The gun fired, striking Pam in the chest. She was thrown backward onto the ground and appeared motionless. Ted jumped out of his truck with the gun in his hand and clutching his bleeding arm. He slowly approached the motionless woman on the ground. He uncertainly knelt alongside her and felt for a pulse. He set his gun down and fumbled with his cell phone. As he pressed buttons in mild alarm, Pam's eyes opened. She suddenly grabbed his arm, pulled him on top of her, and bit him in the throat. Ted cried out to her teeth sinking into his flesh while he pushed against her and reached for his gun on the ground alongside him. He grasped the gun as blood flowed from his mouth then drew his last breath. Zombies Dennis and Brian appeared on the porch and approached Pam while she devoured the fallen man.
†
Jetta's helicopter was waiting on the landing pad on the hotel roof an impressive ten stories above the town and ocean. Winter Harbor was visible beyond the hotel tower. The opposite side provided a beautiful view of the ocean. Jetta leaned casually against the helicopter and flipped through her clipboard. Jetta's father had started the helicopter transportation and tour business for the summer tourist season when he thought he would retire the first time around. His distaste for tourists and civilian life nearly destroyed the business within the first month. Although it wasn't her first career choice, Jetta reluctantly took over the business at a young age and dealt with the tourists each summer. She loved flying and couldn't imagine leaving Winter Harbor, which pretty much sealed her fate as island tour guide.
The business's simultaneous beginning and near failure was also around the time Hunter was recovering from his final brush with death. Her father had already started the business and was prepared to launch it on his return home later that month. When a mission they were on went south and his entire team nearly died, it should have been her father's wake-up call to enjoy retirement. However, that month he spent in and out of the hospital worrying about Hunter and attempting to fly tourists to and from the island had the opposite effect on him. At seventeen, Jetta accepted both the responsibility of the business and caring for Hunter's recovery, naturally with help from her good friend Desmond. Running a business and making her own schedule was the only way she was able to keep Hunter from being placed in an undesirable facility in the crucial first year of his recovery. Jetta often felt like a glorified taxi driver to the rich and pampered. As she gazed across the roof to Lee talking on her pink cell phone and wearing her matching pink high heels, she knew today was no different.
Lee paced the roof with her cell phone to her ear. “I hope to find some pink heels,” she said into the phone. “Well, yeah, I have pink heels, but I need a different shade to match that new dress I bought. I want to look hot for that party. There are going to be some excellent prospects. Quality men around this island are scarce. Honestly, I don't know why Daddy wanted to move here in the first place.”
Carter and Bishop appeared on the roof. Lee looked at the rooftop door and saw them approach.
“Oh, Daddy's here. Gotta fly,” she said with a giggle to her own witticism.
Lee disconnected her call and approached the helicopter. She eyed Jetta then the door. Jetta glared back in response. Lee groaned, opened the door herself, and climbed inside. Carter cheerfully smiled at Jetta as they approached. He was obviously overly pleased to see her.
“I call shotgun,” Carter announced.
Lee glared at her father from inside the back of the helicopter and indicated Bishop with a sharply raised brow. “You're not seriously going to make me ride with him, are you?”
Carter looked at Lee, fidgeted, and uncertainly smiled. “Of course I'll ride with you, sweetheart.” He slyly grinned at Jetta. “Next time--”
Jetta smiled but didn't comment. Carter had the delusion that they were going to get together despite her obvious lack of interest in him. If she had a type, it certainly wasn't someone like Carter. Among other reasons, it was well-known of Jetta's dislike for wealthy men, an obvious trait picked up from her father. Men of wealth and power gave the orders. Men who gave the orders got other men killed; good men like Hunter.
†
The helicopter flew over the calm ocean on course for the mainland. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the ocean was peaceful and vacant. Jetta skillfully flew the helicopter with all seriousness, while Lee discussed pink high heels with her father in the back. Jetta allowed her mind to stray only a moment once and listened to Lee talking about pink high heels. Who the hell cared about pink high heels? She couldn't imagine even Carter really caring about Lee's quest for yet another pair of pink high heels. Bishop sat in the co-pilot's seat alongside Jetta and examined several buttons. He reached for one.
Jetta snapped out of her pink high heel daze and smacked his hand with amazing reflexes. “Don't touch my toys.”
Bishop gave her a dirty look. “Didn't your father ever teach you it's not ladylike to be a bully?”
“My father didn't teach me anything about being a lady,” she retorted. “Did yours?"
Bishop glared at her and didn't appear humored. “He told me to never hit one,” he replied. “Of course, I'm assuming you don't qualify.”
“I haven't been accused of being a lady yet,” she bluntly remarked.
Bishop looked at her and appeared surprised by the comment. A strange smile suddenly crossed his face. He chuckled softly. Jetta felt compelled to smile in response. She knew Bishop's reputation with women. They genuinely disliked him. Perhaps that was why she found him particularly interesting. She was having a tough time dismissing his rugged good looks. There was just something about him that she found strangely attractive. What she found most disturbing was the sexual thoughts she sometimes entertained while around him. Not to say he was her type, but if she would ever consider having a fling, he was possibly first on her list. She was sometimes appalled at herself for the many times she thought about him that way. Despite her distaste for wealthy men, she liked the look of a man in a suit, and he certainly wore his suit well. Apparently, she was attracted to the Italian mobster type. The thought actually made her laugh.
