Flyboy

by Nicole Austin

  “I-I…” Lord, she almost swallowed her tongue. Beyond gorgeous, the woman took her breath away. A shimmering cascade of long blonde hair highlighted an ethereal face. She epitomized everything Twyla thought personified feminine beauty. Not too thin or large, pleasant curves in all the right places, along with defined muscle. And her skin… Oh shit, her skin glowed, appearing to be lit from within.

  Darkness closed in at the edges of her vision and her head swam. This major head-trip-of-a-day took a toll on her, overtaxing emotions and screwing with her perceptions. She began to float, weightless and no longer worried about unfolding events.

  “Kaelin,” the goddess yelled. “Get in here!”

  Big hands bracketed her upper arms, the grip warm and firm.

  Mmm…nice.

  * * * * *

  “You going to head over to Daytona for Bike Week, Hammer?”

  Jhett Ramsey lifted his beer and took a long swallow while considering Mike’s question. Leaning back in the lawn chair, he gazed around the campgrounds. This stopover in El Paso had been nice, but he’d started to feel the itch to move on. Hell, he’d managed to stay here eleven days, a whole eight days longer than anywhere else he’d been since returning to the states.

  The Navy had cut him loose. PTSD my ass. Quacks! He didn’t have any post-traumatic stress bullshit. Military docs should stick with fixing physical ailments instead of messing with minds. Just because he had the overwhelming need to live up to his call sign and pound into the ground anything that got in his way. As if there were something wrong with showing enthusiasm for doing your job. Sure he’d been assigned to a stateside non-combative unit, but damn. He never kicked any ass that didn’t have it coming.

  He’d gone crazy as a civilian. Jhett craved the action, needed it the same as he needed air, and had signed on as an independent soldier—a mercenary—with a very secretive organization. They’d sent him right into the hottest action zone in Europe. Not to the conflict in the Middle East, but to the dark underground of Russian weapons dealers. What a fucking rush! He had thrived in the new working conditions. No answering to some pencil-necked commander. He had a blast kicking ass however he chose and getting paid a boatload of untraceable money in the process. Too bad he never anticipated the nightmare the job would turn into.

  No! He wasn’t going to go there. Couldn’t think about the past, rip the scabs of painful wounds that refused to heal. A long bike trip would be good medicine.

  “Might be nice to sit on the beach, chase some bikinis. Probably warmer over there too.” Early March temperatures in Florida would be mild. He hated being cold. Only thing worse was being wet and cold.

  Jhett shivered and pushed the memories threatening to surface back into the neat little box where they belonged. Allowing them out never had good results. Best to keep them tucked away where they didn’t bother him.

  “What about you, Mike? You gonna take the epic tour?”

  “I think so. Might make a pit stop in New Orleans. Haven’t been there in ages and it’s not too far out of the way. It’s better during Mardi Gras, but there’s always something happening in that town.”

  The loud bang of a trailer door shutting drew both of their gazes. They watched as Cami made her way toward one of the tents. The woman had a great body, soft and round, perfect amount of swing to her ample hips.

  “Cami’d score more beads than would fit around her neck at Mardi Gras with those plastic bolt-ons.”

  Her triple-D implants would make Cami a bead magnet at the wild street party. “True that,” Jhett agreed, holding out his beer bottle for Mike to clink his against.

  “When’re you gonna tap that ass? You do realize she’d give anything to get you in the sack, right?”

  “Yeah, but she’s not my type.” Her body may be exactly his type, but Jhett wasn’t going there. She got ridden too often by too many different men.

  “You want another beer?”

  “Nah, I’m gonna crash. What time you want to head out in the morning?”

  Mike smiled. “Seven too early for you?”

  “That works. I’ll catch ya on the flip side.” He harbored a cautious optimism for getting a few peaceful hours of sleep before the dreams found him. They always did. Didn’t matter if he drove himself to physical exhaustion, got shitfaced on bourbon or fucked senseless—waking up in a cold sweat and fighting not to scream was a foregone conclusion.

