on the best smile she could. "Excuse me," she said to the old man volunteering behind the desk, "but I had someone help me, earlier today. I wanted to thank him but I'm not sure where he lives or how to get a hold of him."

"I'm sorry, chica," he replied, "but I can't give out that kind of information."

"But he saved my life," she pouted. The man looked up at her and met her eyes. She felt a strange sense of floating, almost as if she was dizzy or falling. She reached out to grab the counter to steady herself but before her hand touched it she felt everything snap back in place around her. She'd felt that way on the beach earlier too. Maybe the nurse was right, maybe she wasn't ready to be on her own yet? She pushed the thought aside and smiled again. "You don't want him thinking I'm ungrateful, do you?"

A couple minutes later, she had a name, phone number, and an address. She wondered again about the dizziness that came over her when she'd been talking to the clerk but forgot all about it as soon as she stepped out into the late afternoon sun. The tropical sun felt wonderful! She turned as she walked, holding her arms out and basking in the heat.

Her skin tingled and a small sigh of joy slip through her lips. She was free at last! Nobody watching her and confining her. Nobody telling her what to do. She could do what she wanted, at long last. She frowned and opened her eyes. She didn't know what it was she wanted to do. Well, other than find the man that had helped her. Sam.

How was she going to get to where Sam was? She frowned and studied the piece of paper. A chill ran down her back, forcing her to look up. She'd walked beneath a palm tree and stepped into its shadow. She was about to move back into the sun when she noticed a couple standing a few feet ahead of her talking.

"Man, I can't believe how much she drank!" the man said to the girl beside him.

"I'm just glad we got her here in time," she responded. She looked down the street for a cab and then turned to see Tamara standing behind them. "I—Can I help you?"

"I need to get to this address," Tamara told the woman. Their eyes met and Tamara sucked in a quick breath of air to fight the sudden weakness in her knees. It passed quicker than before, proving to her that she was getting better the more active she was. She refocused on the half-naked woman in front of her and noticed for the first time her almond shaped brown eyes. She didn't look Asian but her eyes gave her an exotic and sensual appeal.

"So call a cab," the woman suggested before she turned back to her friend.

"Wow! Way to be harsh, Subie," the man said, coming to stand next to his companion. "She's just a kid, damn." He looked Tamara over once, but didn't quite meet her eyes. "Lemme see that address."

Before she had a chance to respond, the man snatched the slip of paper from her hands, and looked at it.

"You're not fooling anyone, Brock," Subie said, crossing her arms under her chest. Her modest breasts were lifted and pushed out by her arms, straining against the skimpy bikini top she wore. She shook her head and said, "You're only being nice to the girl because you think she's cute."

"And you're only being rude, because you're not the center of attention," he shot back.

Tamara looked the man over first. He was a big guy with bulges in all the right places to suggest he worked out regularly. The way the two acted made her think they should get a room. She wondered if they'd let her watch.

"Besides," Brock said, "this address is near our hotel."

"No way!" Subie said, her slim eyes growing wide. Grabbing the paper from Brock, she scanned it, and then looked back at Tamara through narrowed eyes. "Is this some kind of joke?" she demanded.

"Jeez, Subie," Brock stated, pulling the Eurasian looking woman back. "Look at her." Subie's eyes return to their normal size. "Her clothes are stiff, and her hair's a mess. She doesn't hold a candle to you." Brock turned his large blue eyes on Tamara, and from the sparkle in them, she knew he was just pandering to his friend. "You're what, sixteen? What happened, you lose your parents or something?"

"Something," Tamara responded. She didn't know how old she was. As for her parents, she had no idea. She didn't think they were nearby, it didn't feel right. "I'm eighteen," she said, repeating what she'd told the nurse. "Just give me back my paper and I'll walk."

"Now hold on," he smiled down at her. Tamara had to admit that his smile had an effect on her, but she still tried to get the paper back as a cab pulled up in front of them. "We've got room in our cab since our friend Erin drank herself silly. At least catch a ride to the hotel. Don't worry about Subie, she's not as mean as she wants you to think she is."

"Yes I am," Subie harrumphed.

Tamara stopped trying to get the paper back, and the large man graciously handed it over. "No funny business?" She asked, only now thinking about how dangerous it could be to get into a vehicle with a stranger. Having Subie there calmed those fears, even if the slender woman didn't like her.

"Scout's honor," he said, holding up three fingers. Tamara didn't have a clue what that meant, but knew it was supposed to calm her, somehow.

"Ugh, fine," Subie groaned. "But just for the record, if she's a runaway, I want no part in this."

Brock winked at Tamara as though sharing some secret before he lowered his voice and said, "Subie's one fine piece of ass, and she's more than happy to let you know it, but under all that she has a heart of gold."

Subie glared at his pathetic attempt at secrecy. "And Brock has all the muscles of a wrestler, but his cock paid the price to get them," Subie shot back.

"Hey, that's bullshit!" Brock howled. "That stuff doesn't do that! You ought to know, you were begging for it last night" Brock exclaimed while holding open the door to the cab.

Subie gasped and protested, "I was fucked up! You could have convinced me a fly was big enough to carry me away!"

Tamara couldn't help but smile at their vulgarity. She had a feeling she had just found some new friends.

Chapter 3

Sam set his book down and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was only halfway through and he could already guess the ending. It wasn't the story that pulled him in— he'd read better— it was the act of reading that he was after. It calmed his mind and helped to put his own memories aside. For a while, at least, he could be someone else. Only for a little while though, his rumbling stomach and mild headache meant it was time to eat.

He grunted as he sat up, and reached over for his fake leg. With long practiced familiarity, he tightened the straps, attaching the prosthetic to his stump. He had a love/hate relationship with the device. It helped him get around and pretend to be almost whole. Almost. It was also a constant reminder of how he was broken.

Even with the false left leg, his steps were slightly uneven. Something the doctors told him he'd have to live with until technology advanced sufficiently to compensate for the differences that were unique to every person.

Considering the hectic events of the morning, Sam wasn't in the mood to make his own dinner. A nice juicy burger at his favorite greasy spoon sounded like just the thing to end the day. It was against his strict dietary plan, but right then he didn't give a damn.

"I'll run an extra mile tomorrow," he muttered, to assuage his conscience.

Grabbing his keys, he opened the door, and froze.

"Carly?" he asked, shocked to see the scrawny girl in front of him. "Carly?" he repeated when she just continued to stand there, hand raised as if ready to knock. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I have nowhere else to go," her voice reached him, though he had to strain to hear her.

Anger warred with surprise for a moment, before anger won out. "And you thought the poor cripple would take you in?" He wasn't a charity service. Besides, he already had enough run-ins with the law because of his temper. She didn't look old enough for him to even consider taking her in.

She blinked in apparent confusion for a moment, before looking him over. When her eyes locked on his left leg, they grew wide, and he realized that she didn't know about his disability. Guilt immediately washed away his anger.

Her mouth moved wordlessly, and then clamped shut. She turned around, and began walking from his porch.

"Wait," the word was out of his mouth before he could think better of it. She spun around, hope thick in her eyes. "I was just going to get something to eat. I don't suppose you have any money? No, lemme guess; you don't know." He sighed heavily, feeling both frustrated and relieved. Frustrated because he didn't need any more drama in his life. Relieved because. . . . Well, he didn't want to contemplate that right now. "Come on, then. My leg is hollow, and I need to eat."

The way she suddenly smiled reminded him of his daughter, Megan. In fact, the two looked to be about the same age. For a moment Sam was lost in memory, throwing his little girl up in the air, smiling as she screamed, "Daddy, daddy, more!" He had missed most of her junior high years while serving his country in Afghanistan. He felt heartsick, remembering her call a few months ago asking him for money to buy a car. He didn't have any to spare, and he hadn't heard from her since. What he did have already went for child-support and his bills.

I'll bet Luke has enough money buy her a car. Luke was Megan's stepdad, and if his ex was to be believed, did well for himself.

He had to shake himself, shedding the dark thoughts. He knew all too well where that tunnel led and getting drunk tonight wasn't going to help him.

Besides, he thought, Carly's not my daughter.

He stepped out, and locked the door behind him. "I hope you like greasy hamburgers, because I'm not giving you a choice." Besides, you're so skinny, you could use a bit of fattening up, he thought but didn't say. With his luck he'd end up pissing her off about her figure.

"I don't suppose you remember anything about your past?" he asked, trying to start up a conversation as he drove.

"Only that my name's not Carly. It's Tamara, or something like that."

He grunted, wondering what the locket with the initials, "C.H." meant. Perhaps some boyfriend gave it to her.

Traffic was thick enough, that Sam had to concentrate on the road. He absolutely hated it when another vehicle passed him, or even got close. Some days his anxiety got so bad, he couldn't drive at all. It wasn't about competition, it was a reminder of the trucks that Al Qaeda had used to block his convoy in. Trucks loaded full of livestock, people, and explosives stripped from stolen US ordnance. The Army had a term for such things. SVBIED: Suicide Vehicle Borne Improvised Explosive Device. As if such a term could ever convey the pain, or torture such things were capable of.

Pulling into Sandis Drive Inn, he had to pull his fingers from the steering wheel one by one. Carly, or Tamara, watched and he had to tamp his temper back down. Yes, he was suffering, but an audience always made things worse.

He didn't come here enough to be recognized. He let the girl, whatever her name was, order first and was thankful she ordered cheap. Not that anything here was too expensive, but he wasn't rolling in cash either. That didn't stop him from ordering a double cheeseburger with bacon. In for a penny, in for a pound, as far as cheating on his diet was concerned.

They sat in silence while they waited. One of the things he liked about this place was that for a fast food joint, they still brought the food to you.

"I think we should set some ground rules," Sam stated. He was sick of the silence between them. Tamara looked at him, waiting. He could see a wariness creep into her eyes and decided to push forward, and get the most awkward part out first. "I'm not looking to hook up with anyone. Trust me, you don't want my baggage!"

He saw anger enter her eyes.

"I understand," she said, her voice was level despite her glare.

He nodded, relieved to have that out of the way. She was likely underage. Even if she wasn't so scrawny he figured he'd break her if he touched her. His sex life was as barren as the Arizona desert, but there were some taboos he didn't care to cross.

Now for the next part. "And I can't support you forever, so as soon as we can find a better place for you to go. . . ." he let that trail off. He didn't want to kick her to the curb, and put her out on the streets. Prostitution was illegal, but that didn't mean it didn't happen. He had no doubt that someone with less scruples than him would quickly take advantage of her.

The thought of his dear Megan in the same situation almost sent him into a panic attack.

But would he thank some stranger for helping her out, or strangle him?

She's not my daughter, he reminded himself once again. For some reason, every time he looked into her brown eyes, he tended to forget that. She's not my—

"Sam, can I ask you something?" Her soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked up from the table and glanced around the room. He'd been daydreaming, just like the day he'd been hurt. He knew he wasn't in any danger here, but he also couldn't let himself relax. If he'd have been more aware his squad might not have been hurt. He might have both his legs. Sighing, he looked back at the young woman before him.

Their food was delivered before she got the chance to ask her question. He took a huge bite of his burger, hungrier than he realized.

"Might as well," Sam said after he swallowed. "The food isn't asking any." The food was just as great as he remembered. Maybe he was going to have to run an extra two miles tomorrow.

She smiled slightly at his attempt at humor, and he thought she did look kind of cute. No, she definitely wasn't his daughter!

"What happened to your leg?"

A jolt slammed down through Sam's spine as images, sensations, and even smells flashed through his mind. Men screaming as the acrid smell of burnt flesh filled the air. His officer, with what was left of his head, sat motionless in the front seat.

No, I'm home. I'm safe. I'm not there anymore. He had to repeat the litany a couple more times before his heart rate approached normal. Why did she have to ask him that?

Returning to the present, he saw that she was still waiting for his answer. So many of the scars from PTSD are invisible.

"Ask me something else. I don't want to talk about it." His voice was colder than he'd meant it to be, and he saw her flinch. Grimacing, he tried to think of something else to say. "How did you get from the hospital to my place?"

Her tremulous smile let him know he hadn't completely covered his mistake.

"A really nice couple gave me a ride. I met them as they were coming out, and they're staying at a hotel just up the. . . . What?"

"You got a ride from complete strangers? Are you nuts?" She's not my daughter. She's not my daughter. Why is that guy over there watching us so closely?

"Brock and Subie are harmless," Tamara responded defensively. "Well, okay, Subie wasn't exactly nice at first, but I got to your place alright."

"You're right, I'm sorry," Sam said, trying to mend what felt like a sinking ship. Why did he even care? He forced himself to take another bite of his meal, but didn't taste it. That man was still staring. "You're not my kid. You can do what you want."

They sat in silence for a bit, and Sam tried to go back to enjoying his burger. If only that man would stop giving them funny looks. By the time his burger was reduced to crumbs, his temper was hot.

"What are you looking at?" He demanded of the other man. "Never seen a war vet missing a leg before?" As soon as Sam got up out of his chair, the man looked away, obviously embarrassed.

"Maybe we should go," Tamara said, coming up beside him.

Sam spun, ready to attack, but when he saw it was just the girl, he forced himself to calm down. The man wasn't worth getting into a fight with anyway. He let himself be led out of the restaurant, and back to his car.

By the time he was standing outside his house again, he had his breathing under control. The traffic had been light.

"Sorry about that," he apologized again. That seemed to be all he was good for tonight: getting riled up over nothing and apologizing for it. He still wanted to punch someone, but knew that wasn't the best idea right now. Or ever, really, but just like reading it took his mind off of things.

"Something seriously screwed you up, didn't it?" Her voice coming out with such candor caught him off-guard. Despite himself, he began to chuckle. It was either that, or start crying. He knew he wasn't but that didn't make it any easier to put things behind him. Besides he wasn't about to cry in front of Car—Tamara.

"Yeah, I guess it did," he told her, unlocking the door with his key-card and letting her in. "You take the couch. This place is only big enough for one person, and I only have one bathroom. I get up early and go running, so I'll try to be quiet. I only have the one key. There's food in the kitchen for breakfast tomorrow."

She nodded that she understood and he headed for his bed. It was early yet, and he didn't plan on sleeping right away. Picking up his book, he tried to retreat from his own personal internal hell. For a little while at least, he could be someone else.

"I'm going to shower," the girl said. "I still smell like the ocean."

Sam ignored her, opening his book and picking up where he'd left off before heading out to go eat.

He didn't miss the sound of the water turning on, or the fact that the bathroom door was left ajar.

Concentrating on his book, he was soon lost in its pages when the shower turned off.

"I hate to ask, but the only clothes I have are filthy and uncomfortable. Do you have anything I can wear?"

Looking up, he expected to see her standing there in a towel.

He was wrong.

Water still dripped from her bruised skin onto the thin carpet. That was all she wore. Her shoulders were pulled back as she presented her meager chest to him, each one topped by a hard nipple. Forcing his eyes away from her small but perky breasts he wondered if could play her ribs like a xylophone. Her eyes stayed locked on him, but he couldn't bring himself to look away from her slender waist, or the juncture between her legs.

She's not your daughter, some inner voice informed him, mocking his earlier thoughts. His heart thundered in his chest and made breathing difficult. It had been so long since his wife had left. Here was a young woman, offering herself to him. He deserved it, didn't he? It had been so damn long since he'd done anything sexual that didn't improve his man-to-hand relationship.

She's too young for me, he thought with anguish and turned away.

"Top drawer on the right; you'll find a shirt." His voice was soft, and he had to force the words out. Even his mouth didn't want to turn away from this gift! "None of my pants will fit you." Not with those slender hips and long legs. "Go ahead and put your old ones back on. We can take you shopping. I guess I should have thought about that earlier, but It's been a couple years since I've had to worry about anyone other than myself." This would put a dent in his wallet.

I'd like to put a dent in her—No! Control yourself.

He refused to look at her, forcing his attention at the words on the page. He didn't see the book though. His mind's eye showed him her body, in all of its gaunt glistening glory.

He sensed, more than saw, when she grunted and went back into the bathroom. She returned moments later wearing her salt-crusted pants, but still topless. She bent over the drawer he'd mentioned, and Sam kept finding his eyes travelling from the book back to her, before he could snap them back. Either way, he was certain she searched the drawer longer than she needed. There weren't that many shirts in there.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally grabbed one, and slipped it on. The thing was way too large for her, the shoulders ending halfway to her elbows and the hem well below her crotch.

Such a nice looking crotch. . . . No! Shaking himself, he had to be careful when he sat up. He didn't want to let her know how much she'd affected him.

When he saw the slightly agape look on her face as she stared at the bulge in his pants, he realized he wasn't fooling anyone.

"Put—" he had to clear his throat before he could continue. "Put your shoes on, and we'll go."

She blinked a couple times at him before his words sank in. She bit her lip and nodded before rushing off to do as he bid.

Chapter 4

Tamara fumed inside. He'd barely looked at her, before dismissing her. It would have been one thing if he had told her no, but he had ignored her! He'd treated her as though she wasn't worth being noticed! She knew how short and skinny she was. Maybe if she had a tall and sexy body like Subie he would have acted different.

When they'd been eating and he'd informed her that there would be conditions for her staying she'd immediately thought the worst. But when he'd said he wasn't interested in her that changed things. She knew she was having an effect on him, but then he turned away. If the bulge in his pants had been any indication she might be better off failing. She knew she wasn't a virgin— she'd checked in the shower to be certain— but she was small. Compared to the size of the lump in his pants she figured it might not be fun for her after all. She wondered how something so simple as a zipper could hold a monster like that back.

Even now, sitting beside the man as he drove her to get some clothing of her own, she couldn't get the image of it out of her mind. Having sex with him would hurt, but something deep inside of her wanted that kind of pain. She shivered and hugged her arms to herself. His borrowed shirt rubbed against her nipples and made her gasp. From the tingling between her legs, she knew she was going to try again.

"You cold?" Sam asked as he glanced over at her. He jerked his head away and stared out the window. His cheeks were flushed.

Tamara looked down and saw the twin bumps poking his shirt out just above her arms. Yes. She wanted him. She didn't know who she was or who he was, but she knew that she wanted him. She bit her lip to stop herself from suggesting he could warm her up and reached up to the mirror on the back of her sun visor. "Just had a chill, I'm fine," she said while she looked at herself.

She was young. Too young, maybe? Her urges didn't feel right. Or maybe it was the hormones in her body. "I just— I wish I knew who I was."

Sam nodded. "You and me both," he muttered and risked another glance at her.

Tamara offered him a smile and looked away first, sparing him any discomfort. She wanted him, sure, but she needed him more. Needed him to help her figure out who she was and what she was doing. He was right, she was too young to be here on her own. Had she come with friends or family? Was she on spring break? Or maybe she lived on the island somewhere. She sighed and stared out her window.

"Here," Sam said, interrupting her thoughts and making her jump. "This place should have something for you."

The Nifty Thrifty was a small worn down store. Tamara grimaced. She'd been hoping he'd take her to a mall, with some decent things. Expensive things, maybe, but she felt like that was the sort of stuff she was used to. Maybe she could even entice him into going to a lingerie store. The odds of her finding anything fancy or seductive at the Nifty Thrifty were against her.

She was right.

She found three shirts and four pairs of pants that she was willing to be seen in public in. The way Sam's eyes had bulged when they rang up to twenty-five dollars had made her smile inside. Especially when he tried and claim her choices showed too much skin.

See, she thought vindictively, if you would have licked the water off my body with your tongue we could be lying in your bed right now.

The older man jumped, startled as they walked out of the store. He pulled his vibrating phone out of a pocket and stared at it.

"Yes?" Sam said as he got into his car. Turning to Tamara he put one finger over his lips.

He wants me to be quiet? she thought. Maybe it's some lover. No wonder he turned me down. I should speak up and ruin it for him. I should—

"Listen, I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to," Sam snapped, disrupting her train of thought. "I already send you more than half my regular paycheck. The judge told you, you can't touch my disability income." He paused, and Tamara strained to try and hear the other person. It was definitely a woman, but her words were too quiet. "I know. She already called me. Maybe if you didn't gouge me so badly, I'd have money to help her. What do you do with the money I send, anyway, if it's not going to my kids?" Pause. "Oh, don't give me that shit! One of your excuses for—" he paused and glanced at her, before continuing, "—for doing what you did to me, was because Luke makes more than I do, and he can support you better."

The amount of scorn Sam put behind the other man's name left no doubt about how her benefactor felt. What had the woman done to him that Sam didn't want her to hear?

"Fucking bitch," Sam snapped, hanging up. The large man set his forehead against the steering wheel. Tense silence filled the air, made all the worse by the anger she could sense coming from him. "Sorry about that," the man muttered after a bit, sitting back. He punched the wheel in front of him hard enough that she felt the reverberations through her seat. "It's not enough that I send her most of my paychecks for child support, but knowing she's poisoning my kid's minds against me is just going too far!" He started up the car, jammed it into gear, and the tires screeched as he pulled out of the parking lot. "You would think that nearly twenty years of marriage would garner some sort of respect, but no! She can't handle my bullshit, she says. She can't handle my excuses." Someone honked as Sam swerved the car back into his lane. "She has no idea what I went through, damn it! Let's see her lose a leg and a good friend in the same instant and see how well she handles it."

Tamara had a white knuckled grip on the door handle next to her as the veteran ranted and raved. Her stomach was in her throat as the tires on Sam's car squealed in protest at how fast he took the turns.

"I'll bet right now, she's telling her how I'm not willing to help her get a car." Who is he talking about now? Who is this other her? "That I'm hording my money, being just as greedy as she is!"

Red and blue lights started flashing behind them, sending Sam into another tirade. If she weren't already terrified for her life she would have been laughing at the inventive way the one-time soldier swore.

The relief that flooded through her when Sam finally slowed down and pulled over made her feel giddy inside. Now she'd survived being drowned and a car ride with Sam.

"Great, just great!" Sam yelled at the ceiling. "They're going to think I kidnapped you or something."

A knock on her window startled her, and she turned directly into the beam of a flashlight. She squinted, blinded by the bright light, and scowled at it. The knock came again, and she realized she was supposed to roll down the window. She searched for the knob and started to turn it. When she looked back up she saw the officer shaking his flashlight and frowning. The light had gone out. He shoved it back into his belt and peered through the window at them both.

"Sam Mendez," the officer's deep voice greeted them. "What's the big hurry?" He looked at Tamara more closely and added, "And who is this? Some crack-whore you've talked into your bed tonight?"

Crack-whore? Sudden anger burned through Tamara at the off-hand insult. After being rejected by Sam, getting told that her choice in clothing was too risqué, going on this crazy ride, and now this, her emotions were on a rollercoaster ride that couldn't end well for anyone around her. How dare he compare her to some weak-willed little gutter slut!

Without thinking about what she was doing, she glared up at the officer and locked gazes with him. As soon as their eyes met she felt that odd twisting sensation inside her again. It almost felt as though something were swimming in her stomach, making her slightly nauseous, until it turned into tingles that made her want to smile. "I'm his daughter," she lied to the man. "But since you're so interested in crack-whores, why don't you go see if you can find any?" The tingles were replaced by a sharp twist in her stomach. She looked away from the cop and down in the car, breathing through her mouth to keep her dinner down.

"Officer, I—" Sam spoke up, but what he'd been about to say was lost as the policeman straightened up and walked away.

"Damn it!" Sam swore again. "He's probably going back there to call for backup and have me arrested. What on earth possessed you to say something like that?" Sam yelled.

She ignored him. She couldn't breathe through her spell of nausea. She opened her car door and leaned out. Nothing came out but she was wracked for a few minutes with dry heaves. She spat out some bile and straightened slowly before leaning back into the car and shutting the door. Despite having eaten less than a couple hours ago, she realized she was hungry again.

"What the hell?" Sam asked in confusion, no longer angry. For some reason, Tamara shivered.

Sitting back up, Tamara saw the cop car fly past them, lights blaring into the night.

"What did you do?" Sam demanded, turning to her, and meeting her gaze. She felt that twist again, but this time it was pale compared to the one a moment ago. Was she getting sick?

"I— I don't know," she answered. "I felt like this when I left the hospital. Maybe too much seawater? Can that make you sick?"

"Make you dead," Sam muttered. "But I brought you back."

"You what?"

Sam nodded. "You weren't breathing. You'd drowned. I did CPR on—"

"How?"

Sam raised an eyebrow? "CPR? You want me to teach you how to—"

"No, I know what it is. How did you know how to do it to me?"

He glanced away and sighed. "Army," he said with a shrug. "I was a combat medic."

"Oh," she said. "Um, Sam? Thank you."

The large man shook his head and put the car back into gear. The drive back was slow enough that Tamara didn't fear for her life.

Sam remained silent for the rest of the drive, and even as he unlocked his front door, he moved almost like a man in a daze. Tamara was starting to worry about him. She followed him into the house and put her bags next to the couch he'd said she could sleep on. She turned and saw him heading straight for one of his cupboards. He pulled out a large bottle filled with a clear liquid.

"Are you okay?" she asked. He was acting weird. Not angry, but calm. It was scary, not knowing what was going on with him. She wondered if coming back here was a bad idea. Brock and Subie had invited her to hang out with them, maybe she could walk to their hotel and find them. If they hadn't gone out again.

"No," he replied, startling her out of her thoughts. "This world is fucked up." Putting the bottle to his lips, he tilted his head back and took a couple swallows before slamming it back down and gasping. Some of the liquid had escaped his lips and dripped off his chin. "And I'm just as fucked up as it is." He took another swallow, and this time when he set the bottle down she could see the word "Vodka" on the label.

"Can I have a shot?" she asked, walking up to him. After the way her day had gone, she could use a good shot, or twenty.

"How old are you?" he demanded, scrutinizing her.

She was starting to get sick of that question. "I'm old enough!" she informed him defensively.

"Huh, maybe you are," he grunted, and then turned around and rooted through one of his cupboards. A moment later he came up with a shot glass, and filled it for her. "Take it slow, this stu—"

She ignored him, grabbing the glass and throwing the liquid down her gullet. Liquid fire coated her throat, and she bent over coughing the stuff back up. It hurt worse than her throat did after waking up on the beach!

"I told you to take it easy," Sam's voice sounded above her, and a moment later she felt his strong hand patting her back.

Whether it was the effect of the alcohol or his hand touching her, she felt her stomach warm and the tingle returned. She stood upright to look at him. Their eyes met, and suddenly everything seemed to grow quiet. Everything except for the steady drumbeat of her heart in her head.

"Ah, damn it. I'm going to a special hell," she heard him mutter, sending a thrill through her. She found her back pressed hard against the counter as his lips mashed against hers. The roughness of his goatee dug into her lips and cheeks, adding a level of delicious pain to the pleasure of the act. She could easily taste the vodka on his tongue as it dashed into her mouth.

She wasn't sure what had happened to change his mind about her, but she couldn't wait to see what had made that large bulge in his pants earlier.

Chapter 05

Sam threw back the thin blanket covering him, and froze when his arm hit something. Or rather, someone. The pain from a slight headache sat right behind his eyes. Memories of what happened last night—what he'd done—flashed through his head. He groaned as he turned to look at the girl sleeping beside him.

Tamara lay there, breathing softly. Her firm breasts, free to the air, rose and fell. Breasts that he'd had in his hands and mouth. He remembered working his way into her, and the grimace on her face at first. Then there were the other looks she'd given him. Looks no girl that age should know. He tore his gaze away from her chest, only to look at her sleeping face instead. Maybe it was the dim lighting in here, but she looked healthier this morning. Her ribs weren't so prominent, her cheeks seemed a little fuller, and her lips. . . . the things those lips had done last night—No!

Sam turned away from the woman. Some of the things she'd done last night stopped him from seeing her as a girl any longer. Or was that his failing conscience?

As quietly as he could, he dressed, strapped on his running prosthetic, and slipped from the room.

"What have I done?" he muttered to himself as he got into his car. "She's too young. She's got to be half my age, damn it!" He hoped she was at least half his age, then she would be eighteen. She claimed she was but she couldn't remember anything other than her first name. He put his car in gear and headed for the beach. He needed to get his mind off his crime.

Only, once at the beach, he kept noticing all the young women sunning themselves, and his mind reverted back to last night, and the feel of Tamara on top of him.

It's not like you talked her into it, an inner voice chided him. She wanted you.

Sam ran harder, trying to get away from that voice. What he'd done was wrong. Tamara was too young for him. It should never have happened.

But it had. And he'd enjoyed it.

He'd done so well, turning away from her advances, until that bastard cop pulled him over. He usually respected law enforcement, but Officer Jenkins knew how to rub him the wrong way. He still couldn't believe that the cop had just up and left like that. He must have received some emergency call, pulling him away. Why else leave when the prick cop had a perfect opportunity to needle him some more?

Then Tamara had looked at him, and he couldn't get the images of her naked out of his mind. He didn't remember the drive home, but he remembered being the one to kiss her.

Sam tripped over something, and hit the ground hard enough to scrape his hands and cheek. "What the fuck?" he demanded, internally cursing himself for not paying better attention to the path in front of him.

On the ground was a small stick. He'd stepped on it with his false foot. If it would have been his good one, he would have felt it through his shoe, and compensated. Instead, he could see where it had snapped, throwing him off balance, and making it feel like something had tripped him.

"Hey man, you alright?" someone asked him. The man offered him a hand, but Sam waved him off. He wasn't going to take charity or handouts from anyone. If he couldn't do it on his own, then it wouldn't get done.

"I'm fine," he told the other guy. He tried to sound thankful, but it didn't come out that way. "I've just got to pay more attention," he added when the man continued to stare at him. "Thank you."

Before the helpful man could say or do anything, Sam took off again.

He never saw the grinning man, hiding behind the low brick wall that separated the running path from the beach, that had thrown the stick in his path.

* * * *

"What am I doing?" Sam muttered to himself. His front door was right in front of him, but it might as well be a brick wall. "Just go in there, and tell her that what happened last night can't happen again. I'm an adult. There's nothing to be afraid of in there."

After being in gunfights, having his arms elbow deep in his fellow soldiers to keep them alive, and getting blown up, Sam thought he could face anything. Only there was a woman in his house that was the same age as his daughter that he had slept with. Now he was afraid to go in and face her.

What if she calls the cops? He worried. Jenkins will never believe a thing I say in my defense. Or worse. What if she wants to do it again?

Part of him wanted that very thing to happen. He felt sick with guilt, but he couldn't deny that he'd enjoyed himself last night. Perhaps for the first time in a long time.

No! It can't happen again. I can't afford to have someone else living here.

Yeah, that's it, the other voice chided him. It's all because you can't afford it.

Growling, Sam opened his door and walked in before he could change his mind. Tamara sat on his couch, Knees tucked to her chest, TV remote in one hand, and a handful of nuts in the other. She was wearing the shirt he'd loaned her last night.

He didn't know if he was happy that she was dressed, or disappointed.

"Oh good, you're back!" she exclaimed, getting to her feet. "I hope you don't mind, but I kind of cleaned up the place."

Sam had to blink a few times, trying to reorganize his thoughts. He'd expected her to be pissed off, or trying to get into his pants again. Not acting like last night ever happened!

"Cleaned up?" he asked, still trying to understand. He wasn't a slob, his years in the military having cured him of that. Looking around, he couldn't tell what she had done. "Um, thanks."

"So, I was thinking," Uh-oh, here it comes. "I know you said that you couldn't afford to keep me around, but if I clean up, and do work around here, and try to find a job to pitch in, could I stay?"

This wasn't what he expected her to talk about, but he could already see problems. If she lived with him, there was no way he could keep his hands off her. What happened last night was wrong, and shouldn't happen again. Oh, shit! Is she even on the pill? He couldn't remember how he'd finished last night. Or how many times, for that matter. What would he do if he'd gotten her pregnant? He could barely support himself. There was no way he could support her and a child.

"Sam?" Her voice cut through his thoughts, but he didn't look up at her. "What happened to your cheek?"

