Carnal Vengeance (18 page)

No, she didn't want to call April until she had made a decision about a reporter. There was no question she had to eliminate Wells. As crude as he was, he had effectively demonstrated that she was no match for him. Her amateurish ploys to lure him to her had achieved nothing but a severe case of comeuppance.

All in all it was a good thing he had seen through her act. He made her feel something she had never expected to feel again, nor did she want to. Sexual desire had made her a helpless victim once before and that was one time too many.

Of the other reporters she was considering, there were two that came close to matching Wells' qualifications and credentials—one was a happily married man and the other was a razor-tongued woman whom Holly had always avoided. She wouldn't be able to believably establish a relationship with either of them that would allow her to remain close throughout an investigation of Frampton. Wells would have been perfect, if he had not been so astute, so egotistical... so much more man than she was woman.

It appeared that her only choice would be to pass on the information she had to one of the two less perfect reporters, then hope a story appeared in the newspaper. It didn't sound nearly as satisfying as going along for the ride, but it seemed to be the only option left to her.

She interrupted her mental debate to check the news before heading to the office. Timothy Ziegler's murder had taken a back seat to other stories within forty-eight hours. Friday morning, the weather held the top spot.

The National Hurricane Center reports Brigitte's winds are now averaging one hundred forty miles per hour and building. Although it had been assumed that the storm would slow down as it passed over the Bahamas, the opposite has happened, leaving a path of destruction in its wake. At this time, it is estimated that Brigitte will make a direct hit on Key West, Florida, by four a.m. Residents from Key West to Miami Beach have been ordered to evacuate and any women more than seven months pregnant are urged to go to a hospital and remain there until the storm passes.

Holly listened as the reporter read off statistics from other hurricanes that had hit the southeast coast of the United States in the last hundred years. Other than the severe flooding from Wilma's storm surge in 2005, Key West had been spared a direct hit for many years. On the other hand, the worst recorded storm of the previous century had landed in the Florida Keys in 1935.

Officials were gravely concerned over the fact that the population on the island of Key West alone was around 25,000 but evacuation routes remained limited. Small craft warnings had gone out due to choppy seas and most airplanes were being flown to more secure fields. The only safe passage remaining to the mainland was the Overseas Highway, a series of forty-two bridges that connected the individual islands.

Extensive efforts were being made to encourage the residents to head north immediately rather than wait for Brigitte to get any closer. Additional police had already been called out from nearby Dade County to help direct the evacuation and generally maintain order, but it was reported that traffic was bumper to bumper and being further hampered by accidents on the bridges. A considerable number of Keys residents interviewed were planning to ride out the storm rather than risk being on the highway.

The one estimate Holly would have liked to hear wasn't aired. Of course, back in 1935, no one would have thought to record environmental statistics. The Florida Keys and surrounding waters housed a delicate ecosystem of plant and animal life, coral reefs, mangrove stands and nesting grounds for shore birds. Man was not the only destroyer of Earth's resources. Sometimes Mother Nature could be just as cruel to her own children. Either way, Earth Guard was standing by to offer assistance.

Confirmation that the Keys were in severe and imminent danger came at eleven o'clock Friday evening. Brigitte had developed into a Category 5 hurricane, sustaining winds of 158 miles per hour with gusts up to 180. The eye stretched twenty-five miles in diameter and hurricane force winds spread approximately seventy miles away from it. Based on its current path, the eye was heading for the lower islands. Nothing from Key West to Key Largo was expected to be spared extensive damage.

Holly napped on the couch, waking from time to time to catch the latest news bulletin. At four-fifteen Saturday morning disaster struck.

Holly called Philip. He hadn't been feeling well when he left the office, but she knew he would want to hear about this.

His muffled answer let her know he had gotten worse during the night.

"You sound awful. Did you get any sleep?"

"A little. And I can't possibly sound as bad as I feel. Even my hair hurts. Have you heard the news this morning?"

"That's why I'm calling. I realize this is your bailiwick, but the way you're feeling, I don't think a field trip to the tropics would be a good idea."

"Damn. I hate to admit it but I barely have the strength to make it to the bathroom let alone the airport. I suppose an inspection could wait a few days-—"

"And miss getting pictures before the cleanup begins? I don't think so. I have a copy of all the arrangements you made today. I'll just take your place."

"Since I agree with you, I won't argue. Call me when you get there."

"Yes, dear."

"Okay, so I worry. Be careful. I love you." His voice was barely audible, as if it took all his energy simply to speak.

"You just take care of yourself and get better. I'll be back in a couple of days."

* * *

David's editor woke him up with the kind of announcement every reporter loves to hear. With half the staff down with the flu, David had been assigned to cover the worst disaster in the history of the United States.

* * *

The earliest Holly could take off was a two o'clock flight to Miami out of Dulles with a forty-five-minute layover in Atlanta. She was normally as thrifty as possible with Earth Guard's funds, but coach class was booked solid, so she splurged for a first-class seat.

She couldn't help but think about the fact that she was practically flying into Jerry Frampton's backyard. If she were a stronger person, perhaps she could do a little investigating on her own. But she couldn't see herself seeking him out any more than she could imagine having a cozy chat with his pornographer friend, Mick D'Angelo. Then again, maybe she could just ask a few questions at that Chinese restaurant on Miami Beach that was mentioned in the last report.

On her way to the airport, she made a trip by the office to pick up some reference material on the Florida Keys and used the waiting time to refresh her memory about its natural resources.

As soon as she was settled in her window seat on the plane, she went back to perusing one of the books. A man's voice behind her broke into her concentration. It couldn't be!