  Chapter Two

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Another question he wouldn’t answer, formed part in Surzhyk, a mixture of Ukrainian and Russian, and part in broken English, preceded another round of electrical shock. The bastards had hooked the sensors to his balls and nipples. Hammer almost didn’t feel anything, having long ago let his mind drift away from his body.

  Whatever drug concoction they gave him made his body respond to any stimulus, even painful catalyst, in a sexual way. His mind screamed and fought to no avail. Then the blonde interrogator would fuck him, make him orgasm. He knew what she did would amount to rape but he still felt guilty and dirty for the rush of sexual bliss he got from the encounters.

  He tried to hold onto hope that someone would be coming for him but knew better. It had been too long and he had not been on a mission with the military. The organization he worked for would keep his capture quiet and continue on. Their only concern would be the possibility of him being broken and revealing information they’d rather the enemy not have. Not that Hammer, or anyone else who worked in the field for that matter, had much more than a general idea of who they worked for. The organization took privacy to the extreme. Rightly so since these sick fuckers were very skilled in torturing information out of the most reluctant detainees.

  The blame rested with him. He knew better than to allow a personal or emotional attachment to form with anyone. His line of work precluded something as frivolous as friendships. But he’d done it anyway, become close to his team. Doing so had resulted in distraction and personal sacrifice. At least the others had gotten away clean. That knowledge helped to ease his mind. Had the team been here with him, he would have gone insane trying to figure a way to get them out.

  A combination of blood and sweat dripped down and stung his eyes. He felt a momentary reprieve as the restraints were released from where they’d cut into his wrists and ankles, but the respite was short-lived. They dragged him to another room where a video camera had been set up. A man wearing a black hood began reading a statement. He understood enough of the words to know this was the end. They were about to execute him, using him as a message to his employer. Hell, knowing the sick fuckers, he’d be sent back piece by piece.

  Ha, like the organization would be affected by his death. Nothing would change. They’d continue their operations same as usual, undeterred.

  No one would mourn his passing either. He’d been estranged from his family for too many years to count, and he’d been gone too long for the few casual friends he’d had in the States to even remember him.

  Fingers pulled at his hair, yanking Hammer’s head up until he became blinded by the bright lights. The cold steel barrel touched his temple briefly then drew back. With his eyes clamped tight, he prayed they make this clean and swift.

  The idea of God was one he’d thought proven false by the very existence of this hellhole, but when it came to the end the only solace came with prayer. In a rapid clip, he whispered the words to the Lord’s Prayer, knowing he messed it up in places but figuring that was okay. The words were not as important as what was in a man’s heart. In this moment, left with no other choice, he prayed for deliverance and forgiveness.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Jhett woke with the words still lingering on his lips and his body covered in cold sweat. He gasped and wheezed, struggling for each breath. Even though he’d gone two nights without having the familiar nightmare, he had not slept due to the anticipation.

  The horrors he’d faced in captivity were always with him. There was no escape from his mind, which refused to be quiet.
Peace would never come. He’d be trapped in this hell on earth until the day someone managed to end his wretched life. An angel of mercy to deliver him from the madness. An expiration of his misery. The end had become a goal he longed to see reach fruition. A reward of sorts.

  * * * * *

  “If you are to succeed then you must use every resource available. One such essential tool is lessons learned in past lives.”

  Twyla’s attention vacillated between Danu and pondering the woman’s mysterious attributes. The several days she’d spent at Rose Rock Castle on the Isle of Sàbhail felt surreal. Both Danu and the castle were like one long elaborate dream. Hopefully she’d wake up at some point.

  Yeah, come on, Twyla May. Time to wake up from this trippy dream now!

  Shadows danced over Danu’s physical form, giving her an insubstantial essence as if she had one foot in the castle and the other in a different location and time. Even the rooms of the castle were fluid, shifting and changing on a regular basis. You never knew from one heartbeat to the next what tapestries or paintings would be on the walls, where doorways would be found or how it would be arranged.