"I've got to get ready for work," he mumbled, fleeing from the room. He locked his bedroom door behind him, letting his back fall against it. What was he going to do? If he'd knocked her up last night, he couldn't kick her to the curb. But he couldn't keep her here, where he'd already proven that he couldn't withstand her feminine wiles.

He needed time to think, and even a cold shower wasn't enough to wash away his guilt. He tried to focus on the cold water as it ran down his body. By the time he left the shower he was shivering and running late for work.

"I'll be back this evening," he told his houseguest, still refusing to look at her. He didn't want to be delayed any longer. His boss was understanding but this gave Sam something to focus on. Something that would help him keep his thoughts about Tamara and his daughter away. He hoped.

Traffic conspired against him, and he was swearing up a storm as he pulled into the employee parking lot of Dolphin Cove. Hobbling up to the back entrance, his boss Latoya Garrett met him with only a raised eyebrow and a glance at her watch.

The tall skinny black woman at least waited for him to log in, before talking to him.

"You're late, again."

"Sorry, Bohemian Rhapsody was on the radio and you can't just turn it off," he joked.

Latoya laughed and shook her head. "You can only use that once to get out of jail and you already tried that one on me a few weeks ago. Some kid puked in the lobby bathroom, and it needs to be cleaned up." She didn't even wait for a response, before turning and walking away. Sam didn't mind watching her leave. She had a rather nice figure, with what he'd once heard her call a ghetto booty. At least today she didn't have on her white smock to hide it.

Despite his troubles at home, he couldn't help but admire her body.

"Oh, and Mr. Mendez," she said turning around. From the way the corners of her mouth tightened, he knew he'd been busted looking at her ass. "I know life's a little harder with your situation, but please try to be on time more often. I'm tired of coming up with excuses so that the higher ups don't can your ass."

His cheek itched, and when he went to rub it, he found the scab from when he'd tripped while running this morning. She probably thought he'd gotten into another fight.

Well, better she think that than what's really going on, he thought.

Grabbing a mop and bucket, he went to mop up some kid's breakfast.

He was able to lose himself in his work, cleaning up the place and emptying trashes, until lunchtime.

Sam headed to his favorite spot to eat his lunch: a secluded area in one of the maintenance tunnels where he could watch the dolphins swim, and be left alone. His favorite dolphin, one he'd named Dolly and recognizable by a scar across her round head where she'd been caught up in a fisher's net, swam up to the glass and watched him eat. He waved to her, and she waved back with her left fin, before swimming in a couple circles, then watched him again.

He couldn't help but smile at the creature's antics. Licking the last crumbs off his fingers, he approached the glass.

When he reached for it, the dolphin turned and swam away faster than he'd ever seen a dolphin move before.

He shook his head at the oddity of the smart creature, until his radio squawked. Some unruly kid had tried to start a food fight in the cafeteria, and he needed to clean it up.

Some days he wished he didn't need this job, but a look back at the tank holding some of the dolphins also made him happy to have it. After hours he was allowed to swim with the gentle creatures. One more activity that helped him avoid memories of his past.

The mother of the unruly child that had started the food fight was still in the cafeteria when he arrived. One look at her expensive clothing and her body language as she talked to Latoya told him all he needed to know about her.

"You can't talk to my son like that!" the lady screamed. "You can't blame him for being a kid. It's not his fault."

Sam ducked his head and tried to act as if he weren't there as he went about the task of cleaning up the kid's mess. No easy feat, considering the way the woman continued to place blame anywhere but where it belonged. Her son was going to be a disaster when he grew up, unless something scared him into becoming responsible. God knows he wouldn't learn it from his mother.

"Mom, what's wrong with that man?" Sam heard and cringed inside. He hated that question. Unconsciously he tried to over compensate for his fake leg, and almost slipped on the wet floor for his troubles.

"What man? Oh. He's just a poor cripple. Don't stare, Simon. It's rude."

Poor cripple?! Sam took a few slow breaths to calm himself. Staring is rude, but calling him a poor cripple, or starting a food fight is perfectly acceptable?

"No, I mean the shadow around him," the querulous kid continued. "He's dark."

"Simon! You can't talk about people's skin color like that in front of them."

Really? That's where she draws the line, at race? In a place dominated by Mexican-Americans, you'd think the kid would have some more tact!

"Sam," Latoya said, her voice firm and commanding, "let someone else finish this up. I think there's some paperwork that needs your attention."

Sam froze, though it took a great deal of effort to do so. He hadn't even realized that he'd dropped his mop and was heading towards the uppity bitch to give her a piece of his mind. His boss's brown eyed stare broke though the red haze in his vision, and he recognized their code for, "Go take a breather." There wasn't really paperwork for him to do. Latoya knew about his temper, and they'd long ago established a way for him to get away, before he did something stupid. Something like teach a mother and her son some manners.

Without saying a word, he spun around and left the cafeteria.

His favorite spot back in the maintenance tunnel was no help, however, as Dolly refused to swim over to the glass.

"Some people's children!" Latoya exclaimed as she entered the tunnel. "Thanks for stepping out, Sam. I wanted to give her a piece of my mind, too. Can you believe her son?"

"I'm a firm believer that sometimes all a person needs is one spanking every now and then to straighten them out," Sam replied without looking at her.

"Yeah, but what do you do about the parents?"

"I was talking about the parents." Sam chuckled dryly.

"You've come a long way, from the man that got into fights almost every other week."

"Helps to have a boss willing to give me a chance." He finally turned to look at her and their eyes met briefly. She nodded after a second and walked away, leaving him to his thoughts.

He couldn't wait to get off shift and take a swim with the dolphins. In the water he didn't really notice his leg wasn't there. He'd learned to compensate for it a long time ago. If anything, his normal leg seemed out of place with the extra friction it caused.

His radio chirped again, calling him back to duty. He sighed and made his way back while trying not to think about the spoiled brat or his mother. He managed to lose himself in his work for a few hours until his shift was over. He thought about going home but Tamara was there. Tamara and a conversation he didn't want to have.

Sam's thoughts went back to Dolly and the other dolphins. He nodded to himself and stripped out of his filth encrusted uniform before taking a shower in the employee locker rooms. He stripped off his fake leg and left it beside the tank before climbing in to join them.

Usually the dolphins were waiting for him when he lowered himself in. This time something was different. They were acting strangely. The three dolphins in the tank swam around the far end, occasionally chittering at him. Once he was fully submerged in the salt water, Dolly came up to him and nuzzled his hand. The others joined in and Sam soon forgot their odd behavior as he lost himself in the weightlessness and joy of swimming with the mammals.

Chapter 6

Tamara hurt in places she didn't remember having. The aches were deep and hit her even when she didn't move. In spite of them, or perhaps because of them, she moaned at the memories of what Sam and her had done last night . She was paying for it today but it was a price she'd pay many times over for how he'd made her feel. She buried her face under her pillow when she realized that the pain turned her on. A little.

Great, and rough, sex aside she felt pretty sure that Sam wasn't going to kick her out. She'd been inspired last night! She'd had urges and thoughts that came out of nowhere. She did things she didn't even know could be done, and she'd been the one to initiate them. She had no idea she was that flexible or that her tongue could—Tamara rolled over in bed and giggled at the memories. Maybe it was dirty and kinky, but it was fun too. Fun like that couldn't be a bad thing, could it?

She sat up and looked around Sam's bedroom. Their bedroom, she mused. She grinned and wondered where he'd gone. Her eyes went to his fake legs and she saw the athletic one missing. "He went for a run," she mumbled and smiled. Good to see he was keeping himself in shape for her. Although a few nights like last night every week and he'd never grow an ounce of fat.

"The way to a man's heart is through his pants and his belly," she said even though she couldn't remember where she'd heard the phrase. She shrugged and decided that she could take care of the hunger thing when the time came, even though she didn't know how to cook. In the meantime, at least she could try to take care of things around his home. Her dad had always taken for granted how her mom kept the house picked up. Whenever she went away it fell apart overnight and he realized he couldn't live without her.

Tamara stopped, her mouth hanging open. How did she know that? She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to recapture the memory, or at least the belief that she had the memory. After a moment of empty thoughts she stamped her foot and growled. "Goddamn it!" she swore. Her hand flew to her mouth and she looked around nervously.

Nothing happened. She lowered her hand and giggled. Why had she been so worried? People swore all the time. She'd sworn before, even recently. The things that had come out of her mouth last night, and gone in it, were much worse than that. She giggled again and turned away. No sense in worrying about silly things, she had a house to clean and a man to seduce.

Unfortunately, It didn't take long to clean his tiny place. After half an hour of sweeping, dusting, and mopping she was bored.

With nothing else to do, she grabbed some nuts she'd found in a cupboard and sat down to watch television. No sooner had she found a game show with a short and squat looking man wearing glasses when Sam opened the door and walked in looking haggard. His short dark hair was plastered to his head and there was dried blood on his cheek.

Tamara jumped at the chance and shared her thoughts about staying. He stood looking like he'd been caught with his dick buried in an eighteen year old girl—which he sort of had been—and then fled to the bathroom.

Had she done something to piss him off? He had a serious temper, but so far he'd never turned it on her. It was a dark side to the man that intrigued her and pulled her in. She had to admit to herself that even with her pain below, the site of him standing there with his sweat beading his brow and chiseled physique made her squirm her thighs against each other.

She'd heard the shower going and thought about joining him. She'd make him realize last night wasn't a mistake, it was only a beginning. She might be sore, but she could play through it. She pulled the shirt she'd slipped on back over her head and reached for the doorknob, only to find it locked. Now she was certain he was mad at her. Why else lock her out?

Tamara thought about leaving the shirt on the floor and trying to make it up to him. She licked her lips and then stopped. He'd mentioned working this morning. She frowned and grabbed the shirt. She wouldn't mind making him late, it would be for a good reason, but she knew better than to risk upsetting him again so soon. Once she had him wrapped around her finger it would be different. Then she could get away with things like that. Things that he secretly wanted but didn't want to admit to. The tempting little sins of life that make living worth it.

"I'll be back this evening," Sam claimed as he almost ran through the front room minutes later. She didn't even have time to talk to him, though she still wondered what happened to his cheek. Had he gotten into a fight? She couldn't imagine what the other man must look like. Sam was a big guy, and after last night, she knew it was all hard muscle. Or if it wasn't she knew she could make it hard fast enough.

The next couple hours were spent trying—and failing—to find something to watch. She learned that her host had an obsession with Sylvester Stallone movies, whoever that was. She enjoyed the violence of Rambo, but thought some of his other movies were weak.

And none of it told her why Sam was angry with her. Other than talking about his time at war he seemed like the kind of guy to face what was bothering him. Well, the war and her, he seemed to be trying to avoid her like the plague.

She ate a big lunch, and at one point noticed that her cheeks weren't as hollow as she remembered. Between the hospital food and Sam's hospitality she was on her way to being able to see herself in a mirror when she turned sideways. She ran her hand under her shirt and over her belly. It slid up to cup her right breast in her palm. Filling out was okay, especially if it meant bigger boobs, but she had to be careful not to get fat. Sam took good care of himself, she knew he wouldn't like her if she was chubby.

About mid-afternoon, she couldn't handle it anymore and decided to go for a walk. Maybe some fresh air would do her some good. Without intending to, she found herself outside the hotel that Subie and Brock were staying at.

Maybe they'll be more entertaining, she thought as she went in. It was easy enough finding their room.

"Yeah, what do you want?"

Tamara blinked at the stocky man that opened the door. She looked at the number beside it again, but it was the room number Brock had given her.

"Who is it, Adrian?" Brock's voice rang out from deeper in the room.

"Some kid, a girl," the man shouted back without taking his eyes off her.

A kid? She was a woman! Her crotch still hurt to prove it!

Before she could say anything, Brock poked his head out and his attractive face split into a grin. His hair was a mess and he was shirtless, showing off his large muscles to great effect.

"Tamara! I wasn't expecting to see you again. We just woke up. What're you doing here?"

He just woke up? It's mid-afternoon! Or were these two men doing something else? Looking at Adrian, she dismissed the idea. The man in front of her was fully dressed and not a hair out of place.

"This is the girl you picked up yesterday?" Adrian asked, finally looking away. "Subie didn't say she was this cute."

"She wasn't. I mean, yesterday she was a mess," Brock said. Both men's comments combined to make her blush. "Looks like getting out of that hospital was good for you. You no longer look like a soft breeze will snap you like a twig."

"And you look like a boulder rolling down a hill would go out of its way to avoid hitting you," she shot back, not certain whether to take the man's words as a complement or not.

"Oh, she's quick Brock! Has Subie been giving her lessons?"

"Have I been giving who lessons?" the woman in question said from down the hallway. She stopped when she saw Tamara and frowned. She folded her arms under her bikini top. "Oh, it's you. Why?"

"Wow! Way to be harsh, Subie," Brock said, reminding Tamara of the first time she'd met the two. "Relax, she just showed up."

"And already my man lost his shirt and is undressing her with his eyes."

Tamara thought the woman had warmed up to her after dropping her off at Sam's place. From the glare Subie gave her, perhaps not.

"Maybe she can be our third?" a new voice chimed in. Another woman stepped around Subie, wearing just as little clothing. Tamara couldn't help but admire both bodies. Toned and well proportioned, though Subie had at least one cup size on the new woman.

"No, absolutely not," Subie turned on the other woman. "We don't know anything about her, and we don't even know if she's old enough!"

"Alex is right, Subie," Brock piped up. "She'll make a great addition."

Tamara was lost as to what they were talking about, but if it involved being old enough and these two fine men, then she was willing to do it. She hoped it would be something kinky.

Subie examined her critically for a moment. "Not dressed in that shirt, she won't."

Sam's shirt? What will it matter, if it's just going to come off anyway? At least she hoped it would be coming off.

"Yeah, well, maybe she can borrow one of your bikinis, then," Adrian offered. For some reason he seemed a little bored with the whole thing, as if he was used to Subie's antics and just going through the motions.

"Look at her. She can't fill out one of mine. Maybe Alex has one small enough for her."

"Hey, I'm not that much smaller than you!" Alex shot back, hefting her chest for emphasis.

"Um," Tamara tried to break in, but Brock smiled at her and winked.

"I say we let her try one on and see," the large man offered.

"Just because you want to ogle her," Subie accused her man.

"You'll drown her out with your beauty anyway," Brock grinned.

Subie opened her mouth to argue and then snapped it back shut. Her narrow eyes widened and her lip curled up into a grin as the compliment sunk in.

"I'll get my camera ready," Adrian offered and then disappeared back into the room.

"Wait, I didn't agree," Subie's smile faded.

"Come on," Alex said, slipping her arm around Tamara's shoulder. "I'm sure I have something that'll fit you."

She was led to an adjoining room where she tried on some of the types of clothes that Sam had denied her the previous evening. If the man could see her now she knew his blood would be boiling and his dick trying to tear through his pants. She tried on a couple of swimsuits and clothes that sometimes covered less than the underwear she'd bought. She was excited and still wasn't sure what they were doing. Why did Adrian need his camera and what was the deal with the skimpy swimsuits?

"Don't mind Subie," Alex told her as she stripped off a one-piece swimsuit with a neckline so low it dipped below her navel. "She has a loud bark, but there's no bite behind it."

"She doesn't seem to like me much," Tamara complained.

"She treats everyone like that at first," Alex told her. "Just don't try to take Brock away from her, and you'll be fine. And don't try to upstage her, either. She has a good heart, but she's a little conceited."

A Little? Tamara wondered, thinking about how the woman flaunted her body. "What are we doing, anyway?" She asked.

Alex began laughing, giving her a critical look. "You mean you agreed to do this before even knowing what we're doing?"

Tamara's cheeks began to burn in embarrassment. "I didn't have a chance to ask."

"I guess you're right," Alex conceded. "Brock has a friend from high school that's serving overseas in the military. Well, three friends, really. Anyway, Brock thought it would be nice to send him some pictures of hot, scantily dressed women. Oh, don't worry, it won't be pornographic or anything too embarrassing."

Tamara nodded. The thought of doing something freaky and taboo appealed to something deep inside her.

"So, we're just taking pictures?" she asked.

"Yeah. Adrian mentioned that he might upload the pictures to one of his favorite internet sites." She pulled a marker out of her purse, and handed it to Tamara. "Here, write K-C-C-O on my left breast."

"Is he your boyfriend?" Tamara inquired while she followed the bazaar instructions.

"What? Adrian? No." Her words said one thing but her tone let Tamara know she'd thought about it.

Silence filled the air as Tamara finished writing and thought about Adrian. There was something about him that appealed to her, though she couldn't place her finger on it. The man had remained quiet for the most part. He wasn't as good looking as Brock, nor even as athletic as Sam. She decided Alex could have him if she could get him.

"I think that suit looks good on you." Alex complimented her. Tamara looked at herself in the mirror, and couldn't deny that she had filled out since yesterday. Before she had sharp corners and angles where her skin hugged her bones. Now she had smooth planes and gentle curves. Even the bruises and marks on her arms were gone. She didn't think she looked as good as Subie. Her breasts weren't as large, though they were firm. She had on a two-piece swimsuit that pushed her chest together to advantage. The bottom piece sat low on her hips, with only a thin piece of material connecting at the sides.

If only Sam could see her now. He'd make short work in ripping this from her. Just thinking about it was making her belly tingle.

"In fact, I think you look better in that than I do," Alex added, taking off her top and throwing the skimpy fabric onto a small pile on the bed. Alex was admiring her body in a way that she wished Sam would look at her. How many swimsuits did she have?

Tamara blinked, getting pulled from where her fantasy was taking her.

"Are you two done in there?" Adrian demanded, pounding on the door.

Both women giggled. Alex was still topless, but she winked at Tamara and threw open the door. "No, but care to come in and help me finish up?"

The other man turned beet red, mumbling, "Just hurry up. There's a party tonight I want to get to, but I want to get these pictures posted first." He turned around and added over his shoulder, "Brock and Subie are already in the car. If I don't get out there soon, they'll have each other's clothes torn off."

"Did you see his face?" Alex asked, grinning from ear to ear as she turned back to Tamara.

The women laughed together and Tamara knew she had a new friend.

"If you had a car, why were you in a cab yesterday?" Tamara asked as they joined the others outside.

"We don't drink and drive," Adrian stated. "Of course, Alex better not drink as much as she did last time, either. I don't want to rush her to the hospital again."

"Trust me," Alex promised, "I won't!"

The drive was a short one to the beach. When they got out Tamara got a good look at Subie's suit. She'd assumed the other woman would wear the same one she'd been in, but she'd changed into something a lot more revealing. Two thin strips of cloth travelled down her chest, barely covering her nipples, joining in a 'V' at her crotch. The string in back was hidden between her smooth cheeks.

"Almost enough to make you think about switching sides," Alex whispered in her ear. Tamara hadn't realized she was staring. She nodded, not sure what the other woman meant. "You want to get on her good side quicker, compliment how hot she looks. She'll be flashing everyone in no time anyhow, she gets off on it."

"She what?" Tamara whispered.

"She's an exhibitionist. She'll deny it and get pissy if you push her, but just watch and see."

Tamara opened her mouth to respond when Adrian walked around with the Camera and Brock clapped his hands together.

"Okay, let's start with some pictures of you three running," Brock ordered, as Adrian found a good place to take pictures from.

For the next few minutes, the three did as they were told. Tamara felt an unfamiliar thrill at hanging out with the other two women while being ogled by the men. If Subie really was an exhibitionist she could understand why. She could practically feel the lust and want from the men that were watching them.

"Subie, I swear, if you don't put that nipple away, I'm going to come over there and hide it with my mouth," Brock snapped, not at all upset at the view. "Now how about some shots in the water?"

Tamara's head snapped around to the girl beside her. She saw Subie grinning and adjusting the strap of her suit, but not before Tamara got an eyeful of a very hard nipple. Putting the suit over it did little to hide it, if anything the bulge brought more attention to it.

She wrenched her head away, her thoughts swirling around what Brock had said about hiding it with his mouth. She'd sucked and nibbled on Sam's nipples last night but Subie's were so much thicker. So much more luscious. So ripe. She shivered and ran to the water, figuring she could stand to cool down in the water a little. In no time she was giggling with the other two as the surf ran over her toes. Her feet began to tingle uncomfortably at first, but becoming more painful the longer she stood there.

"Afraid of the water?" Subie teased her.

"That's right, you washed up around here just yesterday, didn't you?" Brock asked.

Tamara nodded, not liking the tingling that started running up her legs. She ran back onto the hot dry sand, and the burning sensation slowly receded.

"That really must have messed you up," Subie apologized. "Sorry, I forgot about that. Do you remember any more of your past?"

Tamara shook her head, looking at her feet. They were unblemished and whole. What had that feeling been? She hadn't felt anything strange when taking a shower last night, so what was the difference here? Maybe it was psychological. She didn't think she was afraid of the water but after drowning in it, maybe it had screwed her up deep inside.

"That should be enough pictures, anyway," Adrian offered. "Let's head back to the rooms. I'll upload them to your friends and a few other places. Why don't you ladies get ready for the party?"

"Hey, email me those pictures, too," Brock commented.

"Do you really need material for your spank-bank?" Subie teased her boyfriend. "Especially when you have the real thing right here?" Brock's answer was to kiss her hard enough to make Tamara wish she were in the other woman's swimsuit.

Her feet were forgotten as they all piled back into the car, heading to the hotel. Tamara didn't know if she'd ever been to a party before, but she was looking forward to going to one.

Once back at the hotel, Alex pulled her into her room.

"Brock and Subie will be busy with each other," she said. "I've got just the outfit for you to wear tonight. You might as well keep that swimsuit. It looks better on you than it ever did on me. And I know just what to do with your hair." Tamara enjoyed the attention. She had a feeling that this sort of attention was something she wasn't used to.

I'm going to go out and have fun, Tamara thought inwardly as she smiled at Alex's exuberance. She still had no idea what Sam was angry about, but this party seemed like just the thing to put him completely out of her mind.

Chapter 7

Sam was beginning to fear that his front door had turned into a permanent roadblock. For a little while he'd been able to forget his problems at home. Now his front door stood before him, reminding him of who was on the other side. He knew it was foolish to be afraid of the young woman, but there was something about her that he could barely resist.

"One. Two. Three. Fuck it," he mumbled and opened the door. He used the counting mantra when he knew he'd never build up the courage to do something. It was how he'd asked his ex-wife out and how he was able to ask her to marry him seven months later.

And look how that turned out, the darker side of him taunted. She hadn't even counted to one.

He wasn't sure what to expect when he walked in. Was she going to be vegging out in front of the TV? Was she waiting naked in his bed? Cooking dinner? He didn't even know which option he wanted. He had an uneasy feeling in his stomach about how he'd react if she opted for anything clothing optional.

What he didn't expect was to see no sign of her.

"Tamara?" he squeaked, half afraid she might answer. He put some weight into his voice and repeated himself when there was no response.

His heart beat faster as relief flooded his system. He was alone! He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and fell onto his couch. It took all of five seconds for the relief to disappear and a hollow pit open in his stomach. Had she only stepped out for a minute? What if his behavior had scared her off? Was she gone for good? He supposed it didn't matter, he didn't have to face her right now. But did he really want that? Maybe she wasn't his daughter, but she was somebody's daughter. Even if he had taken advantage of her last night—whether she wanted it or not—was she safe?

He blew out another breath and groaned. She wasn't his responsibility! What they'd done— and wow had they done it— didn't mean he owed her anything. Quite the opposite, he'd put her up and bought her clothes and food, she owed him!

That didn't make the empty house any less meaningful. If she'd only stepped out for a minute, then he was going to have to face her again soon. But if she'd finally given up on him, just like his ex-wife had, then he was free. No more stressing over having a young woman living with him. No more fearing that the police were going to come knocking on his door.

No more marathon sex sessions.

What's wrong with me? I'm too old for her! He groaned and shook his head. He could never be one of those guys with beautiful young woman hanging on his arms. He wasn't rich or famous. He wasn't even a decent guy, his ex-wife made a point of reminding him of that every chance she got. He wasn't even a complete human.

He headed into the kitchen, deciding that making dinner would get his mind off the woman. Pots clanged as he got them out and started prepping until he realized he was making more noise than necessary to cover the quiet. Even after only one day she had changed the atmosphere of his place. He kept expecting to turn around and have her dark eyes right there analyzing and teasing him. Offering intimacy and a life he didn't deserve.

Setting some water to boil he realized he was fighting a losing battle.

His movie collection had been rearranged but it only took a few seconds to find his copy of 'The Expendables' and pop it in. There was something he enjoyed about watching the bad guys getting their asses handed to them. Real combat didn't work like it did in the movies, he was reminded of that with every step he took, but watching Sylvester Stallone risk everything to save the woman made him forget all of that.

As the movie came to a close, Sam's adrenaline was pumping. It didn't matter how often he watched this movie, he always felt the same at the end. Good triumphed, evil was beat down, and the hero got the girl.

The girl. . . .

Like lemon juice poured into milk, Sam's mood turned sour. Where was Tamara? He feared she was out on the street, alone and cold. Well, not cold on this tropical island, but still. . . .

Isn't this what you wanted? To be alone?

He forced betraying thoughts of Tamara from his mind as he hobbled to his room. The bed felt colder and larger than usual. Despite his best efforts, the last thoughts to go through his head as he spread out on the bed was to picture Tamara alone in some alley.

A rhythmic thumping startled Sam out of his restless slumber.

"Incoming!" he screamed, confused and forgetting where he was. He rolled out of bed and hit the floor, covering his head. Fear coursed through his veins as he lie waiting for rockets or mortars to hit his hooch. It was always a crap-shoot, when the insurgents attacked. The indirect fire could land anywhere.

Something was wrong. His hooch didn't have carpet on the floor, and the room he was in was bigger than his entire hooch had been.

I'm home, damn it! Fuck it all, I'm home. I'm safe!

The pounding came again, and Sam realized he was on his bedroom floor and someone was at the door.

"Coming!" he yelled, wondering who it could be at the door at—"What the fuck? It's past two o'clock!"

Working his way up onto his good leg, he glanced at his prosthetic, but dismissed it. It would take too long to put on. He had a wheelchair to get around with, but it was put away in a closet. He hadn't needed it in months.

Was Tamara at the door? Or worse, was it Officer Jenkins out there with some trumped up charges against him?

The knock came a third time.

"I'm coming, damn it!" he yelled. He started the laborious process of hopping and supporting himself against the wall on his way to the impatient knocker.

"Are you Sam?" some punk kid asked as he opened the door. His eyes dropped to where Sam's stump ended just under his Superman boxers.

For once he didn't care about the odd stare he received, as his eyes went to the girl slumped next to the kid.

"Tamara?" He asked. She was wearing skimpy, tight shorts and a slim shirt with Bill Murray and the letters "BFM" on it.

"Sham?" she slurred, looking up at him.

"What's wrong with her?" Sam demanded. "Did you drug her?"

"What? No," the kid argued. Sam noticed that he talked without a slur. "She's drunk. I take it you're her dad?"

Tamara giggled in response to that. "Yeah, he's my daddy." Sam really wished she hadn't made that sound so sexual. Or that he enjoyed the sound of it.

"I see, you got her drunk and took advantage of her," Sam accused. He reached out and pulled Tamara inside, then had to grip the doorframe to keep himself upright. His stomach burned at the thought that the man might have touched her. Jealousy was an uncomfortable feeling. He hadn't felt that way since his ex met his replacement. The kid looked like the type that slipped something into an unsuspecting woman's drink, and then . . . and then. . . .

"No! I didn't lay a hand on her, I swear."

Sam shut the door in his face, not willing to listen to his lies.

"Adrian wash a gentleman," Tamara tried to tell him. "He'sh different, like a kid I went to school with." She tried to stand fully upright, but had to lean on him, making him support himself better against the wall. "Uh-oh—" That was all the warning he got, before the contents of her stomach evacuated her body, and splashed against him. The smell of alcohol and bile filled the air.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Sam groaned as he looked at the puke.

"I'm shorry," the creator of the mess said, but she was still giggling. "We should get you out of those boxersh. Shuperman?"

"Man of steel, baby," Sam quipped without thinking it through.

She grinned and reached for his drawers. Sam gripped her wrists, and pushed them away.

Unfortunately this threw her off balance and he couldn't recover in time with only his one good leg. They collapsed to the floor. "Fucking shit!" He was now lying in the vomit.

"I'm shorry," Tamara repeated next to him. "Pleash don' be mad at me."

"What were you thinking, going out and getting drunk with strangers?"

"They're not shtrangers," she defended herself. "They're my friensh."

Of course they are. Rancor filled the thought.

"Come on, we need to get cleaned up," he grumbled. He was tired and pissed off. Pissed at her and pissed at her new friends. And pissed at his ex, he wouldn't be dealing with any of this if she would have bothered trying to understand him.

But then he'd never have moved to the Florida Keys and he wouldn't have gone jogging along the beach when a strange girl washed up half drowned. More than half drowned, she was full of water and done for if he hadn't been there. So he saved her life, and this is how she repaid him.

He shook his head and watched her fight to keep her eyes open. A tiny slip of a thing like her probably took less than a six pack to get this drunk. Even so he didn't envy how she'd feel in the morning. Then again, maybe that was a good thing, if she ended up with one hell of a hangover it might convince her to avoid drinking like that again.

He snorted at his own hypocrisy. Why should she learn such an obvious lesson if he hadn't? Sure, he drank to forget whereas she couldn't remember anything about herself.

He jerked his head back around to stare into her glazed over eyes. "Did you mention knowing someone from school?" Sam asked. She'd mentioned something about the kid that had dropped her off reminding her of someone from school.

"What are you talking about?" she slurred.

Sam clenched his teeth and let it go. "Forget it," he muttered. She was useless right now. Maybe in the morning he could ask her, but he doubted even he would remember. There was no way she was going to. He worked himself onto his good leg, and then carefully helped her up.

"Ha, ha. You stink," she taunted him as he roused her from her drunken stupor. "You really should take a shower."

Groaning at her drunken humor, they worked their way back to the bathroom, where he laboriously cleaned them up. He had to fight off her advances, though his second brain demanded he give into them. It didn't help that his shower was small, forcing them to constantly bump into each other. His cock kept telling him to give in, but his conscience cried that she was too drunk. It helped when she spewed again in the shower.

Once cleaned, he managed to get her into bed. She invited him in with her, spreading her legs and displaying herself obscenely. He turned away to grab a shirt for her, fighting against the selfish thoughts and urges she seemed to bring out in him. By the time he turned back to her with one of his t-shirts in hand he saw he was too late. Her mouth hung open and she was breathing heavy. She wasn't just asleep, she was unconscious.

His eyes raked over her young and pristine body as he reached for the covers. She was probably so far gone that he could even—

Sam jerked his other hand back from where he'd been reaching for her. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" he muttered. He even had the blanket clutched in his other hand. He yanked it over her and hopped over to his doorway. There was no way he trusted himself in there with her, regardless of what may have happened before. There wasn't too much of the night left but he intended to spend every last minute of it alone on his broken down couch. He might not sleep worth a damn but at least Tamara would be safe.

Chapter 8

Tamara's skin tingled as the first rays of the morning sun broke through the window. A soft smile split her lips as she slowly woke up. She knew where she was as she rolled over, expecting to see Sam lying next to her.

He wasn't.

Anger seared in the pit of her stomach. He was supposed to be there with her when she woke up. Hadn't she proven that she was worth keeping last night when she'd. . . .

Confused memories assaulted her. She remembered dancing with several different men. Men that weren't Sam. For that matter, they weren't even in his league based on their moves or the bulges in their pants. She'd taken shots off Subie's body to the sound of loud cheering, feeling the center of attention. She remembered Subie's smoldering gaze every time somebody hooted or hollered at them. It had been crazy and fun and wrong, but it had felt oh so right too. Something inside her said that she should be surrounded by adoring people. People who were devoted to her.