"I'm a real white-knuckle flyer, Jennifer. You can bring me a double bourbon as soon as you're allowed to serve it. And if you could sit on my lap during takeoff, it would calm my nerves considerably."

An insincere feminine chuckle reached Holly's ears. "As much as that sounds like fun, I'm afraid it's against regulations, Mr. Wells."

The pounding in her ears prevented Holly from hearing any more of the flirtation. His velvety-smooth voice brought her humiliation back in a rush. It was difficult enough to forget how he had made a fool of her, without having to see him so soon after their last encounter. How could fate have played such a trick on her?

Reminding herself that she had been as much at fault as he erased the anger, but reinforced her acute embarrassment. Perhaps, if she was lucky, he was only going as far as Atlanta. Surely she could stay hidden in her seat for the next hour. The restrooms were in the rear of the cabin. There would be no reason for him to see who was seated in front of him.

When they touched down in Atlanta, she remained seated until she was certain everyone had deplaned. Then she stood, stepped into the aisle to stretch her legs... and groaned. It would be rather ridiculous to pretend she didn't recognize him or see him slouched there, looking like death warmed over, especially since he was staring right at her.

She nodded at him and headed for the exit before he had a chance to make whatever glib comment was surely on the tip of his tongue.

As soon as she reboarded the plane, she grew wary. The man who had been seated next to her was now in the aisle seat previously occupied by David Wells and vice-versa. She walked to Wells' side and stated, "You're in the wrong seat." His mischievous grin was annoyingly in place. She noted the drink in his hand and the empty miniature of vodka on the tray in front of him. She thought he'd already overindulged on the way to Atlanta, but apparently he had completely recovered and was starting over.

"Actually, I'm not. I explained to the gentleman that I needed to interview you for my paper and he was glad to oblige."

"If you think for one minute—"

"Uh-uh. Hold it right there. This is strictly business. Did you read my column about the recycling bills in yesterday's paper?"

"Yes. It was very good."

"Thank you. Are you headed for the Keys?"

"Yes."

"Same here. I was hoping you would give me the benefit of your expertise on the environmental impact of a hurricane. That is, if you can stop huffing and puffing."

"I am not—" How could she deny it when he was watching her chest rise and fall much too rapidly. "Are you going to let me sit down, or am I supposed to stand the rest of the way?"

He raised his gaze to her face. "Oh, you wanted me to stand up? But I thought you hated such overt masculine gestures. I figured you could just climb over me, maybe hike your skirt up a mite—"

"Mr. Wells!"

"Sorry, I can't seem to help myself."

"
Try.
" She sighed, and he stood up and moved aside just enough for her to squeeze by.

As soon as they had both fastened their seatbelts, she offered him the book she had skimmed on the first leg of the flight.

"I can't read on a plane, or in any moving vehicle for that matter. If you don't mind, I'd appreciate your filling me in verbally. Actually, it would help a lot if you would start talking now and just keep talking until we're in the air."

"What?" Then she saw him grip the arms of the seat and his whole body went stiff. She hadn't even realized the plane had started to back away from the terminal, but he had. So he really was a white-knuckle flyer. After the way he'd treated her when he sensed she was nervous around him, she should repay him in kind. But as she saw the color drain from his face, human decency won out, and she began to tell him about the coral reefs in the Straits of Florida, and how they could be damaged by a storm of the magnitude of Brigitte.

The airplane started its ascent and David closed his eyes but Holly just kept talking.

"We know from Hurricane Andrew that damage to the reefs can go to depths over a hundred feet. There were cases of sunken ships being ripped apart or moved great distances, and the coral that had been growing on them was totally destroyed in the process. The elkhorn coral and sea fans are at the greatest risk because they're so fragile. But even the sturdier species like the brain coral will die if they're smothered in shifting sands."

Holly noted the fine sheen of perspiration coating his upper lip and he hadn't moved a muscle in a full minute.

When the plane leveled off in the sky, she watched his breathing regulate and his fingers relax. Finally, he opened his eyes.

"Thanks. That was very nice."

"You're welcome. Now, do I have to say it all over again?"

He smiled his little-boy smile. "I told you I have an excellent memory. Besides, there's something about being terrified that intensifies everything else that happens at the same time. Have you ever noticed that?"

She caught the heat of his gaze and blushed before she could control her thoughts. Turning her head away, she made a pretense of examining the clouds. So much for being nice. It was somewhat comforting, however, to know there was something she was more confident about than he was. His irrational fear of flying made him a little less frightening to her. But only a little.

David motioned for the flight attendant and asked for another drink. Even for him, he thought, that last shot was pretty low. She had just witnessed him at his weakest moment, and didn't take advantage of it, yet he had gone right for the jugular. What was it about Holly Kaufman that brought out his worst behavior?

It was more than simply having his male ego bruised. Seeing her again had him coming up with new answers. He despised liars, and, although he couldn't put his finger on it, there was something basically dishonest about her. The possibility that it had something to do with Ziegler took a back seat to his personal response to her. She had made him react in anger. He didn't like that. She had made him want to crawl inside of her and stay there forever. He was scared to death of that.

Upon reflection, he did know what one of her lies was. On the surface she appeared to be a sophisticated woman of the world. That was the lie. One kiss had informed him she was as innocent as a girl. Christine had told him Holly had nothing to do with any man but Philip and he had witnessed that peculiar relationship first hand. When he had accused her of being scared of him, he hadn't considered the possibility that it was simply because he was a man. This lady hadn't been playing "hard-to-get" as he had first suspected; she
really
didn't want to be caught.