Jewel of Solana

by Susan Sheehey

  The room filled with deep bass and fast rhythm, mixing with the constant pounding of the rain overhead. Portia and Kinsley joined in, pumping their hands in the air, and swaying their hips. The drink in Portia’s hand spilled with every move, which she didn’t seem to notice, or care.

  Stacia stayed on the couch, sneering at them over the rim of her fourth appletini. Becca changed the light scheme to the dance club setting, which turned off the overhead lights, flashing the outer bulbs in various colors. A custom feature installed on the yacht, no doubt at Daddy’s daughter’s request.

  The darkened interior made the storm even more visible out the windows. Lightning streaked across the sky in silver webs, and the waves jumped higher out of the sea. Occasionally a client would fall over from the ship’s dip or sway. Then laugh incessantly.

  Alanna’s heart rate spiked, yet she forced herself to keep calm. The cove protected them from most of the elements.

  Just not from the indoor threats.

  The door slid open, and a strong gust of wind whipped through the room. Marcus squeezed through the narrow opening, his soaked hair peeking from under the hood of his rain slicker. Jaime, the shorter deckhand with a heavier build, shut the door and followed. The clients kept dancing, until the men tried to walk around them to speak to Marie. Portia lunged for Marcus and dragged him into the middle, while Kinsley and Becca moved in behind him, trapping him in the middle of their sweaty mosh pit.

  Jaime smirked, dodging to the stairwell.

  Alanna felt for him. Marcus wore an awkward smile, clearly uncomfortable with no clue how to politely decline. No doubt he had a lot of duties to perform in the weather emergency. But the girls peeled off his jacket.

  A movement to Alanna’s side caught her attention. Flynn stepped into the room, a distinct grimace straining his angelic face.

  Something must be wrong. Is the storm getting worse? Do we have to abandon ship?

  Flynn headed toward the stereo system.

  The scorpion finally moved from her perch.

  Stacia set her appletini on the coffee table. Her gaze narrowed in on Flynn like a heat-seeking missile. While Flynn fiddled with the stereo, his grimace more pained every second, Stacia dashed across the room and grabbed his hips. With a lick of her lips and an iron-grip on his shorts, she made him sway to the oppressive beat of the music.

  Flynn shook her off like swatting a fly, and focused on the stereo.

  Alanna could only see the side of his face in the flashes of light. He gripped the side of his head, squeezing his temples as if they were about to explode. It was the nightclub scene all over again.

  Stacia persisted, pulling him back by the waistband. Her tongue swiped along her top teeth, regarding Flynn as a piece of prime steak.

  The dancing dungeon of girls locked him in a tight ring, and swayed in a mass of flesh to the pumping rhythm.

  Enough was enough.

  Alanna approached the horde, determined to rescue him from the maze of man-handling and groping.

  Just as she grasped his elbow, the bright red nail polish of the scorpion reached down over his shorts and grabbed his dick.

  Flynn’s arm muscles tightened; he roared against them. In an instant, he flung everything—and everyone—back.

  Alanna gasped as Flynn ripped his arm from her grasp. His deep, PAINED bellow silenced the room, save for the music.

  But roaring inside Flynn was anything but silence.

  His gaze had turned crazed and unfocused.

  By the time her stomach had dropped to the floor, he’d started pounding the sides of his head with his fists. Roaring through it.

  All the clients had backed off, staring agap at Flynn’s meltdown. Sensory processing disorder at its worst.

  Suddenly, he surged toward the unit, and punched the speaker. His fist went through the screen like paper, and the electronic’s inner guts crunched and sputtered to death.

  Everyone gasped.

  But Flynn still roared, the music from the other speakers and flickering lights clearly still just as painful. He picked up the wooden coffee table like it was a pillow.

  The girls screeched, and backed away. Except Stacia, who watched like a hypnotized assistant to a magician of violence.

  Alanna moved forward to stop him, not sure which she would intercept first. Flynn with the table, or the stereo unit to turn it off. She didn’t have time to choose.

