An owl hoots then another answers its call. One, large, white owl flies past the window then the other flies after it. Both are large and majestic looking as they fly past the window, hooting as they go.
My hand rests on Rachelle’s pregnant belly and just as one of the owl’s hoots and flies past the window again our baby kicks. A grin spreads over my face instantly with happiness.
I can feel my parents’ presence in my heart and find more than comfort with it. I find joy and happiness, and thankfulness all at once. If not for their wishes of their individual ashes being spread in opposite oceans and the money I had to play the lotteries across this big country, I would not be where I am tonight.
I would never have needed to meet Max Lane to seek financial advice. I would never have met the beautiful lady I hold in my arms. The little red-haired girl and dark-haired boy I found at the children’s home Max grew up in would still be there and not making this family what it is today.
My son wouldn’t be sleeping in his crib down the hall and my daughter wouldn’t be kicking her mother as we speak. Nope. None of this would be, without their passing and their wishes.
The morning I found out my parents had died a piece of me did too. I knew life would never be the same for me. I never told a soul about how low I became in the weeks following their death.
The fact was that I had sat in their bedroom one night a few weeks after their death, drinking a bottle of whisky and holding a pistol in my shaking hand. I was planning on ending it all. The pain had become too much, and I didn’t want to live anymore all alone in this big and cruel world.
I wasn’t always the buff bodied man I am today or when I met Rachelle. Nope, I was a fat little boy who got beat up a hell of a lot. I grew into a pretty chubby man who had super low self-esteem. When they died, it took away the only people who loved me, the only ones who never made fun of me.
That night as I sat there with that bottle and that gun something happened as I put the barrel of the gun in my mouth and put my finger on the trigger. Something slammed against the outside wall, making me nearly jump off the bed it was so loud.
For some reason, I stopped what I was doing and went outside to see what the hell had made the loud noise. It was dark, but I saw a large rock near the area I had heard the noise from. As I looked around I saw the mouth of the big bass mailbox hanging open.
I went over and found one flyer inside and pulled it out, surprised to find I must’ve left it when I checked the mail earlier that morning. Taking it inside, I looked at it and found it was advertising this weight set, home gym thing. No money down and I could make low monthly payments.
I didn’t go back into my parents’ room that night. I left the bottle and the gun on the bed in there and went to my own room and went to sleep. The next day I called the number on the flyer and by that afternoon the equipment was delivered and the guys set it all up in the living room for me.
The home gym came with this pamphlet that told me how to eat right and within a couple of months I was well on my way to where I am today. I took every picture of the old me and burned them all. The new body gave me new confidence, and I finally did what my parents’ will asked me to.
I made the trip to New York and dropped Dad in the Pacific then went across the country, playing the lotteries in each state on my way to Los Angeles where I dropped off my mother.
That was the first step on my new life’s journey. I don’t know if I’ll ever tell my wife about the desperate man I was or not. That guy did die that fateful night after all. The old, fat, depressed, and insecure Blake was no more after that.
Happy go lucky Blake was born and apparently was being sent to find a young woman who needed him very badly. And I am happy to find out we get to have our happily ever after, after all.
The End
Dangerous Waters Complete Series
A Billionaire Romance Mystery Thriller Series
By Michelle Love
Tragedy. Romance. Intrigue.
Channing Michaels is a billionaire thanks to a little help in the beginning from a man he never knew, his rich paternal grandfather.
Beth Stattler is a young college student who applies for the job as Channing’s personal assistant.
She gets more than just the job from the gorgeous man.
Only problem is Channing’s wife has gone missing after a storm seemingly took her overboard while the couple was sailing.
He wants her declared dead, but no one else does. The search for her body continues, making it impossible for him to move forward in the open with Beth.
The question remains, is his wife really dead? And is Beth really the woman he thinks she is. Is practically everyone in his life out to get him? Or is Channing Michaels losing his mind?
Book 1 The Wind
Chapter 1
CHANNING
The sky turned dark in what seemed to be an instant. I had no idea what was going on. My mind was rattled and shaky after only one glass of wine.
I had only drunk one glass of red wine. I didn't understand why I would be feeling the way I was feeling. I didn't understand where the storm could’ve come from so damn quickly.
I didn't understand anything. Mostly I didn't understand where in the hell my wife was.
One minute she was on deck and the next she was just gone. The wind was howling so loud I never heard her fall over. I never heard her scream for help. By the time I realized she had fallen, our sailboat had moved a very far distance in a very short amount of time because the sail was still up.
The gale force winds were blowing into them, moving the boat so fucking fast. I swear I didn't know she fell. I swear it.
***
Down a long hallway we walk. I follow the detective I was sent to just after I came into the police station in Miami to report my wife is missing at sea.
Not really sure why I need to speak to a detective instead of the people who are about to start looking for Jana, my wife of only a year. I suppose he has to get all the information he can about the missing person.
“We’ll send a rescue mission out, Mr. Michaels. If your wife can be found, the guys on the rescue team will be the ones to do it.” Detective Radisson looks at me with light blue narrowed eyes.
