Malak grinned, watching his princess blush, picturing her beneath him, and begging him to take her.

Suddenly a bullet grazed her arm and split her flesh. She was hit, confirming his suspicion they were very much visible to the miners.

“Is sex all you ever think about?” Gabriella’s lip twitched and her gaze fled from his.

“No, sweetheart. At this very moment I’m more worried about your wound.” He grabbed her other arm and pulled her behind a large boulder. “Think carefully. The magic word is one of your beloved childhood friend’s – a doll or a stuffed animal of some type- repeated three times and followed by your wish in the name of the Good Fairy of Uffizdome.”

Chuckling, she rolled her eyes. “Get real, Malak. This is all bull. Ana told me what is really going on.”

Cupping the back of her head, he pushed her down into his groin and double over on her. Another bullet sounded over them.

“You hit?” She tried to rise, but he held her down. Her soft, shapely body crushed beneath him in a manner he hadn’t anticipated.

“No,” he hissed. “Think of the damn name!”

“Barney, Barney, Barney transport me to a tranquil resort beach on the Mediterranean, in the name of the Good Fairy of Uffizdome.”

He raised his head and looked over the boulder. Two miners spotted him and aimed rifles directly at them. “Again, princess.”

“Binky Dee, Binky Dee, Binky Dee transport us back to our own time- in the name of the Good Fairy of Uffizdome.”

Nothing.

Malak lifted her in his arms and fled from their hiding spot. He spotted a set of tracks and ran along them out in the open, shielding her only with his body, and hoping the miners would be slow to reload. Depositing her into a cart on the rails, his legs pumped for all he was worth and pushed her along until they started downhill. He jumped in beside her, placing her beautiful body beneath him.

“Again, princess. Think something regal, something magical, something your mother would say when you were young.”

The cavern’s ceiling was low, and he had to duck to avoid being knocked unconscious. Once this damn buggy came to a halt, they would be surrounded by miners demanding there gems. She needed to think and get them out of this bind.

Gabriella wrapped herself around him and gazed dreamily into his face. “You saved my life.”

“Damn, woman. Not now.” They hit a straightaway and the rails curved upwards at a wall coming closer each second. “Stop being so impatient and compulsive. What did your mother say when she’d put you to sleep?” He stroked her hair as one would a child’s. Placing a tiny kiss at her temple, he breathed, “This is all you, princess. Please… try.”

She took a deep breath and chanted in the most lyrical voice he’d ever heard. “Queen Diana Leigh, please here our song. Take us away from danger and bring us home. In the name of the God Fairy of Uffizdome.”

The cart thundered toward the wall, shook uncontrollably and shattered. Engulfing her in his arms, he braced himself for an impact which never came. 

 

This is Tuesday's post. There was no post on Monday.
Once again, I apologize for the delay.
Aleka

Last episode:

 

Malak nodded.  "There'll be plenty to go around.  You, me, Francis…Scott and Aidan.  All that money.  We'll be vacationing in the Caribbean soon, without a care in the world."

 

 Warren felt his stomach flip…

 

 He didn't have any intention of splitting anything.

 

 He wanted the money…and Gabriella…all to himself!

 

 *    *    *    *    *

“Brian Finnegan, I want my diamonds back.”  Gabriella stood in the pub doorway, the sun shining through her hair.  “Now.” 

 

Three regulars seated at the bar stared at her, not in an unfriendly way, but as someone would study an elephant in an ice rink.

 

The owner of Finnegan’s Pub, Ground Zero of her so-called bender, held his arms out to her.  “Why, ’tis Gabby, our little sotted lass.”  He clasped her in a bear hug, then held her at arm’s length for a good study.  “Lookin’ better, I must say—bright eyes, beautiful hair, and diamonds in your smile.”

 

“Diamonds, you say.  That’s exactly why I’m here.  You stole my diamonds and if you don’t give them back, I’m gonna call a whole contingent of secret agents down on you.” 

 

He backed away, holding his palms up in contrition.  “No problem, lass, I’ve got ‘em right here . . .”  He pulled out a drawer from behind the bar.  “What the—”

 

“Hand them over, Mr. Finnegan.” 

 

Sparkles floated around his head.  He swiped his hand over his bald dome and the air cleared.  “Nothin’ to hand over, they’re gone!”

 

“Aidan!”  She gritted her teeth.  Aidan had acted all nice and even mushy, but as soon as he’d handed her over to the pub owner, he’d melted into the crowd.  No gentleman, that man.  She’d bet her bottom dollar that he’d stolen the diamonds. 

 

No, wait, she didn’t have a bottom dollar—not unless she went along with Auntie Ana’s princess thing.  But hey, being a princess couldn’t be all that bad—great shoes, regular hair stylings, facials anytime she wanted them . . . what’s not to like?

 

“You called?”  He appeared beside her at the bar, more glimmering around him.  Something was really crazy here.

 

“I have the diamonds, Princess,” he patted his coat pocket.  “But you can’t have them until Finnie teaches you how to use them.”

 

“Use?  You put them in a nice setting and wear them.”

 

“Not these.  They’re the Coronation Jewels of Uffizdome.”

 

“Right, so hand them over.”  She was tempted to grab the diamonds right out of his pocket, but the regulars were watching intently.  Gabriella wondered if they believed Aidan and Mr. Finnegan.  She concluded that her strategy skills were sorely lacking; otherwise, she’d never have believed they’d actually give the jewels back to her.  Again, going along with the show seemed to be her only recourse. 

 

“I will,” Aidan said.  “They’re rightfully yours, I just don’t want you to be harmed.  The people of Uffizdome have waited a long time to get their beautiful little princess back.”

 

She shrugged.  Obviously the only non-violent ploy left to her was to go along with the two men’s notion.  “So show me how to use them.”

 

Mr. Finnegan flicked his fingers and their surrounding changed from a pub to a cavern with hundreds of candles burning all along the rock walls. Heavy throw rugs surrounded an altar decorated with red roses, a cross, and a plain tiara without a diamond in sight.  Gabriella stood before the altar, with Aidan on her right and Mr. Finnegan on her left.

 

She gently touched a rose petal.  It felt soft and velvety, just like a rose petal should.  With a step back, she wondered if she’d tripped out again.  The scary part was that no, she couldn’t be tripping out because she hadn’t imbibed any substance whatsoever.  Truth be told, this candlelit cavern, its golden ornaments, plush furs, and rough-hewn altar had to be real.

 

Aidan’s coat pocket glowed.  He extracted the jewels and handed them to the pub owner, then knelt in prayer. 

 

Mr. Finnegan held the diamonds in his palm as if offering them to the heavens, even though they were in a cavern.  “Faery Queen of Uffizdome, hear our song,” he intoned.

 

“Behold, the Faery Queen,” Aidan responded.

 

Whew baby, these guys were off their noodles.  “I think you’ve had one too many barley-pops.”

 

“Sshh!”  The pub owner acted as if he were listening for a slight sound.

 

Good grief!  Gabriella hated to be shushed.  Too bad she wasn’t Calamity Jane—she’d take those jewels and head back home.  To heck with the princess business, to heck with all the men chasing her . . . okay, not really.  There were a couple of totally hot dude in the pack, and Warren was a wonderful, tender, and satisfying lover.  Too bad he wasn’t Malak, who lit her blood afire.