Then Adrian brought her back to Sam's place. He'd been pissed, she'd seen that and it had thrilled her. So much anger and violence trembling just beneath the surface. He wanted to hurt Adrian and everybody else that she'd partied with. She had felt so giddy when she realized Sam was jealous. To be coveted like that meant the man was finally hers. Only before she could seal the deal she'd passed out.

And woke up alone.

Heat flushed her cheeks as she recalled throwing up on him in the living room and then again in the shower. She wished she hadn't done that, he'd looked so cute in his Superman boxers. Man of Steel, indeed!

His alarm went off next to her and she realized that he'd be getting up to go running soon. Throwing off the thin coverlet she discovered she was still naked. She'd wanted him to take her and abuse her body in any way he desired, but he'd refused. From the stiffness of his thick cock in the shower she knew he wanted to. Why not? What had stopped him? Was it some stupid moral dilemma about her being drunk?

Well, now would be a great time to try again. Running wasn't the only way to work out.

She was about to go looking for him, when she saw her bag sitting by the bedroom door. It held the swimsuit that Alex had given her. Sam had already proven that he could resist her naked body, but how would he react to seeing her in that?

She slipped the skimpy bikini on as fast as she could without making too much noise. Tamara found him twisted up in a blanket on the couch. She sucked in a breath at the sight of him lying there, appearing to be almost nude under the blanket. His chiseled chest was uncovered, and she noted that he was breathing fitfully. His right leg protruded from the bottom of the blanket, looking no softer than his upper body did. With the blanket over him like it was, she could almost forget about the stump of his left leg. The missing appendage didn't bother her. No, the appendage she was most interested in was poking up the middle of the blanket, making a nice tent.

"Morning Sam," she said as sweetly as she could. She wanted to reach out and grab that piece of him that had given her so much pleasure the other night, but she knew she needed to play the game. Sam couldn't be convinced by slamming him over the head with her sexuality. He needed to be coaxed.

He groaned. For a moment Tamara wondered if the man was even alive. The dead sound more lively.

"I thought I'd go running with you today," she told him, having no intention of actually making it out the door.

"Shouldn't you be hung over?" he mumbled, rolling away to face the back of the couch. He hadn't even looked at her. What was wrong with the man? She was wearing this swimsuit for him!

"Shouldn't you be getting up and working off that fat belly?" She asked, irritated with the man's ignorant attitude. She had good reason to know he hardly had an ounce of fat on him, but she was miffed about his behavior.

The dark skinned man grumbled, but rolled over. She couldn't help but giggle when he finally opened his eyes, looked at her, and then tumbled off the couch.

"Where the hell did you get that?" he groused, rubbing his elbow where he'd smashed it into the floor.

"You like?" She twirled to show off her body in the skimpy cloth. When she'd spun all the way around, she watched as he had to tear his eyes away from her body. Instead of meeting her eyes he looked around the room, his eyes flitting back and forth to avoid her. "Alex gave it to me, before we went to take pictures yesterday."

"Who the hell is Alex?" he demanded. He worked himself back onto the couch. He blinked and shook his head, before asking, "Wait, you had pictures taken of you like this?"

She liked the way he was trying to look at her, while at the same time trying not to look at her. Even if he wouldn't lift his eyes above her mouth. "It was for some of Brock's buddies." She gave an excited hop, making her breasts bounce and his eyes pop even more. The time spent in the water must have made her top shrink, her boobs felt like they're stretching it out.

"Brock?!" He sounded flabbergasted. "How many men were you with last night?"

"Men?" she asked confused, remembering all the men who'd danced with her. It took her a moment to realize he thought Alex was a man. She glanced down at the bulge in his boxers, before looking back up at him with a smile splitting her lips. She didn't feel like enlightening him, though she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be ravished by three or more men at once. Maybe even throw in Subie and Alex? She wondered if the bulge in Sam's boxers was because he was thinking the same thing, or because she was standing almost nude before him.

"Are you jealous, Sam?" The question made her giggle. "Relax. Brock was with Subie all night. I'm honestly surprised they didn't suffocate from sucking so much face! And Alex likes Adrian, so I left him alone." There was still something she liked about Adrian, but Alex had been nice to her. She didn't want to offend her new friend.

"What were you thinking going out and getting drunk like that?" He asked as he stood up onto his good leg.

Despite his eyes fighting a losing battle to look at anywhere other than her body, his question angered her. What right did he have to ask her that? "What do you care? You wouldn't pay any attention to me yesterday, but after I went out and had some fun last night, I matter?" She realized she was poking him in the chest. Her finger hurt from poking his solid muscle, but she didn't care. It only added more fuel to her ire. It was his fault. He should have paid more attention to her. He should have taken her in his powerful arms and done wonderful things to her. He should be kissing her right now, instead of asking her stupid questions.

He grabbed her wrist, and for a second, she thought he was going to grab a lot more. Fear and excitement mingled in her stomach, making her knees weak.

"I care because you're living under my roof. I saved your life, so that makes me responsible for you." He flung her arm away and hopped past her. A moment later she heard his bedroom door lock.

Her knees finally gave way beneath her, and she collapsed onto the couch. She tipped over and her head landed on his pillow. It was still slightly damp from his sweat. His scent filled her senses. Some animalistic part of her responded to it, and she knew she had to possess this strong, willful, and somehow broken man.

His door opening a few moments later brought her out of her reverie.

"Put your shoes on," he told her in a commanding tone. How dare he tell her what to do! "If you're going to be living here, then there are going to be some ground rules." Ground rules? Staying here? What was she mad at him about again? She couldn't remember, now that he was finally relenting on letting her stay. "You're not the skeleton I rescued on the beach a couple days ago, and I'm not going to let you get fat. You'll go running with me every morning. You'll clean and look after yourself. When I head into work later on, I'll see if I can get you a job at the aquarium. I'm sure you'll love the dolphins." He walked past her, his running prosthetic making an uneven staccato on the floor. "Oh, and from now on, you're sleeping on the couch. My back can't handle another night on that thing."

He was out the door before she had a chance to respond or argue. He had conditions for her? And none of them involved letting him ravish her whenever he wanted? She wasn't the skeleton he'd rescued? She wasn't getting fat! Anger began to boil in her again, until she realized that she had won in a way. He was no longer trying to kick her out.

With time she knew she would win him over and he had insured that she would have plenty of it.

A honk reminded her that she was supposed to be getting her shoes on. They weren't necessarily made for running, but they would do. Grabbing some socks, she ran out the door in her swimsuit and barefoot. She could finish getting ready in the car.

"Thank you," she tried to say in an appreciative tone, but she was too excited to rein it in.

His only response was a grunt, making her wonder if he ever spoke while driving. She noticed the way his eyes tracked every vehicle on the road, the way his hands gripped the wheel with white knuckles, and how he would swear every time a vehicle came within ten feet of them.

They pulled up to a section of beach a little ways down from where she'd taken pictures yesterday and got out.

He looked at her critically. She tried to pose, until she realized he wasn't checking out her flaunted body.

"That suit won't offer much support while running, but I guess it'll have to do for today. Maybe I can scrape together enough change to get you something better, as well as some better shoes. If your feet start to hurt, don't push yourself. I don't want you getting blisters." He continued to give her advice, but she couldn't keep her mind on his words. The early morning warmth combined with the sun on her skin felt great., She wanted to get moving. She enjoyed the way the beachgoers were admiring her body, and that familiar warmth down below made her want to jump on top of Sam, no matter who was watching. "I'll make you a deal," the words pulled her mind back to the present. She was hoping he'd offer to fuck her silly. In fact, spectators would make it all the more fun. "If you can keep up with me, I'll make something nice for dinner. If not, you'll have to cook for me."

Cook? I don't know how to cook! She thought, disappointed in the man's narrow view of what she wanted.

That didn't stop her from sprinting down the path before he was ready.

"Damn it, you need to stretch first!" she heard him yell behind her, but she didn't slow down. Her legs felt great, taking each stride, impacting the ground, only to push away a moment later. Wind from the beach blew through her dark hair, and for the first time since she'd woken on the beach with Sam above her, she felt free.

She knew Sam was following her by the sound of his footfalls. She barely slowed, just enough to keep him with her and push him. She didn't want to leave his sight. She wanted him to see her. She wanted him to chase after her. In running and in every other way she could imagine. And when he finally caught her. . . .

Tamara shivered at the thought. The other night had been nice. More than nice, really, it had been fantastic. But it was just the beginning of what she wanted Sam to do to her. And what she wanted to do to him.

"You'll run out of . . . steam if you don't . . . pace yourself," he managed between breaths.

"Don't you like the view back there?" she asked back with a little wiggle of her ass. She wasn't out of breath.

She pressed on but made sure he stayed with her. She wasn't sure where she'd come from or who her family and friends were, but she did know she'd never had this much fun before.

"Enough!" Sam groaned and slowed to a walk. Sweat dripped from both of them, but while Sam was laboring to breathe, Tamara walked easily.

"I hope you're a better cook than you are a runner," she couldn't help but tease the man. He'd started this, after all. She smiled at his baleful glance. "I think I'm going to enjoy exercising with you."

Chapter 9

Sam didn't understand what was happening. He'd meant to goad her into working harder this morning, but Tamara had kicked his ass on that run. She hadn't just kicked his ass, she'd trounced him! Where did she get that kind of endurance?

"So, what's for dinner?" Tamara asked from the passenger seat.

He glanced at her, remembering their deal, and turned back to the road immediately. The image of her sitting there in that piece of cloth she called a swimsuit was etched into his brain. Her pale flat stomach below breasts that seemed fuller every time he saw them superimposed itself before him. He was distracted, and swerved to avoid hitting a car in the other lane. Damn driver was too close to the line anyway.

No woman had the right to be that enticing. Especially not one as young as Tamara! The fact that she wanted him didn't help matters at all. He realized his running shorts felt a little tight, and concentrated on the road again.

Unfortunately the white lines on the road reminded him of her slender white legs. She had looked like a young goddess sprinting effortlessly in front of him. The bottom half of her swimsuit barely covered her small ass.

Someone honked, bringing him back to the present.

"Yeah, and back at you, fucker!" Sam yelled, returning the obscene gesture.

"Are you okay?" Tamara asked, laying her hand on his thigh. Electricity entered him at the touch. He instinctively jerked away from the too-pleasant sensation. He had to put his foot back on the gas, but kept his thigh turned away from her.

"What? Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," he blustered. He was a grown man. Why was he letting her get to him like this? "You, um, wanted to know about dinner. How does adzuki beans and forbidden rice, topped with marinated chicken breasts sound?" Why did he have to say breasts?

I wonder if hers have gotten any firmer?

"Yeah, that sounds fine." He could tell from her tone that she wasn't happy. He couldn't bring himself to ask, afraid of where that conversation might lead.

The rest of the short drive was quiet, allowing Sam to concentrate on the road with some sort of herculean effort.

His phone buzzed as he walked through his front door. He was surprised to see that it was Latoya on the other end. She never called him this early, unless there was an emergency.

"Don't worry about coming in today," she told him after he answered. He could tell she was stressed about something by her tone of voice. Very little stressed her out.

"Am I fired?" he asked, his heart plummeting into his feet as he jumped to conclusions. "I thought I was doing better at controlling my anger. I promise I'll be on time more often."

"What? No. God, no. You're not fired." His heart began to beat again in its proper place. "Something happened in one of the dolphin tanks last night. We're closed for today, though the police are investigating it. I don't think they'll want you here cleaning up the crime scene."

"Crime scene?" He blurted before he could stop himself. Tamara was standing in front of him with one eyebrow raised. He rushed into his room, and locked the door behind him. "Are the dolphins alright? What about Dolly?"

"Listen, Sam," she told him firmly. He knew that tone of voice, too. She only used it when she wasn't willing to be argued against. "I'll tell you everything I can when I can. Right now, consider yourself on paid vacation. I know you can't afford to take the time off, so I'll work something out. I'll let you know when you can come back to work."

She hung up before he could say anything back.

Stunned, he sat on the edge of his bed and stared off into his thoughts. Something had happened to the dolphin tank and she wouldn't tell him what. His mind worked up images of that rich kid deciding to go for a late night swim and drowning with the gentle creatures. Or worse, the dolphins flopping on the bottom of their tanks, gallons and gallons of water leaked out into the service tunnels. The fact that he thought the dolphins dying was worse than some poor, obnoxious, spoiled kid drowning probably said something about him, but he didn't care.

Shouldn't the security cameras have seen something?

"Sam." Tamara knocked. "Are you alright in there?" There was genuine concern in her tone. For a split second, he thought to open the door and let her in, but in his current state, he realized that might not be such a good idea.

"Yeah," he lied. "It was just work calling to let me know I could take the day off. I'm going to jump in the shower. You can have it next."

"I could join you. Return the favor from last night." Her offer almost sounded innocent. Almost. He knew if they showered together the only cleaning they would do was with his pistol until it went off.

"No, I can manage. Thanks though." He wasted no more time un-strapping his prosthetic and getting into the shower. Despite his work related woes he couldn't stop his mind from replaying the shower with Tamara last night. He knew she wanted him, she'd made that clear enough. And despite having already fallen under her spell once before he was reluctant to do so again. Even if it had been some of the best sex he'd had in his life.

Was it his morals that were stopping him? If so, he had already crossed that line, so why stop now?

The image of his ex-wife packing up their car—his car—tumbled through his mind, and he understood. He'd already lost too many people that were important to him in his life. His wife, his kids, his army buddies. . . . All gone in one way or another. If he let her in, truly let her in, he would lose her too. He was cursed, and it wasn't fair to do that to her.

By the time he stepped out of the shower, his cock was back to its usual size. Well, normal before he'd met Tamara.

When he was dressed and stepped out of his bedroom, he could smell something burning.

"What's going on?" he demanded, heading into his tiny kitchen.

"I was going to make you breakfast," Tamara said uncertainly. "I thought it might cheer you up." As she spoke, she opened the oven and smoke billowed out. Before he could think to stop her, she reached in and grabbed a pan out.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, running to her. By the time he was at her side, she'd already set the pan down. He grabbed her wrist, and turned her hand to look at it. He had some burn cream in his bathroom, but if she'd hurt herself bad enough, he'd have to drive her to the hospital.

Her hand was unblemished.

"I told you, I was trying to make breakfast," she pouted, yanking her hand back.

Sam looked at the pan. It was still smoking. Whatever had been on it was a blackened crisp.

"I don't—" he started to say, but was cut off when the fire alarm finally sounded. If this had been a real emergency, I would have been burned up by the time the alarm went off! he thought. He was going to have a talk with his landlord.

"Open a window," he ordered her, while he went and opened the front door. They both grabbed towels and started waving the smoke out, until the alarm finally quieted.

"What were you trying to make?" Sam asked when he could be heard without yelling.

"I found some breakfast sandwiches in the freezer. I tried to follow the instructions, but—" she waved her hand at the charred lump.

"Did you take it out of the box?" Looking at the burned mass now, he could make out the remains of the cardboard container. "Never mind. From now on, I think I'll do all the cooking." Oddly, he wasn't too angry about the situation. Compared to having a mandatory day off because something had happened to his dolphins, a burned breakfast was nothing. Besides, nothing bad had come of it.

"So what are you making for breakfast?" Tamara asked a little too cheerfully. She could act a little more contrite, at least.

"A bowl of cereal," he stated, and then suited actions to words. Not the healthiest breakfast, but it would do.

"So, are you going to tell me what that call was about?" Tamara asked after sipping her milk from the bowl.

For a few minutes, Sam had been able to forget about work. He grimaced, remembering what Latoya had said. A crime scene.

"Seems I get the day off." He tried to sound happy about it.

"Great!" Tamara said, and Sam groaned. Until now, he hadn't thought about what a day off meant. An entire day with her, cooped up in his tiny house, unless he went out. Sam hated going out in public. There were too many unknowns. Anything could happen. Anything could explode. Looking at Tamara's excited face, he knew they needed to be somewhere public. Somewhere he would be less tempted to rip that tiny excuse of a swimsuit off her, and have his way with her.

"Go shower," he told her, ripping his eyes away from her heaving bosom. "We'll go to the sports store, and get you something better to workout in."

"You're welcome to join me," she teased as she headed to his room.

"The longer you wait, the longer before we can go shopping," he told her, ignoring her offer. He got up and walked to his couch doing his best not to look at her ass as she left. He hoped the prospect of shopping would outweigh her desire to seduce him. Goodness knows his ex preferred spending his money, rather than rolling around together.

For a second, he thought about calling his son. He hadn't talked to Sammy Jr. in a while, but a glance at the clock showed that it was still too early on the west coast. Damn her for moving so far away!

"I'm ready," Tamara informed him. He was almost afraid to look her way, afraid she would be completely nude again. Instead, she was in one of his overlarge shirts, and a pair of her pants. His shirt somehow made her more alluring, with it hanging off one shoulder, and showing her bra strap. Her dark hair was pulled back into a short tail by one of the zip ties he kept in his room. He couldn't help but notice how much her face had filled out. He had tried goading her by calling her fat earlier, but she was still far from anything remotely resembling chubbiness.

Naturally, because that was the type of day this was turning out to be, they ran into rush hour traffic. By the time they made it to the mall, his nerves were shot and he wanted to break anything he could get his hands onto.

Unfortunately, his car and Tamara were the only things at hand. One he couldn't afford to break, and the other he wanted to do other things to.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck it all!" Sam shouted when they got to the doors. Looking around, he saw what he should have noticed at first, but had been too wound up. The parking lot was practically empty. The store wouldn't open for another half-hour.

"Relax," Tamara told him, placing her hand on his arm. Despite the jolt that ran through him, he didn't pull away. "You're so tense!"

He closed his eyes, and concentrated on his breathing, until he calmed down.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Such an innocent question, and yet so dangerous. He couldn't talk to her about how every minute with her was a struggle to keep his hands off her. How he was worried about the dolphins he worked with, or about all of his issues with his ex-wife. He really didn't feel like talking about his experiences in Afghanistan, either.

"No," he told her, letting the finality in his voice stop her from pursuing that question.

They waited in an uncomfortable silence until the store opened.

"Go find something better to run in, but don't make me go broke," he told her, pointing to the clothing section. He had somewhere else he wanted to look.

"Mr. Mendez, you know I can't sell to you," the gray-haired clerk behind the gun counter stated when he saw Sam.

"Just looking," he told the ornery man. Due to one angry night before his ex stole his kids away, he couldn't pass the background check. It didn't matter, though. There were other ways to get guns. He just liked window shopping.

"I'm ready to go," Tamara said, appearing at his side unexpectedly a while later. The clerk gave her an odd look, but said nothing.

"What did you find?" Sam asked, worried about how much this was going to cost him.

"Just this bra and these shorts," she told him. What she had in her hands weren't shorts, but they weren't panties, either. At least they covered more than her swimsuit had.

He paid for the two articles, and they headed for the exit.

"I'm sorry miss, but you're going to have to come with me."

Sam turned to see a large man in a security uniform with his hand on Tamara's shoulder.

"What's the meaning of this?" Sam demanded, shouldering the man away from her.

"A customer spotted her shoving merchandise under her shirt," he said.

"Do you have any proof?" Sam asked. He really hoped she hadn't stolen anything, but seeing the way the security guard had manhandled her pissed him off.

"She just needs to show me that she doesn't. . . ." he trailed off, looking at Tamara, and then shook his head. "You know what? I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding. I see you paid for some stuff, so I'm sure the other customer was just confused."

The guard turned and walked away.

"What was that about?" Sam asked, turning to look at Tamara. She was holding her stomach, and looking just as confused as he felt.

"I don't know," she told him, and took off running for the car. "Race ya!" she shouted over her shoulder.

He didn't have his running prosthetic on, so he didn't even bother. He did notice that her shoes looked newer than what he remembered buying at the thrift shop a couple days ago.

Maybe she just cleaned them up, he thought as he unlocked his car.

Chapter 10

"I'm bored!" Tamara muttered as Sam popped another DVD into the player. She'd hidden the clothes she'd stolen when they got home. She still didn't understand why that security guard had let her go without making more of a fuss.

"What do you want to do?" the strong man asked. From his tone she knew something was bothering him. She guessed why. She'd been trying pretty hard to get him back into bed but she kept failing. Maybe she needed to try a different tactic. She knew he wanted her, why else would he be jealous of her friends? She smirked as the thought of her friends prompted another idea to come to mind.

"I want you to meet my friends!" She stated, getting up off the couch and giving an excited hop.

She saw the worry that filled his eyes a moment before he spoke. "I don't think that's such a good idea. They might get the wrong idea."

What idea? She wondered. That a couple nights ago you took me to your bed and ravished me for hours? That you want to do it again, but something's stopping you? Why couldn't she have her way with him like other people seemed to let her do?

"Well," she said, letting a devious tone enter her voice, "we could sit around here, I suppose. It is getting kind of hot in here. I should probably take off this shirt. It's too big for me anyway." She reached down to grab the hem of Sam's too big shirt. For an exciting moment she thought he was going to let her do it. He'd be in for an eyeful then! She wasn't wearing a bra under it and he kept glancing at the sloppy garment every time she bounced or hopped. She knew what she was doing and she knew how the cotton rubbed against her nipples and made them poke against the shirt. He shook his head and stood up quickly, disappointing her.

"I'll get my keys!" He fled the room as quick as his false leg would let him, returning a moment later with the keys to his old car.

Tamara couldn't help but laugh inside. She was learning how to manipulate him. He was so cute sometimes, the way he fought with himself. She knew she was tormenting him, but if he wasn't enjoying it on some level, then he wouldn't have let her stay.

"I think you'll like Brock," she told him as they got into the car. "He's a college wrestler. He likes to work out, but he isn't as big as you are." She let her eyes linger on his pants on purpose, hoping he noticed and took the double meaning in it.

Same coughed a little and asked her, "He's big, is he?"

Tamara's eyes widened as she realized he'd taken her words a third way. She had no idea how big Brock's cock was. She paused and had to bite her lip to keep from giggling. Brock's cock! It rhymed!

She pushed the thought away and refocused on Sam. She hadn't meant her words that way but now she wondered if it made him jealous again. He needed to realize that denying himself was only delaying the inevitable. "Uh huh, and then there's Adrian. He's a big guy, too. Plays a lot of sports, and from the way Alex talks about him, he's really good at football." So good, that Alex hadn't stopped talking about the man once she'd gotten drunk last night.

She glanced at him as they drove, noting the way he was clenching and unclenching his jaw. She was finding this more fun than she thought.

"And what does Alex do?" Sam asked her. "Play forward for his basketball team?" She could tell that he was getting annoyed, and decided to tone it down a bit.

"You know, I didn't think to ask her."

"Alex is a girl?" She could tell that he was trying to sound like it didn't matter to him, but the way his hands relaxed on the steering wheel told a different story.

"Yeah, she's not as hot as Subie is, but that's like comparing you in the shower, and you between my legs the other night. Both are pretty hot, but one is more enjoyable."

"Um, about that—" Sam started to say, his dark cheeks turning red.

"Oh, turn here," Tamara interrupted before he could say anything else.

"A hotel?" He asked her, disapproval thick in his voice.

"Yeah, they're here for spring break."

"Uh-huh," he said thoughtfully. "I wonder what's going on over there?"

Tamara looked where he indicated. Lights flashed, and she could see a fire truck and police cars. A group of people were standing outside, looking at something but she couldn't see what.

"Hey, I think that's Brock," she stated, spotting the big man.

Sam parked, and they both got out, heading for the crowd.

"What's going on?" she asked when they stepped up to the crowd.

"Tamara?" he asked, looking at her in confusion, before anger filled his eyes. "Some bastard beat our rental car up, before lighting it on fire. The rental company is going to have a field day with this!"

"Did anyone get hurt?" Sam asked. His eyes were constantly moving, never stopping to rest on one spot.

"Who's this?" Brock asked, then glanced at Sam's leg. "Oh, you must be Sam. Tammy's told us so much about you."

"She has?" Sam asked uncertainly, but she didn't care. Anger was boiling deep in her gut at being called Tammy. Her name was not Tammy!

"My name is Tamara!" she growled through clenched teeth. "Not Tammy!"

"What? Oh, sorry." Brock turned back to the car.

She had to fight hard to rein in her fury. He'd apologized, but he'd acted as though he really didn't care. It was a matter of respect and damn it, she may have just met them but she deserved to be respected! She forced the heat building inside her belly back down and let out a sigh to try and cool her down. "Who would do something like this?" she asked, trying to put the matter aside.

A volunteer fireman standing a few feet in front of them reached around the rub his neck. He turned back and glanced at them before his eyes lingered on Tamara longer than was appropriate. He smiled a little but was swept aside when Sam cleared his throat.

"Well, I see the police have everything in hand," Sam told Brock. "It was nice meeting you. We'll get out of your hair and let you deal with that." He seemed nervous about something.

Sam tried to shoo her away, but another voice rang through the air.

"Sam Mendez. I didn't expect to see you here."

"Fuck!" Sam swore under his breath, then turned to face the officer that'd called to him. "Officer Jenkins! What are you doing here?"

Tamara thought that was a dumb question, considering the amount of police around them.

"My job," the officer replied. "I saw you talking to Mr. Anderson there. Do you know him?" The man's face looked calm and relaxed, but his tone was cold.

"We just met, actually. Tamara and he are friends."

"Tamara?" Jenkins asked. "Oh, you mean your little . . . um . . . friend here." She noticed that he was growing nervous. She wondered if he'd been about to call her a crack whore again, but assumed he wouldn't be so rude in front of the crowd that was starting to pay them some attention. "You look nervous, Sam. You know, it just occurred to me that you live only a couple blocks away from here. Did you get jealous of your little, I mean, her friends and destroy their car? Wait a minute. Didn't I hear something about the aquarium where you work at from dispatch this morning? Something about one of the dolphin tanks being damaged? I understand that the security cameras were disabled. Must be an inside job."

Sam clamped his jaw shut at the accusation. "You're kidding me, right? I didn't do any of that. Or this!" Sam snapped.

"Adrian mentioned that you were pretty rude to him last night," Brock added.

Sam began to back away, fear evident in his wide eyes.

"It was two o'clock in the morning. I wasn't happy about being woken up!"

"Upset enough to take a bat to their car and toss some gas and a match on it? But that's not enough for your temper, is it Mr. War Veteran? I'll bet you went to work and took it out on those poor defenseless fish."

"They're not fish. They're mammals!" Sam was really ruffled now. He started mumbling something about too many people and setting up a cordon. What was wrong with him? She knew he hadn't done anything.

Under normal circumstances, Tamara would have enjoyed watching the man squirm, but he was hers to make squirm. This annoying cop didn't have the right to treat her man like that.

"He's innocent," she said loudly enough to be heard over the muttering crowd. "I know, because he was between my legs last night, fucking me to new levels of bliss with his fat cock."

"Says his accomplice whore," Jenkins sneers.

"No," Subie said, stepping out of the crowd in her usual attire, or lack thereof, "Tamara wouldn't help with something like this. She's a good girl."

Tama was shocked that Subie of all people would come to their rescue.

"Yeah, so good, she'd fuck this creep," Jenkins laughed.

"Look at her, officer," Subie continued, undismayed. "You'd fuck her too, if you had the chance. Hell, I'm straight, and even I'm a little tempted." Very high praise, coming from the slim eyed beauty.

"Well, I'm taking him in anyway," Jenkins's voice said he wasn't going to argue this anymore. "Sam Mendez, you have the right to—"

"Hey, aren't you that officer that asked me if I was a crack whore, or where I could find any the other night?" Alex stepped out, an angry expression on her pretty features. "Yeah, it is you! I thought you were just some creep pretending to be a cop, but you really are one. What's your badge number?"

"Enough!" Jenkins yelled. Now he was the one backing away. "I don't know what's going on here, but I'm watching you Sam. Don't let me find you near any more crime scenes." Without another word, Jenkins turned and fled back to the burnt out car.

"Go find yourself another whore!" Tamara yelled after him. He stopped and shuddered for a second, before continuing on.

"That's the creep that asked you that?" Brock turned on Alex, and she nodded.

Tamara turned to see that Sam had moved back to his car, and was leaning over the back end, breathing heavily.

"I can't believe that asshole," she told him. Sam jumped, spinning to face her at the sound of her voice. His prosthetic didn't land right, and he crumpled to the ground. Tamara would have laughed, if he hadn't looked so pitiable. "Here," she offered him her hand to help him up, but he ignored it, using his car to get back on his feet.

"I can't believe you told everyone we . . . we. . . ." he started to say, but just shook his head.

"What? Fucked?" Tamara laughed lightly. "We did, Sam, and it was great. He doesn't need to know it wasn't last night. I know you didn't destroy their car, or anything else. You're a good guy."

Sam looked around, and she could tell that he was still bothered. "You don't know anything about me," he told her, but his voice was resigned. "I'm not as good a guy as you seem to think. I just wish you hadn't said it."

"Well guess what, Sam," she retorted, starting to get tired of his attitude. "Neither one of us knows a thing about me, either. Stop acting like this is all about you."

"You have no idea what you're getting yourself in for," he told her, but at least he was smiling a little. "Fine. I'll grow up. Is that you wanted to hear?" He laughed at his little joke, but she didn't think it was that funny.

"So this is the infamous Sam with the massive cock?" Subie's voice broke into their conversation. Sam's cheeks turned that shade of red that Tamara liked seeing on him.

"Well, Sam at any rate," he told her. Tamara noticed him checking out Subie's bikini, and jealousy wormed its way into her.

"Sam, this is Subie, Brock's girlfriend," Tamara introduced her. The others walked over, and Tamara introduced each of them as well, except for Brock. He was still talking to the police.

"Sorry about last night," Sam told Adrian.

"Don't sweat it. If someone woke me up at two am, I think I'd be a bit annoyed as well."

The two shook hands. Something passed between the two that Tamara couldn't interpret, but they smiled and that seemed to be the end of their rivalry.

"If you two are done seeing who has the stronger grip, I'm going in to lie down," Alex moaned. "I don't know how any of you are even standing after what we drank last night. I'm hung over like crazy."

"Only Tamara drank more than you," Adrian laughed as he let go of Sam's hand. "Why don't we go get some coffee? Brock can handle the police report." Adrian looked around for a second, then grimaced. "Um, you mind driving Sam?"

"Sure, why not?" he said, though Tamara suspected he wasn't overjoyed at the notion. He didn't seem to mind as much when Subie joined them, however. She was going to have to show the man who he belonged to.

Chapter 11

"Holy shit!" Adrian exclaimed. "You really did that?"

"Yeah," Sam couldn't help but smile as he recounted playing a prank on one of his roommates at basic training. "We were sick and tired of getting into trouble because of him, and the kid stank!" Well, prank was really a soft term for what they did to him.

"But did your drill sergeant ever find out?" Alex asked from the back seat.

"That we tied him up in a blanket and scrubbed him down in the showers?" Sam shook his head. "I'm sure they knew something had happened. They had to be just as sick of smelling his ass as we were. You can't go a month in basic training without taking a shower. Idiot claimed he was allergic to water. Well, after that night, he showered regularly."

"I'll bet you've got lots of interesting stories to tell," Subie cooed. Sam didn't miss the way her eyes dropped to his missing leg, though she tried to cover it by sipping her frappuccino. The woman was a knockout and she didn't seem shy about letting people know it. Sam had no problems checking out what her bikini covered, and what it didn't cover.

The problem was, he kept comparing her to Tamara. Subie was with Brock, the high school wrestling hero, so he wasn't planning on hitting on her even if he did think both women were hot enough to could get a tan by standing between them. Sam could care less about her, but she'd given him the opportunity to pay Tamara back for the shit she'd pulled. Every time he smiled at Subie, Tamara noticed. She'd shift in her seat at the coffee shop they'd dragged him to or look somewhere else while biting her lip. It was pissing her off. . . With any luck maybe she'd get fed up with him and leave if he showed interest in another woman. That's what everyone else in his life did sooner or later anyhow.

