Insanely Deadly

by Holly Copella

  †

  The Winter Harbor Hotel was an impressive ten-story, elegant three-hundred-room beachfront hotel with acres of sprawling gardens, a large, in-door pool, several hot tubs, and many other resort amenities. Despite the hotel's grandeur, it was void of life. Tourist season had ended and the resort had the appearance of a ghost town. The beach was empty and there weren't any boats in the harbor.

  The hotel's massive kitchen was nearly empty. A heavyset man in his late thirties, wearing a white chef's outfit, loaded dishes into the massive dishwasher. Rafael was head chef for the resort and possibly the only remaining kitchen staff employed during the off-season. Supposedly, a renowned chef from some exotic beach resort overseas, Rafael was transplanted to Winter Harbor a little over a year ago. It was rumored he'd taken the job at Winter Harbor Hotel because he suffered from work related stress, but he was the most laid-back guy on the entire island. His true reasons for leaving his high paid gig to work on the island remained one of those little mysteries. Jetta and Hunter entered through the employee's entrance. Rafael appeared delighted to see them. He was delighted to see anyone these days. As a people person, he had a tough time dealing with the solitude that off-season unfortunately brought.

  “Hey! Company! What brings you to my dungeon?”

  “Morning, Raphael. Carter wants me to fly him to the mainland for his meeting,” Jetta announced cheerfully. “And Hunter needed to get out--”

  “Hunter had a psychotic episode last night,” Hunter bluntly interrupted. “She's afraid to leave me home alone.”

  “Dude, you're always welcome in my kitchen. You can help peel potatoes,” he teased then smiled and winked at Jetta.

  “I owe you, Rafael.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Just go.” Rafael waved her off and joined Hunter at the island counter. “So, Hunter, tell me about some of your more exciting military coups.”

  “I would, but then I'd have to kill you,” Hunter casually replied.

  Rafael chuckled softly, leaned on the counter, and grinned boyishly while deviously raising his brows. “How many men have you actually killed?”

  “Shot or blown up?”

  Rafael appeared to consider the question then grinned. “Let's start with the ones you'd shot and work our way up to, you know, the whole blowing up thing.”

  Jetta groaned and rolled her eyes. “I'm going to the hanger for the helicopter,” she announced. “You two behave.”

  She knew Rafael was a good man, but he had a morbid sense of humor when it came to Hunter. Perhaps that was because of Hunter's candor and grisly storytelling. It didn't really matter. She preferred not to stick around for story hour.

  †

  The elegant, empty lobby had one set of large, heavy doors leading to the beach and a second set on the opposite side leading to the circular driveway. The lobby was decked out with hand-carved woodwork, exposed ceiling beams, and handcrafted furniture. Stacy worked behind the front desk, which encompassed most of the back wall and was a work of art in itself. It was locally handcrafted with an elegant marble top. A serious looking woman in her late thirties, Elise Raymond, approached the desk with a scowl on her face. Visually, she was a cross between a librarian and a schoolmarm, but her attitude screamed prison matron.

  “Stacy, have you seen Desmond?” Elise demanded.

  Stacy immediately appeared on her best behavior and stared at the woman with possible fear. “No, Ma'am.”

  “Typical,” Elise scoffed. “There's not a single reliable man on this entire island. He said he'd have the Internet working this morning.” She looked at her watch and frowned. “You'd better take your break. I'll keep an eye on the desk.”

  “Yes, Ma'am.” Stacy made a hasty exit to avoid further contact with Elise.

  Elise was a miserable woman and therefore made it her mission to ensure no one else was happy. She was a self-proclaimed man-hater and had little use for the entire male population. The stronger their will, the more she despised them. Sheriff Palmer was on the top of her ‘loathe’ list. However, it wasn't just men she despised. A strong-willed woman earned high ranking on the same list. Jetta secured that title years ago and still held it today.

  An Asian woman in a housekeeper's uniform lurked around the corner not far from the elevators and watched Elise at the front desk. Stacy approached the corridor and saw the housekeeper, Ming, in an apparent state of hiding.

  “Are you just getting in?” Stacy asked softly then appeared concerned.

  “Yes,” Ming said softly and nodded toward the front desk. “What sort of mood is she in this morning?”