 

On impulse, she grabbed half the diamonds and ran for the cave entrance.  When she ran outside, stone houses were replaced with log cabins, there wasn’t a car in sight, and she definitely smelled a strong aroma of horse manure.  Bullets were flying and one zinged right past her ear.  She hit the dirt and scrambled behind a boulder. 

 

Only another man had claimed that boulder, a dark-haired man with broad shoulders and tight buns.  He looked damned good in a Stetson and a tight pair of Levis.  And oh, did he ever smell good . . .

 

Malak!

 

“Hey there, little lady,” he drawled.  “You stick by me and I’ll keep you safe.”

 

“What are you doing here?” Gabriella spat.

 

“I told you before—I’m to be the father of your child.  It’s my duty, but mostly, it’ll be my pleasure.  I think we should have several children just for practice.”

 

“Stuff it, Malak.”

 

“Gladly.  Meantime, you didn’t listen to the instruction on how to properly use the Coronation Jewels, so now you’ve sent us back in time to 1880 Colorado.  And see those guys who are shooting at us?”

 

“Yeah, they don’t look happy.”  She flinched when a bullet ricocheted off the boulder about six inches above her head.  Rock splinters flew everywhere.

 

“That’s because you’re in their mine, and they think you’ve found diamonds on their claim.  Since you’re here, and you have diamonds in your hand, that would be difficult to dispute.”

 

“So what should we do?”

 

He pulled her body to his.  “Make mad, passionate, thank-God-we’re-alive sex.”  Ah, he smelled good, and the beating of his heart melded with hers, arousing intense feelings in places she’d rather ignore right then.

 

A bullet grazed her forearm.

 

While Gabriella was enjoying a chocolate martini with her Aunt Ana in a Thomas Kinkaid-cottage-like pub in the lush green countryside of Ireland…

            Warren punched the ‘UP’ button on the wall near the elevators in the lobby of the hotel.  He glanced at the box that lay tucked under his arm.  Warren had gone through great pains to pick out the perfect dress for Gabriella.  He felt heat wash over his body as he thought about her attempts to wriggle out of the last dress…

            The bell rang, the elevator doors opened with a whoosh.  Warren stepped inside.  As the doors shut behind him, his eyes grew wide…

            “It’s about time you got back.”

            Malak!

            Warren shook his head as the elevator whisked him up to his floor.  He couldn’t wait to see Gabriella again…couldn’t wait to kiss her again…to hold her…to make love to her…

            …and to find out where she hid the damned diamonds.

            “Nice play-acting.  Sure you’re not hurt?”  Warren glanced at Malak’s head.  “That’s some nice bump you’ve got there.”

            “I hit my damned head when I went down.”

            “Francis and Scott are some actors, I must say.  Firing those blanks at you from that ridiculous toy gun…”

            Malak drew his dark brows together in a fierce scowl.  “That was your idea.  Not mine.”  He glanced at the box Warren had.  “What’s that?”

            Warren’s cheeks heated.  “It’s uh…well, a new dress for Gabriella.”

            Malak shook his head and rolled his eyes.  “Now you’re her maid?”

            The elevator bell made a loud ‘ping.’  Warren pushed past Malak on his way out of the elevator and strode down the hallway.  “What I buy for Gabriella is none of your concern,” he shot back over his shoulder.  Was that him who just sounded so waspish, he wondered?  Since when? 

Since he met Gabriella. 

The thought of her making love to Malak in the jacuzzi made his blood boil.  He hated sharing Gabriella, but he had no choice.  Warren gripped the box under his arm tighter, crushing the corners.

            And tighter still when they stopped in front of Gabriella’s hotel room door…

            Only to find it wide open.

***

            Warren removed the pistol from his shoulder holster and aimed it at the space between the hotel room door and the jamb.

            “Gabriella!” he called out.

            No answer.

            He crept towards the door, his steps slow and measured. Damn her stubborn, adventurous hide!  Fear coursed through him.  His palm grew damp as he gripped the pistol in his hand.

            “Wait,” Malak laid a hand on his arm.  “Don’t go in there.  Someone…”

            “…might have killed her.”  Warren finished, dread filling him with each step he took.  “Gabriella!” he shouted again.

            Still no answer.

            Malak removed a gun from his shoulder holster.  He swept past Warren and entered Gabriella’s room, both hands gripping the pistol as he waved it in all directions in front of him. 

            Warren was right behind.  They checked everywhere – the closets, the bathroom…the Jacuzzi…

            But there was no sign of Gabriella.

            “Look,” Malak held up the torn dress.  “She must have struggled, maybe there was more than one of them who attacked her.  Maybe…”

            Warren shook his head and sighed.  He holstered the gun and eased his tall frame into a nearby chair, tossing the box containing Gabriella’s new dress onto the bed.

            “That was uh…me,” he replied sounding…sheepish.

            “Huh?”  Malak angled his head.  “What in hell are you talking about?”

            Warren felt himself blush from his feet up to his hairline.  “She couldn’t get out of her damned dress.  I had to rip it to get it off of her.”

            Malak raised one dark brow.  “Really?”  He threw the dress at Warren and grinned.  “That must have been some foreplay.” 

            Warren peeled the dress from his face.  He glanced around the room.  “Where in hell did she go?”  The room seemed okay – nothing out of place.  But wasn’t it just like Gabriella to forget to lock the door and leave the room wide open!  Warren ran a hand over his face and flopped back in the chair.  “I swear, Malak.  I’ve been in some of the worst situations possible.  I’ve been in the Gulf War, I’ve done covert operations…done some pretty dangerous stuff, but I’ve never been as scared as I was right now, thinking that something happened to that little blonde wtich!”  He gritted his teeth as he dug his fist into his thigh.

            Warren dragged over another chair and placed it near Warren’s.  He sat down and stretched his long legs out.  Cupping his hands behind his head, he began to whistle something that sounded like an old rock song, “Love Stinks.”

            “Knock it off!”  Warren glared at Malak.  Warren rose from his chair and paced back and forth, his stride wide, his movements agitated.

            Malak chuckled, the sound of his laughter low and deep.  “So…how long have you been in love with her?”

            Warren stopped dead in his tracks.  He turned to face Malak.  “What did you say?”

            “You heard me.”  Malak dropped his hands from behind his head and sat forward.  “How long have you been in love with Gabriella?”

            Warren shoved his hands in his pockets.  “I-I’m not in love with her.”  A slight tremor shot through him. 

            Malak raised both brows.  “Then how come you’re shaking like a leaf?”

            “Shit.”  Warren walked back over to the chair and flopped down into it. 

            Malak shook his head.  “You’re sunk.  And sinking deeper, my friend.”

            “I think I loved her the very first time I met her…on that ridiculous speed date.  The one where all I could do was talk about the goddamned weather.”

            This time, Malak burst out laughing.  “You’re really suave, aren’t you?”

            “What in hell was I supposed to talk about?  My job?  We can’t talk about our jobs to anyone…ever.  You know that.  Besides, I was…”

            “What?”  Malak cocked his head.

