Topaz Dreams

by Marilyn Campbell

  "I wish to apologize for my outburst earlier. I had no right to touch you in anger."

  Steve laughed in spite of his serious expression. "Hey. No problem. It did my heart good to see you act completely human for once."

  Falcon winced. "Why would you say that? Do I not seem human to you?"

  "To tell you the truth, Falcon, there are times I'm not sure what you are. Now let's go." Again she started over the edge, when another voice stopped her.

  "Sue! Sue Smith!"

  Coming up the houseboat's gangway were the ladies Steve had met at the pool and three men, who could only be the husbands. She groaned and hurriedly whispered in Falcon's ear, "Your name is Smith and you're an attorney for Underwood." She smiled broadly at the small party cramming themselves on the deck. "We were just about to cool off with a dip. Care to join us?"

  Irene Wilson scanned Steve and Falcon's bathing suits, then looked down at her elegant cocktail dress with a grin. "I think we're a mite overdressed. We were invited on board for drinks with Gordon, but he never came out of his suite. When I saw you two out here, I thought we would have more fun sharing some of the bubbly with you. Tom, pop that cork. Break out the glasses, Sue. And you must be her darling husband!" She stroked Falcon's cheek with one stubby index finger as her gaze slid down his body. "You didn't tell us he was gorgeous, Sue, dear. I would have made a point of visiting earlier!"

  Falcon gave her a look that thanked her for the compliment and told her he was not available without insulting her. Steve was amazed at how smoothly he extricated himself. There was no help for it, though. They would have to be sociable for a short while at least.

  Irene may have been fascinated with Falcon, but her husband was on the verge of erupting. Falcon felt his simmering frustration as soon as the man came on board. The other two men could not take their eyes off Steve's barely covered curves. He did not need to sense their feelings to recognize the same lustful thoughts that had taken up residence in his head.

  Steve nearly jumped out of her skin when Falcon moved behind her and put his arms around her waist. Accustomed to flowing in and out of whatever character suited the moment, she automatically became the loving wife, smiling up at him and covering his forearms with her own. What on earth was this all about? She tried to laugh at the jokes and join in the conversation around her, but his proprietary hold kept her from composing any rational sentences. His heartbeat drummed against her shoulder blades; the heat of his near-naked body burned her skin.

  Falcon pulled her back with him as he leaned against the railing. Steve's breath stopped short when he tucked her between his open thighs and she discovered the hard reason he was keeping her in front of him. If she thought for one moment that she was the cause, she would have squirmed around a bit, just to tease him, but she was not at all sure that this was not a reaction to Irene's advances. When it came to Falcon, she could not be sure of anything.

  "Oh, damn!" complained one of the other wives. "We left the party too soon."

  Everyone turned to see why she was pointing at the yacht. It was pulling out! Falcon and Steve shared a grimace of exasperation. Their visitors had delayed their plans long enough for the Underwood yacht to leave the dock. Like a clock striking twelve, the sight of the ship moving past them abruptly ended the gaiety. In a matter of minutes the three couples finished their drinks, said good night, and departed.

  "Do you think that was planned?" Steve asked.

  "It is certainly a possibility. Do not be upset. From what you learned, he must return before the four o'clock meeting tomorrow. We will catch up to him then."

  A short time later Steve lay in her bed, unable to sleep in spite of the hour. Naturally, Falcon had made no mention of the minutes spent cuddled together on deck. After all, it was only an act, wasn't it? Then why did her chest tremble when she remembered how he had looked down at her so possessively? Everything about Falcon made her think of a fictional hero in a spy novel. He was a devilishly handsome international agent, and could be charming when he chose, but his aloofness and secrecy turned him into a walking mystery. Actually, she could have made him up from her own fantasies.

  She only wished she had enough experience to take advantage of his appearance in her life.

