Stormy Peril

by Victoria Pinder

  Supplies, probably, she thought. She gripped the candelabrum, remembering how Meg had warned her to stay to the right of the hall. But she needed candles and hated to bother anybody.

  The door creaked open. She peered inside and stared into the black room, lifting the silver candelabrum so she could see.

  No.

  A twinkle of something shiny flashed in the distance. She reached inside and circled the wall with her hands to find the switch, but there wasn’t one. The candles would have to suffice. She swung the door open fully and stepped inside the small laundry-sized room.

  A glimmer of something on a shelf caught her attention.

  A gust of wind passed her face and she closed her eyes. A loud boom then a bang cried out and she turned back. The door slammed shut behind her, locking her in the small room. Her candles blew out and left her in total darkness. She held her breath. She couldn't see her own hand in front of her face.

  Muffled cries barraged her hearing. The vents must have caught the drafty winds, but the sound sent a chill down her spine. She braced herself. The creak of something metallic clanged on the other side of the room. She narrowed her gaze until her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

  The sparkle of something on the shelf flashed in the corner of her eye. She fished out her matches and tried to light one. Her fingers burned fast and she dropped the package at her feet. She grumbled and crouched down to pick the matches up. As she stood, she reached out and used the shelves lining the walls, cluttered with boxes, to stand.

  Something flew past her cheek to her right, and she jumped. Green eyes shone in the dark, and her entire body froze. She held her breath to see if the eyes moved, but then she tilted her head. They weren't a natural color. The green was too bright. She stepped forward.

  Plastic eyes. She let out her breath as she realized it was a Halloween decoration. This must be where they stored the supplies. Raphael had mentioned that it was a big holiday here.

  Kimberly turned to the box next to the black cat, her gaze drawn to a golden medallion. It was probably another prop, but the glimmer winked in the darkness. She pocketed the small piece to study later. She hadn’t seen anything Halloween-related in years, but as a child, she had loved the candy. She should get a candle and return to check. She turned the doorknob, but it seemed stuck. She pulled backward, but the door didn’t budge. She squared her shoulders, clenched her teeth, and tugged. She should have taken the candelabrum with her. This time, the door swung open and she ran into the dark hallway.

  Once there, she closed the door behind her and took out the medallion. She held it to the light and caught her breath. It wasn't just metal at all. The medallion was pure gold and speckled with red, green, and white jewels. Were the stones rubies, emeralds, and diamonds? The cross seemed more hand designed than modern manufactured jewelry. She sucked in her lower lip. The amulet appeared like a medieval one that would go past her the breasts with the right chain.

  How had she found this in a room full of boxes?

  She returned to the kitchen, relit her candles, and then held the candelabrum in her hands as she proceeded up the stairs.

  Drafts in the rafters made eerie sounds. Halfway up the stone staircase toward her room, Kimberly sighed to somehow tell herself that ghosts weren't real. Castles made noises. Then she made a circle with her fingers again and breathed.

  Footsteps echoed from the floor above her, and the heavy steps grew louder fast. This wasn't the house, and her body tightened. “Hello?”

  "Kimberly, is that you?" Raphael's voice answered her and she heard his heavy tread. Not the wind.

  She hurried up the last few steps to join him on the main floor. "I'm here."

  He turned the corner, near the top of the stairs, and stopped at the railing.

  Raphael’s dark brown hair was wet. Her gaze narrowed on the black eye he'd sport in the morning. She had no idea where the nearest bathroom was, so she reached out for his arm and pulled him downstairs toward the kitchen. "What happened to you?"

  "I went outside." He followed her without complaint.

  At the door, she flipped the lights on. Then she sucked in a breath. His t-shirt was ripped, and his jeans were filthy as they clung to his frame. His puffy eyes and grazed knuckles made it obvious he'd been in a fight. "Why? Did you see Roger?"

  “I saw him.”

  She went to the refrigerator and found ice. Then she wrapped it in a towel and placed it on his head. “And?”

