Relentless: Episode 3 of the Shattered Chronicles Page 7

  He could have his pick of any woman he wants. What does he see in me?

  She looked up into his eyes. "I like being here with you," she whispered, pulling him down to meet her lips.

  Victor accepted and returned the kiss eagerly. After being parted from her for the last few weeks he felt like devouring her on the spot. She excited him like no woman ever had. He couldn't seem to get enough of her. Sometimes he was still shocked that what had started as a plan for revenge that included hurting her as much as Cord, had turned into something entirely different.

  Morgan was not like any woman he'd known. Not merely because of her intellect or capacity for passion but something he couldn't define. There were times when he looked at her and he seemed to see her in another time or place. It made little sense, but those moments filled with him an overwhelming determination to be the man she clung to, the man who roused her dark passions.

  Right now, he'd like nothing better than to indulge in passion, but he had plans and could wait a little while longer.

  Hand in hand they walked into a large glassed sunroom. Morgan sat down on a thickly padded couch of white wicker and tucked her bare feet underneath her. Victor poured two glasses of champagne from a freshly chilled bottle that awaited them.

  He handed her a glass, sat beside her, leaned back and propped his feet up on the glass table that sat in front of the couch. A big fan whirled lazily from the ceiling, stirring the air just enough to cool them and slightly ruffled Victor's hair.

  "Ready for the first part of your surprise?"

  "Only if you're sure it doesn't have wheels."

  "No wheels," he said as he picked up the phone by the couch. "We’re ready," he spoke into the receiver.

  He hardly had time to replace the receiver before a member of his staff appeared carrying a silver tray on which there were two small wrapped packages. After setting the tray on the table in front of them, the servant bowed and left without a word.

  Morgan found it kind of creepy the way everyone who worked for Victor never seemed to smile or talk or show any kind of emotion. And all that bowing is a little strange, too, she thought as she watched the man leave. But then maybe that's the way it is with wealthy people. How would I know?

  Victor turned her attention to the gifts. "Open them," he said with a mischievous smile on his face.

  Morgan looked at him from the corner of her eyes, wondering just what he was up to. She selected a gift, unwrapped it and opened the flat box. "A swimsuit?" she asked once she'd peeled back the tissue paper. "Well, at least part of one," she added as she held up the scrap of material.

  A tiny triangle of tropical print material held together by very thin straps dangled from her fingers. "Obviously not designed to wear to the neighborhood cook-out," she commented with a laugh as she looked at the G-string styled garment.

  Victor laughed, "Well, you would be the center of attention."

  "No doubt," she laughed and put it back into the box. "Well, thank you." She couldn't imagine why he'd buy her something like that.

  "Open the other one," he picked up the other gift and handed it to her.

  "The other half perhaps?" she teased as she unwrapped it. It was a jewelry box. One glance at the contents stunned her speechless. Inside lay a sparkling rope of diamonds with an enormous oval topaz surround by diamonds suspended from it.

  Her gaze moved from the glittering necklace to Victor. It took a couple of seconds for her to find her voice. "I–Victor, this is beautiful, but I can't accept it. It must have cost a fortune."

  He merely smiled, plucked the necklace from its case and reached around her to fasten it around her neck. The sapphire rested just below the hollow of her throat.

  "Of course, you can accept it," he said as he leaned back and looked at her. "I had it made especially for you. The topaz is almost as blue as your eyes." He gave her a wicked grin and picked up the box with the G-string in it. "Now, wouldn't you like to model the rest of your outfit?"

  "Outfit? You call a diamond necklace and a G-string an outfit?"

  Victor howled with laughter at the look on her face. Soon she was laughing right along with him. When they finally were laughed out, he picked up the champagne glasses and handed her one.

  "I'd call that a splendid outfit," he said playfully.

  "Yeah?" she reached over and pinched him lightly on the leg. "For what?"

