Love, Lattes and Danger Page 3

  Just before it hits, a bullet of gray comes at it, two others in its wake. Dolphins! The shark may have no hesitation about taking on a dolphin but it’s not prepared for three. It swims away to easier prey.

  “Thank you,” I chatter, blowing bubbles out of my mouth.

  One floats closer and nudges me. I grab hold of a fin. Another comes below me and moves upward till I’m lying on her back.

  The lead dolphin gives pulsed squeaks before rising to the surface and turning in a circle.

  He’s asking what direction. I stretch my arm out in front of me. “Straight ahead.” I’m beginning to see lights behind my eyes. My hand keeps slipping off the fin. The other two position themselves beneath me, a dolphin safety net.

  The water, so comfortable before, is cold. My vision blurs. I no longer know how many dolphins surround me as we continue through the water. I’m shivering uncontrollably. How long can I hold on? How far is the rig? The water grows darker, murkier. I’m having trouble breathing. I need to surface.

  Just as the world begins to tilt, the dolphin carrying me flips me through the water. A cloud of bubbles erupts from my mouth as I land in the rig’s water-elevator. I just manage to hit the button before I collapse, forgetting not to breathe. Salt water pours into my lungs, choking me. I’m drowning.

  Suddenly air, not water, is pouring into my abused, waterlogged lungs. From a long way off, I hear men shouting. My head is turned to the side and someone pounds on my back. I spew water, again and again.

  Everything goes black.

  * * * *

  A crack sounds seconds before the pain hits my cheek. “Come on, freak, wake up. You’re too heavy for me to carry.” Craven is propping me up, dragging me to the helicopter. I stumble along beside him. “God, you may be skinny, but you weigh a ton. Must be those damn fish parts you’re made from. Now get in.”

  He shoves just as I manage to pull myself in and my head hits against the steel side of the chopper. I sink face down into the back seat.

  “Let’s go,” he yells to the pilot.

  “The back door’s not secure,” the pilot responds.

  “Of course it is, now let’s go.”

  “Sir, I really don’t think—”

  “You’re not paid to think, asshole. Let’s go.”

  “What about his arm? It needs bandaging. I’m afraid he’s going to bleed out before we get back to four.”

  “That’s my responsibility. Now fly this damn thing or I’ll find someone who will.”

  The chopper lifts. I drift under the pain, my mind hazy. The wind picks up and we hit an air current. Clang. Air is flowing through the chopper, pulling at me.

  “I told you the door didn’t catch,” the pilot yells.

  I’m slipping. My good arm is pressed between my body and the seat and my bad arm is next too useless. The air current has pulled my feet and legs outside of the chopper.

  “Help him,” the pilot screams.

  Guiding the chopper with one hand, he twists around, grabs my bad arm, and holds on. “Help me or by God, I will see you up on murder charges.”

  “What, because the door didn’t catch?” Craven takes his time about reaching back and hauling me in. He finally shuts the chopper door.

  I lie gasping for air like the fish he accuses me of being, my body going from hot to cold as I shake uncontrollably. The bastard would have let me die.

  “I’m going to report this,” the pilot says.

  Craven laughs, an unpleasant sound that has the back of my neck prickling. “Oh yeah, and what are you going to say? That I tried to kill the freak? Do you think anyone will believe that? What they will believe is that the door didn’t close properly, possibly because you didn’t give it a thorough inspection before takeoff.”

  “The kid will back up my story.”

  “The freak has lost so much blood, he has no idea what happened. He’s floating around somewhere in la-la land. All you’ll do is make yourself into a laughingstock.”

  “Why are you doing this? Why do you call him a freak?”

  “Because that’s what he is. A damn freak.” The venom in his voice lies thick and heavy in the air. If I wasn’t already shivering, I’d be shaking. Even in the labs, I’ve never felt this helpless.

  I think I hear the pilot mutter, “Just looks like a kid to me.” Then there’s nothing but silence. My body is light. The pain is abating.