It’s hard to tell if he believes my story.
“I don't think anyone's going to find her alive. She’d taken her life jacket off for reasons I don't understand.” I take the seat the detective gestures to as we go into his office.
His office is located in the new building the city of Miami just had built. The paint still sends out an aroma and the white tiles of the floor still glisten.
Pale blue curtains blow in the breeze through the one window he’s left open in the small room. He gestures to it. “The damn paint smell in here gives me a headache. If it’s too hot for you, I can close it.”
A shake of my head tells him I don’t mind. The smell would give me a headache too if the room was closed up. Though it is hot with it being the middle of June.
“Yeah,” the detective says as he takes a seat on the other side of his large desk, strewn with papers. “You told us that part. Was she prone to taking her life jacket off, especially right when a storm is approaching your little sailboat?”
The calendar on the wall behind his desk takes my attention as it has some half naked woman on it with a chain around her neck. I blink and look away. “My wife, Jana, hated to wear life jackets. It was one of my biggest problems with her. Whatever the rules were, she didn't want to follow them. Ever.”
Taking a pen and finding a clean sheet of paper, he jots down what I’ve said. “So you're saying she was hardheaded, and you two had a difficult time getting along?”
“Well, not exactly,” I say and think about how our relationship was. And no, we didn't get along very well. However, I don't want him to know that. “I just mean she didn’t like to follow rules. No seatbelt in the car, no taking the crosswalk when crossing busy downtown streets. That kind of thing.
”
His light blue eyes twinkle as he looks at me then jots down something. “So what was it she was wearing again?”
“I told you it was a red dress. It would be easy to spot. I just don't have any hope she’ll be found alive. The waves were too high. The waters were too dangerous. I just don't have any hope.” I look at my hands and turn them over and see the welts where the ropes I held onto hours earlier left their mark.
My mind is numb. Shock has taken me over and this man wants to talk?
The detective looks at me hard. His lips form a straight line. His square jaw is tight as he says, “Channing, I think there's more to the story than you're telling us. We will get to the bottom of it. If you killed your wife, we will find out.”
The numbness breaks a bit as I suddenly see what this man is thinking about me. “I did not kill my wife. Don't accuse me of that. I'm not a killer. I'm anything but a killer.”
The detective looks down and writes some things down on the piece of paper. “You know, Channing, that's what they all say. No one is capable of murder. Not when you're sitting in a detective’s office. The fact is your wife is missing and the circumstances are odd.”
“How long before you can declare her dead?”
The detective looks up at me. His eyes are wide as he says, “Sure are in a hurry to get her declared dead. What's going on with that, Mr. Michaels?”
“I don't know what's going on with that,” I tell him. “I just want closure. I don't want this to go on and on forever. I don't want that at all. If she was killed in an auto accident, she’d be declared dead right away and the closure could begin. This way, it can’t.”
“For a man who should be crying and screaming that his wife is gone and has no idea where she is for certain. Knowing full well, she’s out in the middle of the ocean somewhere, you certainly aren't exhibiting any of the classic reactions people do when their spouse is missing at sea.”
“I don't know what to tell you. I'm a different kind of person. One who carries all my emotions on the inside. I assure you once I get home and it all sinks in as I'm looking at all her things in our home, I’ll start bawling like a baby. You want me to videotape that for you, Detective?”
A smile moves over his thin lips. “Yeah, won’t you go ahead and do that for me? Put on a show, Channing Michaels, put on a show for us because that's what it seems like you’ll be doing. People who’ve come into this station with missing family members are usually so inconsolable they have to be sedated. You act as if you’ve already been given something to calm you down. Have you taken anything?”
I shake my head. “The wine had me loopy for a short amount of time then my head cleared up about the same time the storm ended. I’m just not a man who wears his heart on his sleeve. I hope you find her body. I hope we can put her to rest in a decent grave. I never wanted her to be lost at sea. I never wanted any of this to happen as a matter fact. I didn't even want to go out on the sailboat this morning. I didn't want to at all. I don't know how I got talked into that.”
“So you're saying it was her idea to go out on the boat even though there was a small craft advisory for the day? You're telling me it was her idea?” he asks me with a frown as if that’s an impossibility.
“Yeah, it was her idea. She packed the lunch, she's the one who packed the wine. The wine I seemed to get loopy off of with only one glass. That doesn't ever happen, detective. Just so you know, I’m not a lightweight. And I drink things much stronger than a glass of red wine.”
“You're saying you were drunk? You didn't tell us that before.” His eyes go even more narrow as he looks at me hard. “How come you didn't tell anyone you were drunk when this all happened, Channing?”
“I was sober by the time I got back to the boat dock at the marina. I really never thought I was drunk. I thought I might’ve been drugged. But not drunk. So why would I tell anyone something I didn’t think?”
“You felt you had been drugged?” he asks with skepticism laced words.