  The yacht had returned at dawn, and at a quarter to four that afternoon Underwood was ushered into the limo, driven across the street, then hustled into the hotel. Already aware of the man's destination, Falcon and Steve were able to follow at an unhurried pace. They were temporarily detoured by the sight of his bodyguards checking identification outside the conference room. But Steve had already planned her entree into the room. She was dressed in a borrowed waitress's uniform and wore her own curly red wig. All it had taken for her to replace the waitress assigned to set up the coffee service was a small bribe. The woman had been more than happy to take a break.

  Now Steve left Falcon at the end of the hallway with a promise to return to the same spot within a half-hour. Hopefully, by that time, she would have a commitment from Underwood to confer with them both privately. Her intention was to confront him in front of his business associates, when it would be to his advantage to talk to her.

  Standing in the shadows, Falcon closed his eyes and called on his newest gift. Making his mind go blank, he thought: Steve. As before, a picture of her came to him clearly. He saw her pushing the service cart past the guards and into the meeting room. The board members were in the midst of a heated discussion, several people appeared to be talking at once. Steve set up the service on a table in the back of the room and took her time looking around. Every chair around the big oval table was occupied, but Underwood was not one of those present.

  Steve left that room and went into the next one down the hall. Another meeting, much more subdued, was in progress. The three men who had boarded their houseboat the night before were there, but again, there was no sign of Underwood and no empty chair to signify someone's absence. There was only one more room on this floor where meetings had been scheduled, and Steve checked it out next, with the same disappointing results. They had definitely seen Underwood enter the hotel minutes before they did, but he was not where he was supposed to be.

  There was no time to waste. Falcon walked down the corridor and approached the two guards in front of the conference room doors. Before they had a chance to stop him, he raised his arms and touched each man's temple, freezing them in place.

  Steve pulled the cart out of the third room in a state of confusion. Nothing was making sense. She looked up in time to see Falcon standing in front of the two guards. He was touching them like he had done to her! As she walked by, Falcon backed away from them and entered the elevator with her.

  "What were you doing? You could have blown the whole thing! Why did those guys let you touch them like that?"

  "There was something I had to do."

  "And?"

  "It was not successful." The two guards were little more than morons. They only knew they had escorted Gordon Underwood to that floor and were to prevent anyone matching Steve's or his description from entering any of the rooms. Thanks to Steve's propensity for costumes, the two men had failed in that respect.

  Steve sighed. She would feel better if she had some idea of what he was up to, but it was obvious he was not going to say any more. One of these times she was going to stand her ground and make him give her a straight answer for a change. "Well, don't feel too bad. I just served coffee to a bunch of businessmen and didn't even get a tip. It was another wild goose chase."

  Falcon frowned. A wild goose? Why had he not seen the creature? He realized his mistake when Steve shook her head with an air of endless patience, then went on to relate her movements. Falcon gave her his attention, nodding occasionally, as if he had not seen exactly what had happened.

  The hours were slipping by, and they were no closer to Underwood than they had been a week ago. They would have to try to get on board again tonight.

  Just as they started to cross the street, for
tune smiled on them. Underwood was entering his black limousine without his usual entourage.

  "Come on!" Steve shouted, and took off for her car parked on the opposite side of the street. Falcon barely closed the door on the passenger side when the car lunged out of the space and headed south after the limo. She despaired that she had lost it when she suddenly caught a glimpse of it moving west over the Arthur Godfrey Causeway.

  With a little experienced maneuvering, she closed the distance, but remained concealed in the moderate traffic. At one point she noticed Falcon clutching the dashboard, but she did not want to take the time to assure him of her abilities. It was taking all her concentration to watch the limo and follow the expressway signs. A series of lane changes took them into the city of Miami. The fact that Underwood was making this trip without bodyguards, at a time when everyone thought he was in a meeting, led Steve to believe she would be well rewarded if she could stay on his tail.

  Once they exited the expressway, it became extremely difficult to follow the limo without sticking close, but every time Steve thought she had made a wrong turn, the black limo would come into view. The quality of the city deteriorated a block at a time, until they were in the midst of an area that sported the special street lamps used predominantly in high-crime neighborhoods.