  When awareness returns, the two men are pulling me out of the chopper. Leif comes running toward us. “What the hell happened?”

  Craven answers. “I have no idea. He showed back up at the rig with a knife wound.”

  Leif muscles both men out of the way, throws me over his shoulder, and hurries into the rig. He calls over his shoulder to the pilot, “Thanks, John. I appreciate all you’ve done. We’ll take it from here.”

  The pilot replies, “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll stick around.”

  Craven speaks up quickly. “That isn’t necessary.”

  “Oh, I think it is.”

  Leif moves quickly down the steps. “Craven, get the doctor.”

  “But…”

  “Now.”

  We’ve reached the lower level. Leif places me on the bunk. He grabs a towel and wraps it around my arm. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I don’t know how he got his arm slashed, but the chopper door wasn’t secured. It came open and an air draft nearly pulled the kid out. Craven made no effort to save him, until I yelled for him to help.”

  Leif swears fluently. Even in my weakened state, his extensive vocabulary is impressive.

  “Why is he kept down here?”

  “He likes his privacy.” Leif’s voice is dry.

  Good one. Ha ha. I’d laugh but I don’t have the energy. Can barely open my eyes. When I do, I’m looking down at them, not up. I’m floating from the ceiling. This isn’t good.

  “Go make sure Craven went after the doctor. If what you said is true, he’ll take his own sweet time. And I don’t think we have time to spare.”

  The pilot hesitates.

  “Hurry,” Leif barks.

  The pilot gives him a half salute and trots out of the tiny room.

  Leif steps up to the cot and presses my good hand. “Don’t you dare check out on me, kid. You hear me? That’s an order.”

  He strides through my door and pounds on Amy’s. “I need you, Amy.”

  Amy rushes in. “Oh my God. Is he dead?” She runs to me and takes my hand, but I can’t feel it. I’m cold, so cold. “What happened? Can’t you get the bleeding stopped?” She wraps another towel around my arm. Warm salty liquid is falling on my face.

  You’re going to drown me, Ames. That’s what I want to say, but nothing comes out.

  An invisible thread connects my spirit to the still form on the bed as I watch and listen, from several feet above, to what is going on in the room.

  “The doctor’s on his way. Listen, Amy, he’s going to need a transfusion. Is your blood compatible?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re the best bet he’s got.”

  “What if it kills him?” The tears are coming faster and harder.

  “He’ll die without it. I’ve seen men bleed out before.”

  The door crashes open and the doctor rushes in, Craven and the pilot on his heels. “What the hell happened?”

  “Don’t know. Can you save him?”

  The doctor rips off the bloody towels. “Looks like a knife wound,” he mutters. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

  “You’re stating the obvious, doc.”

  “Where would he have gotten a knife wound?” Craven asks. “You must be mistaken. He probably caught his shoulder on the sharp edge of a boat or maybe the propeller.”

  The doctor snorts then snaps a command to Leif, “Wash your hands and get the sutures out of my bag.” For a big man, Leif moves quickly.

  There’s a distant
sting and pinch in my arm when the doctor begins suturing.

  “He’s going to need a transfusion.”

  “I’m his sister. I’ll donate blood.” Amy stands with her hands pressed against her cheek, her olive complexion blanched to yellow.

  “Are you the same blood type, young lady?” The doctor continues his work. The bleeding lessens as he pulls the skin together.

  “Are you?” The doctor repeats his question.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Let’s get him up to sick bay.”

  What will Leif do? He can’t exactly keep me hidden in sick bay.

  He doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll take him.” Once again, he hoists me over his shoulder like a sack of floor. As he passes Craven, he says, “You’re fired. Get your things and get off the boat.”

  “You can’t do that. Half the men on this rig are loyal to me.”

  “Feel free to take them with you.” He shoves by Craven and Craven thumps against the wall.

  “This is your fault, freak.”

  “You jerk. If you are responsible and my brother dies, I will find you and you will regret it.” Amy’s voice is low and flat.