  He bashed the table against the television. The wooden legs and surface splintered off with each hit. He’d wind up again for another bash, over and over. With one dangerous swing, a jagged leg nearly hit Stacia in the face who’d gotten too close. She wailed and cowered on the floor.

  With the room covered in wooden splinters and electronic debris, Flynn had started to lose some energy by his shaking arms. His gaze was still too jittery and unfocused.

  Alanna slowly moved to him. “Flynn…” she soothed. “Put it down.”

  He reared back again, oblivious to her words, ready for another blow. But he stopped, the tables’ remnants poised in midair. The music sputtered out the one remaining speaker like a radio underwater. She dared to touch his arm, liberate his mind from the meltdown. To stop him.

  A bright flash lit up the sky outside, and the hair on her arms stood straight up. An earsplitting crack made everyone flinch and others duck to the carpet.

  Everything moved too slowly through the flickering, colored strobe lights, though she couldn’t move fast enough. Between his crazed eyes and the overcharged room, his over-sensitized state disarmed her. He thrust her back, and slammed the fragments into one of the dangling strobe lights. Glass exploded across the room in a firework of shards.

  The clients shrieked again.

  With his back turned, Marcus and Jaime took the chance to charge him. They brushed past Alanna and barreled Flynn into the wall.

  He roared against them, flinging both the deckhands back, but the pressed harder again and held him tight against the fiberglass.

  All the lights flickered out.

  “Oh my God, we’re dead!” Becca cried.

  “Oh hush.” Marie’s irritated voice cut across the room. The lights switched on, blinding Alanna. “Party’s over,” the chief stew barked. She stood by the light switch panel glaring.

  “That bastard almost killed me!” Stacia rose from her cage of fear, this time her viciousness on free reign. “He attacked me with that table! Nearly took my head off!”

  Shock swallowed Alanna’s thoughts. Her gaze panned to the other side of the room.

  Marcus and Jaime still had Flynn pinned against the wall, locking him in their hold. Flynn’s chest heaved. His face smashed into the wallpaper and his gaze still fighting between rage and pain.

  “Let him go.” Alanna knew the restraint made it worse.

  Flynn blinked. Recognition finally filled his gaze, and he calmed.

  “Esta loco,” Jaime muttered. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Alanna stepped toward them, but Marie pulled her back gently on the shoulder. She shook her off.

  “Let him go,” she repeated. “He’s fine.”

  Marcus and Jaime loosened their grips so his face wasn’t smashed against the wall anymore, but didn’t release his arms. He glanced around the room, registering the destruction of his meltdown. Humiliation filled his face and echoed down his body with every snapshot. Finally, his gaze settled on her.

  “Alanna.” His voice choked out her name. “Are you… Did I…”

  “Take him below!”

  Alanna spun. Liang Wen stood at the front of the room wearing the ugliest scowl she’d ever seen. Directed solely on Flynn.

  Words jumbled on her tongue. All of this had started because he was over-stimulated, his senses completely bombarded. The tipping point was Stacia assaulting him by grabbing his junk.

  She wanted to slap the bitch across the face for that.

  But Flynn had taken the steps for her, in the wrong direction. Now the entire main lounge was in piece
s.

  “Arrest that monster!” Stacia shrieked, pointing at Flynn. “He attacked me with the table and I had to jump out of the way.”

  Liang glared at her. But she kept on.

  “He didn’t attack you, despistados. You assaulted him, which threw him into a meltdown.”

  “Bullshit!” Stacia’s dragon-eyes and flushed face fixed on Alanna. “I want these assholes imprisoned! Both of them!”

  “Enough!” Liang’s order silenced the squabble. He touched the speaker in his ear, and then grabbed his radio unit. “Liang to bridge, come in…”

  Only static replied. He repeated the call several times, as did the rest of the crew, but no one responded. Liang’s jaw flexed. “Our radios just got fried.”

  His piercing glare landed on Flynn again. “Take Flynn below and lock him in his cabin. I have to talk to the captain.”

  “I’m going with him.” Alanna moved to follow Flynn downstairs.

  “Negative,” Liang snapped. “We need all hands during the storm.” He turned to leave, but Stacia grabbed his arm.