  “Her usual sort of mood,” Stacy replied. “I'd avoid her if I were you.”

  Most of the staff tried avoiding Elise as a general rule. It didn't need to be stated. Stacy continued along the corridor to avoid being a party to Elise's wrath on poor Ming. Ming was an undeniably attractive, petite woman in her mid-thirties with her long, silky hair worn up in a ponytail. Even her bland, gray housekeeping uniform couldn't diminish her natural beauty. Avoiding Elise in the morning, particularly on days she was late, was becoming a challenge. Ming watched Elise busily working on the computer, saw her opportunity, and then quietly hurried for the elevators when it appeared as if she wasn't looking.

  “Ming--”

  Ming hesitated before the elevator and nearly had her finger to the button. Of course, nothing got past Elise. She appeared chilled by the familiar female voice and uncertainly turned. Elise beckoned for her like a mother scolding a child. Ming uncertainly approached the desk.

  “Did you just get in?”

  “My daughter woke up sick this morning,” Ming said timidly. “I had to find a sitter.”

  “You're a good worker, Ming, but you're always late.”

  “I'm sorry, Ms. Raymond. I'm trying.”

  In addition to men and strong-willed women, attractive women also reached the top of Elise's least tolerated list. It was a very long, complex list. The elevator doors opened to reveal Bishop in a tasteful suit that still cried mob hit man. Elise cast a look across the lobby at Bishop with apparent loathe and gave Ming a dismissing wave.

  “We'll discuss this later. You'd better get to work,” Elise gruffly announced.

  “Yes, Ma'am,” Ming said softly and hurried for the elevator.

  Bishop held the elevator door open for Ming's hasty departure. Ming quickly darted inside the elevator and hid around the corner, waiting for the doors to close. As Bishop approached the front desk, Elise placed a clipboard on top. He picked up the clipboard and studied it without looking at her. In second place, beneath Sheriff Palmer, was Bishop. Elise didn't like him at all, and she made that apparent.

  “The tub in 413 is clogged, and the sink in 320 is leaking,” Elise informed him with little emotion and a refusal to look at him.

  “Try maintenance,” Bishop remarked. “I'm not a plumber.”

  Her patience with Bishop appeared to reach its boiling point. “What exactly is it you do around here, Mr. Kane? Because I never see you doing much of anything,” she hissed.

  “I'm Mr. Braxton's assistant. I assist Mr. Braxton. What I do is none of your business.”

  “We work on a skeleton crew in the off-season and fill in where we're needed,” she scoffed. “We should discuss your duties.”

  “I know my duties, Ms. Raymond. There's nothing to discuss, and if there was, it wouldn't be with you,” he announced simply.

  The elevator doors opened to reveal Desmond, Lee, and Lee's father, Carter Braxton, the resort owner. Carter was a distinguished looking man in his late forties. He wore an expensively tailored suite with several, equally expensive pieces of jewelry. He flaunted his wealth, which didn't impress the locals. Carter and Desmond paused near the elevators to talk. Lee kissed her father on the cheek and approached the front desk. Lee was once again bell of the ball in a slinky, pale dress with strappy pink heels. She approached Bishop with disinterest. Much like Brian, he wasn't her type either, so she had little use for him.r />
  “The penthouse lock isn't working properly,” Lee informed him.

  “I'll call maintenance about it,” he replied.

  Elise was obviously offended with Bishop's game playing. “You'll call for a door but not a tub?” she demanded.

  Bishop picked up the desk phone and eyed Elise with little emotion. “That's different. This is assisting Mr. Braxton--via Miss Braxton.”

  Elise rolled her eyes, hurried from behind the desk, and approached Carter and Desmond by the elevators. Both men tensed to her approach but there was no escaping her.

  Lee shook her head and chuckled softly. “You certainly like pushing ‘Frau Hitler's’ buttons,” she remarked.

  “She's a man-hater,” he stated simply. “I find that extremely irritating.” Bishop then shifted his attention to the person on the other end of the phone. “Steve? Hey, it's Bishop. Can you check the penthouse lock? I've got daddy's little girl breathing down my neck and it's only a little after nine.” There was a moment of silence. Bishop grinned, cast a look at Lee, and continued with his conversation. “Thanks, Steve.” He hung up the phone.