  Surprise ripples in colorful waves around me. I’m stunned. Amy doesn’t have a violent bone in her body.

  “I’m worried,” Craven sneers.

  “You should be,” she snarls.

  “Come on, little wild cat.” Leif’s voice is indulgent. He loves brash and brave. He has no patience for cowards.

  I float above my body as we hurry down the hall, up the stairs and down another hall.

  “Get back to work,” Leif snaps at gawkers. He pushes through the door into sick bay, heads for the back, and dumps me on a bed.

  “Lie down on the other bed,” the doctor directs Amy. He washes her arm and gets an IV ready.

  There are two other patients. Leif pulls the curtains shut around us. I’m so tired. Even from the ceiling, I’m having problems keeping my eyes open. I feel the prick of the needle. This is it. Will Amy’s blood kill me or cure me?

  I’m exhausted. I just want peace. I no longer try to fight off unconsciousness, but welcome it. Something thick and potent enters my veins. My last thought is of a child’s prayer my mother taught me before she passed. If I should die before I wake, I pray the lord, my soul to take…

  Chapter 5

  I wake weak as a newborn kitten. Leif is bending over me. “What the hell happened?”

  I look at him, confused. Memory snaps back. The men on the boat waiting for me. Craven trying to kill me. Amy’s blood must have been compatible. I’m still alive. “I’m not sure.” This could be tricky. I have no proof that Craven set those men on me, just a gut feeling. But who else could it be? Stranger? Maybe. I lift my arm to scratch my jaw. It takes too much effort. My arm drops back to my side.

  “What do you mean, you’re not sure?”

  “Mr. Voorhees,” the doctor protests. “He’s not strong enough to be interrogated.”

  Leif motions him back.

  “The oil was coming from another boat. When I went on board to talk to them, they pulled a gun on me, several guns.”

  Leif jerks. His eyes widen. “Do you know why? Did you walk into a drug deal? Punks fooling around? What?”

  “They knew me, Leif.”

  “How could they?” He leans forward into my space. “Who do you think is responsible for this?”

  I don’t say anything. What can I say without proof?

  He swears low and fluently before he asks, “Did you get the boat’s decal number?”

  I shake my head.

  “Doesn’t matter. They’d be gone by now. Don’t worry, kid, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.” He turns to the rig’s doctor, who’s hovering anxiously nearby.

  I wonder what he thinks of all this.

  “Doc, would you excuse us for a minute.”

  “Don’t overdo it, Mr. Voorhees. He lost a lot of blood.” With that parting shot, he leaves, casting a speculative look over his shoulder.

  “We took a gamble and gave you a transfusion with Amy’s blood. Figured it would either kill you or cure you. Looks like you survived.”

  “It was a good call.” My eyelids are heavy. I’m about to drift off again. “How long have I been out?”

  “Three days.”

  Three days. I can’t afford three days. “I have to get up.” But even as I say the words, darkness engulfs me.

  * * * *

  The next time I wake, I’m myself again. I pull myself up in bed as the doctor steps in, smiling. “How do you feel?”

  “Much better. Thanks.” My stomach rumbles.

  The doctor grins. “I’ll have some food sent up.” He checks my vitals. “You’re doing great. We gave you a second transfusion. Mr. Voorhees told me you had a rare blood disease. I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it there for a while, but your sister’s blood seems to have done the trick. She donated several pints.”

  “Is she alright?”

  “She just needs to rest and build her strength back up.” He clears his throat. His voice becomes guarded. “He wouldn’t even let me do a compatibility match. Or check to see what type she is. All hush-hush. ‘National security’ is what he said.”

  For a moment, my mind goes blank. I rub my fingers against the sheets seeking inspiration. All I can think to say is, “You know Ziccon. Everything is hush-hush.”

  “Yeah, I guess the more money you make, the more paranoid you become.”

  “I guess so.”

  “I’ll send you something to eat.” He takes one last look at the chart then hangs it at the foot of the bed.

  Minutes later, Leif walks in.

