Stay or Go

Part 5 - Wise Guys and Little Brothers

Stormee sipped her frosted cola laced with a hint of rum and let the tropical breeze dancing across the ship's deck cool her sun-kissed skin. The gorgeous hunk applying suntan lotion stopped running his strong fingers over her thigh when the most horrendous noise banished him from her side.

She shoved the pillow off her head and slapped at the clock on the bedside table twice before connecting with the alarm button. The man not only invaded her personal space, but he also infested her dreams, as well. She took her frustration out on the helpless pillow, giving it three strong punches before jumping out of bed.

Thankfully, she'd packed everything the previous night. The mushy stuff passing as brain cells at such an early hour wasn't capable of coherent thought. She grabbed the clothes that lay over the back of the chair and headed for the shower.

Though the hot shower proved helpful, the steamy water hadn't taken the edge off her surly temper, a fact proven by the reality of her present stance. With her body weight stealthily balanced, she positioned herself at the foot of Josh's bed. Lifting her right arm, she aimed a fully loaded pistol at his head. Without a single ounce of remorse, she let her index finger squeeze the trigger three times in quick succession. The shots hit him once in the ear, and twice in the temple.

All six feet of him hit the floor as he rolled one time too many to escape the deadly aim of her water pistol.

"Stormee! I swear, when I find where you hide that damn thing, I'm going to puree it in your blender." He shook his fist at her but it held little threat as he still lay sprawled across the bedside rug.

"Don't you dare use bad language," she snapped back with equal irritation.

Josh scrambled to his feet and towered over her, not hard to do since he topped her by eight inches. He bent forward until his nose fit right between her eyes. "You're the evilest sister a guy ever had."

"Don't blame me. Get up when I call, and I won't need to keep repeating this target practice. You've got forty-five minutes before Mr. Savage's driver arrives."

"What's this guy doing messing in our business? I'm telling you, he has the look of a Wise Guy." Josh mimicked a gun with his hand and pulled back on his thumb as though cocking a revolver.

Stormee shrugged. "I'm sure he wouldn't be the powerful man he is without a high degree of intelligence."

Josh threw up his hands. "I don't mean brain smart. Haven't you noticed he has a razor-sharp edge just like those characters in that movie we watched about the crime syndicate?"

"Don't exaggerate."

Josh grabbed her by both arms, lifted her out of his way, and strode off in the direction of the bathroom. "You never listen to me anyway. But I'm telling you, he's trouble."

****

Dirk perched on the arm of one of the jet's oversized chairs and sipped his third cup of coffee. After taking Stormee home, he'd spent what was left of the night running a complete background check on her. His lips curled upward in a discerning smile. He could better understand her fiery nature having traced her lineage back to the wind-swept shores of Ireland.

Other things in her past were not as explainable. Mystery and tragedy appeared to stalk her family. He wondered if Stormee knew her grandmother's brother had died in a questionable drowning that nearly claimed her Nana's life, as well. She'd been Stormee's age at the time.

The fact that her grandmother had moved repeatedly and changed her name three times in the next five years didn't make sense either. At twenty-nine years of age, using the alias Doris Gates, she'd settled in Boston with a four-year-old son, Stormee's father. There were no marriage documents on file and no birth certificate registered for the child until he was six years of age, and that was more of a pseudo-document required by the school registrar's office.

The next bit of unsettling information raised the hair on his arms. Twelve years ago, after the death of her son and daughter-in-law in a house fire, Mrs. Gates changed her name to Langley and moved to Chicago, taking her two grandchildren with her, eleven-year-old Stormee and four-year-old Josh. It didn't take twenty years of investigative experience to know the danger marking Mrs. Langley's past still stalked the present, putting Stormee and Josh at risk.

The image of Stormee's innocent eyes struck a fierce cord, one that insisted this woman was his to protect. Sweat formed beads of moisture on his forehead and the adrenaline filling his veins solidified the thought like cooling magma.

Cricket, one of his staff and the pilot for this trip, hollered through the open door of the cockpit. "Your guests just arrived, Boss. You want me to escort them?"

Dirk placed his cup on the sidebar and walked toward the passenger door. "No, I'll meet them."

His two passengers walked toward the plane. Josh's demeanor screamed defiance. The know-it-all swagger and the tough-guy tilt to the teenager's chin were easily recognizable since they were forms of body language he'd practiced in his own youth.

The moment Stormee spotted him at the top of the loading ramp, she halted her forward momentum. Josh, a step behind, whispered something in her ear. The deer-in-the-headlights expression on Stormee's face gave Dirk reasons to believe Josh needed a man-to-man talk, and soon. 

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