            Warren sighed.  “Lonely.  That speed date sounded like a good idea.  All I had to do was talk to someone for ten minutes at a time.  Easy, right?  Until I met Gabriella.”  He shot up from the chair and started pacing again.  “All I could do was stare at her.  That long blonde hair, I swear, Malak, I never knew blonde hair could have so many different shades of blonde in it and her eyes, why her eyes are…”

            Malak waved a hand through the air.  “When a guy focuses on a woman’s hair and eyes, he’s in love, my friend.”

            Warren’s jaw tightened.  He stopped pacing and gave Malak a hard stare.  “When I get my hands on her, I’m going to…to…”

            “What?”  Malak grinned.  “I’ve never seen you like this.”

            “That’s because I’ve never felt like this.  She’s got me tied up in knots, running around Ireland, around Europe.  She has no sense of danger no…”

            “Idea that she’s carrying a fortune in diamonds.”  Malak finished.

            Warren’s heart raced as he glanced around the room again.  Where had she gone this time?  He didn’t know if he would kiss her or paddle her gorgeous round backside when he saw her again…

            IF he saw her again…

            Malak got up and walked over to the bureau on the other side of the room.  A newspaper lay there.  He scanned the front page then his dark eyes grew wide.

            “Warren!  Look at this.”

            Warren was by his side in a flash.  He read aloud from the headlines, “Princess Uffizi visits Ireland.  Royal Party staying at undisclosed location while they sojourn through the Emerald Isle for two weeks…” He grabbed the newspaper and gazed at the picture of Princess Uffizi.  “Malak, does she seem familiar to you?”

            Malak leaned over his shoulder and gazed at the picture, pointing at the woman in the photo with long, blonde hair.  “Holy shit.  That looks like Gabriella!”

            Warren dropped the newspaper on the bureau.  His hands shook, again.  Lately, they shook an awful lot…

            Ever since he met Gabriella again on that plane.  “The resemblance is uncanny,” he told Malak. 

            Malak picked up the paper and scanned the picture.  “I’ll say.”

            “Come on.  We’ve got to find her.  I have a bad feeling about all this.”

            Warren strode across the carpet, his steps wide and purposeful.  Malak was hot on his heels.

            When they got to the lobby, Warren asked the door man.  “Did you see a woman leave here this morning?  She had long blonde hair and…”

            “Sure did.  Got in a limo.”

            Malak gripped the door man’s arm.  “Any idea where that limo was headed?”

            The door man shrugged.  “Dunno.”  He glanced at his watch.  “I heard her say something about a pub, though.”

            Warren took out some euro dollars and shoved them in the doorman’s hand.  “Think hard, man.  Think very hard.”

            Suddenly, the door man’s face brightened.  “I heard her say something to the driver about a pub called, ‘The Shamrock.’”

            Warren’s heart felt lighter.  The very though scared him.  His heart hadn’t felt anything in years.

            “Let’s go,” Malak pulled him along.  “We’ve got something more precious than diamonds to bargain with now.”

            They exited through the revolving door.  Once outside, Warren asked Malak.  “Oh yeah, like what?”

            Malak smiled, revealing a mouth full of even white teeth.  “Gabriella.”

            “I don’t understand…”  Warren shook his head and hailed a taxi.

            “If she’s the princess Uffizi, then we can kidnap her and ransom her.  I’ll bet her royal family would pay big bucks to get her back.”

            “You’re crazy.” Warren shook his head as a taxi pulled up to the curb.  He put his hand on the door and opened it.  He slid across the back seat and Malak did the same.

            “Where to?” the cabbie asked.

            “The Shamrock Pub.”

            “Right-oh.”

            As the cabbie eased the taxi into the stream of traffic, Warren’s heart raced…he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back.

            “What’s wrong?” Malak beetled his dark brows. 

            “Nothing.”  Warren glanced at the passing scenery.  The lush, green grass of the countryside sped by in a blur…

            Kidnapping.  It was perfect! 

            Now, he just had to get hold of Scott, Francis and Aidan…

            “Princess Uffizi is probably worth millions.”

            Warren gave Malak a sharp glance.  “Think so?”

            Malak nodded.  “There’ll be plenty to go around.  You, me, Francis…Scott and Aidan.  All that money.  We’ll be vacationing in the Caribbean soon, without a care in the world.”

            Warren felt his stomach flip…

            He didn’t have any intention of splitting anything.

            He wanted the money…and Gabriella…all to himself!

           

           

           

           

 

 

         

"I don't make those sorts of mistakes.  You are definitely Princess Gabriella."  The woman smiled and patted the seat beside her.  "Please, Princess, get in the car.  They are not far behind.  They will find you that it's their mission.  That is their job.

Despite the well starched chauffeur’s outfit and the tight flaxen braid down her back, the woman looked almost matronly.  Laugh lines graced her mouth and the edges of her twinkling blue eyes. Her golden lashes batted with certain nervousness as she looked in her rearview mirror.  Two men rounded the corner and once they spotted Gabriella, in her four hundred count ecru toga and red high heeled shoes, they increased their pace.

Grabbing the door handle, Gabriella jumped into the passenger seat.  "Let's go."

The matronly chauffeur needed no further encouragement. The limo lurched forward, and the men quickly disappeared into the double and background.  Within 15 minutes they were out of the city center and cruising at a steady pace in Ireland's lush green hillside. 

"Care to tell me who you are?” Gabriella turned in her toga, pulled an end over her knee, and faced the driver.  “It seems that everybody knows who I am, but I keep getting told who everybody else is ‘cause I have no clue.”

The woman chuckled and turned to rest her palm on Gabriella's cheek.  "That's understandable, Princess.  We all know who you are.  We've known for all these years, what you have been denied knowledge of.  But my, you have grown in such into such a beautiful woman."

Whoa, hold on, Gabriella wasn't into any of this kinky stuff- with an older woman at that!  Had she just made the wrong choice by entering the car?  Or was this loony bin of a woman pulling her leg?

"I am Anastasia Fabrizi, your mother's best friend.”

"My mother is dead."

Anastasia reached over and patted her thigh.  "I know, darling. She passed away while you were in college.  Your grandmother Sophia and my grandmother Katia grew up together as young girls.  When Queen Sofia had your mother, my mother served as her wet nurse because of your grandmother's social obligations.  Your mother and I were only born a month apart.  Maria was more like a sister to me until the day she fled from Uffizdome with you.”

Great, now she was the princess of a place called Uffizdome. Perhaps it was located between Emerald City and  Neverland!

"My mother was an Italian-American- born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I knew my grandparents and they were no royalty. My granddaddy was a New York City garbage man and my grandma was a factory worker. They barely spoke a word of English, and the only ‘social’ obligations they had were for Friday night dinners at the Sons of Italy buffets. Every Sunday, we attended-”

“I know. Our Lady of Peace, on Carroll and Fourth.”

Gabriella tugged on the sheet and tried to cover herself. Suddenly she felt very exposed. How did this Anastasia woman know about her home church?

“Actually, I’ve attended mass with you when you were only a child.”