“It was like I was drugged if you want to know the truth. I think my wife gave me some wine that was drugged for some reason. She wasn't drinking any of it. She poured a glass for herself but it was full the last time I looked at it. Then the storm hit and the bottle, the picnic basket and the glasses all went overboard.”
“Pretty convenient, huh?” he asks as he stares me down.
“I guess it is. I don't know. With the wind blowing so hard and the water washing over the deck with each wave, things were bound to get lost.”
“Why didn’t you get washed over the side, Channing?”
With a shrug, I say, “Because I was taught to tie myself onto the boat. As soon as I secured myself, I looked for my wife to secure her as well.”
“But she was gone right?” he asks as he writes down every little word I’m saying.
I lean forward and look at the paper. It’s impossible to read his writing. “Yeah, she was gone. I was yelling for her. The thought she might have gone inside had me looking to see if she was inside the cabin. But she wasn’t. She was nowhere. The bottle of wine was nowhere. The two glasses that were sitting on the deck were nowhere. The basket full of chicken and potato salad was nowhere to be found.”
The detective taps his pen to his desk. “Your wife’s lifejacket was there. So everything wasn't gone.”
“It managed to stay on board. When I moved around on the boat to look over every side, I picked it up and put it in the cabin. The weather was terrible, and I feared for my own safety as well.” I lean back in the chair, my legs suddenly cramping and my body beginning to feel the pains and aches from the physical ordeal I’ve just been through.
“Things just don't add up, Channing Michaels.” The detective looks me over.
“They do add up,” I say. “There was a storm. The water got really bad. She was swept overboard. End of story. There are plenty like that when you’re talking about people who have been lost at sea. Many, many stories like that, Detective.”
Leaning back, he puts his hands behind his head. “Until we have a body, we don't have anything. So you're free to go, Channing. You may have just got away with murder.”
Getting out of the small chair, I stretch a bit to loosen the tight muscles of my legs. “I didn't get away with anything. My wife is gone. Do you think it's going to be easy for me to live with my wife gone? She wanted to go out on the damn boat this morning. Here it is this evening and I don't have a wife anymore. I don't know where she is. She's at the bottom of the sea somewhere.”
“Go home Channing. If you feel like getting something off your chest, here's my card. Call me. You know things always go easier with confessions,” he says with a smile.
I take his damn card and stick in my pocket which is still damp. Then I move back as the detective looks at me and I glare at him and say, “I came here to get help and all I got were accusations. What the hell is this place? A police station or an interrogation unit?”
“We are here to help. It sounds like Jana Michaels needed our help.” His face is stoic as he looks at me like he can see right through me.
“She didn't need your help. She needed to have her god damn life jacket on. That's what she needed. She should have never taken it off.”
A smile pulls the corners of his lips up. “Funny how all the money in the world can't bring her back home, isn’t it, Channing?”
“Yeah, that's real funny, Detective.” I turn to leave.
His words stop me. “By the way, how's your hockey team, The Skippers, doing this year?”
“They’re actually having a very good season. The first since I bought the team two years ago. The first year they were still no good. This year, the second one, they’re picking up and winning games.”
He taps his pen on the desk. “And that investment firm you have. How’s that going?”
“Going great. Making money hand over fist thanks to the money my grandfather gave me. A grandfather I never even knew I had left me a million dollars.
I managed to get my Masters in Business. Then opened my investment firm. I make a lot of money. That’s not illegal, Detective. Being rich is not illegal.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I know. But you'd be surprised what rich people think they can get away with.”
“I didn't kill my wife!”
Chapter 2
BETH
“Oh my God! Oh my God! Look at this, Michelle. Oh, my God! I just got an email it's from that firm, the investment firm, from The Michaels’ Investment Firm! I saw an ad on the bulletin board at college it said the owner, Channing Michaels, needs a personal assistant right away. So last week I sent in my resume and look I've got an email with an invitation to interview. My God, it’s tomorrow. Oh my, God, the interview is tomorrow! I don't have anything to wear! What am I going to wear? Oh my gosh, an interview to be Channing Michaels personal assistant! Do you know how cool this is Michelle? How cool is this?”
Michelle pulls the earbuds out of her ears and looks at me. “Huh?”
“God! Didn't you listen to anything I said?”
“No, Beth. I was listening to music while I try to wake up. It’s early you know. On a Sunday at that. You should still be asleep. What's going on with you?” She rolls over on her stomach and lays across her bed. The T-shirt she slept in is gathered around her waist and her tiny panties that leave nothing to the imagination show.
But who am I to talk, I’m sitting here in my bra and panties.
We share a dorm and she’s been my roomie since freshman year. We’re in our last semester. I’m about to graduate with my Bachelor’s Degree in Business Administration in just a few months.
With a glare, I say, “Forget it! God! Anyway, you have anything I can wear to this interview tomorrow?”
Taking interest, she sits up. “You have an interview tomorrow? To do what?”
“Oh, my God, Michelle! I want to kill you!” She has me so exasperated.
Doctor's Demands: A Submissives’ Secrets Novel Page 102
