Bahamian Arms

And she finally fell upon what to say.

"I am not normally so bold," she told him, following his line about how memorable she was.

"In truth," he said with a smile that touched his dark eyes, "neither am I."

She giggled, and then was shocked to realize she had. "Thank you," she repeated, and leaned in to kiss him softly on the lips.

"Be well," he told her when they broke apart, taking her hand in his.

"Be well," she said, squeezing his palm.

"Until we meet again," he said with a smile

"Until then," she told him, knowing as he did that such a thing was unlikely.

And then, proudly and without a single regret, weary but happy, sore but satisfied, Addison Cross turned and walked away, and did not look back.

Epilogue: Return

The hotel manager was a thin black man with close-cropped hair. He looked severely displeased, and also did not particularly appear eager to be speaking to yet another person holding a badge.

"I've already spoken to the authorities," the manager was saying.

"I am Sebastian D'Aubigne," the man in the dark suit said curtly in an easily recognizable French accent, "and I am not with the local authorities. I am from Interpol."

The manager squinted at the badge. "Interpol," he said incredulously. "Why would Interpol be interested in our . . . incident?"

"Because, monsieur," Sebastian replied witheringly, "the man who was murdered is an international criminal, a mastermind of the black arms and munitions market. He was murdered, as you know, by professional assassins. You would prefer this sort of . . . incident . . . in your hotel to be investigated by the local authorities, eh? I will leave you to them, then."

It took the manager one-half of one second to reconsider. "I am sorry, Mister . . ."

"D'Aubigne."

"Mister D'Aubigne, yes. I am sorry for inconveniencing you just now. Please, let me show you to our secure location. You may wish to speak with our guards."

Sebastian smiled. "Thank you," he replied, and followed the man towards the hotel security wing, where he would spend time poring over surveillance tapes.

Not that it would matter, of course. Men like Kayyed the Chameleon were not killed by amateurs and there was little chance of finding anything at all of use, but Interpol higher-ups demanded he survey the scene, and thus survey the scene he would.

A beautiful blue-eyed brunette woman in a snug white bikini and patterned sarong sashayed by him, a pleasant and cryptic sort of smile on her face. He turned and watched her backside after she passed him, and admired the sight of that side of her, too.

Ah, the Bahamas.

There were worse places to work, he thought with a smile.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the fasten seatbelts sign in preparation for our descent into Los Angeles. Please return seat-backs and tray-tables to their full, upright, and locked positions and stow all carry-on items beneath the seat in front of you. Thank you."

Addison opened her eyes and stretched her limbs from her seat at the window, and turned to look out over the lights of her home town. It was a beautiful sight, the lights of the city of Los Angeles from an airplane at night, glittering and twinkling like the stars in the heavens.

It had been an excellent trip and she could now face the coming semester with a fully recharged battery. Her students deserved it, she felt, which is why she always took her vacation in the waning days of August.

Her mind flittered over the highlights of her stay in the Bahamas, but consistently returned to the same memory: the strong hands of a man as they roamed over her body.

She had not expected sex, and if she had expected sex, she would never have expected sex so wonderful and fulfilling. The man she knew only as Carter was a very skilled lover, not to mention a very skilled manipulator as he managed to get her to do things she very rarely ever did. He was handsome and strong, and she had been putty in his hands.

She shifted gingerly in her seat as she remembered their last round in the shower; her bottom was still sore from that particular romp. It was only the second time in her life that she had allowed a man to have her ass, and the longest by far.

Addison sighed deeply: it had been a beautiful fling, but now it was back to the real world. She wondered fleetingly if she would ever see the man again, but if not, she would not mind. He would remain in her memories as the perfect sexual partner, which was not a bad spot to be. She would certainly not mind if he was off somewhere placing her on a similar pedestal.

And so she smiled and sighed deeply again, and closed her eyes to enjoy the last of her trip, and when the plane touched down minutes later, the mind of Addison Cross was still happily wrapped up in thoughts of her passionate rendezvous with the dark-eyed mystery man.

* * *

The screen flickered and flared to life. His fingers pecked at the keyboard and tapped the Enter button, and the screen flickered again as he was rerouted to a secure and encrypted location. There was a message waiting for him, which he read.

FINAL PAYMENT RECEIVED. BUYERS SEND REGARDS.

THREE NEW OFFERS. PLEASE ADVISE.

He closed the computer and sighed. It was time for a break, he decided; four months of nothing but work and preparation was wearing thin. A pair of brilliant blue eyes flashed in his mind, followed by the image of two exquisite breasts, but he pushed them away. He was sure the woman from the Bahamas had little to do with his decision to take a break, no matter how incredible she had been in bed. He did not work that way.

The drive from the airport was not a long one, not in the middle of the night. The house was dark as the cab pulled up.

Carter Donovan was home.

End of Bahamian Arms by Jack and Josephine Cutter. Future stories starring some or all of these characters might also be forthcoming based upon response and demand and characters featured herein may also be found in other works by the authors, published or forthcoming. Email feedback to the address in our profile.