  "For the next part of your surprise." He grabbed her and pulled her over onto his lap, tickling her neck with his mouth.

  "There's more?" She squirmed away from him and lay back on the couch with her legs thrown over his. "What?"

  "I'm taking you to Jamaica," he answered, capturing a foot to tickle her.

  She almost fell off of the couch in her efforts to free her foot and stop the tickling. When she finally broke away, she sat up on her knees. "You're taking me to Jamaica?"

  "Yes," he stood up and held out his hand. "Ready to go?"

  Morgan grabbed his hand and tried to pull him back down onto the couch, "Just like that? No luggage, no plane tickets, no reservations?"

  "Yes." He pulled her to her feet, then picked up the phone. "Have the car brought around."

  "Wait!" She tugged at him as he pulled her along, "I can't just leave!"

  "Why not?" He stopped. "What's there to stop you?"

  Morgan realized he was right. There was nothing to stop her from going. Her interns could take care of the clinic for a few days. Sam was perfectly capable of running the ranch and she had no family at home. So, the only thing preventing her from going was herself.

  She grabbed her sandals from the floor and slipped them on. "You're right. Let's go."

  Chapter Five

  The Mountain

  Cord moved crablike up the slope, pressing his back against the top of the tunnel while his feet and hands pressed down on the sides. Slowly, he worked his way upward.

  The slope became steeper, forcing him to concentrate harder and dig his toes into the rock. He thought how close he had come to going over the edge. Inch by inch, he climbed higher, and finally reached the opening. He pulled himself up and sat on the rim of the hole. To his great surprise he realized he could see the cave in his mind.

  I'll have to be more careful, he thought as he looked over to the second tunnel. The air coming from the hole felt warm and had an earthy smell. On hands and knees, he crawled into the tunnel, feeling the rock floor beneath him with his hands before putting any weight on it.

  Once inside, he realized he could stand. This tunnel angled upward. Using the walls to push against, he was able to inch his way up. The faint light from the cave behind him was the only source of light. He cut a look over his shoulder now and then to judge the distance he had traveled and could see the light getting smaller and smaller.

  "Talk about the light at the end of the tunnel," he said to himself as the light receded to the size of a small dot. His callused hands searched the walls for cracks and jutting rocks, seeking any hand hold. His feet were planted firmly against the sides of the tunnel. Pushing and pulling, he strained to climb the increasingly steep shaft.

  It took hours to make the ascent. When he finally reached the top, he found that the shaft opened in the floor of a larger cave, which was lit faintly by two beams of light that shown from high above.

  He crawled out of the hole and lay on the cave floor, resting for a moment while he looked around. The cavern was very big. Its sides disappeared into the gloom where the light couldn't penetrate. From what he could tell, he lay on the north end of the cave. Directly above him were two openings from which the light originated. He studied the walls, searching for a way up to the openings. "I'd have to be a bat to get up there," he murmured to himself.

  That's when it caught his eye and he sat. Huge stalactites suspended from the ceiling of the cavern, gave him the feeling of being within the mouth of some giant serpent creature. A sound like a chirp rang in his ears.

  His eyes widened as he strained to hear. "Blerp.
" The noise came again. Rocking forward into his feet, he pushed himself into a standing position. "Blerp." The noise was coming from the far end of the cavern.

  From a standing position he could see strange spots in varying sizes and shapes on the floor. Moving cautiously, he walked over to one of the larger spots. Cord knelt and reached out toward it. It was another hole in the cave floor much like the shaft he had crawled up to get here, only much larger.

  Retreating to the hole he had climbed out of, he unfastened the stone tools tied to his belt. Then holding the hatchet tightly, he made his way across the cavern toward the far end, leaving behind his handmade hammer.

  About halfway across the light from the overhead shafts faded, putting him in darkness. He looked up and realized that the sun must be setting. Exhausted, he laid down on the cave floor in the fading light that fell from above. That way when the sun rose again, he would be able to see.