And now was she reading her mind?

“Don’t look so surprised. When we get to Uffizdome I’ll show you a picture of us and the Son’s Memorial Day picnic. It was one of the best times we’ve shared.”

Gabriella looked back to the window between the driver and the passenger section wondering who was getting a good laugh at her expense. It magically dropped.

“No one is there, and no- you’re not on Candid Camera.” Anastasia said curtly.

“Then tell me what you want from me, Anastasia. And what all those men want from me?”

“I want you to be happy, my child.” Anastasia cast her sideways glance and squeezed her knee. “And I want you to get in the back and dress appropriately so that we may continue our conversation over lunch.”

Clothes! That got Gabriella’s attention. Now the lady was talking. Tugging on the toga, she mustered all the politeness left in her weary body. “You have real clothes for me?”

Nodding, the older woman let out a smile. “But of course. What kind of an aunt would show up empty handed for her Princess?”

Déjà vu! An aunt with presents for her princess! “Aunty Ana?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

This couldn’t be happening. Aunty Ana had long brown hair, an olive complexion, and inch-long fingernails. Gabriella looked at the driver’s hands. Clean, short, clear manicured nails. But those eyes, they had looked familiar. And they were very comforting.

“I haven’t seen Aunty Anna in-“

“I know, twenty-three years. It was your seventh birthday, and you cried for two hours because the Carvel cake your mother had bought melted on the way home. We finally got you to end the tantrum by making milk shakes out of it, adding whipped cream, and giving you the pink princess straw to drink it with.”

Oh my God! She really was Aunty Ana.  

“Okay, this is getting too weird. Stop interrupting me and finishing my memories because it’s freaking me out.” Gabriella scrambled over the seat and peaked into a case containing four pink dresses. “You know, I’m not seven any more.”

“Sorry, but pink was your favorite color back then. Pink room, pink bedspread, pink ballet slippers-“

“Okay, I get the picture.”  Gabriella pulled a pink Gucci mini dress over her head and stuck her arms through the capped sleeves. “Well at least there’s no matching hair bow.”

“No. I know you’re too old for that. There’s a headband in the smaller case.” Anastasia chuckled and took a quick right. “Ready for some lunch?”

 The limo pulled into a small dirt road and stopped besides a small local pub that looked like a Thomas something paintings. “Real inconspicuous. No one will pick us out here,” Gabriella said, rolling her eyes.

Aunty Ana shrugged. ‘Big deal. Don’t be so uptight, my girl.”

“What about those goons chasing and drugging me?”

Ana chuckled. “Those ‘goons’ are nothing more than royal goofballs who have too much time on their hands. They won’t bother you after we talk. Guaranteed.” She opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle.

“I don’t get it,” Gabriella called, following her into the quaint pub and to a table in the far corner. 

The handful of patrons scattered in the place eyed them with interest as the server came to take their order. Once settled, Ana promised to explain after they ate.

Finishing a heavenly potato soup, Ana leaned across the dark wood table and took both of Gabriella’s hands. “You truly are Princess Gabriella Sophia Del Uffizi. Uffizdome is a small country located on the Adriatic Sea, nestled between Ital, Slovenia, and Croatia. By American standards it is smaller that a typical town. There are one thousand and thirteen inhabitants living there, including the four sets of twins born this last year.”

Gabriella rubbed her temples. No one had ever told her about an Uffizdome. Let alone the fact she was a member of a royal family.

“Your parents’ marriage was arranged when they were both children. Royal weddings are often like that. Two neighboring kingdoms joined in a simple union after hundreds of years of division by the river running down the center of our land. Everyone was overjoyed. Everyone but your mother. She was barely sixteen and only eighteen when she had you. Your father, Prince Mikhail, was a young spoiled man- much too immature to be a husband and father. He thought your mother would turn a blind eye to his indiscretions and gallivanting. But she didn’t.” Ana took a sip of her pint and asked for fruit for dessert.

Having lost her mother a few years ago, and never having known her father, Gabriella wanted to accept Ana’s explanation. It would be wonderful to meet her father and have a family. But in truth, this seemed like some story written for the Disney channel.

“The night before you third birthday, Katia told Mikhail she wanted a divorce. The ‘D’ word doesn’t exist in our country. It is unheard of. She insisted that her daughter, you, would have a normal upbringing and would choose what to do and who to marry before inheriting the throne. The agreement was that you return and marry a man of your father’s choosing if you had not already been married at thirty years of age. If you were married, you’d simply be informed of your responsibilities and position.”

Gabriella stared at the pink lips telling her fate. “I’m turning thirty in August.” She propped her elbow on the table and dropped her head into her palm. “Who has my father chosen?”

“Nobody. He insists on coming into the twenty-first century and allowing you the freedom to select your own husband. You see, he had grown to love your mother and was crushed when she left. Their agreement was for her to stay away for twenty years, time enough for you to be raised as she wished, and to discuss your future with him at that point. Unfortunately, you refused to even consider a trip to Italy and the war in the former Yugoslavia made things unstable for you to return to Uffizdome.”

Gabriella was thrown back years. She remembered her mother urging her to take a European vacation after graduation, but she wanted to tour the United States with her friends before she started working for good. They had taken separate vacations, and Mom hadn’t returned. She had drowned in a ferry crossing, and her body was never found.

Ana stroked Gabriella’s cheek. ‘Don’t look so sad, Princess. Everything will work out for the best.”

“This is a lot to absorb in one conversation,” she said, shaking her head. Working hard to restrain her tears, she took a deep breath and continued. “That isn’t who I am today, and why should I care about the wishes of a man who had nothing to do with me while I needed him.”

“That’s not true. Your parents did what they believed to be best for you. They wanted you to know what it would be like to be normal. Something neither one of them ever did.” Lines of concern spread across Ana’s forehead. Her eyes relaying her worry. “They love you more than anything in the world.”

“So now it’s time for me to marry some stuffed suit and done a tiara?”  Gabriella snorted a laugh in a very unprincess-like manner trying unsuccessfully to elicit a reaction from Ana.

“Two months ago, your father accepted petitions from a number of royal suitors so that they may court you. If anyone of them gained your love without revealing their title, he would have your hand in marriage.” Ana paused and finished off her pint. She looked tired and drained.

“It’s okay,” Gabriella offered, waving her hand. “I’m not interested in marriage right now, and I don’t care what he says. Just drop me at the airport and I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

Dark blue eyes stared at her. Anna shook her head and took on a strict schoolmarm stance. “Now listen to me, young lady. You’ve been allowed freedom no other member of the royal family has ever had. You not only have the title of Princess, you have the responsibility and power to rule. The Uffizi family still governs Uffizdome. None of your suitors can say that. They simply have royal blood and titles-well none except for Malak. He is a ruling prince.”

“Malak?”

Nodding, Ana sighed as she continued. “Yes, but I don’t prefer him because you’d have to stay far from us- in the Middle East. It is time for you to return home.”

“Warren?”

Another nod. “Only the title.”

“Henri, Alex, Francis, Charlie and Scott?”