  “Twyla? Earth to Twyla.”

  She shook her head to clear away the cobwebs. “Huh?”

  “Have you heard anything I said or did it all go in one ear and out the other?”

  “Umm…”

  Danu’s expression saddened. “That’s what I figured.” She nodded, gave a weary sigh then began again. This time the power of suggestion tugged at Twyla’s consciousness and she began to wonder if it might work. Perhaps the wise warrior would succeed at putting her into a hypnotic state.

  “How do you feel?”

  Or not. “I’m fine. Sorry it didn’t work. I must not be able to give up control of my mind.”

  Danu’s hearty laughter sent chills racing across her skin and made every hair on Twyla’s body stand on end. “It worked well, child. We learned a great deal from your dreams over the last two hours.”

  Huh? Two hours? “What are you talking about? I didn’t go under.”

  “Yes, you did.” Danu chuckled. “And you told me about several of your previous lives. What a pleasure to confirm you were once one of my original Hussies, Catrina. Welcome back.” Although warm, her smile managed to prickle Twyla’s skin with goose bumps.

  No damn way! “Uh, yeah. Right!” Her voice no longer held true conviction, even to her own ears.

  Danu’s beautiful face became an expressionless mask, eyes hard, jaw clenched. “Is it my word or my abilities you doubt?”

  “I…uh—”

  “I see you have forgotten much in this embodiment. Your memories are focused on this life.” She nodded as if agreeing with her deductions. “Each of us goes through a series of lifetimes. We choose a path that will provide opportunities to learn difficult lessons in the hopes of achieving spiritual growth and soul development. We also work to discern the consequences and results of previous choices.

  “Particular memories of significant past lives can provide guidance and information about our life’s work, recurrent patterns, life partners, unresolved karma and challenges we have chosen. I have assisted you in reaching your higher self, or soul, to determine which prior lives will be significant to this current one. The higher self is in control of what you will be permitted to remember and will assist in using those individual pieces of information to form a complete picture. As you continue to make discoveries, you will find glimpses and memories appearing more often—lessons, talents and messages from your previous experiences that can help in your mission.”

  Twyla listened and began to think of times she’d had a strong sense of déjà vu sparked by dreams, places—even sights, sounds, smells and people.

  “You may have episodes of spontaneous recall when you’ll remember in fragments or mini movie clips. In other cases, you will meditate to review relevant chapters of previous embodiments stored in the subconscious mind and in your inherited genetic code.”

  Danu advised caution. The mind held billions of memories, but few would be of much use now. She would have to learn to access the ones relating to her current life. Turned out her happy place—the one she went to during meditation—involved walking along a quiet path that twisted upward and around the side of a mountain. At the top she’d created a field of wildflowers along with a stunning waterfall cascading into a crystalline pool below. The idyllic setting brought profound serenity and inner calm. She rather enjoyed visiting the private spot, her own personal haven where nothing could intrude.

  Through Danu’s guidance and a great deal of practice, Twyla learned of many prior lives. “I don’t get it,” she complained. “What am I supposed to learn from having been a pin-up girl in the thirties? How to strike a pose? And the life of a servant for Cleopatra? Sheesh! I get the ancient Scottish Highlands warrior, but what about the rest?” Trying to figure out what would be important left her confused and agitated.

  “The correct lessons will be clear during your mission.”

  Ah, the mission. She didn’t get how this was all to play out. “Yeah, let’s talk about this ‘mission’. How the hell am I supposed to find this guy I have to succeed in helping? And forfeiting my life should I fail.” Her hands flew as she spoke, a sure sign of her increasing turmoil—one she had no control over. “That shit seems a bit harsh, don’t ya think? Don’t even get me started on the whole figuring out our purpose on our own crap. I’d like to know how that’s gonna freakin’ work. I mean really—”

  “Twyla,” Danu snapped. “Silence. Take a deep breath, close your eyes and find the path.”