  He closed his eyes and let fatigue overtake him. The last thing he heard before he slipped into sleep was that odd noise. "Blerp."

  Jamaica

  Morgan felt like she was in the middle of an elaborate dream. From Victor's house in Cray County, his limousine had taken them to the airport where his private jet was waiting.

  She'd never seen an aircraft outfitted like Victor's, except maybe in the movies. A large seating area with comfortable sofas and recliners took up space behind the kitchen and bathroom, located just behind the cockpit. There was a well-stocked bar and a large screen television in the central cabin.

  A bedroom was situated behind the central cabin with a king-sized bed dominating the center of the room. There was another bathroom adjoining the bedroom and a large storage area.

  By the time they took off, Morgan was nodding sleepily. The champagne had gotten the best of her and she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Victor picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. He lay with her on the big bed as she slept in his arms.

  She awoke as they were about to land. After washing her face, she felt rested, refreshed and suddenly very excited. She went into the central cabin and looked out the window as the pilot performed a perfect landing.

  Another limousine waited for them as they emerged from the plane. The chauffeur stood patiently by the door. He spoke quietly to Victor as they approached. "Everything has been prepared, sir."

  Victor nodded as the driver opened the door for him. He waited for Morgan to get in, then climbed into the back seat beside her.

  "Would you like something to drink?" he asked as the car pulled away.

  "No thanks, I'm fine. Where are we going?"

  "I have a house on the north shore," he slid over closer to her.

  "How long will it take us to get there?" she asked, looking at the passing scenery.

  "Long enough," he answered as he pushed a button on the control panel. A dark tinted glass rose behind the driver's seat. Morgan looked at him with her eyebrows raised in a silent question.

  With a wicked grin he reached for her and pulled her down onto the seat. His lips covered hers as his hands worked their way up her legs.

  The Mountain

  "Blerp."

  Cord watched as the hole in the ceiling reappeared with the rise of the sun. It wasn't long before light filtered down from above, illuminating the cave. Able to see the floor again, he rose and continued deeper into the cavern.

  When he crossed over a narrow passage that spanned a deep crevice, the floor appeared shiny and silvery. He bent over and reached down. His hand met cold water. Like a man discovering a priceless treasure, he eagerly knelt and cupped his hands.

  With his thirst appeased, he bowed closer to the surface to splash his face with water. His hands dipped deeper into the water as he washed the grime and dirt from his arms and chest.

  A sharp stabbing pain in his left hand had him jerking his hands from the water. His right hand came free, but something held his left hand fast. In panic and pain, he fought against whatever threatened to pull him fully into the water.

  The biceps in his arm strained and bulged, and he managed to get his hand around something, squeezing and lifting at the same time. His fingers dug into the flesh of his assailant and punctured trough skin.

  Whatever it was, it was strong. His hand grew weaker, the pain in his arm increasing as the creature held tightly to him. In desperation he fumbled with the handmade hatchet hanging from his belt, trying to loosen it as he struggled with the creature.

  At last he worked the weapon free. Gripping it firmly in his right hand, he sent the blade into the water with a fierce blow. The stone blade found its mark, cutting deeply into the creature. The water churned and boiled with the thrashings of the beast as it lashed back and forth.

  Cord's hand was a burning mass of quickly numbing flesh. The pain was radiating up his arm to his elbow. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he tried to hang on to the twisting creature.

  His grip gave out and the force of his release sent him tumbling. He scrambled upright to face the water, ready for another attack, waiting and hoping that whatever it was, it was out of energy.

  He watched the churning water with his heart pounding loudly in his ears. The water settled as the creature stilled. Not knowing if the thing was dead or had merely retreated to lick its wound, Cord struggled to keep his eyes focused on the water.

  But the poison was coursing through his body, sapping his strength and clouding his vision. Instinctively, he retreated from the water, stumbling weakly on his feet.