"Oh yeah, Sam just loves talking about himself," Tamara said. Sam could tell that she was trying to mimic Subie's tone.

He felt the lines around his eyes tense while he fought to keep a smile on his face. He felt bad about what he was doing, but he was just speeding up the inevitable. Why fool himself into thinking a beautiful young thing like her would stick around?

Still forcing a smile he shrugged and said, "I'll have to tell you about the time I got my NCO in some hot water with the commander."

"You should tell them about how you lost your leg, Sam," Tamara continued in the same honeyed tones. Her eyes bored into his with an intensity that made him forget about the sudden heat in his cheeks and the contrasting ice in his belly. He flinched and wanted to shake his head but found himself frozen.

"Ooh, I want to hear about that!" Subie exclaimed right on Tamara's heals. Sam saw Tamara grimace. Her jab had hit home and she knew it, but she'd done it publicly and now there wasn't an easy way out.

"Leave the man alone," Adrian quipped. "I'm sure he doesn't want to talk about how he got injured. How would you feel, Subie, if you lost your tits? You wouldn't want to talk about it."

"I'd get implants!" she shot back. "Besides, it's not like he lost his manhood." She glanced at his crotch. It shouldn't have bothered him so much, but when she glanced at Tamara and raised an eyebrow, Sam felt insulted.

"No, he definitely didn't lose that! I swear I felt him in my throat when he fu—" Tamara said, but Sam interrupted with the first thing that came to mind.

"It was a bomb, hidden in a van." Sam heard the words come out of his mouth, but his mind wouldn't comprehending them. "We were out on patrol. It was a nasty neighborhood." As he spoke the filthy streets of Afghanistan appeared before him. He saw his commanding officer in the passenger seat, eyes focused on the road. He heard himself talking again but all he saw was the past, "We'd heard there was a high value target in the area and my CO wanted us to be the ones to nab him."

The streets had been mostly empty. That should have been their warning but Sam had tricked himself into thinking they'd gotten lucky. They all had, lulled by the thoughts of getting some R&R after catching a high priority target. The locals always knew when a bomb was around. "One of the vehicles in our convoy began receiving small arms fire and we stopped to support them." Sam turned his head away from the table to his left. They couldn't see what he saw, the ghostly image of a dented and dirty van sitting in the shade of the mud brick buildings.

"Then what happened?" Alex asked. Her eyes were wide open.

Sam turned back to them and blinked a couple times, trying to focus on reality again. His palms were sweaty and his heart thundered in his chest. For a moment, all he could see was smoke. All he could taste was blood, and hear screaming. His left leg felt numb for some reason. Why couldn't he feel his toes?

"Sam?" someone said his name, but he barely heard it over the ringing in his ears from the explosion.

No, damn it! I'm not there anymore. I'm home. None of this is happening.

"I don't remember," Sam lied, dropping his eyes. "I woke up in a hospital a few days later. Like this."

"Damn! That must have been intense!" Adrian exclaimed. "Well, I've got to say thanks for your service. I don't think I'd have the guts to do something like that. Seriously! Thanks for our freedoms." He held his hand out, and Sam just stared at it for a moment, before gripping it in his.

"I didn't have the guts to do it either," Sam said, shaking the other man's hand. "But I wasn't really given a choice. Trust me, I wish I hadn't been there."

"Were you a Marine?" Subie asked next. "I've heard they see some serious shit!"

"A Marine?" Sam scoffed, glad that his heart was starting to slow down. For some reason he was starting to feel calm again. "No. I was in the Army. I have a lot of respect for the Corp, but I'm no Jarhead."

"What did you do in the Army?" Subie asked.

"You mean besides getting blown up?" Sam laughed weakly. "I was a combat medic. It was my job to fix the real heroes." Only he hadn't been able to help anyone, much less himself. For once, that thought stung less than usual.

"I've got to tell you," Adrian spoke again. "When I met you last night, I thought you were a dick, but you're alright. A little old, but alright." The man had an odd gleam in his eyes, and Sam hoped he hadn't become the kid's hero. He wasn't worthy of being anyone's hero. The men shipped back home in bags, they were the ones that deserved that title.

"Hey, there's a party tonight on the beach. Why don't you come?" Subie asked, giving a little bounce. That bounce drew his gaze to her bikini clad tits, and he had to look away before he was drawn in.

Tamara has great tits, too, a rogue thought spoke to him.

"Sam's not the type to party," Tamara spoke for the first time since he started recounting his past. "He's more of the stay-at-home type."

"I'd love to," Sam said before he could think better of it. If there was loud music and a crowd, he was going to suffer. But if it meant not being home alone with Tamara, and more of an opportunity to show her he wasn't the man for her, then he would do it.

Despite his resolve, Tamara's glare bothered him.

* * * *

"Why are you really going to this party?" Tamara demanded once they got into his car. Subie had given them directions to the beach even though Sam knew where it was. "You hate going out. I saw how you acted back there with that cop. He wasn't the one making you nervous. The crowd was."

"You don't know everything about me," he snapped. He was nervous but she didn't need to know that. He hadn't been to anything close to a party since before he'd left the states. Even on the Fourth of July he had to lock himself in his room with his headphones on. Some of those fireworks hit a nerve that could send him diving under his bed. Or worse, trying to find the M4 he hadn't held since before he lost his leg.

"You just want to ogle Subie some more."

He shrugged, happy to let her think that. "She's got a nice body and she's not afraid to flaunt it," he said. Inside his guts were twisting at the way he was treating her. She deserved better, but wasn't that why he was doing this?

"She's dating Brock, so why would she be interested in you?" Her comment cut him deeper than he was willing to admit. "Besides, my body is just as good as hers. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy the other night! You were still dripping down my legs the next morning."

Sam heaved a sigh. He wanted to pull over, rip her shirt off, and ravish her in the back seat. Why was it that the way she wore his shirt was more alluring to him than if she were in that skimpy swimsuit

"I'm no good for you, I'm too old and you're too, uh, too young. You've got your whole life ahead of you, Ta-Tamara." He almost called her Tammy. He remembered how upset she'd become when Brock had called her that earlier, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was being mean enough. "You need to find someone your own age."

"Shouldn't it be my call, who I go after?" she seethed. "I'm old enough for you. Old enough to make you say my name when you were fucking me silly!"

Sam didn't respond. He couldn't, because he was afraid he'd admit that she was right.

If she wants to be with me, then what's the problem? How upset will my ex be when she finds out I landed such a hot young woman?

Thinking of his ex reminded him of his kids. What would they think if he was dating a girl barely older than them? He didn't have an answer. They remained silent until they reached the beach where the party was.

Adrian shoved a beer in his hand as soon as they walked onto the sand. "I'm glad you came. The party's just getting started. Help yourself to anything in that yellow cooler over there, it's ours."

Sam looked around and had to fight back a groan. If this was 'just getting started,' he didn't want to know what 'full blown' was. Music was thumping from someone's iPod and boom box. People surrounded the beginnings of a large fire. Bloody images danced in that fire, but Sam pushed them away. It couldn't hurt him. Not here and not now. He was safe on American soil.

"Where's Brock and Subie?" Tamara asked. She had an odd expression on her face as she looked at Adrian. To Sam's chagrin she gripped his arm possessively.

"Probably up the beach somewhere. You know how those two are," Alex said as she joined them.

Sam pictured the strong man pounding into Subie's tight body, rolling around in the sand, and grinned inwardly. Brock was a lucky bastard.

"What are you grinning at?" Tamara asked him, striking his stomach with the back of her hand. Apparently he hadn't been hiding his grin so well.

"Any news on your car?" Sam asked, trying to change the subject.

"No. The cops wrote up a report and said they'd look into it. Brock must have been drunk when he got the car, he put insurance on it so they sent him another one."

"That's good," Sam responded. An awkward silence fell. It was a mistake coming here, he realized. He turned and saw more people walking onto the beach. He took a deep breath and looked around. People were playing in the surf and all over this place. Everywhere he looked bodies walked, sat, played, screamed, burned, or lay dying.

Sam jumped when Alex's phone went off with a shrill tone that contrasted the blaring music. He gasped for breath and only Tamara's strong grip on his arm kept him from stumbling and falling.

"It's a text from Subie. Hmm, that's odd," Alex said, looking at her phone.

"What's that?" Adrian asked. He walked over and looked over her shoulder. "That is odd." Adrian looked up at Sam and waved him over. "You live around here. What do you make of this?"

Alex turned the phone so he could see the picture on the screen. The light in the image was poor. Sam couldn't make out whatever it was in the grainy photo. The phone chimed again, and Alex pulled it back.

"They're up the beach a bit and want us to come check it out."

"Sounds like a great idea," Sam said a little too quickly. He didn't care why, he just knew he needed to get away

Alex and Tamara stared at him, but he followed after Adrian. He had to concentrate to keep his left leg from tripping in the sand. Tamara caught up to him after a few steps. She grabbed his hand again and asked, "Hey, Sam, are you okay? You looked upset."

"Good, you're here," Brock said as he met them near a large rock outcropping.

"Where's Subie?" Alex asked, looking for the woman.

"She's really shook up. Maybe you can help her. She's right over there." Brock pointed inland and back the way they'd just come. Alex walked off to find her.

"What did you find?" Sam asked, wondering what could shake the confident woman.

"I can't explain it. I tried to take a picture from my phone, but it wouldn't work for some reason. That's why I had to use Subie's. Even that didn't turn out well."

"Tamara, maybe you'd better go with Alex and see about Subie," Sam said, getting a sinking feeling. Considering the events of the day, he didn't know what to expect.

"I'm a big girl. I can handle it," Tamara argued. Sam gave her the look he used to give his daughter when he wasn't willing to be argued with. For a wonder, Tamara was the one to finally shrug and follow after Alex.

"What did you find?" Sam pressed again, hoping to get a better answer as Brock led them around the Rocks.

"That," he said, pointing to the remains of a fire. The fire wasn't what was interesting, if interesting was the right word to use.

Sam had seen some nasty stuff, serving as a combat medic in a war zone, but what was in front of him made him feel sick. He downed his beer instead. Suddenly the loud and crazy party seemed like a much better place to be.

Chapter 12

Tamara easily found Subie by the sound of her soft sobs. What could upset the confidant woman enough to make her cry?

"It was horrible!" Subie whined as Tamara saw Alex pull her into a hug. "There was so much. . . . And it was. . . ." Subie shuddered and buried her head in Alex's shoulder.

Tamara looked back towards the beach, wishing she'd stayed to see what was back there. She remembered the look on Sam's face. He'd never looked at her like that. He'd been so serious and so severe. So dangerous. It sent a thrill through her even as it infuriated her. He cared enough to protect her, but not enough to let her have what she really wanted?

Why couldn't he just give in to his obvious desire for her? It was obvious from the way his eyes lingered on her. But he was so damned stubborn! Was that what attracted her to him? Would she lose interest if—no, when he finally gave in? No, that couldn't be it. He'd already fallen once. It had been incredible— she couldn't remember ever feeling anything like it. Then again, she couldn't even remember how to spell her name. It didn't matter, he'd give in. He'd want her again and she'd let him have her. Over and over. Thrusting himself deep inside of her and making her his. Emptying his soul into her and—

"It's alright. Whatever it was, it can't hurt you," Alex cooed to Subie and pulled Tamara out of her fantasy. "You're safe."

"You don't understand," Subie cried. "It felt . . . wrong!"

Alex glanced up and saw Tamara standing with her hands fidgeting with one another. Her eyes pleaded for help, but Tamara didn't have any idea how to fix Subie's problem.

"I'm sure it was nothing," Tamara offered.

"Nothing?" Subie almost screeched, making Tamara step back in shock. "Nothing?! Did you even see it? Did you see all that blood? That wasn't nothing! There were bones down there too. Something died down there!"

Alex's eyes grew wide at Subie's tirade, but Tamara's curiosity was growing. Blood and bones? What was going on? Damn it Sam!

She realized that Alex was glaring at her. She was being a terrible friend. Tamara dropped to her knees beside Subie in the soft sand and awkwardly pulled her into a hug. The hug didn't feel right. It wasn't natural. Not like when her mother had hugged her when she was upset when the doctor had told her she was sick. Tamara gasped and stiffened. She was sick? She struggled to hold onto the memory but it slipped away like the water through her fingers when Sam woke her up on the beach.

The shivering girl in her arms hugged her back, bringing Tamara back to the reason she was on her knees in the sand. "I'm sorry. I didn't know," she told Subie. Tamara's neck twisted and she stared into the shadows where Subie had seen whatever it was that freaked her out. She wanted to see what all the fuss was about, but the way Subie was shaking to her made her realize she was needed here.

Subie's arms clutched her tighter and pulled their bikini clad bodies tight against each other. Warmth spread through Tamara, different from what she felt with Sam, but still pleasant. Before she quite knew what was happening, she was hugging Subie and Alex back. For some reason, she even began to cry along with the distraught woman.

"Why are you crying?" Subie asked.

"I don't know!" Tamara wailed back, and then they were all crying and hugging.

Subie was the first to pull away, wiping her eyes. "Thank you. I'm sorry for the way I've treated you sometimes, Tamara. You're being a better friend than I deserve."

Tamara didn't know what to say. She felt warm and fuzzy inside. She didn't know if she liked it. Her eyes teared up again. She turned away before the others could see her.

Sam was walking up the slight incline to them. She went to him, glad to pull away from the emotional woman. "What was it?" She asked, dying of curiosity. "What did they find?"

"Nothing," Sam said, giving her a strange look. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

Something in his tone rubbed her the wrong way. "Nothing I need to worry about? I'm not some little kid, Sam!" She was struggling to keep her voice from rising, but the man knew the exact things to say to piss her off. She was tired of him treating her like a little girl. She was an adult, damn it! Hadn't she already proven that to him?

"I know, I know!" he exclaimed, gripping her shoulders in his powerful hands. "It's just. . . ." The big man closed his eyes and dropped his head as he sighed. "It's so ugly down there. What they found. . . No one should ever have to see that."

"But what is it?" Tamara demanded, calming down some. Now that he was admitting that he was trying to protect her it was kind of cute. She didn't need to be protected, but his heart was in the right place. In fact, his hands were shaking as he gripped her.

Tamara's breath hissed through her nose as Sam's behavior made sense. He was a combat veteran. More than that, he'd been a combat medic. He'd probably seen men shot to pieces and it was his job to keep them alive. But he was shaking a little himself with what he'd seen. He wasn't treating her like a kid after all. Whatever Brock and Subie found was really bothering him. Now she knew she had to see it.

"It—I don't know. Something sick and wrong." His eyes met hers. Her stomach only gave the faintest of flutters as they locked gazes. Sam sighed again, before looking at Alex and Subie, and pulling her aside. "I don't know what it was. There was a lot of blood, bones stacked in some kind of pattern, and the remains of a fire. Adrian found a knife, but I told him to leave it alone. Brock was on the phone to the police when I came to check on you."

"You were worried about me?" A different flutter ran through her at his words. Was he finally going to admit defeat and accept her?

"I—um, well I was worried about all of you." He looked past her again, and she knew he was looking at Subie. The light feeling in her stomach turned to lead. Could the man be any more obvious?

Tamara shrugged his hands from her shoulders. "I see," she told him, her voice full of ice. "Go talk to her. I'm sure she'd appreciate a big man like you looking after her, while her boyfriend is brave enough to stay down there."

She didn't wait for him to respond, before storming down the beach away from him. If he called after her, the waves beating against the beach, and the anger buzzing in her ears blocked him out. She was going to see for herself exactly what was creating all the fuss.

Only she didn't make it that far. Officer Jenkins, of all people, blocked her path.

"Why am I not surprised to see you here?" There was something different about him, tonight. A strength she sensed in him that she'd never noticed before.

"Get out of my way," she commanded him. She remembered how he'd acted every other time she glared at him, but he only placed his right hand against his chest, and held his ground. She sensed his inner strength grow, but she was determined to get past him.

"I'm not afraid of you, slut," he sneered, blocking her path. "I don't know what part you play in all of this, but if you're here, then I'll bet your pimp is too. Where is that pathetic excuse for a man?"

With every word that dripped from him, Tamara was becoming incensed. She was no slut. Sam was her lover, not a pimp, and he was far from a pathetic excuse. How dare this man treat Sam or her this way! He was the pathetic excuse!

"Get out of my way!" she commanded again, and attempted to step past him.

Jenkins's left hand, the one not held against his chest, shot out, grabbed her shoulder and shoved her back.

Tamara screamed as she fell to the ground. Not because of any type of frustration or anger, but because he'd physically hurt her. Her right shoulder felt on fire where he'd grabbed it. The collar of Sam's shirt hung free of that shoulder, and he'd connected with bare skin.

"What the hell is going on over here, Jenkins?" someone demanded. Another officer walked over to them and stared between Jenkins and Tamara for only a second. "Damn it, man! I told you to make sure no one approached the site. Not beat up little girls!"

"Captain, I wasn't!" Jenkins protested. "This is the second time this girl's been at a crime scene. I think she's involved."

"You don't get paid to think, Jenkins. Or have you forgotten why I pulled you off the streets?" The new officer bent over Tamara and offered her his hand. "I'm sorry about that, miss. Are you alright?"

"Captain," Jenkins continued to defend himself, "this girl's pimp, or lover, or whatever he is, is a known troublemaker."

"Three women, Jenkins," the captain said, despair in his voice. Tamara could see his nametape read Gomez, as she accepted his hand with her left and stood up. Her right shoulder still stung. "That's how many women complained about your behavior the other night."

"But Captain—"

"This is America, Jenkins! Innocent until proven guilty, remember?" Gomez's eye flared now, as he spun on his officer. "One more peep out of you, and I'll have you down in the evidence locker so long, we'll have to tag and label you!" He turned back to Tamara once more, before adding, "Are you hurt, miss?"

"No. I'm—" she winced as she moved her right shoulder, and Captain Gomez didn't miss it.

His hand pulled up the sleeve of Sam's shirt, revealing a red spot surrounded by the discoloration of a bruise in the making. If Tamara had thought the man was angry before, she became a little frightened of him, as his eyes hardened. He turned on his officer.

"Now Captain," Jenkins started to back away from his superior, "I didn't touch her enough to do that. Sam must have—"

"Enough," Gomez said in a tightly controlled voice. "You are suspended until further notice. We do not assault young women, and we certainly do not assume every woman is a prostitute. I'd hoped for better from you, especially considering your father's record with the force. Now hand over your badge and firearm."

Gomez held his hand out, but Jenkins only stared at it. The junior officer's mouth worked wordlessly for a few seconds. His head bowed after a few seconds and he numbly handed over the requested items.

"Go home, Jenkins," Gomez told him. "With all this weird shit going on, you chose a hell of a time to act up. Maybe I've been working you too hard, but that's no excuse. Go home and get some rest." He turned his back on Jenkins. Tamara didn't miss the murderous gaze he gave her before turning in the sand and stalking off.

"Do you want me to have someone look at your shoulder?" Gomez asked her.

She shook her head. Jenkins had barely touched her. She didn't understand why it had hurt so badly.

Captain Gomez offered her an apologetic smile and cleared his throat. "I hate to ask this, but if there is something you know about what happened down there, I'd like to know."

It took Tamara a moment to realize he'd meant whatever had happened down on the beach. "No. I mean, I don't know. My friends found something, but no one will tell me what it is, or what they found. I was coming down to have a look for myself."

"I think it's best you not see it," he told her, and anger flared up in her chest again. She didn't need someone else trying to protect her or telling her what she could and couldn't see. "You remind me of my daughter, you know that?" His words confused her, and for a moment she forgot about her anger as he looked into her eyes. "I know that look. One way or another, you're going to try and see what's down there." Gomez looked back to the beach. "I suppose it would be better if I take you down there, rather than have you sneaking around and possibly ruining evidence."

Tamara kept her mouth shut. She didn't know why he was willing to help her see what everyone was so afraid of, but she wasn't about to argue with him, either.

"Come on, then. Follow after me, and don't touch anything."

Tamara did as instructed, following the officer down the beach. The cops already had spotlights up and had taped the area off. To her annoyance, Gomez didn't lead her past the tape, but took her around it, until she could see what the fuss was about. She saw the black candle with lines dug in the sand leading from it. The lines led to other candles and more lines, but that wasn't where her eyes were pulled.

The scream that broke from her throat startled Gomez. He grabbed her and spun her away but it was too late

Images flashed before her eyes. She saw a knife, but it was wrong. It was held over her, not in front of her. She was looking up at it. Unimaginable pain coursed through her as the knife fell. It wasn't the first time, pain erupted through her as the knife slipped beneath her skin like a needle through cloth. It sliced and her skin was pulled away, tearing with a wet burning agony. She cried out and begged for mercy.

Her hands and feet were tied to something. She couldn't get away. She sobbed and pleaded but the owner of the knife didn't know the meaning of mercy. Somebody asked a question, but she couldn't understand it. What did they want from her? Why wouldn't they just kill her and get it over with?

Hands grasped her, and she tried to fight them off. No. No more. I can't take anymore. Just let it stop! I'll do anything to let it stop!

Anything? A hard voice echoed in her mind.

Cold oblivion took her before she could answer.

Chapter 13

Sam was running before he even knew why. Tamara's scream hit a nerve in him and propelled his feet forward while his brain tried to cope with the images the blood curdling yell created. He knew that type of scream. Only someone in terrible pain was capable of making it. His officer had made a sound similar to it as he lay dying with his arms torn from his body.

The reflexes he'd tried to drink away took over. Unfortunately, the last time he'd used them he didn't need to accommodate a prosthetic leg. The artificial foot hit a patch of sand wrong and twisted the straps on his leg to throw him off balance. The next thing he knew he was tumbling down the incline. The sand worked its way into his clothes, hair, and mouth but other than a few scrapes it kept him from hurting himself.

"Are you okay?" Alex asked as she helped him to his feet. He spit the gritty sand from his mouth and looked down at her. He hadn't known the other girls were following him. He shook his head and ignored her question. Sam straightened his fake foot and started running again. This prosthetic wasn't designed for moving fast and he almost went down twice more before reaching the crowd that'd begun gathering around Tamara and the cop leaning over her.

"Tamara!" Sam cried, seeing her on her back, eyes closed. He couldn't tell if she was breathing or not. What happened? Why wasn't she moving?

At his voice, the young woman stirred and sat up. Confusion filled her gaze as she took in everyone gathered around her. Then her eyes hit him and stayed locked with his. Her shoulder slumped down and she visibly relaxed.

"Tamara, are you alright?" Sam asked her, dropping next to her. She reached out for him, and he pulled her into a tight hug.

"I take it you know this young woman?" a cop asked. Sam turned to take a good look at the officer, taking in his Hispanic coloring and gentle face. His name read T. Gomez on his chest.

"Yeah," he told Gomez. "What happened?" Tamara was shaking in his arms. He'd never seen her act like this before. She'd always seemed so strong in the past.

"Then I'll leave her in your hands," Gomez told him. The cop stood and walked away without answering Sam's question. "Johnson! I want these people pushed back. We don't need anyone else passing out after seeing this shit."

Sam looked around, trying to make sense of what happened since Tamara was nearly catatonic. He saw Adrian and gave a quick nod of his head to the younger man.

"She looked at the satanic ritual site over there and just lost it," Adrian answered his unasked question.

Tamara moaned in his arms, hugging him tighter.

"Ritual site?" Sam asked, then looked beyond the other man. It made sense now that he thought about it. Once he looked past the blood and bones to the patterns drawn in the sand, coupled with the black candles, it made sense. At least, it did as far as he knew of such things.

"That's what the cops are calling it," Adrian answered.

"I'm telling you I'm fine, Subie," Brock stated firmly, and Sam saw the large man try to hold her at arm's length. Sam wondered about his actions. Considering how much the two tended to show public affection, why was he holding her back now? Was it because he didn't want to be seen comforted by a woman? "It was Tamara that screamed. Then she started swinging at us like we were attacking her."

Sam put his arm under Tamara's legs, set his good leg, and lifted her up while standing. He had to catch his balance, his prosthetic working as he desired for once. Despite her body going from anorexic to beautiful in only a couple days, she still felt light in his arms.

"I'm taking Tamara home," Sam told Tamara's friends.

"Do you need any help?" Adrian offered.

Alex and Adrian both faced him. Sam could tell from the anxious way Alex kept looking at Adrian that she didn't want to be alone, but the solid man ignored her.

"No, I can handle this," Sam told them. "You two stay and help Brock and Subie."

"Hold on a sec," Adrian said, then turned to Alex. "You have a pen and something to write on?" Alex searched in her purse for only a second before pulling out the requested items. Adrian took them and hastily scrawled something. "Here. Call me if you need anything."

Sam awkwardly took the paper, seeing that it had the man's phone number on it. "Thanks," he told them. Sam turned and began walking up the beach, careful of each step he took. He really didn't feel like kissing the sand again tonight.

Once he was back to his car, he almost wished he'd taken Adrian and Alex up on their offer of help. Tamara refused to let go of him even when he struggled to put her in the passenger side. He finally convinced her to sit there and wait for him. By the time he raced around the car and climbed in the driver's seat she'd curled in a fetal position and was shivering again.

He wondered why she had been affected as much as she had by that place. Was it something in her past? As bad as Sam's past had been, it hadn't bothered him nearly as much. Then again, he knew his past. Shitty as it was, at least he could remember it. Maybe she'd seen something like that before?

"It's okay," Sam soothed her. He reached across to lay her hand on her thigh. She twisted in her seat and grabbed onto his hand and threatened to dislocate his shoulder as she pulled on it. "I'll be right here. I just need to get—oomph." He grunted as she stopped pulling on him and pushed herself across the console to press her lips to his as she slipped her arms around his neck and held him prisoner against her. The kiss wasn't filled with lust or need like her past embraces had been. There was no tongue involved, just the firm press of their lips.

Tamara's arms slipped from around his neck and he jerked back, knocking his head hard on the roof of his car.

"Don't leave me, Sam." The simple words hit something deep inside him. Tamara turned away from him, huddling into the seat.

"I won't," he told her softly, reaching out to touch her head. He hesitated before making contact and pulled back. It occurred to him that now would be the perfect opportunity to drive her away. All he had to do was be cruel to her right now while she was vulnerable.

He couldn't do it. He knew she was going to wise up and leave him sooner or later. Right then, looking at her as she shivered in the fetal position in his car, he knew he couldn't bring himself to do that to her.

He leaned back and started the car. As soon as he put it in gear Tamara reached out to him and gripped his thigh.

That's when Sam knew he wasn't going to push her away. He was going to pay for it down the road he had no doubt, but he couldn't hurt her. Somehow in only a few short days she'd made herself a part of his life.

The drive home was quiet. Tamara willingly got out on her own and even walked inside. Sam worried about her not talking, but knew she needed time. He wanted to know what shook her up so bad, but he had to give her space. If anyone knew trauma, it was him. His eyes went to his cupboard and he wondered if maybe she'd like a drink. He sure could use one.

He shook his head and turned away. "That's the last thing we need," he muttered. If he got drunk and she was fucked up he'd make things worse. He always did. Maybe just this once he should try facing his problems instead of hiding from them. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it out. He went to his room while Tamara was in the bathroom. He was scared, but he felt good too.

Something had changed. He felt needed. He felt like he had a purpose. He nodded his head and realized he was almost smiling. Almost. He relaxed his face and turned to get ready for bed.

Tamara came out of the bathroom a few moments later. She turned to look at him in the doorway, hope and pain mixed in her eyes.

"Stay with me,?" she asked. She didn't wait for an answer before walking in. Sam hesitated, unsure of what he should say or do. She had that long shirt on again with Bill Murray's face on it. It fell past her hips just far enough he couldn't tell if she had any shorts or panties on. She pulled the sheets back and looked at him, waiting for an answer.

Sam swallowed and wondered where the good feelings he'd had a few moments ago had gone. He was nervous. Did he dare let her sleep with him? He wasn't afraid of wanting her, he was afraid he'd be taking advantage of her. His mouth was dry and he turned to stare out the door to his kitchen. He couldn't do this, not without a drink to numb his mind.

"Please?" she whispered. "No sex. I just, um, I just need to—"

Sam's heart slammed in his chest when she looked away and fresh tears fell onto his sheets.

"I'll go," she breathed and turned away.

"No," Sam croaked. He coughed and cleared his throat. What the fuck was he doing? "Stay."

She looked up at him and smiled through a sniffle. She crawled into bed and waited for him to take off his leg and strip down to his boxers. He slipped in beside her and lay there stiff as a board. Tamara moved over and pulled the sheets up to cover them, then molded herself to fit against his body and lay her head on his chest.

"I need to feel like somebody cares about me," she whispered.

Sam grunted and let his arm wrap around her back. He gave her a squeeze.

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Care?" she tilted her head up and looked at him.

He swallowed the lump in his throat down again and nodded. "Yeah," he whispered. "I care. You're all I've got anymore. "

* * * *

Sam felt good. He felt better than good, actually. The last time his body had felt this wonderful....

Sam's eyes snapped open. He looked down, and saw Tamara's dark hair in his lap. He opened his mouth to protest, but a groan escaped him as she did something delightful with her tongue. His toes curled and he gasped again.

To his relief and disappointment she lifted her head, turning to look at him. Her hand tightly held his hardness and she beamed at him.

"Good morning, handsome. I turned off your alarm. I figured this was a better way to wake you up." She returned her head to his crotch and elicited another moan. It took all of Sam's effort to reach down and gently pull her head away.

"We shouldn't," he told her, forcing the words out. His hips actually pushed up off the bed in denial of what he was saying—where had she learned such skill?—but his conscience still balked. He'd been pleasantly surprised last night when she'd only wanted him to hold her until she fell asleep. Apparently last night had only been a lapse. This morning she was back to normal.

"We should," she told him, squeezing him and receiving a welcoming throb in return. "I don't want to hear any more excuses. You saved me from the warm salty ocean. Now let me savor some of your warm saltiness."

"What about last night," he protested. "You should talk about—"

"Nothing happened last night. I have better things to do with my mouth than talking." She suited actions to words, and Sam's hips jumped as she swallowed him again.

He knew she needed to talk about what happened, but who was he to tell her that? He couldn't even talk about his own traumatic experiences. In its own twisted way, knowing she was as broken as him made her more desirable.

Her skill with her mouth was a nice little bonus as well.

He reached down intending to pull her up again, but found his fingers entwining her hair instead, encouraging her.

She wanted him. She might not be perfect, but neither was he. She was young, but she could suck start an M1 Abrams. And she was here, when others had chosen not to be.

As the final walls of his defenses crumbled, Sam used his grip to pull her head up. She frowned as she looked at him, but it turned into a cry of triumph when he pulled her face to his. This time their kiss was nothing like the one last night. This time the kiss involved their entire bodies.

Chapter 14

Tamara felt like a new woman. Sam had finally given in to her and now, several hours later, they were breathless and sated. Her body still trembled from the aftershocks of her last orgasm. She was sore, but it was the good kind of sore.

"I was thinking," she told him, still out of breath.

"I can't," Sam gasped. "I'm not as young as I used to be."

Tamara couldn't help but giggle at the distress in his voice. She reached over and trailed her fingers up his bare thigh in teasing. "No. I meant about us." Sam stiffened under her hand.

"Um. . . Us?" he croaked, and Tamara giggled some more.

"Relax. I don't want to get married or anything," she chided him. He relaxed under her hand, but not as much as he'd been a moment before. She rolled over and rested her head on his chest. Despite him having been stressed a moment before, his heart thumped with a strong steady rhythm. What secrets does this heart hold? "I want to get to know you better. Hell, I don't even know myself."

She felt his arm move across her bare back, and smiled as he hugged her. He was hers now, and she was his. He couldn't deny it any longer. Whatever their fates, she was certain he wasn't going to push her away again.

"I have a lot of history," he told her, hesitating. "Stuff you don't need to deal with. Hell, most of it I'd rather not deal with."

