Cry Wolf

by Amanda Carpenter

  The soft hairs at the nape of Kirstie’s neck rose one by one as she held the drink toward him. Bound he most certainly was, but it became the hardest task of her life to force her hand nearer.

  Everything past and present converged on the moment as she waited to see if she had intimidated him enough into believing her. This was the most perilous point of the whole enterprise. If he called her bluff and refused, she didn’t know what she would do. Kirstie felt as if she had put her hand into the mouth of an angry dragon. An immeasurable eternity of a second passed.

  Then, with the first evidence of grace in their encounter, he lowered his head and drank.

  Swallowing blind. God, she thought, what she had made him choose! Francis’s eyes focused on her hand holding the cup, and he raised his head. She did not know what he saw in her face, but it changed his drastically.

  “You’re shaking,” he whispered.

  She licked her lips. “So are you.”

  His eyes were the most vivid color she had ever seen, riveted with sudden awareness. “Could you have hit me?”

  “Rather late to ask, don’t you think?” She turned her face away and recapped the thermos.

  “What would you really have done if I hadn’t complied?” he asked, not letting go.

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” she snapped, vicious with tension, and she glanced at her watch. The drug should take effect soon.

  “‘The more human beings proceed by plan, the more effectively they may be hit by accident’,” he quoted.

  “You might not have paid for it, but it was a very expensive education,” she retaliated. “Quotations from The Physicists should be as good a way as any.”

  This time, however, her tactics did not work. It showed in the quirk of his black eyebrows an instant before he spoke. “Your first mistake,” he told her, suddenly too tired to bother hiding a weary cynicism.

  “After a broken ankle, a twice-broken collarbone, torn ligaments and a metal pin in my knee, I paid for that education.”

  Kirstie could not help her look of surprise, and, though uttered reluctantly, the question had to come out. “The pin in your knee—that’s why you didn’t turn pro?”

  His downturned lips mocked her. “You disappoint me! Why else the scar on my left thigh? ‘The greater our knowledge increases, the greater our ignorance unfolds’.”

  He had not lost one iota of his muscular control, but he curled down into the backseat, nevertheless, and said, “I think I’ll take that nap now. Drive carefully—I have a fondness for this car.”

  Kirstie covered his cramped, sleeping form with the blankets, then ran to shift one of the construction barriers she had stolen in the early hours of the morning to place around that section of the basement. She raced back to the BMW. All her movements were concise, efficient. She had gone through everything over and over again.

  But the drug should have taken about ten minutes to work. It had taken almost twenty. As she started the car, her heart was pounding. The car purred out of the space and up the exit ramp. What else had she failed to plan for? What else could backfire?

  The worst of it was that, for all that Francis Grayson deserved everything he got, through all the good arguments for what she did, the conviction that undermined her entire purpose was that what she was doing was wrong.

  “‘The best-laid plans of mice and men’,” she whispered, feeding the parking ticket into the automatic machine. Francis Grayson wasn’t the only one who could throw in a quote or two for the occasion.

  The whole affair had started just forty-five minutes ago.

  Kidnapped by a pirate captain!

  Mystery in the Moonlight

  © 2013 Lynn Patrick

  In need of a new start, Caitlin O’Conner is vacationing in the Caribbean. Hibiscus Island seems the perfect place to relax and reevaluate her life. That is, until she’s kidnapped by a pirate!

  Mistaken for the mistress of the man using Hibiscus Island as a front for smuggling activities, Caitlin finds herself at the mercy of the pirate ship’s captain Bryce Winslow. But who is this dangerous man? Is he an accomplice to the smuggler or a man on a lawful mission?

  Caitlin must figure out what she truly wants—the safety of the shore, or a mysterious moonlit adventure on the high seas.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Mystery in the Moonlight:

  “Hibiscus Island…a remote, exclusive gem of a Caribbean isle…privately leased…a tropical paradise that is yours for the basking three hundred sunny days of the year,” Caitlin O’Connor read from a rather damp travel brochure as she and Babs walked along the free-form rock path leading to the guest bungalows and the island’s Beach Bar beyond.

  “Remote! Exclusive! You can say that again,” complained Babs in her soft Southern drawl. “This island’s so remote and exclusive, there’s barely anybody but us around.”

  “Sea, sand, trade winds…” Caitlin used a finger to trace the lines as she read on. “Sailing, fishing, water sports. We haven’t tried fishing. Would you like to do that?”

  “Fishing?” asked Babs incredulously. She shifted her huge straw bag from one dainty hand to the other so she could tie her matching picture hat more tightly to her pretty blond head. “I am not about to sit out in a hot old boat with that horrible old sun beatin’ down on me. Why, it’d just ruin my complexion! Besides, I’ve seen quite enough slimy fish while we were snorkeling, thank you. When that horrible monster jumped out from behind those rocks today, I thought I’d have a heart attack!”

  “But you tried to drown me instead.”

  Caitlin grinned wryly, remembering Babs’s loud underwater screech when she’d sighted the harmless, but ugly, lizard fish. Then the petite woman had literally climbed on top of her friend to get to the surface of the water.

  “I’m sorry about grabbing you,” Babs said, apologizing. “I was pressed to my limits. All the seaweed and other dirty stuff floatin’ in the water had already given me the creeps.”

  “So much for snorkeling,” said Caitlin, trying not to show her disappointment. If Babs didn’t want to go fishing and had already rejected going sailing, wind surfing, or hiking around the island, she didn’t know what they could find to do together in the coming weeks.

  “If you want to snorkel, go ahead. Don’t let me stop you from enjoying yourself.”