“Henri and Alex are legitimate. Francis was a childhood playmate of yours. You would pretend to be dogs and take turns walking each other on leashes. We used to laugh watching you two play for hours every evening. Even though he isn’t royalty, he comes from a very long aristocratic line on ancestors that served as advisors to our royal family. Charlie and Scott work for your father. They’ve been looking after you for a few years and requested that they be allowed to try and woo you. They’ve earned the right.”

“I see,” Gabriella whispered, twirling her hair in her fingers. And here she was thinking all these handsome men were simply attracted by her wit and beauty. She huffed out a breath and laughed. “What about the drugs?”

“An unfortunate reaction to the medication the emergency room doctor prescribed when you went in for that wicked cold two weeks ago. Henri, tried to counter the effects with something else, but the hallucinations only increased. Thankfully the Royal Buffoon Squad has been with you most of the time. Everything should be out of your system since you disappeared the other night. When Warren reported he’d found you, I was so relieved. I knew I had to tell you everything and end this charade before things got more twisted.” Ana gave her a real smile and her facial features relaxed.

“I disappeared?”

“Uh, huh.”

“Aidan? What part does he play?”

“Who?” Ana scrunched her nose and leaned forward.

Collecting her belongings, Gabriella stood, dropped some money on the table and indicated for Ana to follow her.

Aidan. He’d been real. No hallucination, no royal chase, just Aidan.

“Suddenly I’m parched for a chocolate martini.  Let’s go aunty Ana.” She walked to the exit and turned bumping into Ana who was on her heels. “And, oh,” she breathed, leaning over to kiss the woman’s cheek. “Thank you for being straight with me.” 

  

 

 

 

    

 

           

             

 

           

 

 

 

Gabriella stared at Warren. “CIA? A covert agent?”

He nodded. His expression was open and utterly trustworthy. He was empathy itself as she absorbed the information; wondered what to do with it and how to react.

Because the honest-looking Warren was lying through his teeth. Covert agents for the CIA never, ever told anyone what they did for a living. They stayed buried in deep cover—and they didn’t even know the real names of the classmates they trained with or the instructors who taught them. They didn’t know their bosses’ or co-workers’ real names, either. Warren might be employed by the CIA, but he certainly wasn’t part of its covert operations. No way.

It was Warren’s bad luck that she knew that. And it was also his bad luck that she was a blonde who could play dumb with the best of them. She went for the most clichéd line of all time. “So now that you’ve told me, do you have to kill me?”

Predictably, he laughed. “Not this time. But I do have to ask you never to reveal that information. It could put my life in jeopardy.”

Oh, please. But she had to admit that Warren was great-looking, even if he was a liar. Gabriella widened her eyes and assumed an appropriately horrified expression. “I won’t tell a soul, I swear.”

“Thank you.”

“So . . . you’re recruiting me to work for the CIA?”

He nodded.

“Oh my God! Really? I’ve always wanted to be a spy. I have a thing for trench-coats and sunglasses.”

He grinned. “Great. Because I’m partial to women in trench-coats with nothing underneath.”

“I also have a thing for international men of mystery, Warren,” Gabriella purred.  She ran her hands provocatively down his chest, checking for an Austin Powers mat of fake hair. Nope. Darn.

Warren covered her hands with his own. “Do you?”

“Mmmmm.” She tweaked his nipples. “Yes.” Gabriella wound her arms around his neck and pulled his head down for a long, steamy kiss to get his engine running.

Knowing that Warren was lying told her two things: one, that she needed to get away from him as soon as possible without revealing that he hadn’t snowed her. And two, that she could use him for sex without any remorse or fear of complication.

She was on vacation, after all. She was unbelievably horny after being around all of these gorgeous guys and constantly thinking that her life was in danger. She was a stress case and wasn’t about to pop a pill to relax, since she seemed to get drugged every time she turned around.

So wasn’t it time that she, um, got some? A rip-roaring orgasm would do a lot to calm her down, and Warren was looking an awful lot like well-hung Xanax in trousers.

“So, Mr. Secret Agent,” she murmured, dredging up another shop-worn cliché, “is that a gun you’re holding to my belly, or are you just happy to see me?”

“That, lady, is no gun.” He cupped her bottom in his big hands and tugged her against him, demonstrating the truth of this particular statement. It seemed that Warren didn’t lie about everything.  

“Good. I’d much rather that my virtue be in danger than my life.”

Warren picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Wow,” he said. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing, yet. So take off your pants already.”

He frowned and set her down.

“What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t like you.”

“This is completely like me,” Gabriella said, and pulled her dress over her head,

so that she’d be standing in front of him in nothing but her high heels, panties and bra. . . uh, oh. She was stuck. “Help!”

            “Now this presents an interesting picture,” Warren mused.

            Gabriella struggled to get the damned dress up and over her shoulders, to no avail. “Help!” she said again.

            “There’s a little gizmo back there known as a zipper. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

            “Warren, would you quit being cute and get me out of this?”  Gabriella wriggled, lost her balance and tottered dangerously on her high heels.

            “Hold still,” he said, “or I can’t get you out of the dress.” She felt his body heat, and then his hands slid around her bare stomach. Big. Warm. Moving upwards to cup her breasts through the lace of her bra. Moving down and sliding under her panties.

Oh, God . . .

            After this brief detour, he did try to pull the dress over her head, but she was well and truly stuck. So he tried to pull it down, which didn’t work so well either. “Gabriella, I hate to tell you this, but--”

            “Just get me out!” she wailed.

            Warren sighed. “Okay.” Then he ripped the dress from hemline to neck.

            She stood there blinking at him in shock. “You destroyed it!”

            “You asked me to get you out of it, so I did.”

            “But I didn’t mean . . . Warren, I can’t walk around Dublin naked!”

            “I’ll buy you another one,” he promised. “Now, where were we?”

            It was hard to strategize with his mouth there, and then there, and then—oh, my! There, in that x-rated, covert, hot spot.

            But strategize she must, because as soon as she sent Warren out to buy her another dress, she had to be outta here. Which meant—aaaaahhhhh! Oh, yes!

Which meant that she was going to have to pull a Scarlet O’Hara and make an outfit from the curtains or bed-sheets. Too bad she was fresh out of sewing machines, patterns and time. A toga was the only way to go. Gabriella hadn’t worn a toga since her sophomore year of college. She hoped that Dublin would appreciate the fashion statement.

            Warren proved within moments that sex was better than Xanax any day.  Finally, something had gone right on this vacation!

 

                                                                        #                     

 

            While Warren took a shower, Gabriella pretended to sleep while she tried to figure out who Warren really worked for. She remembered an explanation about a shadow group that was far more secret than the CIA. But had she dreamed this explanation? Because of the drugs, it was so hard to keep track of what she’d dreamed and what she’d really experienced. Who had mentioned this secret group? Had it been Henri, the doctor who’d examined her? She thought so. And she could have sworn that Warren had been right there . . . but if he had been, why would he have told her now that he was a covert agent with the CIA? Was he testing her somehow?

            Warren emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of warm steam, a towel tucked low and sexy around his hips. Hubba hubba. “You should have joined me, Princess. I’m very talented with a bar of soap, you know.” He grinned.