  “Looks like you’re going to live,” he observes.

  “Planning on it. Any news on the boat?”

  “No.” He scowls.

  “What about Craven?”

  “He’s outta here.”

  “And his friends?”

  “No one’s going to buck me.”

  “Not unless he’s psychotic.” The problem is Craven’s crazy and so are his associates.

  “Listen, I’m going to send you and Amy back to Houston to recuperate. Ziccon has an apartment complex. You can rest there.”

  Will it help or hurt our chances of getting away? I do a quick assessment. It’s going to help. If we can’t find the parts, I’ll steal a couple of jammers then we’ll disappear.

  “And if someone sees us?”

  “I trust you’ll be resting in the apartment,” he says dryly, “but if someone does see you, you’ll just be guests of the company.” He grins. “My niece and nephew. Though you’re awfully scrawny to have Nordic blood in your veins.”

  I snort.

  “Be up top in five. I’ll take you. I have business at the head office anyway.”

  “Where’s Amy? In her room?”

  “She was packing your bag then heading up top. I’ll give you ten.” His glance slides over me. “Not sure you could make it in five after all.”

  “I can make it in five,” I say, but Leif is already disappearing through the door. I throw my legs over the bed, stand…and reach for the bed rail as my legs buckle. I feel like an overcooked noodle. “This will not do.” I push myself upright, dress, and head for the stairs, walking more like a senior citizen who needs a cane than a nineteen-year-old. I was damn lucky.

  After what seems an inordinately long time, I make it to the deck. Leif is pacing impatiently. Amy stands with her head down, twirling a lock of her hair. As if sensing me, she glances up. A smile spreads across her face and lights her eyes.

  Concern ripples through me. Her complexion is pasty. Slashes of purple emphasize her beautiful turquoise eyes. How much blood did she give me anyway?

  She runs to me and throws her arms around me. “Joel, you almost died. You almost died.” I feel the leak of moisture against my neck.

  I hug her back. “You saved me. I wouldn’t
have made it without your donation. You gave me the gift that just keeps on giving.” She grins. I push her back and hold her by her shoulders. “How many pints did you give me anyway?”

  She shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “Let’s go. It wasn’t five but it didn’t take you ten either.” Leif’s voice booms over the noise of the chopper.

  He climbs in the front. We haul ourselves into the back. I make sure the latch on the door has caught and is secured.

  The pilot looks back at me and smiles. It’s the man who saved me. He’s young, probably not much older than me. “You’re looking better than the last time I saw you.”

  I hold out my hand. “Thanks to you.”

  He shakes it. “Glad things worked out.”

  Amy talks when she’s nervous. In a low voice, so as not to disturb the pilot or Leif, she chatters through the entire flight. Once we touch down, we hail a taxi and drive through Houston. Twenty minutes later, we pull up in front of a five-story, glass-and-steel apartment complex.

  A doorman ushers us in. “Good to see you again, Mr. Voorhees.”

  “And you, Sam. This is my nephew and niece, Joel and Amy Eisler.” Eisler is my mother’s maiden name and the one both Amy and I use.

  “Mr. Eisler. Ms. Eisler.”

  “Please call me Amy.” My sister gives him her sweet smile. He looks bedazzled.

  “Ms. Amy.” He nods.

  “Joel.” I lift a hand in greeting.

  “Mr. Joel.”

  The doorman pushes a button and the elevator doors open. Soon, we’re rocketing up to the fourth floor, where Leif walks us to our suite. “I’m down the hall. I have a permanent apartment. The big dogs are up on five.”

  “You’re a big dog. Why aren’t you on five?” I tease.

  He just snorts. “I’ll probably be heading back out tonight. There’s a cafeteria on first. Order whatever you want. They have room service.” He hands us keys.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, why keys instead of cards? Everything else seems to be modernized.”

  He laughs. “One of the execs had problems with his key card two nights in a row. A week later, they were all changed out. Expensive as hell, but not my call. Get some rest.” He nods and leaves.