  “Did you hear what I said?” she screamed. “He almost killed me. Throw them overboard.”

  Liang didn’t even look at her. “Marie, please escort all clients to their staterooms immediately. Prep for going ashore.”

  THE SQUABBLING BARELY REGISTERED IN Flynn’s mind as Marcus and Jaime pushed him through the doorway to take him below. He was in a trance, numb to everything else as they urged him down the stairs.

  I destroyed the room. In front of her. I really am a monster.

  His stomach dropped to his feet, twisting every inch on its way down. Once below, Marcus and Jaime released his arms and let him walk on his own toward his room.

  He didn’t remember bashing the speakers to smithereens or how he got pinned against the wall. Every meltdown had been the same, a near blackout. Though he hadn’t had one that big since he was a kid. He opened the door to his cabin.

  “Liang told you to remain on deck, Lanna,” Marcus’ voice chimed behind him. “Go help Marie.”

  Flynn turned. Alanna’s arm set on her hip, but Marcus blocked the rest of her. The familiar coconut scent registered in his senses.

  “I don’t care what Liang said.” Her defiant voice both soothed him and made him cringe. “I’m going with Flynn.”

  Marcus blocked her way. “Please don’t make this more difficult. I have my orders.” He shifted just enough to reveal Alanna’s face.

  Long strands of dark hair escaped from her braid and hung limp across her collarbone.

  Alanna glared at the deckhand. “I like you, Marcus. But I’m just going to break into the room when you’re not looking. Save yourself the energy and let me pass.”

  Marcus sighed. “Seriously?”

  Alanna shrugged. “Tell them I slapped you as my resignation.”

  Flynn would’ve laughed if he weren’t so terrified of what he’d done, or of what she thought of him now. Now that she’s seen him at his worst.

  Marcus continued. “Like they’d believe that, Princess.”

  She smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Jaime gave him an apologetic smile, and both allowed Alanna to pass. Flynn retreated into the room, followed by her overwhelming presence. All five-foot-nothing of her filled the space with an oppressing stare he couldn’t identify. The back of his knees hit the bunk bed and he sat, bringing them nearly eye-level.

  She shut the door and faced him.

  He swallowed, feeling seven years old again after his meltdown at school when a classmate destroyed his sugar-cube construction of the Washington Monument. In the wake of his ‘tantrum’, he’d inadvertently smashed six other kids’ projects. All because he didn’t know how to express his anger in words.

  Hands on her hips, Alanna stood before him in the same manner. For the first time, he couldn’t look her in the eye.

  “You do have a temper.” Her voice cut straight through him.

  A million ways to apologize flashed through his mind. Not even one seemed sufficient.

  “About damn time,” she added.

  His head shot up, their gaze connecting.

  “I wondered when the hell you were going to defend yourself against that wretched girl.” The corner of her mouth lifted, but her eyes were full of anger.

  “By obliterating the room?”

  Alanna chuckled. Actually chuckled.

  Flynn’s jaw dropped.

  “Now I have a better picture of what a full- blown meltdown looks like. No biggie. What now?”

  “Wh-what?” No biggie?

  “We’re in the middle of a storm, about to be escorted to shore. We’re still several days away from Singapore. What’s the plan?”

  He mouth dried up. He’d lost count of how many times he’d been called crazy or a freak throughout his life. Most of the time, right after these meltdowns. It had been forever since his last one, but this brought him right back to that shameful, guilty fear. And inevitable rejection. Everyone always left.

  “Flynn?” Her eyebrows rose. “What’s the plan?”

  “I…I don’t know. A strait jacket?”

  Alanna pursed her lips, and knelt in front of him, placing her hands on his knees. Everything about her softened. “You’re fine now. I know you feel embarrassed about that business upstairs, but you don’t have to be. I understand. I’m trying to redirect your focus. Get you out of your head.”

  “I can’t do that while I’m waiting for the inevitable.”

  “What’s that exactly?”

  “For you to call me a monster. Run away. Like everyone else.”

  She huffed, almost inaudibly. “Then there’s only one thing to do.”