            Princess. There it was again. That annoying nickname.

            Gabriella faux-yawned and stretched. “I’m too comfortable and sleepy to shower yet. Besides,” she said pointedly, “I have nothing to change into, thanks to you.”

            “My chivalry is rewarded with ingratitude,” he complained.

            “Is that what ripping off a woman’s dress is called these days? Chivalry?”

            “Cave-man chivalry,” he amended. “And anyway, the cave man is going out right now to get you a new one. Any preferences?”

            “A simple cotton tank dress or an A-line is fine.”

            “Tank dress? A-line?” He looked puzzled.

            “What, they don’t teach you secret agents the finer nuances of fashion?”

            Warren sheepishly shook his head. “A tank dress sounds pretty big. Is it for an armored tank?”

            Gabriella sighed. “Think tank top. Sleeveless. Straight skirt. Nothing goofy or poufy. Nothing sickly pink or hospital green or covered with giant cabbage roses. Got it?”

            “What’s a cabbage rose?”

            “Never mind. Just no flowers.”

            “Got it. No flowers.”

            “And no polyester.”

“No polyester. Back in a flash.”  And Warren, who’d thrown on his clothes in the meantime, made his exit.

            As soon as the door shut behind him, Gabriella jumped out of bed and took a shower with the speed of light. She doubted they were drugging the shampoo or conditioner. But toothpaste was a real possibility. She brushed her teeth without it and left her face makeup free—drugs could be absorbed through the skin. She blew her hair semi-dry and then pulled the top sheet off the bed, carefully replacing the spread so that Warren wouldn’t notice.

            Then she put on her panties and shoes and stuffed her bra into her purse. Feeling like a complete idiot, she draped the sheet around her body in a classic toga wrap. Praying that anyone she encountered thought she was going to a party, she slipped out of the hotel.

            She hadn’t made it ten steps down the street when a black Mercedes Benz pulled up alongside her. Though she began to run, the tinted window rolled down and the car easily kept pace with her. A female voice called, “Princess! Get in, I beg you. We have no time to waste.”

            Gabriella stopped cold and stared at the woman, who was dressed in black livery with gold braid, complete with chauffeur’s cap. “Okay, I can understand a bunch of men calling me princess as a nickname, but why are you calling me that?”

            The woman blinked. “Because it’s your title, your highness. You are Princess Gabriella Sophia del Uffizi.”

            “I’m what?” Gabriella shook her head. “Lady, you’ve got me confused with someone else!”

 

           

           

 

princess?

             

           

             

 

           

 

                   Gabriella’s Adventure

 

 

Diamonds? What the hell was he talking about? And why was she in Dublin? The last thing Gabriella remembered was a plane crash, her brother Francis forcing her to wear some kind of choker necklace and insisting she call him “Master”, then being stuffed into a car.

This whole adventure had taken a bizarre turn. Had she been drugged again? Did someone slip a hallucinogenic into her toothpaste? She was tired and unable to think rationally.

“A chocolate martini? You’re sure? I prefer Cosmopolitans,” she said.

That statement alone indicated she was whacked out. She’d had a massive blackout and all she could do was ask for a Cosmo?

When Finney just looked at her she asked, “You do know how to make one, don’t you?”

“Aye, I can do that fer ya,” he replied, dumping the dirty glasses behind the bar and wiping the polished wood with a damp cloth.

“If you’ll be excusing me for a moment, I see an old friend,” Aidan said, touching his forehead in a two fingered salute. He moved across the crowded pub to a booth.

While Finney poured the liquor into a shaker, Gabriella scanned the room. The patrons were a friendly looking lot, but then so was everyone she’d met in the last few days. She must have lacked a gene when it came to judgment.

The rattle of ice against metal had her turning back to the bar. She watched the bartender set up a martini glass in front of her and then fill it to the brim. Picking it up, she raised it in his direction.

“Slainte, Finney,” she said.

“That’ll be twelve euros.”

She tossed him her Amex card and took a sip of her Cosmo. The tangy lemon vodka, cranberry juice, and Triple Sec slid over her tongue like silk. She swallowed and felt the immediate rush of good booze hitting her stomach.

Setting the glass down, she reached for the peanuts and popped a handful into her mouth, then licked the salt from her fingers.

“You can do that for me anytime,” a familiar voice crooned in her ear.

“Warren!”

Her heart lurched in sudden fear. Where the hell had he come from? Instinct told her to scream, create a scene, and run like hell, but curiosity was stronger.

“What the hell are you doing here? What the hell am I doing here for that matter? What’s going on? I want an explanation and I want it now. Since I met you and Malak, my life has been a roller coaster of one weird event after the other and for the record—I hate roller coasters!”

Warren’s hand slid underneath the long fall of blonde hair to gently caress the nape of her neck. His fingertips sent shivers up and down her spine and the heat pooling in the pit of her stomach had nothing to do with vodka.

“My beautiful Gabby, you look good enough to eat,” he said, nuzzling her ear.

Her breath caught in her throat. The heat spiraled out to include the rest of her body. She picked up her glass with unsteady fingers and gulped half of it.

“Don’t you try to sweet talk me,” she said with a little catch in her voice. “I was looking for adventure, but this is ridiculous. How did I get to Dublin and what’s all this nonsense about Morocco? Damn it! I want answers or I’m going to the nearest American consulate.”

Her voice had steadily risen. The last two shouted sentences stopped conversation. She looked around uneasily. Aidan was still seated in the booth with his friends and showed no signs of having heard. Finney stood at the far end of the bar drawing a pint and laughing with another customer.

“Sh-h-h. Not so loud,” Warren replied, casting a furtive glance around the room. “We have business to discuss.”

Finney slapped her credit card and the bill in front of her, then handed her a pen. She signed the tab, adding a generous tip. It was a damned good Cosmo.

“Business? What business?”

She eased her lips around the rim of the martini glass and sipped, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice.

“Let’s get out of here. What I have to say isn’t for other ears,” Warren said, tossing another suspicious look around the crowded bar.

“Finney, I’ll have another Cosmo,” she said defiantly.

“Gabriella, please.”

“Give me one good reason why I should trust you? Or Malak? Or Henri? Or even my own brother?” Finney set the martini in front of her. “Cough up twelve euros, Warren.”

She almost chuckled as he glared at her and fished in his pocket for the money. Instead she took a sip of the icy Cosmo.

“Are you ready to go?” Warren asked impatiently.

“I haven’t finished my drink.” She refused to be ordered around by any man. She’d had enough of that, too.

Warren picked the glass out of her fingers and drained it, making a face.

“God, what do women see in this drink?”

“Sophistication. What do men see in beer and the NFL?”

“No sophistication.”

Gabriella slid off of the stool. Warren’s arm encircled her waist and he pushed his way through the mob to the exit. Her skin tingled at his touch. It was as if a live wire had been wrapped around her. Her knees were a little wobbly, but whether from the Cosmos or Warren, she wasn’t sure.

Out on the sidewalk, she said, “Where are we going?”

“I have an apartment not far from here. We can talk there,” he replied, steering her down the street.

“What’s this business we need to discuss?”

“When we get to my place.”

“How did I get to Dublin?”