  Lee glared at him with annoyance. “You're easy to hate, Bishop.”

  “Ah, but that's different,” he announced. “You hate me for me; not for my gender. I can respect that.”

  Lee rolled her eyes even though it was obvious she wanted to laugh. Elise, Desmond, and Carter walked down the nearby corridor. Bishop watched them disappear down the hall then threw his arms in the air with disgust.

  “Great! Now I'm stuck at the desk.”

  Jetta walked off the elevator, crossed the lobby, and approached the front desk. She eyed both and appeared curious. Neither was exactly front desk material.

  “Who's at the desk?”

  Bishop and Lee casually pointed to the other.

  Jetta picked the lesser of two evils and turned to Lee. “Does your father still need transportation to the mainland?”

  “Yes, he'll be back in a few minutes,” she replied then slyly grinned. “I'm going along to do some shopping.”

  “The helicopter's on the roof when you're ready,” Jetta informed her then turned toward the elevators.

  Jetta preferred the solitude of the roof to making small talk with Lee or Bishop. It would turn into either a debate or an argument, and she just didn't have the strength for either today. Hunter's episode last night kept her awake until the early hours. Jetta saw Elise returning with Desmond and suddenly felt the need to hang around. Unlike everyone else, Jetta didn't back away from the challenge of Elise. She had no fear of her and even less respect for the woman who made Desmond's life so miserable. Elise appeared to be giving Desmond a verbal lashing, and he appeared to be taking it as usual. Her treatment of Desmond was extremely irritating and borderline abusive. Elise seemed to enjoy belittling him probably because he didn't fight back. Desmond wasn't a fighter, despite the admiral's attempts to toughen him.

  “I'm sorry,” Desmond said timidly to Elise. “Mr. Braxton had me working on his computer this morning.”

  “Had you explained the situation--” Elise began, saw Jetta watching them, and then immediately silenced. She abruptly switched gears and chose not to verbally attack him in front of Jetta. “Just get it done, Desmond.”

  “Yes, Ms. Raymond.”

  Jetta and Desmond exchanged looks. Desmond quickly looked away to avoid the familiar lecturing in her eyes. He followed Elise behind the front desk. Jetta wished he'd learn to stand up for himself, especially to Elise. She wasn't his boss. Technically, they were equals, but Elise certainly didn't see it that way, and Desmond wasn't about to challenge her authority either. Elise looked at Jetta with those piercing eyes and pinched her lips for an added, authoritative look. It was necessary for her to order everyone about and Jetta was no exception. Actually, Jetta thought it gave Elise some perverse pleasure.

  “Shouldn't you be manning your aircraft, Miss Cross?”

  Jetta stared at Elise with little emotion. It was almost amazing how predictable she was. Usually Jetta went with the silent stare approach. It was her father's favorite move. She'd heard the story from several of his men of the time the admiral got vital information from a prisoner by just staring at him. The ‘stare’ tactic worked wonderfully on Elise. She'd squirm then become flustered before excusing herself. For some odd reason, Jetta felt particularly confrontational after watching Elise belittle Desmond.

  “What is it about me that threatens you?” Jetta asked calmly and without emotion.

  Elise appeared surprised that Jetta actually spoke to her. “I'm not threatened by you,” she snapped. “I just can't respect a woman who doesn't act like a lady. But it's not really your fault that you were raised by some hard core Navy Seal and his section eight counterpart.”

  Desmond looked up from his computer with his mouth hanging open. It was never wise to insult Hunter to Jetta's face. An insult to Hunter and his sanity was one of her many ‘hot’ buttons no sane person ever wanted to push.

  “Don't bring Hunter into this,” Jetta retorted with a hiss in her voice. “He's a decorated hero. He nearly died saving my father and his entire team.”

  Bishop and Lee were now silently watching the exchange. Both knew things could turn ugly fast. It was possibly for their own amusement, but there was a greater chance they just enjoyed watching Jetta stick it to the miserable woman.

  “The guy's a psychopath and should be committed,” Elise scoffed through pinched lips.