  “But I’d like you to have some fun too.”

  “I’d consider it tremendous fun if we could just rest for the moment,” Babs said with a pitiful sigh. “These sharp rocks are hurtin’ my poor feet. And I surely can’t walk on the sand, it’s burnin’ hot.”

  Caitlin had to smile. “I love the way your accent gets more pronounced the more you complain.”

  “Well, you know we Southern belles are delicate.” Babs laughed good-naturedly, then parodied herself. “Honey, how ’bout stoppin’ over there in the cool ole shade?”

  “Too bad your daddy’s butler isn’t here to bring us some mint juleps.”

  “Forget it. Nothin’ but rum punch and piña coladas ’round here.”

  Caitlin accompanied Babs to a nearby stand of palms. Once in the shade, her friend took off her wide hat and fanned herself, making the ruffles of her sheer pink cover-up flutter with the movement. Then Babs reached inside her heavy bag, removed a tube from the veritable cosmetic counter she always carried, and placed a slab of white zinc oxide on her pert nose.

  “Maybe you should have been practical today and brought some sandals along with your beauty products,” Caitlin suggested.

  “Honey, being practical isn’t romantic,” sniffed Babs. “And romance is what I thought we’d find here. That takes moonlight and magnolias and eligible men—something this island has in scarce supply.”

  “Maybe some eligible men will come along yet. We have to be patient. After all, it is off season.”

  “Well, when they do
arrive, I hope I’ll be ready. If the island’s generator keeps going out, I won’t even be able to use my curling iron to do my hair!”

  When Babs felt rested and they started back down the path, Caitlin once again wondered what they would do in the weeks to come. She hated to see her friend so miserable. Usually charming and bubbly, Babs could be a lot of fun.

  As a matter of fact, it had been the wealthy blonde who’d convinced Caitlin to join her in doing something more exciting than signing up to work during summer school. So they had taken the summer off from their jobs as counselors for the University of North Carolina. Babs was always begging shy, practical Caitlin to do something daring to fully bring herself out. And what could be more romantic and adventurous than spending a month in the sunny, exciting Caribbean?

  Unfortunately Caitlin now knew that Babs only talked a good game as far as adventure was concerned. Although she enjoyed nothing better than flirting and finding new beaus, Babs thought most physically adventurous activities far too strenuous to be fun. Rather than participate in the outdoor life and sports of Hibiscus Island, the blonde preferred to spend her days changing into the numerous outfits she’d brought along in her five suitcases, doing her hair or face…and, most importantly, waiting for the appearance of the men who would appreciate all the time and trouble she’d gone to.

  “I’m going to go on in, rinse my suit out, and shower this awful sea salt off my skin and out of my hair,” said Babs when they’d reached the narrower pathway that led to their wood-and-stone bungalow. Unfastening her cover-up, she frowned speculatively at the matching ruffled pink swimsuit underneath. “I hope nothing’s ruined.”

  “You look fully intact. Just be careful you don’t wash something important away,” Caitlin teased, knowing that Babs would be bathing and primping for more than an hour. “I’ll go and have a soda. I can clean up and get dressed for dinner later.”

  “Don’t wait too long. Those handsome men you’ve made me hopeful about might come by tonight. You’ll need to look nice so you can practice the flirting techniques I’ve been teaching you.”

  “You know, Babs…about those techniques of yours,” Caitlin began slowly, bringing up a topic she’d been waiting to discuss with her friend. “Are you sure it wouldn’t be better to find my own personal style to attract a man? I’m going to feel a little silly batting my eyelashes at a man or heaping extravagant compliments on him.”

  “You haven’t tried my methods yet, have you? They work for me. Besides, you’re the one who asked me for advice.”

  “I know, and I appreciate what you’re trying to do. It’s just that I think people are different in some ways. I may not be comfortable with your methods.”

  “You don’t feel comfortable with men, at least the ones whom you find attractive,” Babs insisted. “You need some skills to help you deal with the problem. You should at least give the eyelash battin’ a try.”

  “I guess so.”

  “You don’t sound very enthusiastic. Think about it, honey. For all we know, a boatload of gorgeous hunks is on its way here right now. If they arrive after dinner, what will you do?”

  Caitlin stopped herself from telling Babs that she’d probably run into the brush and hide. Instead she suggested, “Well, just in case they don’t come, how about climbing the sugarloaf hill later tonight to see what moonlight does to the other side of the island?”

  “Honey, I didn’t bring any mountain climbin’ shoes.” With a long, drawn-out sigh the blonde turned to go. “Besides, you know Jean Moreau warned us about going over there at night,” Babs reminded her, referring to the resort’s landlord, a wealthy Frenchman who leased the island from the St. Vincent government. “He said it’s dangerous and full of snake holes and everything. Snakes!” Babs shivered delicately as she followed the path and disappeared into their bungalow.

  Walking toward the open-air bar that was cantilevered over the edge of the deep water near the island’s marina, Caitlin wondered what she could do for her friend. Despite what Babs had said about men arriving on the island, they very well might have to find another kind of diversion this evening. It was too bad that Babs seemed to find so much pleasure in the pursuit of romantic encounters with men—the romantic atmosphere of the island itself was enough to enthrall Caitlin.

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B

  Cincinnati OH 45249

  Cry Wolf

  Copyright © 2014 by Amanda Carpenter

  ISBN: 978-1-61921-790-4

  Edited by Heather Osborn

  Cover by Angela Waters

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Publication by Mills & Boon: November 1992

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: May 2014

  www.samhainpublishing.com