Her mind strayed back to the earlier incident within the lobby when she caught a healthy glimpse of what wasn't his gun poking her in the hip. She wasn't sure she wanted to think of Bishop in a sexual manner. It undoubtedly wouldn't end well for either of them. As she fiddled with a few switches, she cast a glance at his crotch and immediately shamed herself from doing so. She didn't know what was wrong with her today. Despite the quick glance, he caught her looking. She concentrated on flying and pretended nothing happened. If she acted casual, maybe he wouldn't think much of it. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. The grin on his face was almost unbearable. He enjoyed the fact that he caught her looking! She knew he would never let her live that one down.
†
The helicopter set down on the tarmac of the private airfield on the mainland. Jetta and her three passengers disembarked as a stretch limousine approached. Her timing was nearly perfect once again. Jetta immediately started refueling as the limousine pulled up to her passengers. She attempted to forget about her embarrassing moment with Bishop in the helicopter, but it wasn't easy. Every time she looked at Bishop, he was grinning at her. The bastard enjoyed her sneaking a peek. She was feeling particularly self-conscious now. If it hadn't been for that eyeful she got in the lobby, she wouldn't be in this predicament. The image of him in the lobby again entered her mind. She cursed herself for allowing her thoughts to stray to that again. Obviously, there was something wrong with her. Was her biological clock ticking? It had to be hormonal. Why couldn't she have more female friends? She needed someone to explain women to her. It was very frustrating being without her mother all these years. There were times it was tough being one of the boys when she actually wasn't.
A large, African-American man, roughly 6’4” and with muscles to spare, approached Jetta from behind. He had a determined walk and a stern look on his tough face.
“Cross!” Ziggy,
the tough man, shouted gruffly as he was just about on her.
Jetta spun with a startled gasp. Bishop, Carter, and Lee were equally alarmed and turned as well. They saw the large, impressive man directly in front of Jetta. Ziggy suddenly picked up Jetta while laughing and swung her around like a rag doll. He kissed her quickly on the lips and grinned. Jetta hid her smile and smacked the big man's broad shoulders.
“Damn it, Ziggy! Don't do that!”
Ziggy continued to laugh and set her down but didn't release her. “Tell you father; then I'll stop. How the hell is Hunter?”
“Still fighting the war.”
Ziggy shook his head while snorting a laugh and finally released her. “That guy's got more demons than hell. Poker game--main hanger. We'll catch up then,” he informed her cheerfully, saluted, and then walked away.
Lee shook her head and appeared disgusted. “I just don't get it.”
Carter approached Jetta and watched as Ziggy disappeared. “Old friend?”
“One of my father's military buddies,” she replied with a grin on her face. “The biggest teddy bear you'll ever meet.”
“Yeah, he's big all right,” Carter remarked softly. “Are you sure you don't want to join us for lunch?”
“Thanks, but there's a poker game with some of my dad's old military buddies in the main hanger. It's my idea of a good time. They're easy marks.”
“Easy marks? I thought military men were good at cards?” he asked with surprise.
“Yeah, they are--against other men, but when they get distracted, they tend to lose,” she informed him then grinned. “I know how to distract them.”
Carter allowed his eyes to stray to her low-cut tank top. He met her gaze, grinned, and laughed.
“Oh, you are devious.”
“Hunter calls it playing the odds.”
†
The main hanger was filled with cigar smoke. Jetta sat with Ziggy and five other brawny men playing poker on top of an old crate. Jetta removed her jacket to reveal her tank top, which seemed to distract a couple of the men. She increased her bet while sucking on an ice cube. She casually removed the ice cube, played with it a moment as the game progressed, and then casually ran it along her cleavage. Ziggy watched her a moment then chuckled and folded. He knew her game and he wasn't playing.
“What was the bet?” Perry asked while attempting to keep his eyes off her cleavage.
“Ten dollars--sucker,” Ziggy replied.
“I fold.”
Jetta popped the ice cube back into her mouth and exposed a pair of sevens. There were several groans. Jetta smiled, seductively leaned forward, and collected her winnings.
“Girl, you get more mileage out of a pair than anyone I've ever seen,” Ziggy said with a grin. “And I don't mean your cards.”
Jetta laughed.
“Ah, it's cheaper than porn,” Perry said.
“It's a matter of strategy,” she informed them. “Don't put down my system.”
Bishop was leaning against the open hanger door with his hands in his pockets and casually watched the game from a distance. Ziggy noticed him then glanced at Jetta and indicated Bishop across the hanger.
“Your boyfriend is back,” Ziggy muttered.
There was a round of laughter. Jetta eyed the guys while rolling her wade of cash and tucked it down her shirt. All five strained to watch.
“Don't let the suit fool you. He's paid too well for an assistant, and he's carrying,” she informed them.
“Bodyguard or hired goon?” Perry asked.