"Well, I have a lot of history I don't know about," she rejoined, tilting her head and planting her chin on his sternum. "I'm not asking for the Book of Sam." She gazed at her lover, thinking. "What if you show me where you work? You said you were going to try and get me a job there anyway."

"Yeah, okay," he hedged. Why was he growing hesitant now?

"Of course," she said, a hint of mischief in her voice, "we could stay around here, and play with whatever we can get our hands on." As she spoke, her left hand drifted down his hard abdomen and gripped his flaccid meat. Even in its current state, he filled her hand. She marveled that she'd even been able to get it inside her, much less having done it repeatedly. Just thinking about it made the delicious ache between her legs lessen.

Sam lurched beneath her and shifted so he could get out from underneath her sweat slicked body. "That's a good idea. I'm curious about what happened with the dolphins anyway."

Tamara was disappointed, but only a little. She'd just fucked him silly. Or had he fucked her silly? Maybe the latter since she was fighting to keep from giggling at the thought. She was sore and didn't know if she could take another pounding from the veteran anyhow. Not that she wouldn't try. Or at least she could take him in her mouth or maybe between her boobs. Or the crease of her ass. Maybe he'd like that? Or in her ass? Her eyes widened at the thought of fitting the beast— that was her nickname for Sam's penis that he didn't know about yet— in her ass.

"Why are you grinning?" Sam asked as he paused while strapping on his leg.

"What?" Tamara smoothed her face and then crawled across the bed to press her naked chest against his back and nibble on his ear.

"You're insatiable," he grumbled even if he didn't sound like his heart was in it.

"Just happy," she said. "You made me a very happy woman. Now it's my job to make you a very happy man."

Sam snorted and fumbled with the straps on his leg.

"I was grinning because of all the very dirty thoughts that came to my head. I don't know where they came from either. It makes me wonder who I used to be. Not like I'm worried, just where I would come up with thoughts like that. Did my parents abuse me? Was I an orphan with foster parents that molested me?"

"Jesus!" Sam grunted as he turned to look at her.

Tamara winked at him. "I don't think so," she said. "And I'm definitely no virgin, especially not after having your Beast inside of me!"

"My beast?" Sam asked and then followed her gaze down to his lap. He shook his head but it did nothing to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Mmm, yes," Tamara said. She pushed forward and kissed him again. "I mean it, Sam. I'm going to make you happy, no matter what it takes. You've been so grumpy and miserable, I'm going to give you a reason to live again. I'm going to be the thing that made all the pain and bullshit you've put up with worth it."

Sam tore his gaze away from hers and shrugged. "Guess we'll see," he mumbled while he went back to fitting the prosthetic on his leg.

Tamara took the opportunity to admire his body. His dark colored skin stretched taught along his broad shoulders and solid muscles. She wondered if he had an ounce of fat on him. If there was, a couple more marathon sex sessions like the one they just completed would burn it off.

"Are you coming naked?" he asked her, raising one eyebrow. Tamara blushed slightly, realizing she'd been caught staring.

"No. Judging by the way you're looking at me, we'd never make it there."

Sam chuckled. He bent over, grabbed her shirt, and tossed it to her. She threw it right back. "I'd rather wear one of yours. I like the way they smell."

She tried not to laugh at the shocked expression he gave her, but it was hard. The truth was, she'd noticed how much more he looked at her with the way she hung it off her shoulder. It helped that she never wore a bra under his shirts and just being near him kept her nipples hard enough to see whenever his shirt brushed against them. Let Subie flaunt her body as much as she wanted. Sam obviously enjoyed a bit more mystery when he looked at women.

"So, what exactly do you do for a living?" Tamara asked, realizing that all she knew at this point was that it involved dolphins.

Sam grew hesitant again before he said, "Let's just say I'm good at taking care of messy situations."

"Or making them," Tamara winked as she glanced at his covered crotch. Sam blushed. This time, She couldn't hold back the laugh. He was too much fun to tease!

It didn't take them long before Sam pulled up to a building labeled "Dolphin Cove". For once, Sam wasn't furious and swearing epithets when he parked.

Sam let her in a back entrance and Tamara couldn't help but feel small inside the building.

"Sam!" A woman's voice greeted them. Tamara turned to see a voluptuous black woman walking up to them. "I was actually going to call and have you come in tomorrow. Oh, who's this?"

"Latoya, hi!" Sam's voice rose an octave as he spoke. What was wrong with him? "Um, her? She, um. . . ."

"Sam saved my life on the beach a few days ago. He's showing me around Key Largo." Tamara might not have her memories, but she had the feeling that this woman wouldn't approve of their relationship. She offered her hand to the woman. Latoya eyed her for a moment, then smiled, flashing brilliant white teeth and took her hand.

"Sam didn't mention that," Latoya stated. "But that's not surprising. He tends to be pretty humble. I'll bet he hasn't told you how important he is around here."

"Um. . . ." Sam tried to break in, but Latoya took Tamara's arm and began walking down the hallway.

"In fact, you wouldn't believe the shit he has to take care of. I don't know what I'd do without him." The other woman's easy attitude put Tamara at ease. "Isn't that right, Sam?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Sam tried to protest.

"See what I mean?" Latoya asked, patting Tamara's arm. "Humble!" She turned back to Sam. "Your friends have missed you, Sam. Why don't you go say hi, while I show. . . ."

"Tamara," she offered her name when she realized what the woman was asking.

"That's a pretty name, Tamara. Was it your mother's? No, never mind. Why don't we go to the cafeteria. You look like you haven't had a good meal in weeks."

"The dolphins are okay?" Sam asked hopefully as Latoya pulled her away. "Dolly?"

"Yes, yes," Latoya responded in an off-hand manner. "They're in the holding tank for now, until we can fix their main tank."

"What happened?" Sam called after them but if Latoya heard, she ignored him.

They rounded a corner and Sam was lost behind them. For a moment Tamara was worried about being alone with this other woman, but Sam hadn't been concerned. Besides, she enjoyed the way Latoya was treating her like a long lost friend.

Latoya kept up a constant litany, describing their surroundings on the way to the cafeteria. She even paid for a plate of food for Tamara. She hadn't realized how famished she was. Apparently she couldn't subsist on a diet of sex alone, no matter how gratifying it was.

They sat down at a table. Tamara had a chance to take a bite of her pizza—why hadn't she tried this before? It was delicious!—before Latoya spoke again."So tell me, how long have you been sleeping with Sam?"

Tamara choked, caught off guard by the sudden question. "Calm down," the other woman laughed lightly. "I've known Sam for a while now. He's never brought anyone here before, and I could see the way you looked at each other. Besides, you're wearing his shirt."

Tamara realized that the woman's was clearly sharper than she let on.

"It's rather recent," Tamara admitted, trying to hold her head high. She was embarrassed about being blindsided, but she was determined to hold her own now.

"Yes, I guess it would have to be." Latoya studied her for a moment more. "Don't hurt him." The words were delivered in a casual tone, but her brown eyes were firm. "Sam's a good man, with a great heart. He's been through some terrible shit. No one deserves that. But he's strong. He—"

"You like him!" Tamara stated, the realization dawning on her. She took another look at the older woman, and felt a stab of jealousy. Latoya was darkly beautiful with full lips and an hourglass figure. Her hips were wider than Tamara's, but she remembered Brock mentioning that some men liked that. Sam and Latoya worked together. Latoya knew Sam better than she did.

But Sam was Tamara's man.

"What?" Latoya tried to protest. Despite her wide eyes and open mouth, Tamara knew it was feigned. "I'm his boss. He is one of my employees. I'm just concerned about him. I know when he's struggling with things, because his performance here suffers. It would be inappropriate to date one of my employees."

Tamara didn't believe her for a moment, but chose not to argue. If she didn't want to admit it, that was her problem. "You're right. Sam is a good man. I only want to make him happy."

"And what happens when he's old and gray, while you're in your prime?"

The pizza turned to cardboard in her mouth. Did she really think that was all that mattered to Tamara?

"Sam's got a great body and a fantastic cock," Tamara told her, enjoying the way Latoya blushed at mentioning Sam's wonderful appendage. "But he is more than that. You said it yourself: 'Sam's a good man, with a great heart.'"

"He's not rich, so if that's what you're thinking—"

Tamara burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. The thought that Tamara was interested in Sam for his money was ludicrous.

Latoya joined in the laughter after a moment. "Yeah, I guess that wasn't the best comment."

It took another moment for Tamara to catch her breath before she could speak. "Trust me, I have no intention of hurting Sam. I'm not saying I love him or anything. But he really is a good man, and I want to get to know him better. And, maybe this is crazy, but I want to help him."

"Help him? With what, his PTSD?" Latoya asked. Tamara stared at her, uncertain what she meant. "You know. His Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?" She continued to stare until Latoya sighed. "I'm talking about the way he gets really nervous about some things and is easily startled. He also has some anger issues."

"Oh, that!" Tamara stated. She hesitated a moment, uncertain what to say next. The truth was, she kind of enjoyed that side of Sam. Not that she liked seeing him in pain, but the uncertainty of it added a touch of mystery to the strong man. "It hasn't been anything I couldn't handle."

Latoya looked like she was going to say something more, but decided against it. "I'm glad he has a friend like you," she said after another moment. Was there a hint of regret in her tone?

Tamara knew she might not have won her over, but she'd at least passed the black woman's test. Now she just had to come up with a way to make sure Latoya didn't try to steal her man. Sam was hers. He'd touched her and she'd touched him in ways that went beyond the skin. She didn't know what love was, but she knew that whatever she and Sam had wasn't something she was going to let anyone come between.

Chapter 15

Sam stared at the dolphins as they swam at the other end of their tank. Whatever happened to them had scared them enough to keep them away from him. He'd never seen them act like this before. They only chattered at him when he tried to offer them fish and even then Dolly refused to come near him.

Dejected, he decided to look at their other tank. When he arrived he couldn't figure out what was wrong— other than the fact that it was completely drained. He couldn't see any damage to the large pool. He wondered if someone had drained the tank while the dolphins were still in it, but that took hours to do. Surely the security cameras would have seen something.

One side of the tank had a gradual decline built into it, allowing someone to walk right in. Was the tank damaged in some other way? Sam couldn't see any damage. . . .

As soon as his good foot hit the incline, it slipped out from underneath him. Sam's ass struck the smooth surface of the incline.

"Mother fucker!" Sam screamed. He rolled onto his side, holding his tailbone. The pain was excruciating.

"That was actually fun to watch," a snide voice echoed in the room. Through the tears springing to his eyes and the agony in his ass, Sam tried to figure out where he knew that voice. "Decided to come back to the scene of the crime and cover your tracks, huh?"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Sam demanded as he looked at the other man. This was the first time he'd seen Officer Jenkins out of uniform but there was no mistaking that sneer. Anger flooded through Sam as he realized he was lying on the ground holding his rear while the asshole cop laughed above him.

Sam rolled onto his stomach, and tried to sit up. But when his hands pushed against the floor, they slipped. He had to move fast to keep himself from face-planting into the floor.

"Son of a bitch!" Could things get any worse in front of this prick? Looking at the other man, Sam had to fight hard not to charge him and beat the ever-living shit out of him. Once he figured out how to get up, that is.

Jenkins's eye glowed with glee as he watched Sam's torment. Sam wanted to scream and pulverize the man, while deep inside he wanted to cry. He was helpless in front of a man he despised.

Maybe this is what he deserved though. Things had been going well with Tamara, so maybe this was just the universe balancing things out. If there really was a God, he'd never paid Sam any favors.

"That's okay. Don't stand up for me. You're right where you belong: on your knees." Jenkins chortled some more as Sam tried to stand, but the pain in his tail bone sent him back to his knees.

"What do you want, Jenkins?" Sam demanded, trying to make the man's name sound like an insult.

"From you?" Jenkins laughed some more. "Nothing. Unless you want to confess what you did here. I saw the way those fish were avoiding you."

"They're not fish! And I told you I didn't do anything," Sam said through gritted teeth. Why was this man so hell bent on finding Sam guilty?

"Yeah, yeah. You're slut gave you an alibi." Jenkins looked around for a second. "By the way, where is your little whore?"

"Her name is Tamara, and this is harassment. You're not even in uniform. You're trespassing. Get out Jenkins, before I call security." If only his ass didn't hurt so much, he'd show this off-duty ass-hat a thing or three.

"Calm down," Jenkins replied, but the smile never left his face. "Like I said, I was just—"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Tamara's voice rang out. Both men turned to look as Latoya led her into the room. "Didn't you get suspended?"

Jenkins had been suspended? That would explain why he was out of uniform. Which also meant he was here unofficially.

"There's the little tramp." Jenkins leered at Tamara and Latoya. For some reason he was holding his chest. "And it looks like she brought a friend. Tell me, Sam. How much does she cost per night? Maybe I'll show her what a real man can do. Is it extra for the black whore?"

That was the last straw! It took a great deal more effort than Sam would ever admit to get to his feet. His rear screamed at him to get back down as his knees wanted to buckle. He did his best to ignore it. This man had crossed the line. It was one thing to insult him, but to insult Tamara and Latoya like that was too much. He took a careful step towards Jenkins, flinching at the pain, but forced himself to take another.

"Get the fuck out of here, before I beat you down," Sam commanded.

"Ha! Like a cripple like you could even lay a hand on me. Besides, I'm a cop, remember? Touch me and I'll have you behind bars quicker than you can spit."

"It sounds to me," Latoya interjected for the first time, "that you've been suspended and are here on private property, harassing one of my employees. I can tell that you're trying to provoke Sam into a fight. If I were to call your precinct right now, what would they tell me about you being here?" Sam's boss pulled out her cell phone and waited for Jenkins's answer.

"It doesn't matter," Jenkins tried to laugh again, but Sam could tell it was forced this time. "I saw all I needed to see. I know you're guilty, Sam. All I need to do now is find the evidence."

"Come back with a warrant next time," Latoya demanded, but the disgraced officer was already walking away.

Sam waited until Jenkins was out the door before hobbling over to a railing by the tank and relieving some of the pressure on his bruised tail bone.

"Are you alright?" Tamara demanded as she ran to him.

"I take it you know him?" Latoya asked before he could answer Tamara. "I think I remember him. He'd been really interested in you when he found out you worked here."

"You could say that," Sam answered. He didn't want to admit to his boss that Jenkins had been the first cop called on a domestic abuse call. Apparently putting a few holes in the wall with his fists while arguing with his ex when she still lived with him was enough to put him on Jenkins's permanent shit list. He'd never laid a hand on a woman, even his ex, but that wasn't good enough for Jenkins. Of course, Sam never liked the way Jenkins looked at his wife, either. That had been a few years ago, though, and Jenkins never passed up an opportunity to harass Sam.

"What happened to you?" Tamara pressed.

Sam turned and pointed at the tank, and recalled how slippery it had been. He'd swam in this tank countless times, and it had never been slippery like that. He did his best to hide how much pain he was in as he bent over the side of the tank. He couldn't stop the groan of relief, however, when the pressure was taken off his injury. He ignored Tamara's pointed glare as he ran his hand along the inside of the tank.

"When I came in here, the dolphins were suffocating," Latoya informed him. "I don't know what it is, but it took a couple hours to clean the dolphins before moving them into the clean holding tank."

"What did the cameras see?" Sam asked next, glancing at one that was pointed directly at where Sam crouched.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? They had to have seen something," Sam protested.

"I wish," Latoya lamented. "They glitched and didn't come back on until I got here."

They glitched? Sam thought. That's unlikely. For a moment he wondered if Latoya was the culprit, but immediately dismissed it. If anyone cared more for the dolphins than Sam, it was Latoya.

"What is this stuff?" Sam asked, rubbing whatever coated the tank between his fingers. Whatever it was, was clear and very slippery. He already had some of it on his clothes, but when he tried to wipe it off on a clean patch, it didn't want to come off.

"Don't know. I was afraid it was going to kill the dolphins before we managed to get it off them. It sat right on top of the water. You might as well throw away those clothes. I couldn't get any of it off of mine."

"Who would want to hurt the dolphins?" Tamara asked.

"That's the million dollar question," Latoya answered. "Whoever it was, wanted them to suffer. I couldn't find anyone here when I came in. Every time the poor things came up for air, their hole became a little more clogged, slowly suffocating them." Latoya scrutinized him for a moment before adding, "You'll want to shower before you drive home. I'll leave you two alone."

Sam was too shocked at the implications of Latoya's statement to respond. She'd leave them alone? To shower together, there was no doubt about the look she'd given him.

"You told her?" Sam demanded as soon as he could find his voice.

"No!" Tamara objected. "She knew. I don't know how, but she did."

Sam shook his head, unsure whether or not to believe her. Latoya was sharp as a tack, he knew, but to ferret out that Tamara and Sam were sleeping together boggled his mind.

"Can you walk?" Tamara asked. "This stuff makes you smell weird, and I can't wait to get your clothes off."

Sam sniffed the fingers with the slippery substance but couldn't smell anything.

"I'll manage," he told the young woman. He tried not to groan as he got to his feet. His ass hurt worse than fresh meat in prison!

Once Tamara got him back to the showers, however, she had a way of making him forget the pain. Her hands seemed to work magic as they helped scrubbed his body.

Latoya was correct. Whatever that stuff was, it was a pain to get off. Tamara had some fun and interesting ways to make sure he was clean. There wasn't a spot on his body that she didn't explore, all in the name of cleaning him. She even used her mouth in places and ways to take his mind off of their problems. By the time they stepped out and dried off, Sam had all but forgotten Jenkins's visit.

Sam had to put on some of his work clothes, not wanting to get that stuff back on him now that he was clean. The clothes he'd worn there were resting in the dumpster. Luckily, Tamara hadn't gotten any of it on her.

"Latoya told me I could start working tomorrow," Tamara told him as they headed out to his car.

"What did you two talk about?" Sam asked, still dazed about the way his boss had acted. She had always been kind to him, but had also struck him as very straight-laced. Was she so stressed about the dolphins and the attack on them that she was becoming unhinged?

Sam put his worries about his boss behind him as he put his car in gear and began driving home.

"Why haven't we eaten pizza before?" Tamara asked, ignoring his question.

"Pizza is not very—" Sam stopped speaking as his foot pressed on the brake and nothing happened. "What the. . . ." He pumped the brake a couple more time with the same result.

Panic welled up in his breast as he realized he was no longer in control of the vehicle. He jerked his head up and saw the stoplight was red and the intersection was full of cars caught up in gridlock.

Chapter 16

"What the. . ." Sam muttered. Tamara looked over at him, and noticed how wide his eyes were. The traffic wasn't bad enough for him to be growing so nervous. She knew how much he hated driving in traffic, but this wasn't bad.

They were coming up on a stoplight, but Sam wasn't slowing down. She trusted him, but as they drew closer, she began to worry. Then she noticed him stomping his foot. He couldn't slow down.

"Hold on," Sam warned, his voice thick with fear. He reached out, putting his arm across her breasts. Any other time and she would have been happy to help him grope her, but right now she barely even noticed. The light was red, and cars were speeding through the intersection.

As they barreled into the intersection, Tamara could see that they weren't going to make it. A large black diesel truck was headed right for them. She could see the whites of the driver's eyes, and heard his tires screech as he tried to stop. He wouldn't make it—there wasn't enough time or space.

Tamara threw her hand up against the window, knowing how futile the gesture was. Time appeared to slow down. Tamara watched as the tires of the truck locked up and they began to bounce on the asphalt. There was no way it was going to stop in time.

No, I can't die like this. Not now! Her mind screamed. Her gut twisted as the grill of the large truck drew closer. She closed her eyes. She didn't want to see it happen. She couldn't. The twisting became a wrenching sensation and grew worse. Pain blossomed in her stomach. Tamara screamed.

"Tamara," Sam's voice said, but she refused to open her eyes. She didn't want to watch the diesel plow into her side, smashing her against Sam and likely killing them both. "Tamara, it's alright!" She was jostled around as the truck hit them. She tried to huddle into a ball, but something had hold of her shoulders, stopping her. "We're safe."

For a second, Tamara couldn't make sense of her surroundings. Where was the twisted metal? Where was the pain she should be feeling? Where was the blood and gore that should be painted all over the inside of Sam's car?

Her belly felt hollow.

She blinked a few times and placed her hand on her head. "What happened?" she asked, looking out the window. She expected to see the truck charging for them. Instead, there was a green lawn in front of a white house. They were stopped. More than that, they were unharmed!

"I don't know." Something in Sam's voice made her turn and look at him, but he was looking behind them. "I thought for sure that truck was going to hit us, but it missed us. It's not possible, but it did."

Tamara followed Sam's gaze and saw the truck stopped in the intersection. Stopped wasn't the right word. It was on its side. Smoke billowed up from its hood. People rushed to get the driver out. The trailer had jackknifed and crushed another car that might have been parked on the side of the road.

"We'd better go help them," Sam mumbled but he didn't move. Tamara could see his hands were shaking. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he stared wide-eyed back at the accident. "Maybe I can help them." He still didn't move.

"Sam," Tamara said, trying to encourage him. Was he having some sort of flashback? She placed her hand on his arm. His muscles were taut and solid. He jumped at the touch, flinching away from her. "Sam?"

"Right," he said, shaking his head. "I can help." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Before she could think to say anything, he turned, opened the door, and stepped out. Tamara was right behind him. "Stay here. You may not want to see this."

Tamara ignored him and followed as he rushed to the scene. When they arrived, someone was pulling the driver out of the truck. Blood poured from a gash on the man's head. He was awake, but seemed dazed.

"Hey. Hey, what's your name?" Sam asked, bending down at looking into the man's eyes.

"Huh?" The man's head bobbed as he looked up at Sam. "Uh, Joe. My name is Joe."

"What do you think you're doing?" the man that had pulled Joe out of his truck demanded as Sam examined the gash on Joe's head.

"I'm a medic," Sam responded. "Head wounds bleed a lot. This might leave a scar, but you'll live. Do you know where you are, Joe?"

Sam continued talking to Joe as he checked the man's arms and legs. The man was dazed, but as Sam continued working on him he began to come around.

"Shit, this is bad," Sam grunted. He was examining the man's leg and she saw how much blood was soaking his pants.

Flashes of another leg, one smoother and paler, with the bone protruding through the skin flashed in her mind, but she forced it away. Her head began to hurt, but she stuffed that away, too. She wanted to be ready if Sam needed her.

"This is going to hurt," Sam warned.

"What? Oh, Fu—" the man passed out as Sam jostled the leg. Had he just reset a broken bone?

"Quick, get his shirt off. That bone may have cut an artery, and I need some kind of bandage." Sam worked hard, tearing the man's shirt into a crude bandage, and wrapped up his leg.

"Let's get him in the shade," he ordered a couple men around him. Joe began to wake up as they carefully moved him. "Do you remember what happened?" Sam asked when they laid him back down. Tamara could hear sirens in the distance coming closer.

"Yeah, I was, uh, looking down at my phone and when I looked up, there was a car in the intersection. I tried to slam on my brakes, but. . . . Oh God! The car! Is everyone alright? I must have hit it. There's no way I missed it."

Joe tried to sit up, but Sam's strong arm on his chest held him down. "Relax, you're hurt, but they're okay. You missed them."

But Joe was shaking his head. "No. No, I couldn't have! I've been driving long haul for nearly fifteen years and my baby doesn't stop or turn on a dime. It must be under my rig. Someone needs to get to them!"

Men in red and white uniforms arrived. Tamara saw an ambulance was parked behind them.

"He hit his head," Sam started telling the medics. "His leg has a nasty break and it was bleeding pretty bad. I did what I could for him. It's not a tourniquet, but it's on as tight as I could get it. He hit his head hard enough he might have a concussion. No other injuries that I could see."

The medic looked at Sam with confusion, then looked down at his leg. He grunted and worked with his partner to get the man backboarded and put on a stretcher. They loaded him up on the ambulance and his partner started taking vitals and tending to the driver. The medic turned back to Sam and asked, "Army or a Jarhead?"

Sam chuckled in spite of himself. "Army. I was a combat medic in Afghanistan.

"Good job here. And good job over there, whatever you did," the medic offered Sam his hand. "I'm in the National Guard. I drill with the 50th ASG out of Homestead."

Sam gripped the hand and even smiled. The medic didn't flinch at the blood on Sam's hands. "A lot of people give the National Guard a bunch of crap for being weekend warriors, but I've seen some of you guys in action. Some of the finest soldiers I knew were in the National Guard and Reserves."

"Thank you," the medic responded with a genuine smile. "Anything else we need to know about him?"

"His name is Joe," Sam offered. The paramedic turned and left to help his partner.

"I take it you might know what happened here?" a uniformed cop asked before Tamara even realized he was there.

"Yeah," Sam started, but someone else interjected.

"I saw the whole thing, Randall," Jenkins stated. The suspended cop walked up and butted Sam out of the way. What the hell was he doing here? "Sam ran the stoplight, causing the accident."

"Great!" Sam exhaled. "Of course you're here!" Sam turned back to Randall, pointing a blood covered hand at Jenkins. "I want to file a complaint against him. He's been harassing me and my girlfriend, threatening both of us."

Tamara felt a powerful thrill course through her body at being called Sam's girlfriend. She'd finally done it. He was now hers, and hers alone. He'd admitted it out loud!

"Listen you piss-ant crippled fucker, you're not getting away with anything this time. Those lights have traffic cameras that'll prove this was your fault!" Jenkins crowed, bringing Tamara out of her good mood.

"Jenkins, stand down," Randall demanded, stepping between Sam and the disgraced officer before they could come to blows. He waved another officer over. "Take Jenkins over there and see what he has to say." As soon as Jenkins was far enough away, Randall turned back to face Sam. "I take it you're Sam Mendez?" Sam grimaced, but nodded. "We're all familiar with Jenkins's opinion of you." The way he said that didn't tell Tamara what he thought. "Why don't you tell me what happened here?"

Sam began his explanation from when Jenkins accosted him at the aquarium. He finished talking about when they miraculously made it through the intersection.

"Is that everything?" Randall asked.

Tamara thought back over everything. She could still picture the grill of the truck only a few feet outside her window. How had it missed her? Even Joe had been adamant that he couldn't have avoided them. She glance at the still smoking truck, and realized that it had stopped just before hitting them. What could have stopped the large vehicle like that?

"No, that's not everything," someone else chimed in. Tamara recognized the man that'd originally challenged Sam when he tried to help Joe. "This man helped make sure the driver of that truck was okay. He kept a level head through it all. He bandaged up the driver of that truck and probably saved his life."

"Uh huh," Randal grunted. "I see." He turned back to Sam. "Is there any damage to your vehicle?"

"Like I said, the brakes aren't working, but I think he missed us," Sam responded.

They walked over to the car. Tamara noticed a large scratch along the passenger side of the car that she didn't remember being there before.

Randall noticed it too. He bent down to get a closer look without touching it. "Looks new, was this here before?"

"No," Sam said. Tamara looked at him and noticed that the color had drained from his face. His hands were shaking and his eyes were wide as he stared at the slight damage.

"Humph," Randal grunted, looking from the tipped over truck, to the car, and back at the truck. "Something isn't adding up."

Tamara went to Sam, concerned for the large man. She had been proud of him when he conquered his obvious fear of going to the accident. And even more proud with how well he handled Joe and his wounds. But now he looked terrified.

She reached for his hand, but he yanked it back as if burned.

"I'm going to call a tow truck for your car, Mr. Mendez. In the meantime I'd like you to come down to the station and answer a few questions."

"Huh?" Sam asked "Um, yeah. Sure. As long as that bastard isn't the one asking questions."

Tamara tried again to reach out to him, but he turned away and started walking towards the police cruiser.

What had she done to hurt him? Tamara wondered. Her chest hurt, and she found herself shaking. Her breath came out in shallow gasps as she tried to reign in her emotions. Why had he ignored her? She had no idea what had happened, but the way Sam was acting only made her hurt. Didn't he know that she needed him right now?

"You'd better come along as well, miss," Randall told her. She barely heard him, too lost in her own worries. When he indicated for her to head to his car, she started walking, but felt numb.

Sam was hers. He'd admitted it! She'd finally won. What was wrong? They were alive. Sam should be happy.

Instead he was treating her like something to be avoided.

She didn't realize she was in the police car, until Randall closed the door for her.

"What are you?" Sam demanded in a strong whisper. Tamara looked up at him, hopeful now that he was talking to her. The look in his eyes scared her instead. "You washed up on the beach barely more than skin and bones, but a couple days later you could put the models of Victoria Secret to shame. You grabbed a burning pan out of my oven with your bare hands, and didn't get hurt. And now, today, we should have been crushed by that truck, but something stopped it before it could hit us. I don't believe in this shit, but I don't know what's going on and it's freaking the hell out of me. What are you, Tamara?"

The driver's door opened, and Randall got in before she could think of an answer. The way her name crossed his lips made her want to scream, but she held herself back. The other officer slipped into the passenger side a moment later.

"Jenkins will meet us at the precinct," he said.

Tamara barely heard him. The way she felt when people helped her and the weird feeling in her belly. It was still there, the hollow feeling that made her feel weak. Was Sam right? Weird things kept happening, but she couldn't explain any of it. Was she some kind of monster?

"Sam," she breathed and then swallowed down the sudden lump in her throat. Fuck, now she was crying too. What the hell was wrong with her? "I don't—"

He shook his head and looked at the back of the cop's head. She followed his gaze and then looked back at him. Blinking away the tears she bit her lip and nodded. She sniffed and turned her head to stare out the window. Even now, when she could practically taste his fear in the air—fear of her—he was protecting her.

The silence in the back seat of the car made the drive to the precinct take forever.

Chapter 17

"How long are you going to keep me here?" Sam asked. He'd lost track of how many times he'd asked the question. The clock on the wall told him he'd been here way too long.

While he was ready to leave, he wasn't ready to face Tamara. That truck should have hit them. It had hit them. What should have been a life altering— or ending— accident had barely left his car with a scratch. His car wasn't a tank that could handle a hit like that with barely a scratch.

Then there was the issue of how fast she'd recovered and went from a scrawny waif to looking like a teenage porn star. And her hand, after she'd grabbed the pan out of the oven. The food was smoking and practically on fire but her fingers hadn't even blistered! What the hell was going on with her?

Or was it him? Had he finally had the breakdown his ex had been telling him he was headed for? Was he even really at a cop station or sitting in a hospital somewhere in a straightjacket while he drooled on himself? He'd seen a movie a few years back about a sexy young girl that was crazy and managed to escape by slipping into some weird fantasy world where she danced her way out of her problems. Only problem was, nobody wanted to watch him dance, even if he could. That and he didn't feel crazy. If he remembered correctly, that girl had died at the end of the movie.

That brought him back to Tamara. Was she some sort of guardian angel? Sam shook that thought from his head. He didn't believe in ghosts and angels and all that crap. He believed in the power of his own two hands. If he could touch it, or affect it, then it was real. Hell, his old NCO loved to comment that if Sam couldn't eat it, destroy it, or fuck it, then it didn't matter.

But what stopped that truck?

"We're working up the paperwork to release you now, Mr. Mendez," Detective Anderson told him. This was a different answer than any he'd received before now. "Are you sure there isn't anything else you'd like to tell us?"

Detective Anderson had been the one interrogating Sam. He'd been polite and courteous throughout, even going so far as to extol Sam's military service, but it was still an interrogation. Sam had grown tired of the man's syrupy sweet attitude and repetitive questions.

"I've already told you everything I know," Sam snapped. "Fuck, I wouldn't be surprised if Jenkins cut my brake lines to cause the accident. I don't know how we avoided getting creamed. I don't know anything about what happened at the aquarium or on the beach. I've told you everything I know."

"You and Jenkins seem to have a long history," the detective stated. It wasn't a question, and it wasn't the first time he'd brought it up.

"I told you before, I want a restraining order against him." Sam had to work hard to keep himself from yelling. The man wasn't listening to him.