  “I thought I could surprise him, but he’s wiry.”

  She couldn’t lose the only person she had on this island. She wet another cloth and handed it to him as her insides tightened. “You knew he was dangerous. I thought you were going to wait until morning. I should go with you tomorrow to watch your back.”

  "No, absolutely not. I don't wish to discuss this." He sat on a stool at the counter. "I should go change."

  "Wait here." She wrapped some ice in a dishtowel and pressed it gently to his other swollen cheekbone. "Put this on."

  "This is a lot of towels, ma'am."

  Her hand flew to her hip and she shook her head. "Kimberly is just fine, Raphael."

  "I like how you say my name." He smiled, but followed her directions with the towel. "I shouldn't be here."

  "Give me your wet shirt. It’s ripped in so many places." She held her head up. Her face heated a bit as she stared at his hard muscles that the black shirt clung to. His shoulders were so large. She swallowed and said, "I want to check you for wounds."

  He took in deep breath, put the cloth on the counter, then lifted his shirt.

  Her pulse raced as she stared at his naked chest with a sprinkling of soft, dark curls. All the men in Miami were hairless wonders that likely spent a fortune to rid them of every speck of hair. Raphael was different, and somehow, that brushing of hair on his chest made him sexier than the cover boys she'd met. "A few ribs are bruised. I’ve done this to myself before."

  “Then you should have learned your lesson already.” She noticed the military insignia on his upper arm. "You were in the Marines."

  "Yeah." He gazed at her and electricity rushed through her. "Can you get the Vaseline from under the sink to put on my bruise?”

  Me, place anything on his body. She kept her answer to herself and went to fish out the medicine. A moment later, she held the bottle and glanced at him. "Your eye seems to be the worst."

  He nodded and she stared into the black mist in his pupils. He had the power to hypnotize her, and she lost all other thoughts. She then rubbed his chiseled face. His five o’clock shadow tickled her wrist and made her alive.

  "What happened?"

  She reached up to brush his hair off his face, but he pulled away. "I went looking for your servant. Found Roger instead."

  He sucked in his cheeks. "I surprised him at his camp on the edge of the forest. I found some papers near his camp that he kept close." He rubbed his hands together and she realized he must be cold. She brushed his arm to soothe him, but then her gaze went to his back. She dropped her hands to her sides, but she gasped at the gun tucked into the backside of his jeans.

  Raphael held his hands out to his sides. "Relax. Don't get upset."

  She tried to blink, but she couldn't move. Her mind returned to the second Roger stood behind Eileen and then slam, the bang boomed into the air as her blood splattered toward her.

  He reached behind him and placed the gun on the counter. "It's not loaded anymore. I took his gun."

  Heat surfaced and her eyes welled with tears "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be." He took her hand in his.

  "At least he can't shoot me." She stared into his eyes. Raphael wasn’t shot. Her gaze went all over him, but he had no holes anywhere in his body. "I'm happy."

  "He has military training," Raphael told her. "He knows how to fight."

  "How do you know?" She ran her hands through her hair to try to get a grip.

  He crossed his arms. "I know because I know."

 
"One step at a time." She smiled at him. He’d been patient with her, and it was all her fault he was hurt. He had tried to help her again. She owed him. "I made you a cake earlier that you didn't touch. Perhaps we can celebrate?"

  He picked up the gun and left his shirt on the stool next to him. Then with the end pointed toward the floor he said, "I'm going to put this in a safe."

  He walked out the door. She clutched the medallion harder and cringed. "Every step you take to help me, you get my eternal gratitude. I want to help you too."

  Raphael's footsteps echoed outside. She picked up his wet shirt, then chased him out. He was halfway up the stairs and she ran to catch up with him. He slowed down a little. "I don't need a nurse."

  "I want to help you. You helped me." She walked at his side. "Where is this safe?"

  She shouldn’t be this nosy about him and ask that question. She pressed her lips together and swore she’d stop.

  "In the library." He walked fast, and she sped up to keep up with him.