“Carter's a little too straight to need a hired goon. He has some serious attitude,” Jetta said. “He's been working for Carter for nine months, and no one still knows what he does. It's a mystery. I can't figure him out.”
“Ex-military?” Ziggy asked.
“No, I would have spotted that a mile away,” she replied. “I've been waiting for him to get into it with someone, so I can see his fighting style, but he's intimidating enough without getting physical. No one's challenged him yet.”
“Want me to engage him?” Ziggy asked with a cheap grin on his face.
“He's liable to shoot you.”
Ziggy appeared offended and glared at her. “Remember who you're talking too. I fought alongside your father and Hunter. I think I can handle myself.”
“Still, I'd rather not unnecessarily provoke him. I like our relationship the way it is,” she informed him.
“And what way is that?” Perry questioned.
“I tolerate him; he ignores me. It works on every level.” Jetta stood. “Sorry, boys. We'll have to continue this conversation next time. Duty calls.”
“Hey, bring Hunter next time. I want to see if he still has that sharp mind for details,” Perry announced.
“Just don't piss him off, it makes him cranky,” she replied. “He's not fun to deal with when he's in one of his moods.”
“One of his moods?” Perry suddenly laughed. “You think you know him, Jetta?” he asked. “Hell, there are dark corners of his mind I don't even want to know about.”
“Stop that, Perry. None of us are saints,” Ziggy firmly reminded him. “We've all done things we'd rather not discuss.”
“I've lived with Hunter every day for the last seven years,” Jetta informed them. “I bathed him when he came home from the hospital; I held him when he learned Caroline left him; and I talk him down when he's off fighting the war in his mind. I think I know him. I know him better than all of you combined. After seven years of mostly just he and I, I'm willing to venture I know him better than even the admiral. The only thing that ever frightens me about Hunter is when he gets it in his head that I'm in some sort of danger.”
“Why?” Ziggy asked. “What happens then?”
“He forced me into a closet once and made me hide in there for nearly three hours before I managed to convince him there wasn't a very large terrorist in the house.”
“Oh, that guy,” Ziggy announced with his eyes wide.
“You know him?”
“Not exactly, but we did see what he did to the guy after the fact,” he informed her. “It was one of those highly classified, bullshit missions that we're not supposed to talk about. This big guy, bigger than me, butchered two of our men and had your father in his clutches. Hunter went in to rescue him. By the time we got there, Hunter was sitting on the hood of a jeep smoking a cigar. He was covered in blood with what was left of the dead terrorist at his feet. No one ever got the whole story from him, but judging by the carnage and destruction, it was one hell of a battle.”
Jetta flashed a smile. “I know what happened to ‘Tank’.”
“Tank?”
“That's what he called him,” she explained.
“He told you the whole story?” Ziggy asked with surprise. “Even your father couldn't get it out of him. We never knew why he wouldn't tell us what happened.”
“He's relived that battle a dozen times over the years,” she replied casually. “I know it by heart.”
They all seemed interested and nearly jumped out of their folding chairs.
“Tell us! What happened?” Perry asked as his eyes lit up with delight.
“Sorry, I was sworn to secrecy--all twelve times.” Jetta smiled teasingly. “Catch you boys later.”
There was a round of groans. All five men hugged her before she was allowed to leave. Ziggy grabbed her and kissed her quickly on the lips when she least expected it. She hid her smile and pointed a warning finger at him. He smiled and chuckled. Jetta left her father's former military buddies and approached Bishop by the hanger doors.
“How long were you waiting?” she asked.
“Long enough to watch you fleece five brawny men with little more than crappy cards, an ice cube, and some strategically placed cleavage.”
“I made a lot of money off that ice cube. Don't knock it.”
“I wasn't knocking it,” Bishop casually replied. “I'm actually thinking I'd like to play poker with you.”
> Jetta sharply eyed him as they left the hanger.
Chapter Five
The sheriff's cruiser pulled up to Dennis Albright's house. Sheriff Palmer and Deputy Styles got out of the car and stared at the mail truck crashed into the porch.
“Now we know why Ted never reported in,” Deputy Styles remarked.
Deputy Styles was newly imported to Winter Harbor fresh from the police academy. He barely made the minimum drinking age, although he looked even younger then he actually was. Styles was enthusiastic for his work and a bit overzealous about fighting crime, which was putting it mildly. There were rumors he kept his cape in the closet alongside his utility belt. His boy next-door good looks were only magnified by his over starched, freshly pressed uniform and his painstakingly polished badge. Sheriff Palmer seemed the outcast wearing yesterday's uniform fresh from the floor and yet to be identified leftovers from breakfast still attached to his old, worn cowboy boot.
Palmer and Styles approached the mail truck and looked around.
Styles nodded at one of the cars as they passed. “That's Brian's car, isn't it?”
Palmer nodded. “If old Ted was hurt, why didn't Dennis or Pam call for Doc?” he asked mostly to himself.
They paused near the truck and stared at the dried blood on the ground next to Ted's cell phone. They saw the open front door and exchanged looks. Both removed their guns and slowly approached the house.
“I'll cover the back,” Styles announced and hurried around the house before Sheriff Palmer could protest.
Insanely Deadly Page 4