“I’ll tell you everything in a few minutes.”

His fingers caressed her waist. Her insides quivered and her mouth suddenly went desert dry. The heat rekindled in her belly sending out pulsing waves of warmth.

It was the longest four blocks she’d ever walked. When the elevator doors closed Warren pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard. The heat ignited into flame, searing her from the inside out.

Then the doors opened. Warren unglued his lips from hers and escorted her to his apartment. He unlocked the door and she stepped into a tastefully decorated masculine room.

Warren didn’t give her a chance to admire the décor. He yanked her back into his arms, settling his mouth on hers again.

Gabriella tangled her fingers in his hair. The strands slipped through them like satin, smooth and cool. Smooth and cool on the outside contrasted with hot and bubbling on the inside. Moaning, she pressed her body to his. His hands molded her closer for a moment and then clasped her shoulders. He stepped away.

“Business first and then pleasure,” he said.

Business? Oh, God, yes—business. Was she such a nitwit that a kiss to curl her toes totally scrambled her brains? Apparently. She focused on her predicament.

“Warren, please, for my own sanity, tell me what’s happening? Am I going nuts?”

“No, honey, but you are being systematically drugged. Some of what you remember is real. The rest is dreams.”

“By whom? And how?”

“It didn’t start until that first night in Paris and I’m not sure how they’re doing it, but I suspect it must be something you use every day.”

“Like my toothpaste?” God, had she hit the nail on the head? “Is Malak involved? And what about these diamonds?”

“I can’t answer any of those questions. I played along with Malak and Scott. I think they’re part of a diamond smuggling ring out of South Africa. As for Henri and his bunch, I’m afraid they may be more sinister.”

“More sinister than smugglers? In what way?”

“Several attractive blonde women have disappeared in the last eight months from various cities in Europe. It may have something to do with white slavery.”

“What? You’ve got to be kidding!”

Warren shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I need your help. Badly.”

“Oh, crapola. You are trying to sweet talk me into something. Well, it won’t work. I’m going back to New York where the cabbies are rude and the people even ruder. I want my life back.”

“Gabby, my boss thinks you may be able to help us. He’d like you to work for him on a temporary basis.”

“Work for him? I don’t know anything about being an air marshal. I hate guns.”

“Gabby, listen. I am a legitimate air marshal, but I have another job. It’s that one where your talents would come in handy.”

“What talents? I was an executive in a large company. I supervised other people.”

“Gabby, you are a born tourist. You’re friendly and like people. They like you in return. We want you to go back to Paris and talk to certain people, including Malak, Scott, and Henri.”

“And how do I explain my disappearance from Morocco?” Was she really contemplating doing this?

“Say you don’t remember. With all the drugs they’ve pumped into you the last few days, they’ll believe it.”

“Warren, I’m confused. Who’s ‘we’? You make it sound like you’re a spy or something.”

He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose.

“Actually, I am. I’m a covert agent for the CIA.”

I'm having a very difficult time accessing this blog from my current location.
I will attempt to keep posting Gabriella's Summer Adventure, but if you noticed a day is skipped please visit www.myspace.com/alekanakis and access the daily blog post there.

Sorry and thanks!
Aleka

Gabriella’s head hit the steering wheel, jolting her awake.  Woozy and disoriented, she glanced around trying to get her bearings.  She remembered being shoved into the black sports car last night but when the hell did she become the driver?

All around her was darkness with the exception on the blue light glowing on the dashboard that read bright. She stared through the windshield searching for some indication of headlights but there was nothing to see. Did she hit something? The knot forming on her forehead proved that something caused her to whack her head.

All the sudden she felt something cold and wet seeping in under her feet. She managed to turn on the interior light, but it was still too dark to see what was oozing around her stilettos.

The car lurched forward. Gabriella grabbed the steering wheel to keep from slipping off the edge of the seat. Water began trickling in around the edge of the driver’s side window. The car felt as if it was sinking or floating or-.

"Oh, my God, I’m in water!" 

But where? The Ocean? The Mediterranean? The freaking pond out back of her mother’s house? Her mind was so jumbled up she couldn’t remember where she’d been or where she was going.

Where was Francis? Better yet - where was the guy driving this vehicle last night?

Water was up to the edge of front seat now. Scrambling to her knees, she felt around the driver’s side door until she found the handle. She wrenched on it, banging her shoulder against it but it wouldn't budge.

Her legs were weak and heavy as she climbed to a standing position.  Water crept up around her waist as she dove toward the passenger door but it wouldn’t open either. Damn car!

“Get me out of here!" She screamed but her voice could no more escape the confines of the vehicle than she could.

The car pitched again and water rushed in from all sides.  The soft top of the sports car began to collapse.

Gulping for the last bit of air, water closed in around her face and head.  Her mind reeled out of control as she punched at the canvas roof. Any movement was an effort now. She couldn't hold her breath any longer. She was going to die right here – alone.

Somebody help me!! She screamed.

Suddenly, she heard something ripping above her head. She tried raising her hands in attempt to push on the convertible’s  roof  but her arms were limp. Her strength was gone. The buzzing in her ears was so loud she thought her head would explode.

About to lose consciousness Gabriella she felt something hit the top of her head. Somebody grabbed her hair and yanked hard, pulling her up through a hole in the canvas.

A strong arm circled her waist and the two of them propelled upward.  She was unable to help herself at this point.  The only part of her body still functioning was her mind and she feared she was losing that battle as well.  She had to have air, she had to--.

All at once, her head burst above the surface.  Gasping and coughing, Gabriella struggled against her rescuer to breathe but he wouldn’t let go. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t…

***

Gabriella woke to the smell of wet dog. Something heavy weighed on her feet and across her chest. She opened her eyes to a hint of sunlight glowing between the slits of vertical blinds covering the windows. How wonderful to see daylight! It seemed as if she been in the dark for weeks.

When did I go to bed? When she looked down across her body, she saw where the smell came from. A shiny black lab lay sleeping at her feet. Struggling to sit up she realized she was pinned down by a hard, muscled arm draped across her chest. Her heartbeat doubled as she turned and saw the man who owned the arm.

Gabriella shrieked as adrenaline propelled her out of the bed. At the same time, she heard him yell out, “Bloody Hell!”

The dog leapt to his feet and started barking.

“What - who are you?” She yelled above the barking.

“McFadden. Quiet!” The man shouted and the dog whimpered once before settling back down on the bed.

The man stared up at her with sleepy brown eyes but his eyes shifted to survey her body. That’s when she realized she was naked.

“Ohmygod!”

She jerked at the comforter to cover herself but he was lying on top of it, so instead she grabbed one of the pillows and held it in an oblong position across her body to cover herself as best she could.

“Alright, I’m going to ask you again. Who are you?” Gabriella asked in the most controlled voice she could find.

“Calm down, damn it, calm down!” He scolded in a thick Irish brogue.

“Calm down? How can I calm down? I wake up with a man in my bed and you want me to calm down?”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. He was also naked.

“Oh great! What the hell-”

He reached over and snapped on the lamp that sat on the nightstand next to the bed.“I’ll tell you if you’ll just shut up a minute.”