  Underwood's chauffeur pulled the car to a stop in front of a four-story building that should have been condemned, but the evidence of a few drapes and a sheet hanging out a glassless window indicated that people lived there. Steve stopped close enough to survey the immediate area around the limo. There was not a building on the block that was habitable. Broken garbage bags and trash littered the sidewalks and fenced-in dirt yards. Several small groups of young blacks lounged in front of doorways, drinking from containers in brown paper bags, and sharing their smokes. Apparently, black leather jackets were out this year; black sweatsuits were the uniform of the day, in spite of the heat. Several ghetto-blasters competed for the greatest volume, and both the limo and her car were noted with considerable interest by more than one of the music lovers.

  Even though it was not yet dark, Steve knew this was not a place she should have come to unarmed. She also knew Underwood had some shady dealings from time to time, but whatever he was doing here went far beyond shady.

  Underwood stepped out of the car and headed toward one of the apartments.

  Steve pressed on the gas pedal and spun out with a squeal. She slammed on the brakes right behind the limo.

  Falcon grasped her arm as she pushed her door open. "No! Stop!" he shouted, but she was already out and moving toward where she had seen Underwood enter a dilapidated building. Falcon jumped out of the car after her. He was frantic. Hostility and anger surrounded them. It was all pervasive. They were in serious danger. He had to get her out of here.

  He caught up to her, grabbing her arm and pulling her around, but it was too late. They were suddenly surrounded by jeering black faces. At least ten young men and boys were within arm's length and behind them were twenty more.

  Steve gave herself the time it took to take one breath for self-recrimination, then prepared to get herself and Falcon out of the situation she had caused. She gave Falcon her back, knowing instinctively he would protect it, and tried for diplomacy.

  "Hey, guys. What's happenin'? We have some business with the dude that just went inside, so, if youll give us a little space, well do our thing and be out of here."

  "Don't think so, Mama," one of the older teens taunted. "This here's a private club. You paid your dues yet?" The horde inched closer, and Steve pressed herself against Falcon's back.

  "We could pay your dues. Let us go back to my car. I left my purse."

  The gang leader leered at her and fingered the sleeve of her shirt. "No need. Well take our dues in white sugar."

  A young man, shorter than Falcon but three times his girth, pushed his way forward. "You can all have her. I want me this here pretty thing." He grabbed Falcon's hair in his meaty fist and jerked him away from Steve.

  Steve did not get a chance to check Falcon's response. The leader grabbed her upper arms, and her body sprung into action. The side of her hand slashed across his throat a second before her foot connected with the groin of the boy next to him. By the time the gang's stunned comrades came to their senses and attacked en masse, she was poised and ready. Her speed and agility more than countered their numbers and individual sizes. In a chorus of cries and grunts, her opponents fell victim to her ax-like chops and perfectly aimed kicks. She received a fair share of punishment in return, but as she had been trained, she shut out the pain and forced her muscles to perform on demand.

  One brave soul pulled a knife on her after several others had run off. He could not know how the sight of it infuriated her. Up to this point, her efforts were confined to defending herself while delivering temporary discomfort.

  Her attacker lunged, his knife aimed at her gut. In one fluid motion, Steve sideswept and grabbed his wrist, locking his elbow, and the knife flew out of his hand. The side of her free hand slammed into his forearm to the accompaniment of the sickening crunch of splintered bone. The boy screamed in pain as he scurried after his friends into their hiding places.

  Spinning around quickly, Steve eyed the results of Falcon's defense. On the ground around him, eight boys appeared to be sleeping peacefully, curled in the fetal position, two of them sucking their thumbs. Falcon was being circled by the last two assailants. When Steve moved to join his fight, they backed off.

  "Screw this, man! We ain't paid to get ourselves killed!" one angry teen yelled before they both fled.