  The lobby fell eerily silent as all eyes were on Jetta. Jetta suddenly grabbed for Elise behind the desk. Bishop swiftly caught Jetta around the waist and pulled her away from the desk. If he hadn't intervened, she would have gotten Elise. Elise jumped with surprise, saw Bishop had her contained, and then shook her head with distaste at the display. Desmond covered his face and avoided watching. Despite the fact that she wanted to hit the woman, Jetta composed herself. Bishop relaxed and released her.

  “Your aggression isn't particularly surprising, considering you live with a couple of natural born killers,” Elise announced callously, now appearing overly confident.

  Jetta showed no emotion to the comment. Without warning, she again lunged for Elise behind the desk. Bishop again caught her around the waist and now held her against him from behind. Jetta wasn't even concerned about being held against Bishop. She used his body as leverage to brace herself while she kicked at Elise with both feet. Lee attempted to keep from laughing at the spectacle but failed. She enjoyed watching Jetta embarrass herself by acting like one of the boys. It was satisfying on many levels.

  “Barbaric. You're just like them!” Elise scoffed.

  “Keep it up, Elise, and I'll let her have a piece of you,” Bishop remarked lowly while struggling to keep the thrashing woman from escaping his arms.

  Elise knew Bishop would follow through with his threat. She walked out from behind the desk and passed them while scoffing, “Military brat--”

  Jetta karate kicked at Elise as she passed and nearly clipped her hip. Elise gasped with surprise then hurried for the nearby corridor. Bishop struggled to hold Jetta. She nearly got away from him that time.

  Lee maintained her humor with the entire display and watched Bishop struggling to subdue the agile woman in his arms. “Wow, you've got your hands full there, Bishop,” Lee teased. “Good luck with that.”

  Lee walked away while laughing. Jetta relaxed despite Bishop's arms around her waist while he held her firmly against him from behind. She didn't appreciate being subdued by him. She didn't want him to think he could control her. She knew she could get away from him, but that would require physically harming him. Since she wasn't angry with him, she didn't want to go that direction if she could avoid it. He still didn't release her, making her more irritated with him and bringing her closer to using excessive force.

  “You can let go of me now.”

  “If it's all the same, I think I'll give Elise a head start.”

  “I'm not going to chase after
her. And I'm not exactly thrilled with your gun poking me in the hip,” Jetta growled.

  Jetta considered both statements. Ironically, they were both lies. She did intend to chase Elise, but that was just to watch her run, and she was rather appreciative of firearms, so his pressing against her wasn't an issue. Bishop appeared to give her comment some thought then reluctantly released her. She turned toward him and was about to speak when she briefly saw the gun in his shoulder holster. Shoulder holster? Jetta eyed the shoulder holster with some surprise. Then what was poking her--? She allowed her eyes to stray below his belt. She stared only briefly, groaned by what she saw, and rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, for God's sake--”

  Bishop appeared amused by her reaction. “It's not my fault,” he announced while grinning. “It's hot watching you turn bad-ass commando on Elise.”

  Desmond stared at them from behind the desk and appeared more stunned than anything.

  “Tell Carter I'm on the roof,” Jetta scoffed.

  She hurried for the elevators while avoiding looking at Bishop. She'd seen enough of him--literally.

  Chapter Four

  The mailman's truck pulled up to Dennis Albright's house. Ted, a mail carrier in his mid-fifties, got out of the truck with a package, eyed Brian's car in the driveway alongside Dennis' sedan, and approached the front door. He knocked on the door. There was no response. He knocked again. The door opened to reveal zombie Pam with fresh blood down the front of her white, satin nightgown. Ted appeared horrified as she reached out and grabbed his arm. As he dropped the package and pushed her back, she savagely bit into his arm. He screamed and pulled his arm free, losing a mouthful of flesh to Pam's teeth. He clutched his bleeding arm, bolted down the porch steps, and ran for his truck. He jumped into the truck while panting heavily, threw it into gear, and stepped on the gas. As the tires squealed, the truck lurched forward instead of in reverse and crashed into the porch. Ted appeared slightly dazed then looked out the side window and saw the barefooted Pam approaching. He reached into the glove compartment, fumbled through several papers, and removed a .357 Magnum. As Pam approached his truck, he aimed the gun at her and squeezed the trigger while screaming.