  He barely made it to the other side of the fissure when his strength ran out and he collapsed onto his knees on the rock floor. His vision blurred, and objects swam blearily in front of his eyes. A sudden pain that seemed to attack his entire body, took what was left of his strength and he toppled to the ground. Less than a heartbeat later, blackness swallowed him.

  Jamaica

  Their third morning on the island Morgan woke before dawn. She quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Victor, found a pair of running shorts and top and went into the bathroom to dress.

  The big house was quiet as she walked down the stairs, braiding her hair into a single plait. She walked into the kitchen, turned on the lights and looked around for a coffee pot.

  When she found nothing in the lower cabinets, she climbed up on the countertop and looked in the upper cabinets, mumbling to herself, "A damn mansion and not a coffee pot to be found!"

  She almost fell off the counter in surprise as she heard a voice behind her. "May I help you?" Morgan whirled around and saw a serious heavy-set man in pajamas and house robe looking up at her with an irritated expression stamped on his face.

  "Oh, hi!" she said and jumped down. "I was just looking for a way to make coffee."

  "I shall be pleased to take care of that for you." The man took her arm and ushered her to the kitchen door. "Would you care for breakfast?"

  "No, thanks. Coffee will be fine."

  "I shall bring it to you momentarily," he said and closed the door in her face.

  Morgan shrugged. She must have invaded his turf or something. She bet he was cleaning the countertop now, since she'd stood on it with bare feet. She would have tone that herself, if he hadn't kicked her out.

  Since she would have to wait for coffee, she set off wandering through the house. Like Victor's house in Texas, this one was also enormous.

  Her first view of the place had made quite an impression. Standing alone along the shore it rose like a giant white castle; the blue sky and sea behind making it appear like a picture from a fairy tale. On the north shore, it stood alone on a peninsula that jutted out into the ocean.

  When she turned down a wide hall, she saw lights coming from one of the rooms. Wondering who else was up so early, she walked to the door and looked in. Juro knelt with his back to her, a bokken or wooden practice sword, on the floor in front of him.

  She backed away, but he turned and looked at her. "Excuse me,” she apologized, "I didn't mean to interrupt you."


  Juro prevented her from leaving with one word. "Enter," he commanded in a harsh tone.

  Morgan stepped into the room as Juro rose and walked over to a rack of bokken. He plucked one from the rack, turned and tossed it to her. She caught the wooden weapon, testing its weight in her hands.

  Juro retrieved his weapon and walked toward her. As he approached, she gripped the sword, assuming the waiting posture known as kongo no kamae. In that moment the woman disappeared and the warrior inside emerged. She stood with the sword hilt held at chest height with bent arms; the blade extended up vertically in front of her face.

  With frightening speed Juro flew forward, his sword descending in a vertical cut. She waited until the last possible moment, then tipped her body to the left, lowering the blade then pushing through. Juro twisted away just as the blade neared his exposed wrist.

  With feet spaced shoulder width apart and legs bent they circled one another. Their sword positions changed with their steps. They moved in perfect harmony with one another as if performing a dance they’d practiced many times. With gazes locked, each watched for an opening.

  Juro attacked without warning, moving his sword in a sideways maneuver designed to clear her blade out of the way. Instead of resisting the pressure as his blade met hers, she let herself be pushed out of the way entirely, bent her left knee and sank down. The move took her out at an angle to Juro and allowed her to raise the tip of her sword up and across his wrist as he advanced in his attack.

  He stepped back at the touch with eyes narrowed. Assuming the posture known as seigan no kamae in which the feet are spaced wide apart with one leg forward and both knees bent, he lowered his sword. The hilt was held away from his body at groin level with the tip pointing directly at her.

  Without thinking, she fell into gedan no kamae, the posture with which to counteract his attack. Her legs were also spaced wide apart, with her weight on her bent back leg. She held her sword low, her hands below waist level with her blade angled downward.