  At a door, he flung it open and turned on the lights, and Kimberly stopped. Her eyes burned a bit. Everything here was bright. She hadn't seen lights in hours. Her mouth fell open. "If I am stuck here, at least there is a lot of books to entertain me. How come this room still has lights?"

  He turned back to her and tilted his head. "We have generators, and I have this room connected directly. Your bedroom should also have lights that are directly connected, but the rest of the house is spotty. Don’t forget your candles."

  Again, he took care of her. Raphael went to the fireplace and pushed a picture frame to the side. She’d not ask about his bedroom, though it had been on the tip of her tongue. She stepped to the left to pretend she couldn’t see what he did.

  He had an old-fashioned safe but with a modern-day laser beams. She stepped closer. He pushed his fingerprint on it and it opened. Modern technology was always good, but then she bit her bottom lip. Why would a man live without a phone, but have that technology for a safe? Something didn't add up. She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear as he placed the gun in a plastic bag. Then he added it to the safe next to the wallet.

  "What else is in there?" She gazed at his broad, muscular backside to see what else was in the safe.

  He slammed the safe closed faster than she could see.

  Then he turned back toward her. "Nothing that concerns you, other than the wallet."

  "Can you please show me?" She glanced past his strong frame that was built to be of a war machine.

  "Let it go." He then lowered his pants a bit, and she stepped back. She held her breath as he unloaded the bullets on the table bedside him. Then he reached for his ankle and withdrew a knife and a holster. "I want to teach you self-defense."

  She shouldn’t. She couldn't move. Then she blinked. "Why?"

  He inched closer and gently caressed her shoulder. "I'm going out again tomorrow, but in case something ever happens, you need to know how to defend yourself."

  "I don't know." She inhaled. "I'd rather you stay here and protect me."

  He took a step closer, but she stepped back. "I will search again tomorrow to ensure Roger doesn't have another weapon near his camp. He'll change his schedule when he realizes what went missing today, so I'll be gone early. He won't expect me to go out so soon."

  "Don't go." She rubbed her arms. "Please."

  "Everything will be fine."

  She held tight to the medallion and stared into his emerald eyes. If he held her, somehow, her burdens would dissipate. His full lower lip would be a powerful instrument in a kiss. She laughed, but the headiness of her thoughts hit her hard. Then she lifted her hand and he stared at what she held. "What's that?"

  Oh no. He stared at the medallion and she shivered. "Costume jewelry.”

  “Where did you get it?"

  "Downstairs." She lowered her eyelashes. Meg had said not to go in there, and again ice crept up her spine. Kimberly nodded. "Next to the kitchen."

  He scratched his head. "We have jewels in the kitchen?"

  She was never a good liar. She wanted to say yes, but knew she'd ruin it. Instead she said, "In the room next to the kitchen. I went to find candles and was trapped in your Halloween decoration closet. I saw it sparkle and picked it up."

  He reached up, stared at both sides of it, then said, "It's pure gold. I'm impressed. Since you found it, keep it."

  That was it? Her jaw dropped. "You can't be serious."

  "What would I do with jewelry?" He shrugged and dropped the medallion back in her hand. "Should I wear it outside against your Roger Hellsworth?"

  "He's not my anything." The image of a man with Raphael's biceps and dark, forbidding eyes, pretending to be light and gay, sent laughter down her throat. "You'd look silly."

  He laughed too. "Agreed."

  His baritone voice made her entire body tingle. She'd believe whatever he said. "Are you sure you want me to have this?"

  "Why not? I don't want it and I never saw it before." He turned his head to look out the window and the sound of rain splashed against the glass. Did it always storm here?

  Raphael turned his head and stole her breath. His profile could be a portrait of an ancient god. Somehow, near him, she believed she'd have a tomorrow, and for now she'd do what he said.

  He turned and saw her looking at him, and his cheeks flushed. "I want to finish locking up my stuff now and go to bed, Kimberly."