  “What?”

  She kissed him. Hard.

  The refined, tender side of Alanna turned dominating and forceful as she pushed her tongue into his mouth, sucking mercilessly. Taking. When she finally pulled back, she bit his lip for extra measure.

  Flynn’s jaw hung open. He stared at her intoxicating vision, full of power and determination.

  “Better?”

  “Whoa,” was all he could manage.

  Her confident smile knocked him silent again.

  “Now back to the problem.” She squeezed next to him on the cot, her coconut scent settling over him like a fog. “We’ll probably be kicked off here. Any kind of local airport might still be a bad idea, since they’d have to check our passports. Maybe we can hire someone with a boat to take us the rest of the way? Or better yet, rent one ourselves. I can sail us there.”

  He blinked through the haze, trying to focus. Her sweet taste still lingered on his tongue. “Have you ever sailed that far?”

  Her pause made the fog disappear. “No. But I can still do it.”

  Flynn shook his head. “Renting a sailboat requires ID. Apparently, I’m a wanted fugitive in the Philippines. So, that’s out.”

  “Then we’ll just steal one.”

  He raised an eyebrow. Princess Alanna turned thief?

  A knock on the door cut off his reply. The door opened, and Marie poked her head through the opening.

  “Is it safe to come in? How are the mutineers doing?”

  “Swell,” Flynn quipped. “Looks like we’re about to add international piracy and robbery to the list of charges.”

  Alanna smirked.

  Marie came in and closed the door. “Aren’t you the overachiever? You really are a bad influence on her. Princess turned criminal in only a week. To top it all off, Miss Piss-In-Her-Teapot is giving an earful to the captain. Trying to get you both arrested. Not to mention file suit for damages to my pretty lounge.”

  Alanna scoffed. “It needed redecorating anyway.”

  Flynn tried to scoot farther away on the bed. With three people in the tiny cabin, the air was being sucked out too fast. An itch crawled up his neck, so he started his breathing routine to keep from hyperventilating.

  “Getting woozy over there, chief?” Marie asked. �
�You’ve already lost it once.”

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  Marie’s sigh was loud. “I could ask the captain to be lenient with you. Or here’s a wild idea: tell him the truth. Who you really are. Though I’m not sure that would work now with Flynn’s handiwork upstairs.”

  Flynn glanced to Alanna. The creases on her forehead deepened.

  “Probably not,” he replied.

  “Which means Miss Piss-In-Her-Pot will get her way. Little shit of a girl.” Marie grimaced.

  “I wasn’t attacking her with the table,” Flynn apologized. “I just couldn’t take all the—”

  “No apology needed for me, love.” Marie interrupted. “I’ve seen worse tantrums from my brother in the kitchen.”

  “That wasn’t a tantrum.” Alanna scowled.

  “Potatoes, tomatoes.” She waved the thought away. “What has me worried is now Stacia knows she can’t go after Flynn. You’re too unpredictable for her. So, she’ll go after Alanna next. Easier target.”

  “Not any more.”

  Both Flynn and Marie looked at her.

  “If she wants to come at me, I’ll be front and center. Show her that no matter what she does, she can’t bring me down. That no one shuts me down. I’m not going to keep my head low to ride this out. That’s not me. Not any more.”

  A forceful knock pounded on the door.

  Captain Chen opened it, his expression hostile. A bead of sweat trailed down his temple.

  “The clients are prepping for shore, and my chief stew is not assisting them?”

  “Right away, sir.” Marie left without question.

  Flynn’s stomach dropped again. This is where I’m arrested. Who knows what will happen to Alanna next.

  A tense silence filled the space between the three of them as the captain gave them each hard looks. A sheen formed at his hairline in the weak overhead lights. “I need to speak with my engineer in the wheelhouse,” he bit out, glaring at Alanna. “Alfred could use your help, if you’re willing to delay your resignation until we are ashore.”

  She blinked. Her eyes met Flynn’s. Maybe she was expecting him to nod, or show some kind of reassurance. But he couldn’t give it. He only stared back.

  “Wheelhouse. Now,” Chen barked.