"Yes. We talked to your boss. She told us about what happened at the aquarium. Please believe me, and on behalf of our department, we're sorry for his behavior." Which meant they heard him, but weren't going to do a damned thing.

Sam only grunted. What else could he say that he hadn't already said more than once?

Someone knocked on the door. Detective Anderson poked his head out for a moment, before turning back to Sam.

"It looks like you were right about your car, Mr. Mendez. Somebody messed with your brakes."

Sam was speechless. It was one thing to suspect it, but to have it confirmed caused a knot to form in his stomach. He'd been in a hostile environment where people wanted to kill him— he'd been to war— but that had been a general hatred of all Americans. No one wanted Sam Mendez dead because he was Sam Mendez. They wanted him dead because he was an American soldier in their country and he stood for change and a new way of life.

Now somebody wanted him, Sam, dead. And there was only one person he could think that would be.

"It was Jenkins," Sam said, knowing he was right. "He was at the aquarium, giving me shit, and he followed us when we left. That's why he was there and saw the accident. He knew it was going to happen."

"That's a pretty strong accusation," Anderson said. "Are you sure it couldn't have been someone else?"

"No one else would do something like that to me."

"You're divorced?"

Sam stiffened. Would she? He shook his head. "No way. She's a bitch, but I made her that way. We used to get in fights and sometimes things got violent, but we never hit each other. We wouldn't. We're not like that. She's still the mother of my kids and I'm still their father. She wouldn't do that."

He raised an eyebrow.

"No, it was Jenkins. That son of a bitch has had it in for me from day one. He jumped to conclusions and just saw what he wanted to see. Now he's not getting his way and it's pissing him off, so he's out to get me one way or another."

"Officer Jenkins is an officer of the law," Anderson replied. His voice carried as much skepticism as Sam's certainty. "Are you sure the target was you, and not the girl? According to you, she doesn't remember her past. Maybe she made an enemy somewhere?"

Sam opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. There was something strange about Tamara. Too many things had occurred around her lately for him to dismiss anymore. And he didn't know her past. Could she have an enemy somewhere? Was she even old enough to have made an enemy willing to murder her ? One that was willing to kill Sam to get to her? Maybe that was why she'd washed up on the beach.

"She's just a girl," Sam lied. "Jenkins has been hounding me for years. Recently it's gotten worse. I'm telling you, he's the one!"

Anderson studied Sam for a moment, but Sam couldn't figure out what he was thinking.

"We'll look into it," was all he said concerning Sam's accusation. "In the meantime, go home and get some rest. Someone at the front will give you the address of where your car was towed. You're free to go."

"That's it?" Sam gasped. "You just found out that Jenkins was trying to kill me, and that's it?" Never mind that only a few moments ago he wanted to get out of here. He was being brushed aside. He'd served his country, risking his very life for the freedoms people took for granted. One of those freedoms was knowing that his life was supposed to be protected by the police. Instead they were shoving him out the door and protecting his attempted killer.

"Like I said, we'll look into it." There was a slight edge to his voice. He was no longer trying to be friendly and get answers from Sam. Now he was being professional.

Sam grunted as he stood up and walked out the door. It took a great deal of effort not to shoulder check the man as he passed by.

"Sam?" Tamara's uncertain voice reached him as he stepped into the lobby. His gut wrenched to hear the normally confidant young woman sound heartbroken.

Sam held up his hand, unable to look at her. He heard her sniff, and he knew she'd been crying. What was he going to do about her. There was something really fucking weird about her, but that didn't stop him from caring about her. Damn it! Just what he needed, more drama.

He got the address for where his car was, and turned around to face Tamara when he heard another voice.

"I'm telling you, something happened to her!" Brock's baritone rang out loud and clear. Sam turned to see him arguing with another cop. "She wouldn't just leave like that."

"Until she's been missing for twenty-four hours, or unless you have evidence to show me, we can't do anything," the cop sounding bored.

"Brock! Hey, what's going on?" Sam asked, approaching the young man.

"Sam? What—Never mind. It's Subie. Something's happened to her." Brock's eyes were wide and his breathing shallow. Sam had seen the signs of panic often enough to see that Brock was scared. "These pigs won't lift a finger to help!"

"Yeah, that seems to be their thing today," Sam agreed. "Come on. Why don't we head outside and you can tell me what happened."

"What about. . . ?" Brock asked, indicating the officer he'd been arguing with. The officer had already walked away. "Damn it!" he swore, before allowing Sam to lead him out. Tamara was right on their heels.

"What happened to Subie?" Tamara asked as soon as they were outside. Her voice came out quiet and uncertain.

"Tamara!" Brock exclaimed, noticing her for the first time. "Did Subie say anything to you last night? Did she mention going anywhere?"

"No, she didn't," Tamara said.

Brock let out a forlorn wail that sounded more like an animal dying, than someone worried about his girlfriend.

"Calm down," Sam admonished him. "I'm sure she's all right."

"All right?" Brock demanded. There was anger in his eyes as he spun on Sam. "All right?! Last night after the cops let us go at the beach, we went back to our room. Subie said she couldn't go to sleep, because she kept seeing that. . . that place! She said she was just going to walk around the lobby, but when I woke up this morning, she wasn't there. I figured she just went out to get coffee or breakfast or something, but she never came back. Subie wouldn't just leave like that!"

"Okay, okay," Sam was still trying to calm the man. "I believe you. What did the receptionist at the hotel say?"

"The. . . ? I didn't even think to ask!" Brock hit his forehead, angry with himself. The jock spun and started running for his car.

"Hold on!" Sam yelled after him. "We'll come with you." He didn't want to get into the middle of a lover's spat if Subie really had walked out on Brock, but he wasn't about to let the man go off half-cocked either.

"Sam?" Tamara's voice reached him again, but he shook his head.

"Not now, Tamara. Come on, we need to go with him." He wasn't wearing his running prosthetic, but thankfully Brock waited for them to get in before peeling out of the parking lot.

"We need to talk, Sam," Tamara whispered to him from the back seat. "I need you to talk to me."

His heart did flip-flops at the pleading in her voice, but he shoved it down.

"What are Adrian and Alex doing right now?" Sam asked, to take his mind off of Brock's driving. He'd been in some scary HUMMV rides. Brock's driving put them to shame as he screeched around corners, cut cars off, and ignored traffic signals. Come to think of it, this was almost exactly like those rides. Except that it's pretty hard to get a HUMMV's tires to screech.

"Adrian is checking out the places we've been. Alex is staying at the hotel in case she come back."

"Did you try calling her?" Tamara asked.

"Of course we did!" Brock snapped. "She didn't answer. I'm telling you, something happened to her."

"Calm down," Sam repeated again, knowing the man was ignoring him. "Tamara is just trying to help. Don't get mad at her."

"You're right," Brock replied. "I'm sorry, Tamara. I just. . . ." He shook his head and didn't complete the sentence. Sam understood. He'd felt that way when his ex took his kids away. He'd felt lost and hopeless, but at least he knew they were alive and well. Brock didn't even have that much.

What would he do if Tamara went missing? He turned to look at her. He regretted it immediately. The hope that blossomed in her eyes as he finally met her gaze was heart wrenching. He turned back to face the road as Brock's rental car jounced into the hotel parking lot.

He didn't need to worry about Tamara disappearing. She was safe and sound. He needed to worry about what he was going to do about her freakiness.

Brock got out of the car almost before it was in park. Sam waited for Tamara to get out before talking to her.

"Let's figure out what's happened to Subie, and then we can talk, okay?" He placed his hand on her shoulder. He'd been afraid his skin would crawl to touch her, but it felt natural. It felt right. That didn't stop him from pulling away before she could put her hand on his.

He saw a single tear break from her eye as she nodded. Before he could stop himself, he pulled her into a hug. He couldn't help it. She'd almost died with him, and he'd been an asshole to her. She needed him in a way right now that few people could ever understand. He was likely the only person around that understood what it was like to narrowly escape death. He berated himself, vowing to do better by her.

"I don't know what's going on, but we'll figure it out, together," he told her. He released her, but it took another few seconds before she let go of him.

"I'm scared, Sam," she told him.

"I know," he replied. "So am I, but right now we need to figure out where Subie is."

He didn't wait for a response. He turned and headed into the lobby to see three of Tamara's friends standing there. He could tell by the way they were huddled together that something was wrong.

"No, no, no, no," Brock whispered as they walked up.

"What's wrong?" Tamara asked. Sam was glad to note that her voice was stronger.

"This," Adrian said, pulling Brock's phone out of his hand and handing it over.

Tamara gasped as she looked at it, the color draining from her pretty features. She began to shake and whisper something under her breath. Sam snatched the phone away.

And almost dropped it.

The picture on the screen made Sam want to vomit. Subie's face was easily recognizable but the body she loved to flaunt wasn't. Bruises covered most of her exposed skin, and everything was exposed. Sam had often wondered what she looked like under her bikini, but he didn't want to see her like that.

"That came in with a text saying she was still alive, but if we go see the police, they'll kill her." Adrian's tone was flat and emotionless.

This time Brock's wail put his previous one to shame.

Chapter 18

Tamara didn't feel right. Something inside her twisted and thrashed at seeing Subie so brutalized. She felt light headed yet her body felt like it was made out of lead.

One thing she could understand was the anger beginning to boil up in her. Someone had hurt her friend and she wanted to make them pay. No, not wanted, needed. She needed to make them pay.

They were still in the lobby of the hotel, and people were staring at them. Brock's continued wails and mutterings weren't helping.

"Did the text say anything else?" Sam asked. Tamara perked up, waiting for the answer. Sam was a smart man. He'd been in hairy situations before. He'd know what to do. Her friends looked up to him too, she'd seen the respect in their eyes for him. It was respect he'd earned from how he carried himself and how he dealt with them. Sam was one of those guys you knew you could trust if he was on your side.

None of that changed that she was still mad at him, but right now he was finally paying attention to her, at least. She'd deal with their other issues later, after they took care of Subie and whoever had taken her.

"Only that they would send directions later," Adrian supplied.

The lines at the corners of Sam's eyes deepened for a moment. "When did the text come in?"

"Just now, when Brock walked in. He saw Adrian and I talking when his phone went off. He saw it was from Subie and got excited. I've never seen him look like that. Even when he lost the State Championship last year, he didn't act like this." Alex looked almost as distraught as Brock.

"I think losing his girlfriend is a bit more important that some wrestling championship," Adrian said.

"You didn't have to hear him brag to Subie about how he was going to kick their ass three ways from Sunday. And you didn't have to see how he acted after he was pinned," Alex shot back.

"None of that's important, now," Sam stated, stepping between the two. Tamara felt a thrill that settled deep in her belly and made her squeeze her legs together. Sam was taking control of the situation and it made him so damn sexy. "Did they say when they would text?"

Alex and Adrian shook their heads. Sam turned to Brock, gripped the big man's shoulders and turned him. "Listen, Brock. I need you to focus."

Tamara could still hear the jock muttering, "No, no, no, no."

"I know what you're feeling right now," Sam continued, talking over Brock's muttering in a calm voice. "Believe me, I've been there. But you're not going to do any good acting like a broken record." Brock seemed to be lost in his own little world, unable to hear Sam. Tamara saw her boyfriend's arms tighten on Brock's shoulders. Sam's head dropped and he sucked in a heavy breath. Lifting his head, he spared a glance for Tamara before grabbing Brock's face and staring him in the eyes. "You need to pull up your panties and brush the sand out of your vagina. You're acting like pissy little girl, and I hope after we save Subie, she decides to go for a real man."

Brock's reaction to Sam's insults caught Tamara off guard. His fist came up faster than she could follow, but Sam must have been expecting it. His arm intercepted the blow and knocked it aside. Brock's next attack brought him down as he swept Sam's false leg out from under him.

"Brock! Stop!" Alex cried, trying to pull her friend back. "Adrian, make him stop."

"How's that for a pissy little girl?" Brock boasted as he towered over Sam.

"Great!" Sam laughed. "You knocked down a cripple. Now help me up. We need to figure out what to do next."

Brock stared at Sam for a moment. He shook his head and offered Sam his hand. "Sand in my vagina? I'll have to remember that one," Brock said, as he helped Sam to his feet. "I'm sorry about that," Brock offered his hand again. "I just—"

"No worries," Sam interjected. "That's a good arm you've got there. Good reflexes, too. I understand what you're feeling. Hell, I wish someone would have been around to treat me like that when I lost my buddies over there."

"What am I going to do?" Brock went on. For a moment Tamara thought he was going to start whining again. "I can't lose her."

"You won't," Sam told him. "We'll get her back."

Tamara felt pride well up in her as she watched her man handle Brock. She'd seen him break down and become almost catatonic when faced with certain situations. To watch him now as he took charge was exhilarating. She wanted to shove him into a room and show him just how it made her feel. Maybe there would be time before any other instructions came in.

Adrian let them into the room. Tamara held back and grabbed Sam's arm when he passed by.

"I'll, uh, be there in a second," Sam told them, then squared his shoulders to her.

Tamara could see in his eyes that he was prepared for a fight. All the uncertainty that he'd hidden from the others was laid bare before her. The man she saw in front of her right now she could forgive anything.

"Look, Tamara," Sam began, "I know I was an asshole. I don't know what to say. Some freaky stuff has been happening, and I don't know how to deal with it. I don't know how to deal with you." Tamara was about to interrupt him, but that last part stopped her. He didn't know how to deal with her? He needed to throw her down on a bed and fuck her until they were both incoherent. She needed it hard, fast, and hard again. That's how he needed to deal with her right then. "You're the best thing to happen to me in a long time, and even though I know I don't deserve you. . ." He paused to look at the room with the others, before turning back to face her. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. I've only known you a few days, but you've become important to me. I—"

"Would you just shut up?" Tamara snapped, tired of hearing him babble. She thought it was cute how he was acting, but right now she didn't want cute. "Shut up and kiss me you big bear!"

Tamara couldn't help but giggle as his eyes grew large. The giggle turned into a moan as he lifted her up in his powerful arms and pressed his lips to hers. She knew that right now wasn't the time or place for it, but she couldn't stop her legs from wrapping around his waist and melding her body to his. She knew her lips would be sore from how hard they were pressing against each other, but she relished the feeling of his whiskers digging into her face. The small touch of discomfort couldn't outweigh the power and passion of the kiss.

"Ahem," Adrian coughed, pulling them back to the present. Tamara almost screamed when Sam set her back on the ground. Her knees were weak but Sam helped steady her. "We got another text."

Sam looked around the hallway they were still in, and then pulled Tamara into the room.

"Close the curtains," he told Alex. She jumped to obey his commanding tone. "I think someone is watching us," he told them. "Brock, you received the text right after you met up with Adrian and Alex, and after you came back from the police. The next one came when we were up here."

"Who would do this?" Brock asked. His voice cracked, and Tamara looked at him, afraid he was going to lose it again. The jock swallowed loudly and kept control.

"You said there was another text," Sam addressed Adrian. "What does it say?"

"Here," Adrian said, handing the phone over. "It was another picture. It—it's worse."

Sam looked at the picture and shook his head. Tamara held out her hand for the phone, but Sam hesitated. She could see his reluctance in his eyes and she willed him to hand it over. Her stomach flipped in excitement as he actually did it.

She almost regretted it, as soon as she looked at the screen. Subie was awake this time, her eyes filled with terror. Someone was holding a clock, and it showed ten minutes ago. She knew clocks could be changed, but the message was clear. She was alive for now.

Tamara tried to focus on the cuts and welts adorning Subie's body. Her eyes slid away from the designs, refusing to focus on them. Her head hurt the harder she tried to see them. Only one symbol would allow itself to be seen. It was a half circle, with the flat portion above the rounded bottom. An upside-down Y bisected it. It sat right above Subie's clean-shaven crotch and dripped with blood. She felt she should know what it meant, but a stab of pain in her skull almost made her drop the phone.

Tamara handed the phone back, grateful she didn't have to look at it anymore. Knowing that her friend was being hurt made a different kind of fire burn in the pit of her stomach.

"What are they doing to you Subie?" Brock cried as he looked at his phone.

"At least we know she's alive," Sam told him.

"The text said to meet them at this address," Adrian said, handing over a slip of paper. He must have written the address down before he'd interrupted Sam and her kissing.

Sam grunted as he looked at it. "I know this area. I spent some dark days there. It's not somewhere you want to go during the day, much less at night. I didn't notice, but did they say what they wanted?"

Adrian shook his head.

"What are they going to do to her?" Alex asked. Her tone said she was on the verge of panic.

For a moment Sam looked defeated as he met their eyes. Tamara could guess what he was thinking. How was he supposed to know what they were going to do? And why? None of them had any money, they were trying to enjoy spring break and were getting ready to head back home.

"Let's go get her before they can do anything else," Sam said after a moment of tense silence. "Adrian, you're in the best condition to drive right now. I'll navigate. Tamara—"

"Don't you dare tell me to stay behind," she interrupted him.

"I'm not staying behind either," Brock nearly shouted.

"I'm not staying here by myself," Alex spoke up before Sam could say anything.

Sam's eyes were wide as he stared from one to another. "I can't promise to keep you safe," he whispered.

"We know," Tamara said. She placed her hand on his arm and was glad when he didn't flinch away from her comforting touch.

"We need your help," Adrian added.

Sam looked at each of them in turn. The fear was still there, but Tamara also saw determination.

"Then I'm going to need you to do exactly what I say, without question, and God help us all."

Thinking about the last picture of Subie and the designs drawn and cut into her, Tamara knew God played no part in it.

Chapter 19

Sam couldn't stop his hands from shaking. It wasn't from fear of what they might be going into. He was terrified he was going to let these kids down. Or worse, get them killed. He hadn't been able to help his unit in Afghanistan. For a moment his lieutenant's blood soaked gaze appeared before him. He shook his head, shoving the image into the back of his mind.

Scared or not, he couldn't let Subie be abused and not try to help.

Sam patted his hip, verifying the pistol was still there. He knew it was, but couldn't stop himself from checking. He hadn't grabbed one for anyone else when they stopped at his place. The last thing he needed was to have one of these kids shooting him by accident. He'd seen fully trained soldiers become trigger happy when nervous. Or worse. In Brock's case it would definitely be worse. Tamara and Alex were doing their best to calm Brock down, but the man was a mess.

"Turn here," Sam told Adrian. He was driving better than Brock had. Thankfully traffic was light this late in the evening. "This is the place."

Silence fell in the car as Adrian parked outside a beat up old house. What had once been a white picket fence surrounded the weed-choked yard. A walkway went up to the front porch. The off-white paint on the house was pealing and the windows were dark.

No one moved as silent seconds turned into tense minutes.

Sam gripped the pistol, nearly pulling it from the holster as something vibrated in the back seat.

"Oh, God. I can't look at it," Brock whined. "Alex, what does it say?"

Sam loosened his grip, but didn't let go. He berated himself for being a bit too trigger happy himself. He was supposed to be the calm one here. He was the oldest adult and had the most experience with bad situations. He needed to set the example.

"I-it just says to come in," Alex stuttered. "There's no picture this time."

"She's dead!" Brock cried. "That's why they didn't send a picture. They fucking killed her!"

"Brock, calm down!" Adrian yelled back.

"Let me out!" Brock ignored his friend. "I'm going to kill them. Damn it, Alex, let go of me. Those fuckers are going to pay!"

Sam turned in his seat. Brock had been sitting in the middle, and both women were working hard to keep the strong man in the car.

"Let go!" Brock screamed again, turning his head just enough for Sam's hand to fly out and slap him. The distraught man's head snapped back from the blow.

"You're brain went AWOL son, get it together," Sam said into the resounding silence. He was shocked to hear how calm his own voice was. "We're all going in. Together." Brock turned murderous eyes on Sam. He kept his face blank, and after a moment despair sank back into Brock's blue eyes. "Acting crazy or going in there half-cocked will only get you killed, her killed, or probably both." Sam took a deep breath. "Someone needs to stay with the car, ready to drive if things go south." He looked at Tamara. Sam didn't know if she knew how to drive, but he didn't want her going into that house.

"I'll stay," Alex offered. Her voice quavered as she spoke.

Sam was about to argue until he saw the look in Tamara's eyes. He'd been a fool to think he could get her to stay behind.

"Fine," Sam nodded. They got out of the car, and huddled around the driver's side. Sam couldn't help picturing a bunch of scared animals huddling together for false safety. "Keep the car running," He told Alex as she slid into the driver's seat. "Start honking if you see something suspicious. If something happens, stay as long as you can, but don't put yourself into danger if you can avoid it."

"I won't abandon you," Alex declared. Despite her obvious fear Sam could hear the determination in her tone.

Sam grunted before turning around and standing up straight. Three sets of eyes looked to him for guidance. For a moment he froze, uncertain what to do. He wasn't qualified to lead. He couldn't—No! Subie needed him to be a man.

"I'll go up first. Stay close behind me. If anything happens, drop to the floor. You'll be harder to hit if they have guns."

"The longer we're out here, the longer she's being tortured," Brock argued.

Sam half wished that Brock had chosen to remain behind. The jock was too emotional to be rational. Sam hoped he didn't turn into too much of a liability.

"Stay behind me," Sam repeated.

The hinges of the gate squealed in protest as Sam opened it and walked through. His nerves were already on edge. Everything about this place screamed for him to turn around and run.

The front door was in worse shape than the rest of the house. Wood splintered and twisted away from the obstacle. Sam could see that the windows were broken. The house had been abandoned.

Sam lifted his hand to knock, but hesitated. They already knew they were there. That last text messaged confirmed that they were being watched. Should he just barge in, pistol ready?

Sam decided to err on the side of caution. Besides, he'd likely get a fistful if slivers if he knocked. He didn't realize how sweaty his palms were, until he gripped his gun. His hands weren't shaking anymore, at least, but a slippery grip wasn't much better.

"Stay close," Sam whispered. He was starting to sound like a broken record. Heh, these kids probably don't even know what a record is! He thought.

Before anyone could reply, Sam gripped the knob and opened the door. It was unlocked.

He dropped to one knee and scanned the room, his gaze tracking along with the barrel of his 9mm. The faint light that stabbed through the broken window cut through the darkness like a knife. A razor edge of light revealed peeling linoleum. In the darkness shadows gave credence to small piles of trash and dirt that had piled up over the years. The room was barren of any furniture or areas for people to hide. Once he was certain it was empty, he stood up and signaled for the rest to follow him.

"Subie! I'm coming for you, baby!" Brock yelled and shoved Sam out of the way.

Sam hit the floor as his left leg twisted out from underneath him. "Brock, wait!" he gasped, but it was too late. The man charged in and disappeared around the corner. The floor smelled of ammonia, probably where a stray cat or dog had gone to the bathroom. Apparently the house wasn't completely abandoned.

"Are you all right?" Tamara asked as she helped him to his feet.

"Damn kid's going to get himself killed," Sam swore. "Come on, let's go."

Despite Brock's brash behavior, they took it slow. Each room was empty save for the accumulations of years of neglect. Sam heard the crunch as his artificial leg come down on the bones of a long dead animal.

He worried that they were walking into a trap. If this were Afghanistan, he would have ordered everyone out, and requested EOD come through with one of their robots. This wasn't Afghanistan, and he didn't know anybody with a robot available. The cops? Not a chance. Whoever had Subie had already promised what would happen if the cops were involved.

Brock's voice cried out. Before Sam knew what was happening he was hauled along with Adrian and Tamara as they rushed to a set of stairs leading down. Flickering light reflected from around a corner down there.

"Let me go first," he told the other two, grabbing their arms to stop them from rushing into uncertainty. He didn't understand what was going on. Where were the bad guys? What happened to Brock?

Sam hated stairs. It took careful precision to make sure his left heel didn't strike the edge of a step and send him tumbling down. To make matters worse, he needed to keep one hand holding the pistol up while he watched below. When he stepped onto the level floor, he could hear someone sobbing around the corner. He expected to find the worst and didn't want to look.

Sam glanced back up the stairs and saw Tamara and Adrian staring at him wide eyed. His heart tried to beat a way out of his chest. His head had begun to hurt as he went down the stairs, and now his vision was becoming blurry.

Keep it together, he told himself. They're counting on you.

Sam closed his eyes and took two steadying breaths. He dropped back down to his good knee and peeked around the corner.

"What the fuck?" he mumbled. He used the handrail for the stairs to pull himself back up. He rushed into the room, holstering his gun as he moved to Brock's and Subie's side. The lovers were holding onto each other. Subie still had bruises, cuts, and other marks adorning her nude body, but she was alive.

Sam looked around and saw five candles surrounding them. A circled star was chalked around where Brock held Subie with the candles at the points of the star. Based on the direction Subie was facing, the star was upside-down. Another Satanic site? Was everything tied together?

Sam considered their rash of bad luck lately: Brock's car getting beat up, the dolphins attacked at the aquarium, the site at the beach, and Subie's kidnapping. Sam couldn't figure out a common thread between them. It couldn't be him. Sam didn't meet Brock, Subie, and Alex until after the car had been totaled. It couldn't be Tamara. She'd never even seen the dolphins until after the attack. The same went for the rest of Tamara's friends.

"Sam?" Tamara asked, interrupting his thoughts. "Is everything. . . ?"

"She's alive," Sam told her. "She's going to need medical attention." Sam dropped next to the couple. "Brock, I need to take a look at her. I need to know how bad she is."

Subie clutched her boyfriend tighter, refusing to let go and crying even louder. Sam sighed, seeing the futility of his request.

Thanks to her nudity Sam was able to look at her back and arms. In the dim light that filtered down the stairs he could see her cuts were all shallow, nothing more than deep scratches. Some of her bruises were going to make moving painful, but none of them looked like they were hiding broken bones.

"What is all this?" Adrian asked.

Sam turned to look at him, but his eyes were drawn to Tamara. Even in the pale light of the candles, Sam could see something was wrong. Her face had gone deathly white, and she was shaking hard. Sam couldn't tell if she was looking at Subie or the upside-down pentagram. Her mouth hung open and he knew she was about to lose it.

"Tamara?" Sam asked as he got to his feet. He reached out for her. Before his fingers could touch her shoulder, she collapsed. She huddled into a ball, sucking in air at a rapid pace. A second later she screamed as though she were being tortured beyond human endurance.

In the background he could hear the sound of a car horn honking.

Chapter 20

Sam's body was moving before his brain knew what was going on. He scooped Tamara into his arms as she continued to scream and hold her head. What was wrong with her? This was the second time she'd acted like that after seeing what looked like a satanic ritual.

"Brock, it's time to go," Adrian screamed. "Alex is in trouble!"

Sam turned to see that Brock wasn't moving. Sam wondered if he was aware of what was happening around them, now that Subie was back in his arms.

"Adrian, take Tamara," Sam bellowed to be heard over Tamara's screams. He hated to hand her over, but he was going to have a hard enough time making it back up the stairs. "I'll get the blockhead!"

As soon as Tamara was lifted from his arms, he rushed over to Brock and Subie. "We've got to go." Neither one moved. Sam was getting sick of the young man. For a split second he was tempted to leave him behind. But that would mean leaving Subie as well and she was the one they'd come to rescue. He wasn't a Jarhead, but he'd be damned if he left anyone behind.

"Listen to me," Sam screamed into Brock's ear. "Those people are still out there, and if you don't want them getting their hands on your girl again, you'd better get her out of here!"

Brock finally turned an angry glare on Sam and yelled, "Never! They'll never touch her again!" In one swift motion he picked his naked girlfriend up and rushed to the stairs.

Sam followed Brock up and met Adrian at the top. Tamara had stopped screaming. She looked to be resting fitfully in his arms.

"What's going on out there?" Sam asked, hoping Alex had just been spooked. He couldn't hear the car honking anymore. Had she left them? Flickering orange light filtered through the broken windows, making Sam's stomach tie in knots.

"You've got the gun, man," Adrian told him. "I'm not poking my head out there."

Sam swore under his breath about the cowardice of today's youth until he remembered that he was the trained soldier, not them.

Sam's left leg was beginning to throb. He'd been running on the wrong prosthetic too much. The stairs hadn't helped.

He crunched through the debris on the floor as he went to the window. Sam peeked out. "Fuck!" he yelled as he made out the car in flames. No one seemed to be around. "The car is on fire," he gasped as he rushed to do door. "Please don't let Alex be in there. Please don't let Alex be in there." Sam repeated the mantra as he pushed down the path to the fence.

Before he reached the old gate, the car exploded, sending a fireball into the night sky. The concussion knocked Sam back into Adrian and Tamara following close on his heels. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs.

"Sam?" Tamara asked, her voice thick with confusion.

Sam rolled over and looked up, staring around until he located what was left of the car. He was dizzy and confused, remnants from the blast. He shook his head and struggled to his feet. "Hang on," he mumbled.

"Alex was in there," Adrian said on the edge of panic.

"I know!" Sam snapped. The gate was on fire from the explosion. Sam kicked it open with his prosthetic, shooting even more pain into his thigh. He ignored it as he moved to the driver's side of the twisted wreckage.

The heat was too intense to get close, but Sam didn't need to. Bright yellow flame billowed from the driver's side window. Nothing could survive in that.

"Is she in there?" Adrian called, but Sam ignored him.

He'd failed again. These kids had relied on him to help them through this, and he'd gotten one of them killed.

What was I thinking, leaving someone behind, alone? He demanded of himself. He'd left her, defenseless and vulnerable.

He didn't know when he fell to his knees, and he didn't care. His Lieutenant. Specialist Andrews in the back seat of the HUMMV. And now Alex. All dead because he couldn't save them. One more ghost to haunt his dreams at night.

"Oh, God!" Adrian gasped next to him.

Sam looked up and saw the look of horror on Adrian's face. Had Alex been his girlfriend? The two hadn't acted like Brock and Subie, but not all couples did. He hadn't taken the time to get to know his girlfriend's friends, and now he wouldn't be able to get to know one of them.

His girlfriend. . . . Tamara's pretty face forced itself to the forefront of his mind. His left thigh screamed in pain as he got to his feet, but he ignored it.

He found her sitting up in the weeds and staring at the burning car. "Tamara!" he gasped. "What happened to you?"

Her brown eyes blinked in confusion as she looked up at him.

"Sam?" Her voice was raspy, sore after so much screaming. "What? I—?" Her head dropped into her hands. "Alex was still in there, wasn't she?"

The pain in her voice echoed in Sam's heart. Sam knelt next to her. He enfolded her into his arms. Her head tucked under his chin as she cried. He couldn't stop his own tears from dripping down his cheeks and into her hair.

Sam looked around and saw that Brock had removed his shirt and given it to Subie. He was big enough that on Subie's small frame, the shirt almost made her look decent.

"Why would anyone do this?" Tamara asked, trying to hug him tighter. Any tighter, and his ribs might crack, but Sam didn't mind.

"Who knows why—" Sam cut himself short as he heard a noise off to his left. Was one of the people who'd done this still around? He was almost surprised that he hadn't heard any sirens yet. This was a bad part of town, but someone should still be on their way to put out the fire.

There was the noise again, almost buried under the sound of the crackling fire. It almost sounded like. . . . Yes! Someone was groaning. The flickering shadows of the still burning fence made it hard to see.

Sam attempted to stand, but Tamara refused to let go. "Tamara, I think someone is over there," he told her. "Someone else might be hurt." She let him stand, but refused to let go.

He put her on his left, and gripped his pistol with his right hand. If it was one of their attackers, he wasn't going to be caught unawares.

"Alex?" Tamara saw her first, hidden in the overgrown weeds.

Sam gasped as he dropped next to her, Tamara still attached to his hip. Blood covered the left side of the woman's face. One leg and the opposite arm were bent at unnatural angles. With the poor light from the fire, he couldn't make out her chest moving, but she groaned and moved her head. She was still alive!

"Alex!" Sam yelled. "Alex, can you hear me?"