  She'd like to go with him, but she clutched the medallion in her palm again and nodded. "Thank you."

  Something ice cold raced up her back. She turned around to see that nothing was there. She turned back, but Raphael had gone. She spoke to the air and picked up her candelabrum. "So no cake, then."

  She rubbed her neck and walked out of the library.

  At the grand staircase, she stared at the fiery redhead that waited for the barbarian Scot that carried three heads. She would wear this medallion perfectly, not that she did in the picture. The gold seemed medieval and old-fashioned.

  Kimberly continued up the stairs and went to her princess room. She smiled. Kimberly Mira had never lived in decadence. She had grown up in a condo near the beach, but not on the beach. The class distinction between the addresses always played a role in Miami politics. In the South Pacific, she'd lived for years as an outsider.

  Perhaps she spent so much time figuring out her life and her mistakes that she forgot to be active and aware enough to make choices. This had to stop.

  She opened the door and stared at her bed.

  A laugh escaped her throat. Meg had turned down her sheets and left a piece of chocolate. Kimberly saw her sneakers that she had on the plane near the door, though they were clean now. At least now she had her shoes. She moved on toward the vanity.

  A few pieces of cord would at least allow her to wear the amulet tomorrow, and despite all her plans, the necklace was far too special to not be worn.

  She sat on the padded trunk in front of the window and braided the thin leather strips together, glancing out the window at the night sky. Questions barraged her. Where was Roger? Was he looking at her right now? She stepped into the corner of the window and wondered if Raphael had hurt him.

  In the morning, she'd join Raphael. He hadn't asked her, but she couldn't wait in her room. Kimberly stretched then took the medallion to bed with her. She stripped off her jeans and dropped them in a heap on the clean floor. Tomorrow, she'd be in a hurry. Then she snuggled into the warm sheets and stuck the medallion under a pillow.

  How to clean her clothes without bothering Meg every day? A smile formed on her lips as she closed her eyes, her mind drifting toward sleep. Every day meant more time to get to know Raphael. A small ray of light warmed her heart. He had saved her so many times. Now it was time to sleep and then start saving herself.

  CHAPTER 6

  Kimberly stretched in her bed then shoved one hand under the pillow. A second later, she clutched the medallion. Something fierce and steadfast came out of her when she hel
d the thing, and she tied it around her neck, where it rested between the mounds of her breasts. Then she dangled her feet over the bed and kicked for her pants. Realization came slowly. Her jeans were not on the floor.

  She rubbed her eyes and then stared at the spotless floor. She couldn't cook breakfast in her underwear.

  The room still had edges of frigid coldness to it, despite the heat that pumped through the walls. Meg must have taken her jeans for the laundry. Kimberly would find her and get her jeans back later. She quickly pulled her hair into a ponytail behind her ears and checked her Easter egg. It hurt less today and her hair hid it. The bruise on her cheek had faded in the night as well.

  She opened the closet door and stepped inside the walk-in. She rubbed her neck and touched the medallion as she took in the full wardrobe.

  These must be the modern blonde woman's clothes from the picture. Kimberly picked up a dress then shook her head. Zero. Zero wasn't even a woman's size. Why did designers like Prada even bother with this size?

  She searched for a pair of sweats or anything with an elastic waist. Something with no waist might work. Smiling, she pulled a simple bohemian-style black dress from the hanger. She stretched the chest area and realized the material moved.

  After showering fast, she tugged the dress over her head. It fit.

  The dress went slightly above the knee rather than the calf, because the Mira women were all curvy. It would just have to be good enough. She fixed the medallion over the bit of material on her chest to show it better, and strolled out of the bathroom. She took a last look at herself in the full-length mirror, thinking that the medallion gave her style. She found a pair of flip-flops in the closet and went downstairs. Halfway down, she crashed right into a warm, solid wall with a bam. Then a huge hand spanned her entire waist, holding her steady.

  She inhaled the smell of cedar and pine, and gazed into those smoldering green eyes from her dreams. "Hey."