  “I don’t want to find the stupid path,” she whined, acting worse than a spoiled child, and she didn’t care. Twyla worked best with tangibles. Computers she touched, programming she saw, concrete logic that had meaning. The complex aikido movements she mimicked, practiced and perfected over years spent in the dojo learning from her sensei. This abstract metaphysical stuff drove her nuts.

  “Then you will fail.”

  Her mouth fell open and she stared at Danu’s retreating form. When it dawned on Twyla that the other woman wasn’t coming back, she jumped up and ran after her mentor. “Hey, wait! You can’t just walk away. I need answers.”

  “All will be revealed in time, Twyla.”

  “Ugh!” She stomped her foot in a fit of pique. “All will be revealed in time,” she mimicked in a sing-song voice. “That’s exactly the kind of shit I can’t take.”

  Danu gave no response as she continued out the door and headed down the hallway. Twyla screamed and cursed as she raced to catch up. “You have to give me some sort of freakin’ clue here.”

  The world shifted on its axis. She reached out to steady herself against the firm rock wall only to watch it become insubstantial and fade away. The massive hall within Rose Rock Castle dissipated, became fuzzy. She caught a glimpse of familiar surroundings solidifying in place of the castle. Her bank of computers. Bookshelves filled with reference texts and programming code. The small window that looked out on a postage-stamp-size yard. And Widget curled up on the seat of her desk chair.

  “Here we go again,” she muttered. Except instead of falling down the rabbit hole, this time she’d been spit back out. Rudely and without a word of warning. “Damn it, Danu. What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

  She didn’t expect or receive an answer. Instinct filled in the blanks. As of now, Twyla would be on her own. Just her and the guy she may have to forfeit her life for.

  With hands fisted on her hips she stared up at the white expanse of ceiling and grumbled, “Great. Thanks a lot! This is karma biting me in the ass for something I screwed up in one of those past lives, isn’t it? The whole ‘what goes around comes back around’ thing.”

  Widget mewed in response, rose up on the pads of her feet for a good stretch and yawned. “Didn’t even miss me, did ya?” she accused. Widget slinked over to where she stood and head butted Twyla’s arm. “Fine, I’ll do my duty.” She was
n’t sure whether she referred to giving the cat a good scratching or completing her mission.

  Plopping down in the chair the cat had vacated, she opened up an Internet window and Googled “past life theories”. The search resulted in more than eight million entries. “Holy crap! Gonna have to narrow that down a tad.”

  Her fingers flew over the keys in a familiar manner. This she could grasp and figure out. Her comfort zone—the one place where she could be herself. A place where what she wore and her Amazonian size didn’t make a bit of difference. Nobody around to laugh or point. No shocked gasps as she walked through the grocery store. In fact, here she ruled—a goddess of information. She controlled this world, manipulated it to her will with a few masterful keystrokes. No one avoided her in cyber world. Instead they sought her out for her legendary skills.

  With a sigh, she fell into her work. Processors hummed, keys clicked, various images flashed across the row of monitors. Similar to a conductor, Twyla directed each individual component, a great symphony brought together to play her tune.

  Chapter Three

  “Oh god, Hammer, yes. Harder. Damn, that feels good.”

  Jhett rolled his eyes at the woman writhing around on her belly. All her caterwauling would lead anyone within hearing distance to the assumption that they were fucking. A reasonable theory considering her dramatic moaning outshone most porn stars, but far from the truth. Camille, or “Cami” as she preferred to be called, had worked hard to earn her biker-slut reputation and wore the label with pride. Chances were good she had contracted every STD known to mankind and a few doctors hadn’t even discovered yet. He wouldn’t fuck her with someone else’s dick.

  He’d landed back in Florida again, this time for start of summer. On an intellectual level he understood there would be no outrunning himself, but that didn’t stop the cycle of getting on the bike and hauling ass.