She didn't respond. Sam checked her head first. Her face looked like it might be bruised, but that could just be the firelight. There was a knot on the back of her head and a gash above her temple that might need stitches. Sam's mind went into medic mode, as he checked her over, noting that her left arm and right leg were broken below the elbow and knee respectively, but the bones weren't protruding from her skin.

"Is she going to be. . ." Adrian trailed off.

"She's going to need a more thorough examination than I can give her, but I think she'll live," Sam told him. "I don't dare move her, not without setting her bones first. See if you can find some sticks or something to brace her arm and leg with. Has anyone tried calling 911?" Sam looked around again and felt a chill settle into his bones.

Three people, one female between two males, were staring at him from the other side of the low fence. Sam couldn't make out their faces, but their stances said enough.

"We want the girl," they said in unison. The man on the right pointed at Sam with a baseball bat.

No, not at Sam, at Tamara.

"What do you want with her?" Sam asked, trying to move his girlfriend behind him.

"Back the fuck off!" Adrian yelled before the trio could answer. "You're not going to hurt Alex anymore!"

"Adrian, no!" Sam yelled, but Adrian was faster than him.

He took off running, hurtling the fence in a leap that made Sam Jealous. Even outnumbered, Sam wondered if the man was going to fight them off with his fury alone. The battle was short-lived, however, as the one holding the bat dodged Adrian's fist, and brought the bat down on the back of his head. Adrian crumpled to the ground and didn't move.

"We want the girl," they said again. Sam wondered if they practiced talking simultaneously, to match their voices. The bat was pointed at Tamara again.

Subie started wailing, trying to scramble out of Brock's arms.

"Don't let them take me," she wailed. Apparently these were the same one's that had tortured her.

Sam's attention was on the threat. "You can't have her!" he shouted. He pulled the pistol up, aimed, and squeezed the trigger twice.

Sam's ears rang with the report of the weapon, but he didn't care. Two sparks flashed in front of the trio as his rounds struck and bounced off something invisible between them.

"The fallen angel must come with us," their voices melded in unison.

"That is getting creepy," Sam muttered. "No one is going anywhere with you creeps."

Tamara's fingers gripped the back of Sam's shirt as she huddled behind him.

He knew that no matter what happened, no matter what these guys were capable of, he wasn't going to let them get Tamara. They weren't going to get the chance to treat his woman the way they'd treated Subie and Alex.

Adrian groaned at their feet, but they ignored him. The girl in the middle brought her foot back and kicked the fence. It shattered, sending splinters and debris flying in all directions. Sam turned to protect Tamara, shielding her with his body.

When he turned back around, the three were right there.

They can't block a bullet this close, Sam thought, and squeezed the trigger without aiming. This close, there was no need to aim.

The man on the left grunted, but didn't go down. The woman grabbed Sam by the neck, and a second later he found himself flailing through the air and his feet scrambled to keep under him. No woman was that strong!

"Sam!" Tamara screamed before he hit the ground with a pain filled thump. The world went white as Sam's head struck a rock in the weeds.

The ringing in his ears made his lips curl into a bitter smile. Finally, he thought, Sirens!

Chapter 21

"He's waking up."

The words rattled around in his head like shrapnel pinging against the armor of a tank. A spike of pain pierced his skull as he opened his eyes and someone flashed a light in them. Sam tried to figure out what was going on but his thoughts gelled in his head.

"He has a concussion. We should take him in to make sure nothing else is damaged," the same voice said. It sounded familiar. Why couldn't he think straight? Where did who want to take him? Oh, right. The concussion.

"Sam?" Tamara's voice cut through the fog surrounding his mind like a knife. She was all right!

He sat up, trying to knock the paramedic aside. His head swam and he tipped over instead. Someone groaned as Tamara's arms caught him. A moment later, he realized he was the one groaning.

"What happened?" Sam muttered. The last thing he remembered was flying through the air after he'd been tossed aside like an empty sandbag.

"You hit your head pretty hard after the car exploded," Tamara told him. Something didn't sound right about the way she said that. He hadn't imagined everything after the explosion, had he?

Sam opened his eyes again, and saw the worry and fear in Tamara's gaze. The car was nothing more than a smoking mess with firefighters wrapping up their hoses. How long had he been out?

The paramedic looking over him was the same one from the accident early that day. "You seem to be having a lot of car problems, lately," he said to Sam with a smile.

"At least this one wasn't mine," Sam tried to laugh, but it turned into another groan.

"We should take you to the hospital for a better look."

Tamara's arms tightened around Sam. He looked back at her and could see that as worried about him as she was, the threat of him leaving her left her ready to panic.

"I know what to look out for," Sam told him. "If I notice anything wrong, I'll go straight to the hospital." Sam decided to do a quick check of himself. His neck was sore, as were his ribs, but nothing felt broken. His prosthetic was twisted to the side. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was busted.

"I have a set of crutches in the ambulance," the paramedic said. "Did you get that one from the VA?"

"Yeah, and it'll be months before they can get me a new one." Sam wasn't bitter about the speed of the VA. He understood that any government entity worked slower the more important it was. "I have another one at home I can switch to." His thigh was still throbbing, so maybe it would be good to put his running prosthetic on. Right now, he just wanted to go home and go to sleep.

He almost groaned out loud when he remembered he couldn't sleep for a few hours. Damned concussion!

Tamara helped him to his foot while the paramedic grabbed the crutch. Sam thanked him for it, then waited for him to leave, before turning on Tamara.

"What really happened?" He tried to keep his voice calm, but his head was swimming with too many unanswered questions. What was she hiding? What happened after he'd been knocked out? Where were those three people? How were Alex and Adrian? What the hell was going on in his city?

"I-I don't know," she stammered.

"I called a cab," Brock said as he joined them. Subie was at his side. She refused to let go of her boyfriend. Brock's shirt draped loosely on her. Now that she was standing, it covered a bit more of her nakedness.

Sam couldn't stop the scowl that spread across his face as he faced Brock. The kid could have gotten them killed multiple times, and he'd refused to listen to Sam. He could understand being concerned about someone you cared about, but not to the point of stupidity.

"Sorry about earlier," Brock offered as Sam continued to glare. "I just—" he glanced at Tamara and Sam saw fear enter his eyes. He had to swallow before he could continue. "It won't happen again."

"Damn straight it won't!" Sam growled. "You fucked up big time back there. It won't happen again, because I'm not—" He cut himself off as he realized what he was about to say. He wasn't going to take the kid on another mission. Sam hoped there would never be another mission. He glanced down at Tamara and shook his head. Whoever that had been, whatever they were, they wanted Tamara and were willing to kill to get her. Was he strong enough to stop them? Why did they want her? They'd called her a fallen angel. . . Sam barely stifled another groan as he realized he had even more questions now.

"You saved us," Subie said softly. There was an uncertain quality in her tone that'd never been there before. What she'd been through must have really changed her. "You both saved all of us!"

Before he knew what was happening, Subie pulled Tamara and him into a tight hug. Tamara had saved them too? What happened when he was out? And Brock had looked at Subie with fear.

The cops had a few questions for them and then let them go. It seemed Brock had most of the answers. Sam hadn't even known the man was aware of what was happening. Of course, he left out the part about the three crazy people.

For once Jenkins wasn't there to cause problems.

"Come back to the hotel with us," Subie begged. "I'd feel safer with you there."

Sam was about to argue and saw that Brock didn't look too happy about it. Sam had a lot of questions for Tamara that he wasn't comfortable asking in front of the other two. One of those questions had to do with why Brock wanted to get away from them too.

"Of course we will," Tamara said before he could respond. "Won't we, Sam?"

Sam's head was really throbbing, and he didn't feel like arguing. "Sure, whatever," he muttered.

Tamara gripped his hand, and looked up at him. "Your head's really hurting, isn't it? I know a way we can take your mind off of it when we get to the hotel." She leaned in closer to him. "We can use whatever room they're not in."

Sam couldn't stop the small smile that split his lips. Despite himself, and despite everything that'd happened, Tamara was the same young woman. If she really was a fallen angel then he wondered what heaven must be like. He already knew what hell was like.

Sam made the cab stop at his place so he could get his running prosthetic strapped on. Tamara helped him and showed a strength he didn't know she had when she served as a human crutch for him. She even knelt in front of him and attached it with barely a glance at his crotch. He was surprised and a little disappointed.

"How were Alex and Adrian?" Sam asked after he climbed back into the car and they left for the hotel.

"Adrian's skull was smashed in. The paramedics said they wouldn't know more until they checked him out at the hospital," Brock answered. "Alex was pretty messed up, and they rushed them both away as soon as they could."

"What did they say about you, Subie?" Sam asked.

Tamara backhanded his arm for some reason and gave him a scandalized look.

"She didn't want them looking at her," Brock offered. Sam saw the woman cuddle up to her man through the rearview mirror. Apparently it was a touchy subject.

"We'll be next door if you need us," Tamara said after they paid the cabby and walked up to the rooms. She pulled a keycard out of her pocket. Sam wondered how she'd gotten it but forgot about it when Subie grabbed Brock's pants at the waist.

"Good idea," she said to them. She turned to Brock and said, "Come on. I need you alone right now, anyway!"

Before he had a chance to say anything, Subie's lips were plastered to his. It didn't look like he wanted to argue the point as they went into their room.

"Let's have a contest to see who can be louder," Tamara smirked at him.

"Tamara, wait," Sam said as he closed the door behind him. "We need to talk."

"Not yet," she told him, shoving him back against the door. "There will be plenty of time for that later. Right now I want to forget about everything that's happened. I feel dirty inside, and there is only one tool I know will make me feel clean." She grabbed his crotch, stood on her tip-toes, and pressed her lips to his.

He tried to hold out. He had a lot of questions he wanted answered. Too many questions. As her lips parted and he felt her tongue snake across his lips, his defenses weakened. When her hands worked at his pants, his reservations cracked. When she moaned a breathy, "Please, Sam," he succumbed to her will once again.

He used the break in their kiss to grab her shirt and pull it off. They were soon melded together, bodies writhing together in shared bliss. Sam entirely forgot about his head as he rolled her onto her stomach and thrust himself inside her. The walls between the rooms were thin. He heard Subie cry out and remembered Tamara's challenge. He grunted as he picked up the pace and was rewarded a moment later with Tamara's own cries of ecstasy.

He forgot about their neighbors when Tamara pulled away, turned around, and tackled him. She kissed him with abandon, and he found himself returning it with interest.

He didn't know which side finished first, but the room fell silent as Tamara collapsed next to him. They were both breathing heavily and covered in a light sheen of sweat.

Sam slipped his arm around her slim waist as she placed her head on his chest.

"Thank you, Sam," she breathed. "You always know how to make me feel better."

Sam smiled and hugged her tighter to him. The feeling was mutual, but he didn't feel like talking. It had been long enough for him to finally go to sleep, hadn't it? The clock on the nightstand showed that it had been a few hours ago that he'd been knocked out.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, Sam."

Tamara's words sent a jolt through him, waking him up instantly. He didn't know what to say. He cared for her, sure, but love? They hadn't known each other that long. Maybe it was just the trauma of the last few days making her feel that way. He'd seen it a few times in Afghanistan. Two people shared a horrible experience and became close afterwards. He knew those relationships weren't supposed to last.

When he remained silent for a while, Tamara shifted to look up at him. He closed his eyes and acted like he was asleep.

Tamara shifted again, and he felt her sweet breath on his lips a moment before she lightly kissed him.

"Sleep, Sam. Tomorrow we can talk."

Chapter 22

Sam woke to the noise of someone pounding on the door. For a moment he found himself in unfamiliar surroundings. Memories of what he'd done were slow to return. When had he fallen asleep? Tamara's final words bubbled to the surface in his brain, causing him to turn his head and look to where she was curled up beside him. She was beautiful and at peace. It brought a smile to his lips.

The knocking came again, forcing his smile into a snarl. Sam scrambled to get out of bed. Tamara had taken his prosthetic off in the most seductive way last night and now he had to hop to the door before she woke up and the spell of sleep was broken.

"What?" Sam demanded as he cracked the door. He was still naked.

Brock was on the other side. He was the last person Sam wanted to see. He hadn't forgotten the way the jock had knocked him over as he rushed into the abandoned house. Or the way he'd ignored everything around him once Subie was back in his arms.

"Hey, um, you want to go get some breakfast?" Sam continued to glare at him. "Well, I guess it's more like lunch since it's around noon." Sam stayed silent. Brock lowered his voice and stepped up to the door. "It'll give me a chance to talk to you about last night."

Sam hesitated, before turning back to Tamara. He couldn't leave her. Not when here were three crazy people out there hunting her.

"I can't leave her," Sam said. He tried to close the door, but it was pushed back and Subie forced her way in. Where had she come from? On only the one leg, Sam was thrown off balance and had to brace himself against the wall.

"I'll stay with her," she said. She was dressed in the most modest clothes he'd ever seen her in. "Wow. I can see why she was sore after the first time you two were together." Subie gave him an appraising glance and seemed to like what she saw by the smile that split her lips. "Too bad I'm happy with my man, or I'd give Tamara a run for her money."

The heat that that filled Sam's cheeks was almost as embarrassing as her appraisal. At least she was acting normal again.

"It's all right, Sam," Tamara mumbled as she sat up. Her naked chest made his mouth water as it reflected the light streaming through the window. Thankfully Brock was still out in the hallway. "I'll be fine here. We won't let anyone in. Besides, after last night I'm pretty hungry."

Now that Sam thought about it, he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. And he wanted to find out what happened while he slept.

"I'll be out in a moment," Sam told Brock and shut the door in his face. Sam knew the gesture was petty, but he didn't care.

He endured a running commentary on his physique from both women as he dressed. Tamara helped him with his prosthetic, using the excuse to let her hands wander up his thighs. If Subie weren't in the room he would have taken his naked girlfriend to bed again. By the time he was ready to leave he felt like a piece of meat on the auction block. After Tamara's smoldering kiss at the door, he didn't care if Subie was there or not.

Both women's giggles followed him as Tamara pushed him out the door.

"As long as you were in there, I was beginning to wonder if I needed to bust down the door and save my girlfriend," Brock teased him with a slight edge to his voice. Sam stayed quiet as they walked down the hall. He tried to adjust his crotch as he walked, but couldn't do it well while being subtle enough that Brock wouldn't notice. The last thing he needed right now was for Brock to get the wrong idea.

One thing was certain. When he made it back to the room, Subie was getting kicked out, and Tamara was going to get stuffed by something other than food.

"You're an animal, man," Brock told him as they got in the elevator. "We could still hear you two going at it long after Subie drained me dry."

"What happened last night?" Sam asked, hoping to change the subject. "At the house, I mean."

Brock grimaced, and shuffled his feet. The elevator doors opened and they walked through the lobby in silence.

There was a burger joint a block down the road and they headed for it. It wasn't as good as the Sandis Drive Inn, but that was miles away and he wasn't going to pay for cab fare. After the workout last night with Tamara, and the one he planned on having when he got back to the room, he figured he could splurge on one meal.

"I don't want to talk bad about Tammy," Brock started.

"Tamara. She hates being called Tammy," Sam corrected him without thinking.

"Oh, right. Tamara. Anyway, she saved our hides last night. Not that you didn't either," Brock rushed on when Sam glanced at him. "I know I fucked up, but I couldn't think straight, knowing Subie was in the hands of those bastards. Did you know she cried on my shoulder last night? God, she'd kill me if she knew I told you. I've never seen her cry before. Never."

"Last night? The house?" Sam prompted. He didn't care one way or another if Subie ever cried. He wanted to get some food and get back to Tamara.

"Right. Last night. Well, after that lady threw you, Tamara went crazy." Brock shook his head and stayed silent for a moment. Sam was about to prompt him again, but Brock continued. "I don't even know how to describe what I saw. The guy you shot reached into his gut and pulled the bullet out, laughing the whole time. Then they all advanced on Tamara as she tried to wake you up. The way they talked all at once was disturbing. They told Tamara to go with them. They said she belonged with them as a fallen angel."

There was that term again. A fallen angel. Were heaven and hell real? Was Tamara some sort of guardian angel that'd come to help him? She'd saved his life yesterday and it had been supernatural. Despite the extra stress she caused him, he had to admit to himself that she made him happy.

But the three that came for her last night were not good guys. Why would they say she belonged with them? Was Tamara an angel that had gotten into some sort of trouble and kicked out? Knowing her, it was likely for some sort of sexual infraction. The girl was insatiable!

Sam realized that Brock had stopped talking. He was about to prompt for more information, but they were at the restaurant.

Brock insisted on paying for the food after Sam and Tamara had saved them last night. Sam didn't have enough money in his account to object. In fact, he was going to have to call Latoya and explain his absence today. Hopefully he could blame it on the accident and use emergency leave.

As soon as they were back outside, Sam pressed for more information.

"You're going to think I'm crazy," Brock hedged.

"After the last few days, I already know how crazy I am. You can't be any worse."

"I don't know," Brock hesitated. Sam glanced at him and he relented. "They reached for her. I. . . It was. . ." Brock took a deep breath before continuing. "She screamed at them."

"She screamed?" Sam asked, uncertain he heard correctly. Why would Brock act so worried about that?

"Yeah, but it was more than that. There was something in the scream. I felt it." Brock shook his head again. "They felt it too. The three psychos, I mean. One second they were there, the next. . . the next they just vanished."

"Is that why you didn't tell the police?" Sam asked. People didn't just vanish. But then again, fully loaded semi-trucks didn't stop on a dime, and if someone pulled a burning pan of bacon out of the oven with their bare hands, they ended up with nasty burns. Maybe Tamara could make bad people disappear. He'd have to introduce her to his ex and see what happened.

"Come on. They weren't going to believe me! Hell, I barely believe me, and I watched the whole thing."

"Did Subie see any of it?" Sam wondered aloud. Maybe if she had, she might tell a different story. Two eye-witness reports could be drastically different, but each one painted more of the story.

"I don't know," Brock answered as he pushed the button to call the elevator. The doors opened immediately and they stepped in. "If she did, she didn't say anything about it."

Sam wondered about that. Subie had acted like Tamara and Sam had saved her last night. If what Brock said was true then Subie would have had to see something of Tamara's unnatural abilities to think that way.

Maybe she didn't want to talk about it, Sam thought.

Something didn't sit right in his stomach.

As soon as the doors opened, Sam rushed out and down the hallway.

"What's the rush?" Brock asked as he caught up.

Sam ignored him.

The uneasy feeling turned into a lead rock as they approached his door.

It was wide open.

Sam dropped the bag of food he was holding and ran into the room. Subie was unconscious on the floor; her dark hair spread out around her head and matted with blood.

Tamara was nowhere in sight.

Chapter 23

"What do you mean, the cameras are broken?" Sam demanded. The girl working the reception desk flinched away from him. First she'd claimed she hadn't seen Tamara leave and now this?

"I'm sorry, sir, but it looks like they stopped recording late last night. We only just noticed all we're getting is static."

Sam's fist slammed down on the counter. Why did cameras keep breaking down? First at work with whoever attacked the dolphins and now here. Was he living in some Hollywood style adventure where hackers were controlling the world electronically? Or was it something else, was this related to Tamara and the crazy shit surrounding her? His doubts about the supernatural being fake were being shaken to the core.

"Sam! Subie is waking up!" Brock yelled from the elevator.

Sam turned and ran for the elevator, glad he had the right prosthetic. Brock was holding it open for him. As soon as they reached their floor they raced back to the room.

A couple paramedics squatted on either side of Subie. The battered woman was sitting up and holding her bandaged head. It looked like they'd cleaned the blood away from her face.

"What happened?" Sam yelled. He was almost as angry with her as he was with himself. Sam never should have left them alone, even if Subie had claimed she'd watch over Tamara. Now Tamara was gone.

"Not so loud," Subie moaned.

"She has a concussion," one of the men next to her said. He stood and stepped up to Sam. "What happened to her? Her body is covered in bruises that are older than the wound on her head."

Sam knew that look. It was the same one Jenkins always gave him back when he was married. It never mattered that he'd never physically hurt his wife. The paramedic was looking at them the same way.

"She was kidnapped," Brock spoke up. "They did that to her. I'd never hurt her."

"Kidnapped?" the paramedic asked. "I haven't heard that one before. Did you report it to the police?"

"I tried!" Brock stated. Sam saw the kid's fists clench and knew he was close to fighting. "They refused to listen and I had to go save her alone!" Sam was tempted to point out that Brock hadn't been alone, but understood his point. The police had been no help.

The other man looked skeptical. He glanced at Subie and shook his head. "I have to report this. Is there anything you want to say, miss?"

Subie looked up for the first time. Red suffused her eyes and she looked exhausted. "Brock might be a big man, but he's a teddy bear at heart. He's never hurt me."

The paramedic grunted, but didn't say anything else. He reached for his radio and left the room.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" the other paramedic asked Subie.

"I'll be fine," she told him. "Sam knows how to take care of me if anything else happens, don't you Sam?"

Sam didn't like the glance the paramedic sent his way.

"I'm here if you need anything," Brock said, shouldering Sam aside and stepping between them. He dropped down to Subie's level, and pulled her into a hug. Subie continued to look at Sam. Then she winked once, smiled wider, and hugged her boyfriend back.

Was she just using Sam to make Brock jealous? He didn't like that, but he remembered doing the same thing to Tamara. Only, he'd been trying to drive Tamara away. What was Subie's game?

"Well, I can't make you if you don't want to." The paramedic stood up and faced Sam. "Don't let her fall asleep for a few hours. If she starts getting dizzy and throwing up, take her in immediately."

Sam just nodded. He knew all of that already, but didn't want to explain it to him.

"Mr. Mendez," a new voice called down the hallway, "are you part of this?"

"Captain Gomez," Sam tried to sound cheerful as he turned around. The last time he'd met the Captain, he'd been friendly enough, but Sam didn't have the best experience with the police. "What are you doing here?" He winced, realizing how dumb that question was.

"The hotel called in the incident. Said someone was badgering the receptionist." Mendez looked as Sam, then into the room. Brock was helping Subie move over to the bed.

"Don't let her lie down," Sam instructed the kid. "Sorry about my behavior down there, Captain," he continued, turning back to Mendez. "Whoever attacked Subie kidnapped my girlfriend." Sam felt a thrill course through him as he stated Tamara was his girlfriend out loud. The thrill turned sour. She was gone and in danger.

"No harm done," Mendez stated. Sam was surprised at how easy going this police captain was. "Do you or your girlfriend have any enemies that might want to harm you?"

"You mean besides Officer Jenkins?" Sam asked before he could think better of it.

Captain Mendez's eyes tightened, but he didn't say anything.

"Captain," another officer called as he came down the hallway, "I got a statement from the receptionist. She said that the cameras went out late last night and still haven't come back up."

"That's the sixth time this week," Mendez stated. He turned back to Sam, "And the second one you're loosely tied to. I don't like coincidences, Mr. Mendez. What time did you get here last night?"

This conversation was going in the wrong direction. He was innocent. He needed to talk to Subie and find out what she knew, without any outsiders to hear. She might know where they took Tamara. He needed to get out there and find her. But to do any of that, he had to get past this cop. The thought struck Sam that this must have been how Brock felt last night. Suddenly he wasn't so angry with the kid's brash behavior.

"Late. Or early I guess," Sam stated, trying to sound calm. "It was after midnight, sometime."

"Can anyone corroborate that?"

"I can," Brock spoke up. "We could hear him in here with his girlfriend until about four this morning."

"Fighting?" Mendez pressed.

"Ha! No. There was a lot of screaming, but it wasn't in anger. We thought he'd never finish," Subie supplied.

Sam's cheeks began to burn, but he tried to keep his face straight. The captain didn't need that much information.

"My girlfriend is missing, Captain. Subie was attacked. If you're done asking me questions, I want to get out there and find her." Sam wanted to yell, to strike out at anything he could to vent his frustration. Attacking the police captain would only make matters worse. He struggled to keep his anger in check. For the first time in a long time, he won.

"Let the police do their job, Mr. Mendez. If she can be found, we'll find her." The captain stepped past Sam, leaving him in the hallway with the other officer. "Subie is it? Did you get a good look at your attackers?"

Subie shook her dark hair. "I thought it was Brock and Sam returning with food, so I opened the door. Whoever it was, they were fast. One of them hit me in the head, and the next thing I knew, Brock was waking me up."

The captain examined the door for a moment. "Johnson, see if you can pull any prints from the door." He turned back to the room. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

Subie looked from Brock, to Sam, and then back to the captain. "I hope you find her, Captain. She's a good girl. I hate to think what they might be doing to her."

Sam felt his gorge rise. Until she'd said that, Sam hadn't let himself think about what Tamara might be going through. Images of last night, the ritualistic symbols marked on Subie's body, ran through his mind. Only instead of Subie, it was Tamara. Naked and crying out as they beat and cut her. Marking her up for whatever sadistic purposes they were going to use her for. Would it have something to do with them calling her a fallen angel?

All Sam knew for certain was that his girl needed him, and he was stuck here dealing with the police.

"Where are you going, Sam?" Brock asked.

He hadn't even realized he was walking away until that point. "To get some air," he told Brock over his shoulder.

"Don't go too far, Mr. Mendez. I may have some more questions for you," Captain Gomez called after him.

Sam punched the button for the elevator and waited for it to arrive. When the doors opened, a tall older man with a thick head of grey hair was already inside.

"Looks like you're having one hell of a day," the man greeted him as he stepped aside.

"You have no idea," Sam muttered. The button for the lobby was already lit, so Sam mashed the button to close the doors.

"Girl problems?" the other guy asked.

Sam didn't like the man prying, but there was something about him that soothed his anger. He took another look at him and saw that he wasn't frail at all. In fact he was almost as big as Sam. Considering how old the man must be, Sam was impressed.

"My girlfriend was kidnapped and I wasn't there to protect her," Sam said before he knew the words were coming out.

"Hmm, I know something about trying to protect those important to you," he said. "Sometimes things happen that are well beyond our control. It's times like those that I try to put my faith in the Lord."

Sam blinked at the man. Was he really getting a sermon at a time like this?

"I'm sorry," the man proffered his hand. "I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Adam. Adam Michaels."

Sam shook his hand just to be polite. When was this elevator going to stop? It was taking forever. Adam had a powerful grip as they shook hands.

"Sam," he offered. The man might be able to put him at ease, but he wasn't about to give out his whole name.

"That's a firm grip you have there, Sam. I can tell from your leg that you used to be a warrior. Served in a few wars myself." The other man chuckled as though he'd made a joke, but Sam didn't see the humor. "Can I tell you a secret, Sam?"

"Might as well," Sam muttered. "This elevator is moving slower than the VA."

"The VA's not so bad," Adam said with a smile. "They try hard and do a lot of good work. Believe me when I say I know what it can be like dealing with the big wigs and getting them to get off their proverbial asses every now and then to do what needs doing. Anyway, I digress. The secret is simple. No matter what happens in life, no matter what hardships you go through, family is what's most important. As long as you have that, you can make it through anything. Oh, look at that. We're finally here." A wide smile split Adam's face as the elevator doors opened. "Remember what I said, Sam Mendez. Family."

Adam stepped out of the elevator with a strong and purposeful stride, leaving Sam behind. The doors began to close, and Sam moved to block them, still getting over his shock at the man's words. How had he known Sam's last name? And what was all that crap about family? Tamara was his family now.

But she wasn't the only one. He still had two kids, though he rarely ever got to see them. When was the last time he'd even spoken to Sammy Jr.? He'd been so wrapped up in everything else, that he'd completely forgotten about them. What would they think if something happened to him while he was trying to save Tamara? He'd already almost died more than once in the last few days. Would his ex-wife even tell them, or let them believe that he'd abandoned them?

No, he couldn't believe that. No matter how much of a bitch she was, his ex wasn't that evil.

Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He had a call to make.

Chapter 24

His ex-wife answered on the second ring. "Can you make it quick, Sam? I'm busy."

"I just want to talk to my kids," he told her. His teeth and jaws were beginning to hurt. Why was everything conspiring to piss him off? He forced his mouth to relax. Talking to her was always a lesson in patience.

"Megan isn't here." Sam heard her yell for Sammy. "Here Sammy."

"What's up, Dad?"

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but his throat closed before he could. This was a feeling he'd had only once before. Before he was deployed to Afghanistan, he tried to tell his wife how much she meant to him. A lump had formed in his throat, but words hadn't been necessary. She'd seen it in his eyes. Of course, that was back when they were happy together. Before he'd been blown up and returned angry. Before the PTSD, the fights, and the divorce.

He wasn't going to some foreign land where people didn't care about the freedoms he was trying to help bring to them. This time he was going to save his girlfriend.

"Dad?" Sammy asked.

"I-I'm here, Son," he forced the words out. Sammy couldn't see his eyes, so words would have to be enough. "I know I haven't talked with you for a while, and I'm sorry about that."

"It's all right, Dad. I've been busy with school and baseball practice. Coach has been pushing us pretty hard this year. He says we have a real shot at the championship." There was a pause as Sam tried to come up with something to say. "Dad, are you okay? You don't sound good."

"Sound well," his ex-wife corrected in the background.

"I'm fine," Sam said, knowing he sounded anything but fine. "I've got a lot of stuff going on right now, and things have been difficult. It's good to hear your voice, though." Sam had to swallow. The lump in his throat wasn't going away and this wasn't getting any easier.

Sam's phone beeped, indicating someone was trying to call him. A quick glance showed that it was Latoya. He still needed to call her and let her know he wouldn't be in today, but it could wait. Family was more important right now.

"Are you going to war again? I didn't think they'd take you, after . . . you know."

Sam tried to laugh, be it came out as more of a groan. "No. I have something I need to take care of that I'm not looking forward to."

"Oh, okay Dad. Well, I need to get to practice, so I'll talk to you later."

"I love you, Son," Sam got out past the lump.

"I-I love you too, Dad." Sammy's tone was uncertain. Sam cursed himself for not saying it more to his children. He resolved to do it more often after today.

"Is that all?" His ex-wife got on the phone.

"I'm sorry for not treating you better when we were together," Sam offered.

"What's going on Sam?" she asked. Sam's chest warmed to hear the concern in her tone. It was a welcome change after the years of yelling and screaming.

"Nothing," he lied. "Just give Megan my love, okay?"

He hung up the phone before she could respond. His vision blurred. Sam blinked several times to clear his eyes.

His phone rang again, but Sam ignored it. He was in no position to talk to anyone.

"Mr. Mendez?" Captain Gomez's voice called out.

Sam cursed as he wiped his eyes before turning around. He wasn't going to be caught teary eyed before this officer.

From the look Gomez gave him, he wasn't fooling anyone.

"We're going to find out who did this, and get her back," he told Sam. "But you need to know that in most cases like this. . . ." He trailed off, but Sam knew what he'd been about to say.

In most kidnapping cases, the victim didn't live long.

"They want her for something," Sam told him. "I don't know what," he quickly added seeing the look in the captain's eyes, "but I think they want her alive."

"Well, if you think of anything, don't hesitate to call." Captain Gomez handed Sam a business card. "And don't do anything stupid. Let us do our jobs, Mr. Mendez. I know you want to help, but we're the ones trained to do this sort of thing. You're more likely to get in the way."

Sam took the card, but said nothing. What could he say? He wasn't going to lie and claim he was going to do nothing but wait. He was a trained soldier. Shot up, maybe, but he'd seen and survived more blood than ninety percent of the cops working for Mendez would ever imagine.

They locked eyes for a few moments. Sam was the first to look away. Despite knowing how irrational it was, he didn't want Gomez to read his thoughts.

Or maybe it wasn't so irrational, considering everything else going on.

"Stay in town, in case we have any questions for you," Gomez told him.

Sam grunted. He turned his back on the captain and went back into the hotel.

Brock was holding Subie on the bed when Sam entered. The paramedics had left while Sam was on the phone.

"Don't let her lie down," Sam chided Brock. Hadn't the kid been listening to the paramedics?

Subie opened her eyes and sat up, holding her bandaged head. Brock muttered something under his breath, but sat up as well. Subie looked around. She sighed in relief at seeing that they were alone.