  Steve's adrenaline-rushed system had her looking for another victim when her wild-eyed gaze landed on Falcon. Other than getting his hair mussed, no one would have guessed what he had been doing. He wasn't even breathing hard, while she was sweating profusely and huffing her little lungs out.

  He gave her a bored look. "Now can we leave?"

  "I'm afraid not," a deep voice said behind them.

  As one, Steve and Falcon whirled to face a towering, dark-haired man with Oriental features. Knees and elbows bent, hands angled and circling in front of his body, his fighting stance warned of experience in the martial arts.

  "You did very well against the untrained children. Now you will deal with me."

  The momentary respite had allowed fatigue to set into Steve's overworked muscles. When her brain sent out the message to defend herself, they took a split second too long to respond. The man's hand slammed into her diaphragm, knocking her to the ground as if she were weightless. She struggled to take a breath into her paralyzed body, trying not to panic. The numbness would only last a few minutes, but that was long enough to keep her from helping Falcon.

  Pain! echoed in Falcon's head. Steve's paralysis threatened to immobilize him as well. As soon as he controlled it, he became aware of a powerful, dark emotion rising inside him. Let it come, he told himself.

  The Oriental moved cautiously around Falcon, not yet striking a blow. Suddenly one word came clearly from the attacker's mind: Kill!

  No! This animal had no right. How dare he hurt her! Falcon's anger coursed through him like a drug. He leapt into the air, landing a kick to the man's chin that hurled him back several feet before he fell. But he rolled and jumped up immediately, delivering a steady stream of blows an instant later.

  Falcon blocked, spun, struck, and kicked again. Repeatedly, he came within an inch of touching his assailant's temple. Repeatedly, he received blows so staggering he could not block them out. Falcon was now feeling the man's pain as well as his own, and knew he had to end the confrontation quickly.

  Steve drew a ragged breath. She could not imagine how either man could withstand the punishment they were each meting out. The Oriental's nose and mouth were bloody and swollen. Falcon had blood all over him, but she could not tell the source. If she could just stand up....

  Falcon grasped the taller man's right arm in both his hands, and yanked him off his feet. Usi
ng strength he had not known he possessed, he whirled in circles, lifting the man's huge body off the ground as he spun round and round. As if he were throwing a discus, Falcon relinquished his hold. The Oriental flew into the side of the building and collapsed in a heap. Falcon limped toward the body, reaching out with his two fingers.

  "Hold it right there," a gruff voice shouted from behind him, but he did not freeze until he heard Steve cry his name. He turned to see the chauffeur pointing a weapon at him.

  "Come to me, nice and easy like." The uniformed man waited as Falcon neared him. He motioned for Falcon to stand beside the immobilized Steve who was sitting on the pavement. Then the man walked to where the Oriental lay and leaned over to touch the pulse in the man's neck without taking his eyes or the gun off Falcon and Steve.

  "You gonna be okay, Mr. King? C'mon, ya gotta help yourself into the car and get you outta here."

  King groaned and blinked several times. Slowly, he rose and dragged himself to the limo, his driver close behind. In a stench of burning rubber, they sped away.

  Falcon helped Steve struggle to her feet and to walk to the car. "Will you be able to drive? I.. .I don't have a license."

  "Why doesn't that surprise me?" she mumbled to herself as she opened the car door. "I'm okay. But you look like hell. Is anything broken?"

  "No. I am also 'okay.' A shower will help immensely."

  With Falcon's occasional reminders as to which direction they had come from, they managed to get back to Miami Beach. Steve could feel the results of her exertions setting in rapidly and silently wished the houseboat came equipped with a hot tub. To get her mind off her pain, she drew Falcon into an analysis of the case, even though he seemed content to sit and brood.

  "Listen, I know that was all my fault back there, and I'm sorry. I thought for sure we had him this time, but it looks like I walked, or rather, I raced us right into a trap. You heard that one kid say they were being paid." Falcon continued to stare straight ahead. "Hello? Falcon? Are you sure you're all right? You look kinda green around the gills."