Page 97 of Captured

The hot water felt good but not as much as the wild excitement that continued to grow from deep within my core. What I shared with Styx wasn’t a fairytale, but I understand the man and his actions more than I had before. Was it wrong of me not to feel sadness that my father was going to pay for his horrible crimes?

I wasn’t certain I cared.

What I did know was that I was looking forward to Styx being home and sharing some quality time with him. I refused to give up on my career, not for him or anyone, but I no longer felt as if I was completely trapped.

As I yanked the towel from the rack, drying myself off, I thought about what Rico had said, the honesty with which he spoke. At least the detective turned police chief had come through. Chase Baxter.

Why did that name sound so familiar?

As I wrapped the towel around me, wiping the mirror with my hand so I could see my reflection, I heard a rumble of thunder. Not another storm. God, I hated storms! And darkness. The sun had completely set during the fifteen minutes I was in the shower.

I grabbed deodorant and popped the top, lifting one arm then the other. Chase Baxter. I couldn’t seem to get the name out of my mind. Why?

Hurrying, I applied some makeup, finally heading into the bedroom to grab a lovely dress. I selected a bright crimson frock, which seemed to be Styx’s favorite color on me. I slipped into it, grabbing a matching brand-new thong from the drawer. I would refuse to allow the man to rip off another pair.

I couldn’t help but feel much more lighthearted than I had in a very long time as I struggled to get one leg then the other in through the opening. I had no idea why I was suddenly so nervous.

Chase Baxter.

Goddamn it. Why couldn’t I get that name out of my freaking mind?

As I returned to the bathroom to fix my hair, I was suddenly hit with the reason why.

Images floated into my mind, a memory of accidentally finding myself face to face with a buddy of my father’s, running into him in the middle of the hallway. Where the bastard had groped me.

He’d shared a cigar and a couple of drinks with my father. Wait a minute. He wasn’t the kind of man to be trusted in the least. Did Styx know that? It sure didn’t seem like Rico did. I had to let the man know. I hurriedly brushed my still damp hair. It was going to need to do for now. As soon as I opened the door, I heard two things, both disconcerting.

Another rumble of thunder and even worse, what sounded like gunshots.

My hearing had to be playing tricks on me.

What if it wasn’t?

No. Not possible. Rico would have known. Plus, how could anyone get on the island with such ease? Flying overhead might be one thing but beating the security system? No way. I rushed down a portion of the stairs until I was halfway down the last set leading to the first floor. Something told me to stop and listen.

I heard nothing. No sounds. That wasn’t normal.

“Rico?”

There was no answer.

“John? Mark?” They were two other soldiers assigned to the house.

Nothing.

A shiver of terror raced through me. Something was terribly wrong. I could feel it in my gut. Very cautiously I made my way down the stairs, still holding onto the railing as I continued to listen for any sounds.

A flash of lightning lit up the hallway to the side from the open blinds in every room and I found myself jumping from fright and surprise.

After calming my nerves somewhat, I moved from room to room, not seeing anything out of place.

Now I was back standing in front of the door, wringing my hands. I had to know what was going on and find Rico so he could warn Styx. When I walked outside, the whipping wind and darkness kept me from seeing anything. At least there was no rain as of yet. I scanned the area still seeing nothing.

I had to locate one of the guards. At least some of the exterior lights were on. I took out jogging, wincing every time I heard a noise made by Mother Nature. By the time I was a hundred yards out, my nerves kicked in even more.

Something was very wrong.

“Rico! John!” My cries were met with nothing but the rustle of tree limbs from the increasing wind. I rushed to the left and completely away from the main portion of the estate, fighting the angry nerves furrowing in my stomach.

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