"Is there anything you might know, anything you might have heard while they had you?" Sam asked. "Anything that might have slipped to let us know where they took Tamara?"

"Back off," Brock stood and got between them. "She's told us all she knows."

"It's okay, Brock," Subie said. She placed her hand on his arm and gently pushed him to the side. "He's just worried about his girl. I'll bet you were a handful while I was gone."

Brock looked at his girlfriend and then sat next to her. "I was a total wreck," he admitted. "I'm surprised Sam didn't shoot me to keep me out of the way." Brock pulled her into a fierce hug.

"I thought about it," Sam said. He didn't tell him how tempted he was after the jock had knocked him to the ground.

Subie looked at Sam when she could break free of the hug. "I've been trying to think of anything they might have talked about, but I don't know. I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam struggled to hide his disappointment. He had pinned his last remaining hopes on Subie knowing something, anything, which might lead him back to Tamara.

"Well, if you think of anything, just let me know," he told her.

Sam grabbed the bag with the food they'd picked up earlier in it. His burger was cold, but he didn't think he'd taste it.

Tamara had been missing for only a few hours and she'd only been in his life for a few days. Now that she was gone, she'd left a huge hole.

"Sam?" Subie said in a soft voice as he walked out the door. He turned to look at her, hope blossoming in his chest. "The only thing I can remember is them talking about how saltwater was bad for them, but they needed it for whatever they were going to do."

Hope turned to disappointment. There was no shortage of saltwater in the Florida Keys.

"Thanks," he told her. "If you remember anything else. . . ." he left, going to the other room.

He grabbed the pillow Tamara had used last night. It still had her scent on it.

Sam finally let his emotions out. He thought back over the last few days, trying to find some clue to where they might have taken her. He thought about the way she would smile when they talked. How she'd tried to seduce him that first time coming out of the shower. She'd been so skinny back then. She'd fleshed out at an unnatural speed after that. One more thing about her that made her unique.

Was she really some sort of angel? Sam still found that hard to believe. But what else could explain everything that'd happened? She hadn't been burned when pulling the pan out of his oven with her bare hands. She'd recovered physically from being washed up on the beach faster than. . . .

The beach! Subie had said something about saltwater being a problem for them. Is that how Tamara had lost her memory? Literally falling out of heaven and landing in the ocean. . . .

Sam cursed his lack of religious knowledge.

He jumped to his feet and went next door. Maybe they took her to the beach where Brock and Tamara had found the ritual site.

He pounded on the door and Brock answered.

"I think I know where they are," he told them. "I'm going to the beach. Subie, give me a call if you remember anything else."

Sam turned to walk away, but Brock gripped his shoulder. "I know I wasn't much help last time, but I'm going with you."

"What about Subie?" Sam protested. The kid hadn't just been useless, he'd gotten in the way.

"I'm going with you," she said, getting to her feet. Sam was surprised to see how steady she was. He'd expected her to still be slightly dizzy after the blow to her head. Sam had only given her head a cursory glance when they'd found her unconscious on the floor. He'd been more concerned about Tamara at the time. He knew Tamara must be suffering. "I want to get those bastards back for what they did."

Sam knew he should turn and leave them both behind. They would be more of a hindrance than an asset.

"Get in my way and this time I will shoot you," Sam told them, meaning every word.

He left them there to consider his words. He rode down in the elevator alone, but they showed up as he was waiting for a cab. For better or worse, they were going to save Tamara together.

Chapter 25

The sun sat low on the horizon as the cab pulled up to the beach. Sam's heart sunk as he looked out at the beach goers.

What had he been thinking? There were too many people enjoying the warm water for some kind of satanic ritual to be done out here.

He lifted his head and scowled. This was what made sense. More important, it felt right in his gut. He pushed the enormity of the task aside and took his first step. Trying to free the Middle East from tyranny and terrorism was a massive task but people way above his pay grade knew it was done one step at a time. Just like storming the beach that lay before him. He barely even noticed Subie and Brock getting out behind him as he rushed down the beach. One of them would pay the cabbie.

Sam refused to give up hope. Perhaps the site was secluded, just like the one that Subie and Brock had discovered. Whoever had done it last time had gotten away with it. It had been night then, but Sam wouldn't give up on finding Tamara.

Yellow tape still surrounded the area. The blood, bones, and candles had all been cleared away, but there was still a sense of menace to the air.

"We'll find her," Brock offered as he came up behind him. Sam felt Brock's hand on his shoulder. He jerked away. He didn't need to be comforted by some kid who didn't even appreciate what he had. Subie was safe and back with him. What did Sam have?

"Let's give him some space," Subie whispered. He sensed more than heard the two leave.

Sam looked out at the setting sun. Waves crashed against the beach, setting a slow rhythm to his pained thoughts. Tamara had depended on him to keep her safe and he had failed her.

"I wouldn't recommend trying to drown yourself."

Sam spun around at the sound of the snide voice right behind him. Jenkins was standing with his hands on his hips, smirking at Sam. He was in civilian clothes.

"You mother fucker!" Sam screamed. This bastard picked the wrong time to show up. All of Sam's rage that he'd had to keep bottled up over the last couple days exploded from him. Sam's fist connected with the other man's jaw. The pain in his knuckle as it split was delicious compared to the agony in his heart. Seeing Jenkins on his back, Sam crowed with glee. "About time you got what you deserve!"

"You fu'er," Jenkins tried to say around his hurt jaw. "I'm a cop. You'll pay for 'at."

"You're in civilian clothes," Sam reminded him as the pieces of the puzzle snapped together in his head. "You snuck up on a man with a record of suffering from PTSD. Captain Gomez knows you've been harassing me. Who do you really think will be in trouble?" Every fiber in Sam's body demanded that he kick the man for good measure. He had more than earned the reprisal after so many years.

Sam took a careful step back with his good leg. He wasn't the type of man to beat someone when they were down, but it was better removing the temptation than trusting his willpower.

Jenkins didn't say anything. He stayed down, probably a good thing, and held his jaw. Sam saw Brock and Subie coming back towards him.

"What happened?" Brock asked.

"Hey, isn't that the cop that treated you like shit after our first car was destroyed?" Subie asked before Sam could answer Brock.

"He was just leaving," Sam told them. His voice was hard as he returned Jenkins's glare.

"Your wife was worried about you," Jenkins said.

"Ex-wife," Sam emphasized. "And how the hell would you know?"

"She called me a little bit ago, and asked me to check up on you," Jenkins said. Sam could see the other man shaking. "I guess when you called her, you said some things that made her think you were going to commit suicide."

"What the fuck?" Sam yelled at him. "I'm not going to commit suicide! Why the hell does she have your number?"

Jenkins's eyes grew large as he looked around him. Sam had been right about this part of the beach being secluded. Sam, Brock and Subie were the only ones looking down at him.

"Because we were sleeping together, before she finally left your ass," the disgraced officer said in one breath. "It's your fault she left me and went west."

Sam was speechless for a moment. His ex and Jenkins had been sleeping together? Sam knew they'd been having problems, but he never suspected she'd been cheating on him. And with Jenkins? He took another step back, reeling from the revelation.

"I gave her my number after the first time my partner and I showed up at you place. You'd put a hole in the wall with your fist, and she was worried you might hurt her next." Jenkins continued to speak, laying out a history Sam had been completely unaware of. "At first I was just a sympathetic ear. You scared her, Sam. She told me you never laid a hand on her or the kids, but you scared her."

Jenkins was holding something at his chest as he spoke. His words painted a picture in Sam's mind, and he could see how it all fit. He remembered the look in her eyes when he'd break something in their home. He could never hurt her or the kids, but objects were fair game to his anger. The worst part was, most of that anger hadn't been her fault. Sam was angry with himself. Angry at his failures overseas, at the loss of his friends, and mostly at the way he could no longer treat his wife the way she deserved.

Or maybe she didn't deserve it, if she'd been cheating on him. Sam didn't care that it had happened after he'd changed from his deployment to Afghanistan.

"I kept telling her she should leave you. That she needed to get away from you and deserved better," Jenkins continued. "Well I guess she listened better than I thought. She left us both."

Sam finally understood Jenkins's continued hatred of him.

"Is that why you cut my brake lines and tried to have me killed?" His voice came out flat. Sam was surprised at how emotionless he sounded. Perhaps after the way today had gone, he just didn't have anything left inside him.

"I didn't do that," Jenkins denied. "I hate you for driving her away, but I'm a cop. I wouldn't try to kill you. Besides, you had that who—" Jenkins cut himself short seeing the glare in Sam's eyes. He swallowed, and tried again. "You had someone else with you. I've tried to find some way to arrest you, but I've never tried to kill you."

Sam wanted to scream that Jenkins was lying. He had to be. But why would he admit to sleeping with his ex, and lie about this?

Because there are witnesses, Sam thought, looking at Brock and Subie. They had remained silent while Jenkins talked. Brock had his arm around his woman. The two held each other tight.

"I was hoping to get my chance to arrest you when the aquarium had been vandalized. Your boss kept going on and on about how you would never hurt the dolphins, and there wasn't enough evidence for the captain to even bring you in."

"Dolphins?" Subie asked. She looked up at Brock, then turned to Sam. "They said something about dolphins while they were putting those marks on me." Sam didn't have to ask who 'they' were. "I don't remember exactly what they said. I'm sorry Sam."

Brock pulled her tighter to him. Sam had to look away. He would do anything to be able to hold Tamara like that again.

They were probably just bragging about what they'd done to my dolphins, Sam thought. Something bothered him though. Sam struggled to figure out why the thought didn't fit.

Latoya had tried calling him.

Sam yanked the phone out and looked at it. He had a voicemail. Sam's heart thundered in his ears as he dialed his voicemail.

"S-Sam, I-I need you in here t-today. Something came up."

Sam had never heard his confident boss sound so uncertain. No, not uncertain, she was afraid.

"I know where she is," Sam said. He cursed himself soundly. Had he just answered the call earlier, he would already be there.

"What do you mean?" Jenkins asked. He'd gotten to his feet while Sam was on the phone.

"What do you care?" Sam spat. "Tamara means nothing to you."

"I'm still a cop," Jenkins stated. "If someone's in trouble, then—"

"Then nothing!" Sam interrupted.

"It might be a good idea to have someone else at our backs," Brock offered.

Sam opened his mouth to argue. Jenkins was the last person he wanted watching his back. Brock had a point, though. Despite his countless flaws, Jenkins was trained to handle himself in a bad situation. It was a lot more than could be said about Brock.

"We're not done talking about my ex," Sam growled. "I don't trust you but Brock's right. We could use another set of eyes." Sam still wasn't convinced that Jenkins hadn't tried to kill him and Tamara.

"Shouldn't we call this in?" Jenkins asked.

"If we show up with a bunch of cops, they'll kill Tamara and Latoya," Sam informed him. He started heading back up the beach.

"They wouldn't kill their hostages," Jenkins argued behind him. "It would leave them without any bargaining chips."

"They're not bargaining chips! They're people," Sam wanted to turn and punch the man again, but getting to the aquarium was more important. "The people who have her aren't natural. They won't do as we expect."

Jenkins remained silent until they reached the parking lot. "We'll take my car. It'll be faster."

Sam didn't like it, but he had to admit the police cruiser would be faster than waiting for another cab. He slipped into the passenger seat, with Brock and Tamara in the back.

The sun slipped behind the horizon as they pulled out.

"Never thought I'd be in the back of one of these," Brock said as Jenkins flipped his lights on.

"At least the company is agreeable," Subie replied. Sam heard them kiss.

If they said anything else, Sam ignored it. His chest ached to hear them being sweet with one another, while his woman was in trouble.

"How did you know where I was?" Sam asked to take his mind off the other two.

Jenkins glanced at him before answering. "Like I said before, I've been trying to catch you at something I could arrest you for."

Sam snorted. This asshole had been doing everything he could to put Sam behind bars, all thanks to his ex-wife. And now Sam was supposed to trust him at his back. Sam couldn't imagine his life any more screwed up.

The parking lot at the aquarium was empty except for Latoya's car and another grey sedan. Lights shown down on the empty spots giving the place an eerie feel. The moon looked too large set against the black sky as it sat behind the building where he worked.

"Brock, Subie, you two stay out here," Sam told them. "Jenkins, I want you with me."

"You're not leaving us behind," Brock protested. "Remember what happened to Alex?"

Sam groaned, but knew Brock was right. He couldn't leave them behind and defenseless. How much safer would they be with him?

"Like I was going to let you out of my sight," Jenkins sneered. Sam ignored the comment. He pulled the pistol from the back of his pants. "You know I can arrest you just for having that," Jenkins added.

"Help me save Tamara, and you can take me in after," Sam stated.

"I'll go in first, and you can follow," Jenkins said.

"Like hell you will," Sam stated. They locked eyes. There was no way Sam was going to let this prick go in first. Tamara and Latoya were his responsibility.

Jenkins looked away first. "First one in usually gets killed anyway," Sam heard him mutter.

Sam almost regretted his decision. Jenkins was right about the point man, but he couldn't let Jenkins be the first one in.

Sam unlocked the door, then counted to three before opening it and stepping through. His pistol was held up, finger ready on the trigger.

Chapter 26

The entryway was empty.

"Clear," Sam whispered. He didn't know what he expected but he wasn't prepared for the silence. He'd never been to the aquarium this late at night. The familiar hum of pumps, generators, and other machinery required to keep an aquarium operating were gone.

"Where do you think they are?" Subie asked.

"They have to be deeper in," he said, hoping that the dolphins were all right. If they put that sludge in the backup tank. . . . Sam shook his head to dispel the thought.

He led them down the hallway towards the tank that had already been sabotaged. They heard garbled words from voices that were distorted by the echoing acoustics of the empty halls the closer they got to the tank. Sam slowed and was surprised with every turn that there weren't any sentries guarding the area. Either they were sloppy or overly confident. Considering the freaky things that he'd already witnessed, he hoped for the former.

"Why are you doing this?" Sam heard Latoya's voice demand. It was the first recognizable speech he'd heard.

"I told you. It's too much for your mortal mind to comprehend." Sam recognized the triple toned voice. It was the same three people that had tried to take Tamara last night.

Sam peeked around the corner. They were in the same room as the empty dolphin tank. In fact, they were in the tank. Torches flickered around the outside. In the torchlight he could make out some discoloration on the floor of the tank. The way it was arranged nagged at him but he couldn't see it well enough to figure out why.

The voices were coming from the center of the otherwise empty tank. Sam's eyes were drawn to Tamara. An upside-down 'T' was erected behind her. Her hair was plastered to her head from sweat, but so far it appeared she had escaped the same treatment Subie had suffered.

Sam wanted to run to her, but the three robed forms standing around her reminded him of their supernatural danger. It took Sam a moment to recognize his boss. Her clothing was completely stripped from her. Sam had fantasized about seeing his boss naked before he'd met Tamara. Her skin was dark, but he saw where it was discolored by bruises and welts. She hadn't been as lucky as Tamara.

"What's the plan?" Subie asked.

Brock was the first to answer with a determined growl, "We go in, guns blazing and make them pay for what they did to you, Subie."

"There are two innocent civilians down there," Jenkins said. Sam hadn't expected the man to care. Had he really tried to kill Sam? "We go in like that and they're sure to get hurt."

Brock cheeks flushed and he glanced away for a moment.

"Whatever you want, you can have it," Latoya screamed. "Just let us go!" A loud smack could be heard, followed by some sobbing.

Sam made his decision. He handed his gun over to Subie, Brock couldn't be trusted with it.

"Stay hidden, and watch my back," he hissed to them. He stood and stepped out before he could change his mind. "Let them go!"

"Sam!" Tamara yelled. Her voice was full of hope as she spied him.

The three cowled heads spun to face him. Sam's head hurt from the sound of his heart's pounding, but he ignored it. All that mattered was getting Tamara out. Latoya, too, of course, but Sam's eyes were focused on Tamara.

"It is not yet time," the three voices spoke. "The sacrifice must be at the correct time."

"Fuck that!" Brock shouted behind him.

"Damn it!" Jenkins cursed. Sam scowled. They were supposed to stay hidden.

"You're not going to hurt anyone else!" Brock continued his macho tirade. "You hurt my girlfriend, and now you're going to pay. Isn't that right, Sam?"

"What are you doing?" Sam hissed. "You were supposed to have my back."

"I've got your back. Besides, I can't let you be the only hero. With both of us out here, they have a reason to be scared."

"This isn't some kind of game," Jenkins said as he stepped up next to Sam. Jenkins had his pistol up and aimed at the trio.

"They hurt Subie," Brock replied. "They hurt Adrian and Alex. I'm going to make those fuckers pay!"

"Shut him up," the three voices said in unison.

Sam was about to inform them that he didn't take their orders, but Brock grunted and dropped to the ground.

"What the—" Sam was cut off by the sound of a pistol going off behind him. Military training and personal experience made him drop to the floor before his mind comprehended why he was moving.

Jenkins beat him down and stared at Sam with blank eyes. The side of his head was destroyed, blood pooling beneath his cheek.

"What the. . . ." Sam repeated as he rolled onto his back.

His own pistol was staring him in the face.

"Get up," Subie ordered him. Sam couldn't make sense of what was happening. Brock was lying next to him, face down. Sam couldn't tell if his chest was moving. Had Subie killed her own boyfriend?

Don't hurt him!" Tamara screamed. "Subie, what are you doing?"

"I said, get up!" Subie emphasized her command with a kick to Sam's head. Lights flashed behind his eyes. Less than a moment later, darkness engulfed the lights.

* * * *

Tamara screamed as Subie delivered a second kick to Sam's inert body. What was she doing? She was supposed to be their friend.

But that same friend had opened the door and let the three that had hurt Adrian and Alex into their room. The same three that had tortured Subie and thrown Sam like a sack of millet. She had stood by and let them take Tamara away. They'd done something to her and she'd passed out, only to wake up here with Sam's naked boss tied up at her feet. Tamara's arms were tied behind her around a wooden post as big around as her thigh.

Then Sam had showed up. She knew he would make everything right. Sam was her savior. Her rock. He was the one thing in this world she knew she could rely on.

She hadn't had time to warn him about Subie's betrayal. Tamara watched in horror as Subie struck Brock in the back of the head, and then shot that asshole, Jenkins. What was he doing there anyhow?. She didn't really care about the cop, but Brock was a different story. He'd been her friend too.

"Bring him over here," the three robed figures ordered Subie. The other woman bent over and grabbed the back of Sam's shirt. With a strength her little form shouldn't possess, she picked him up and carried Tamara's lover over to them.

Subie was careful to step in the path cleared of the slippery substance left after the tank had been emptied. Tamara could only see half the design made on the floor, but she knew it was an upside-down pentacle.

"He needs to be awake," the three growled as Subie deposited Sam at their feet.

"He'll wake up soon enough," Subie laughed.

Latoya huddled closer to Tamara as Subie walked up to her. Subie sniffed Tamara a few times, and then smiled. "Your smell is so distinctive. I can't wait to see what happens when this is over."

"Why are you doing this?" Tamara asked again. Her heart raced as Subie laughed. "I thought you were my friend."

"The woman you knew as Subie is locked away," she said. "She was weak. She gave up while we were playing with her. Now it's just me!" Her laugh made Tamara's skin crawl.

Tamara had no idea what that was supposed to mean. How could Subie be dead, and yet right in front of her?

Sam groaned and lifted his head.

"Latoya?" he asked, seeing his boss first. A flash of jealousy coursed through Tamara. Why would he say her name first? "Tamara!" he gasped next. He tried to turn and look at her, but Subie's foot on his back held him down. "What are you going to do to her?"

One of the three robed figures, the woman Tamara thought but couldn't be sure with that robe on, untied Latoya. She tried to fight as she was dragged away. Tamara had seen how strong the robed woman was. Sam's boss didn't stand a chance.

The other two walked away. One stood at a point of the star Tamara could see, while the other moved to some point beyond her vision.

"We need a sacrifice," Subie laughed. "Tamara here, makes the perfect one."

The three robed figures started humming.

"Oh, looks like it's time," Subie grinned. "I'd like to say it's been fun knowing you, but mortals can be so boring."

Subie walked away to stand at the remaining point within Tamara's view. Brock was still unconscious. Subie chuckled as she drew near him.

"Wait," Sam said, trying to pull himself up. He held the side of his head where Subie had kicked him. Tamara could see blood trickling between his fingers. The humming continued, but Subie looked interested. "Take me instead."

"Sam, no!" Tamara cried. She couldn't imagine life without him. "You can't!" She needed him.

"Shhh," he whispered to her. "I love you, Tamara. You've got your life ahead of you. I'm a broken down old man. I lost more than my leg in the war but you gave that back to me. If they'll let you go I can give you some of that back."

Tears blurred her vision as he spoke. He loved her!

"You're man enough for me," she told him. "I love you, Sam. There has to be another way. Don't do this!" A sob broke free from her chest, stopping her from saying anything else.

He kissed her. His facial hair dug into her cheeks, but she relished the feeling. He loved her!

The kiss ended too soon. Her face felt naked where his warmth had been.

"Sam. No," she whispered, unable to draw in enough breath to speak.

"Do we have a deal?" Sam asked, turning away.

Tamara couldn't breathe. Something heavy pressed against her chest as she watched Subie look at her watch. Time slowed as her lungs began to burn, demanding air. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but Sam in front of her. Subie slowly lifted the hand with the gun in it, pointing it at Tamara. No, not at Tamara, at Sam!

"Sam!" she screamed.

Subie grinned, a feral look in her eyes. "Done," she said and pulled the trigger.

Searing agony forced a scream to break past Tamara's lips. Pain unlike any she'd ever experienced before sliced at her veins. Her skin was flayed from bone, her mind scoured away. She tried to mentally run from the agony, but it followed her. Relentless. There was no escape. No way to get away from what was coming. She couldn't run from herself.

Time lost all meaning, as her torture continued. Every nerve ending in her body cried out, but she couldn't do anything to stop it.

Finally something changed. It was subtle at first, but it was enough that she noticed it. Images came next. She saw a young woman, wasted and sick, tortured in some nameless and timeless space. Tortured into submitting to her plan. Her plan to win her father's favor.

As memories returned, so too did her sense of self. She laughed. She had done it! Her gamble had paid off.

"T-Tamara?" Latoya asked from behind her.

Tamara? No, she wasn't Tamara. Her name was Tam'rah! A worthy name for the daughter of Satan.

"Mistress?" one of her subjects asked. It took Tam'rah a moment to recall the name of the person the body once belonged to.

"Untie me, Subie," she commanded. Her voice was no longer that of the frightened woman without her memories. The demon inside the other woman forced Subie's body to comply. She was strong enough, now that she was awake, that she could have broken the bonds on her own, but she needed to assert her dominance. Even on a weak minion like the one in Subie.

Tam'rah glanced down at the body at her feet. Sam Mendez had been the perfect patsy to her plan. Blood pooled beneath him from the hole in his chest. As the blood, blood from the heart of the man that had foolishly fallen in love with her, pooled out, it began to darken and boil. It ate away at the physical world, opening a way into the spiritual one.

"Tamara?" an annoying voice asked again.

She turned to see the woman that had once been Sam's boss. Latoya was naked and covered in glorious script. Script written in the language of demons. The words glowed to Tam'rah's eyes. They were words exalting her arrival and rebirth here in the mortal world. A world that would soon belong to her.

"Release her," she commanded Subie. She could have given the command to the single demon controlling the other three bodies, but that work was beneath him.

"Tamara, I don't know what's going on," Latoya said as her hands were freed. "But we need to get out of here."

"My name is Tam'rah!" she bellowed at the mortal. "Tamara never existed. I will let you live, but you must spread the news of my arrival here on Earth. Tell your people that a new queen has arrived." Her eyes landed on the other mortal still in the room. He was slowly getting to his feet, one of those silly weapons mortals used to kill each other in his hands.

"What the fuck did you do?" he demanded. His hand lifted the pistol and pointed it at her. "What did you do to my girlfriend, and what did you do to Sam?" He didn't wait for a response before squeezing the trigger.

The little toy went off again and again, until it clicked empty. Tam'rah looked down at her body and saw the last of the holes closing. Such simple things couldn't harm her.

She turned her back on him and faced Latoya. "Take that man, and leave before I change my mind. Tell the world that I have come. Prepare to be ruled by your true masters."

Tam'rah cackled as the tiny black woman followed her orders, taking the stunned man with her. They stopped long enough to grab the other dead man. A bright light fell from around the dead man's neck, making Tam'rah hiss. He had brought a holy artifact in here? To her awakening?

Her anger at the audacity of the dead man manifested as his body went up in flames. The cross he'd worn had to be destroyed. Fire was the only thing strong enough to destroy a religious artifact of the enemy. The other two mortals fled in terror, returning some of Tam'rah's joy.

"Couldn't we have kept the one, mistress? He had been some fun, at least," Subie asked.

Tam'rah glared at her. Was her mortal body interfering with the minor demon's proper sensibilities?

"Mistress, some of our brethren are arriving," Samael intoned from the three mouths he controlled.

Tam'rah turned to the open portal that Sam's sacrifice had fueled and greeted her army.

Epilogue

The unseen observer blinked back tears as he watched the hero fall to Tam'rah's deceit. He'd tried to stop the tragedy from unfolding by cutting Sam's brakes, but the demon hidden in the young woman was stronger than the observer had suspected. He never suspected that an actual daughter of the enemy would enact such a risky plan. To think that she'd subjected herself to saltwater, weakening herself and losing her memory, to ultimately end up here. The observer wasn't used to seeing anything this devious from the denizens of hell. It was almost a selfless act, something he thought minions of evil and deceit were incapable of.

He would be in trouble for his interference in the life of a mortal. Interference in His plan for them. It was hard to see humanity struggle with their own conflicts, their own wars. But it was impossible for the observer to watch the minions of hell play with humanity. He had to do something.

Despite the observer's best efforts under the rules he must follow, a mortal had sacrificed himself for a princess of darkness. Such a sacrifice made of pure intentions for one so evil allowed a portal to the underworld to open. Denizens of hell could now pass between realms with impunity. No longer would they need to possess a human body to manifest on Earth.

"What will I tell Him?" he asked himself. Already he could feel the displeasure from above because of his interference in mortal affairs. The observer would have to return and account for his actions.

He would not repent of them, that much he knew for sure. How could he sit idly by while a demon twisted Sam's heart to her own ends? The Observer was a warrior, not content to watch from the sidelines like Him. Shouldn't it be enough that one side had broken the rules? How could He watch from his high perch and not feel for the plight of these weak creatures?

The Observer's immortal foe, Samael, was helping her too. He had a score to settle with that one. A score dating all the way back to the fall. The observer's wings still ached from when Samael tried to rip them off. The Lord had interfered then on his behalf, but that had been millennia ago. Before the pact of noninterference in humanity's affairs.

The Observer took a few steadying breaths. Revenge was an unholy emotion, and one he couldn't allow himself. Perhaps it was time to return. Maybe he had spent too much time with the mortals and needed to cleanse himself in His presence.

He turned away from the horrors that even now were beginning to pour into the mortal world. Horrors that would maim, torture, and kill his beloved mortals. To interfere now would mean the loss of his position and title.

The loss of any ability to return to the glory of His presence.

He ignored the tears that streamed down his cheeks as he ascended to heaven. Sam's soul rode with him. Despite what his act had wrought his act of sacrifice had been pure. The man's soul was worthy of an escort to Heaven.

###

Afterword by Jason Halstead

It's not fair of me to called myself the author of this book. The idea was mine but I was too busy to write it. About the time I was agonizing over this I stumbled across Mr. Bybee through a story he had written online and I liked what I saw. It reminded me of my own writing and exposed some very cool concepts near and dear to my heart. So naturally, I had to stick my nose in his business.

I meant well— honest! I offered him my thoughts and lots of praise on what he'd done. There was also some constructive criticism in there. And trust me, as a writer, I know all about receiving criticism. I like to think that I also know how to give it in the most positively spun way I can. Mr. Bybee took it as such, at least. We discovered some commonalities between us and in no time we'd struck up a friendship. It only naturally followed suit that I'd make a proposition. After all, what are friends if not resources to exploit?

I'm kidding, of course! But here was an opportunity for me to help him write faster, better, and to expand beyond what he'd imagined. And hey, it's not all about him. At the same time I was able to harness his energy and excitement and learn things along the way. He translated my high level vision into a chapter by chapter epic tale that I went through with a red sword of doom and slashed to pieces. Then we rebuilt it into something we both really loved and by the time we were done, we held a book forged with the heat of our passion for writing and quenched in the blood and tears of editing. Oh, and we had a lot of fun along the way too.

And that, my friends, is what you have just read. But that's not all— not by a long shot! This is only book 1 in the Fallen Angels series. We're predicting a trilogy right now but I'll be the first one to admit that sometimes the characters and the story have a way of getting away from me. They take on a life of their own. I've had more than one story into a trilogy and even had a trilogy turn into a 4 book series (which then spawned another trilogy afterwards). So I offer no promises, other than we're going to have a lot of fun writing these books and I will personally guarantee that if you enjoyed Devil's Island, you're going to love the rest of the books we come up with too!

I love reading and responding to fan mail, so if you liked Devil's Island or any of my other books, don't be shy! Find him on the web at http://www.booksbyjason.com, email him at: mailto:jason@booksbyjason.com, or follow him on Twitter: @booksbyjason. Or if you'd like to talk to Mr. Bybee let me know, I'll be sure to pass any and all correspondence to him. Or if you're crazy enough to think you could be the next Mr. Bybee that wants to step in the octagon with me and see what happens, then bring it! I'm always up for a challenge.

Other books by Jason Halstead

Child of Fate (Blades of Leander, book 1)

Victim of Fate (Blades of Leander, book 2)

Silver Dragon (Blades of Leander, book 3)

Blades of Leander (all 3 books in one)

Isle of the Ape (Order of the Dragon, book 1)

Chasing the Dragon (Order of the Dragon, book 2)

Sands of Betrayal (Order of the Dragon, book 3)

Dragonlady (Order of the Dragon, book 4)

Voidhawk (Voidhawk, book 1)

Voidhawk – The Elder Race (Voidhawk, book 2)

Voidhawk – Redemption (Voidhawk, book 3)

Voidhawk – The White Lady (Voidhawk, book 4)

Voidhawk – Lost Soul (Voidhawk, book 5)

Voidhawk - The Edge of Forever (Voidhawk, book 6)

Wanted (Wanted, book 1)

Ice Princess (Wanted, book 2)

Bounty (Wanted, book 3)

The Wanted Trilogy (all 3 books in one)

Dark Earth (Dark Earth, book 1)

Devil's Icebox (Dark Earth, book 2)

Soul Mates (Dark Earth, book 3)

Voices (a Dark Earth Book)

Bound (a Dark Earth Book)

The Lost Girls (The Lost Girls, book 1, a Dark Earth novel)

Traitor (The Lost Girls, book 2, a Dark Earth novel)

Wolfgirl (The Lost Girls, book 3, a Dark Earth novel)

Black Widow (The Lost Girls, book 4, a Dark Earth novel)

New Beginnings (Vitalis, episode 1)

The Colony (Vitalis, episode 2)

Parasites (Vitalis, episode 3)

Screamer (Vitalis, episode 4)

Squatter's Rights (Vitalis, episode 5)

Evolution (Vitalis, episode 6)

Matriarch (Vitalis, episode 7)

Vitalis Omnibus (Vitalis, episodes 1 – 7)

Vitalis: Resurrection (Vitalis, book 2)  
Vitalis: Provenance (Vitalis, book 3)

Vitalis: Genesis (Vitalis, book 4)

Forbidden Love (Homeland, book 1)

Broken Slipper (Homeland, book 2)

When the Cookie Crumbles (Cookie Cutters, book 1)

Devil's Island (Fallen Angels, book 1)

Human Nature

Sex Sells