With the light on, Gabriella felt even more exposed, with or without the pillow. “Look – you need to get out,” she said, glancing around the room, looking for his clothes but she didn’t see them. “Or, maybe I need to get out. I don’t- “

“Will ya quit ordering me around for a minute so I can talk?”

He got up and Gabriella kept an eye on him as he walked over to the closet, although she had a tough time keeping her eyes from roaming over his nicely formed buttocks.

He pulled a striped, button-down shirt off the hanger and tossed it to her. Gabriella dropped the pillow to catch the shirt and slipped it on in record time.

He walked toward her but when she started to back away he stopped.

“Me name is Aidan Sharp and I saved your bloody life!” His was low and harsh. He stuck out his hand to her. “Pleased to meet you, too.”

 “What are you talking about?”

“I guess you were too drunk to remember driving yer car into the lake last night.” He walked over to the bureau and picked up a pack of cigarettes. Tapping one out, he poked it in his mouth but didn’t bother to light it.

Gabriella stood there staring at his well-built body with a million questions bouncing around in her brain.

Had she be drinking? Did they sleep together? God, she would have remembered that.

Suddenly, the memory of water rushing into her car came back to her. She’d been scrambling to get out and then-“

“Oh!” Realization struck. “That was you that grabbed my hair…and pulled me out of the car?”

“Let’s put it this way. If I hadn’t happened along when I did, you’d be trout food right now.”

Gabriella gasped. Her hand shot to her throat, remembering the pressure of water in her lungs.

“I was drowning.” She looked up and focused on his face for the first time. He had pulled her out of the car and to safety. Her eyes darted around the room and back to Aidan Sharp.

“Thank you, Mr. Sharp. I’m sorry I was so…abrupt. But I’ve been having some bad luck these past few days. Bad luck. That was an understatement.

“So I hope you’ll forgive my, my- " Gabriella forgot what she was saying. At that point, her thoughts were seized by the tingling sensation just beneath her skin brought on gazing at the curly hair swirling all over Aidan Sharp’s chest. He seemed to read her thoughts and his mouth twitched with amusement.

Where are we, anyway?” She turned away from him and went to the window.

“I brought you here to my place.”

“I mean – where are we? From your Irish brogue, I guessing we’re in Ireland. Am I right?”

“Of course yer in Ireland. Where did you think you were?

If he only knew the half of it.

“I fished you out of Dublin Lake. You don’t remember anything about driving that fancy sports car of yours off the levy?

“No, I really don’t.” Her stomach coiled at the thought.

“You must have been really in the numbs.”

Not sure what he meant, she let the comment drop.

I figured if I took you to the hospital, you’d end up in jail for drunk driving.” Gabriella turned back around as Aidan walked to the closet and recovered a pair of jeans.

“Drunk? What the hell are you talking about?” The whole conversation confused her more than ever. But instead of questioning him further, she stared without conscience while he pulled the jeans over his hips. My, my – he looked even better with soft, faded denim sheathing his form- like glaze over a warm donut.

“Sweetheart, you might not want to admit it but you were snockered. I could smell booze all over ya.”

Gabriella contemplated how he could smell booze all over her.

“I figure I’d do you a favor and bring you here. I’ve had emergency medical training so I knew what to do.”

“So…what did you do?”

He grabbed a t-shirt out of a nearby bureau and pulled it over his head.

“You were breathing after I dragged you out of the lake but I could tell hypothermia was setting in, so I rushed you back here and did what needed doing to bring your body temperature back up.

Gabriella gulped, imagining all sorts of ways Aidan Sharp could bring up her body temperature.

“I stripped off your wet clothes, wrapped you in a blanket and laid on top of ya.”

“What?” She squealed, waking up the dog again.

McFadden sprang off the bed this time and barked his way over to stand protectively in front of Aidan.

“It’s ok, Faddy. She’s harmless.” Aiden reached down and scratched the dog behind the ear.

Gabriella didn’t like the fact that Aiden thought she was harmless. To the dog, she was harmless, to him, well that was something else.

“Ok, so you were on top of me?”

“That what ya have to do, Lass, if there’s no medical facility in sight.

“Sounds like a crock to me.”

“Hey, think what you want,” Aiden took the unlit cigarette out of his mouth and stuck it into his breast pocket. “If I hadn’t done it, you wouldn’t of made it til morning. But, see,” He waved his hand in front of her, looking like a model from the Price Is Right, “Here you are.”

When he continued to hold his hand out, Gabriella gave him a questioning look.

“That’s my shirt yer wearing.” A sly grin crept across his face.

“Flustered, Gabriella glanced around the room again.

“Where are my clothes?”

“Oh I hung them in there to dry out.” He pointed to the tiny bathroom connected to his bedroom.

“I’ll just be a minute.” Gabriella started toward the bathroom.

“Don’t I get my shirt first?” He grinned.

“I don’t think so.” Gabrielle shot him a fake smile.

“I told you before, I seen every inch of you but if you insist on being shy, I’ll go along.”

Gabriella’s skin grew hot with embarrassment or at least she thought it was embarrassment.

“I don’t find this funny, Mr. Sharp” Her voice bit. “I’ll bring the shirt out to you after I get dressed.”

***

Gabriella had never set foot in Dublin before in her life but the streets seemed unusually quiet for such a big city.

“Where is everybody?”

“It’s Sunday morning,” Aidan said in a matter of fact tone. “The good people of Dublin are confessing their sins at church, and he leaned in until his lips almost touched her ear. “The bad ones are either sleeping off the toot from the night before or basking in the afterglow of sex with their lovers.”

Aidan grinned as she brushed him away from her face with a limp hand.

In spite of his fresh remarks, Gabriella smiled easily for the first time in days as she walked along the sidewalk with Aiden Sharpe. McFadden ambled close behind.

“Where we going?” She asked.

“Follow me,” he replied, crossing the street. “Finnegan’s Pub. May as well start out by taking a little hair from the dog that bit ya.” He glanced back at the black lab.

“Ain’t talking about you, Faddie.”

“I still don’t recall drinking last night.”

“Not surprised. You must have been pissed out yer mind.”

The moment Gabriella stepped into Finnegan’s Pub and sat in front of the sleek, wooden bar, she felt a vague familiarity about the place. The same feeling crept over her as a short, meaty man that headed toward them.

“Finny!” Aiden shouted, arms spread wide.

“I gather he’s a friend of yours.” Gabriella commented.

“Why I’ve known Brian Finnegan since me dear ol’ mum popped me outa the womb, ain’t that right, Finnie.”

“Almost before ye was in the womb.” Brian Finnegan cackled.

“Well, let me introduce you to-“ Aiden stopped in mid-sentence. “Jesus, I don’t think you ever told me your name.”

“No, I guess I didn’t. It’s-”

“Gabriella,” The man behind the bar spoke up. “I remember ya from last night.”

“Last night? I was here last night?”

“Sure ya were,” Brian Finnegan shot her a sly grin. “Came in begging for a chocolate martini.”

Brian threw back his head and let out an explosive laugh.

“In fact, I have to say – yer the first customer I ever had who wanted a drink so bad she’d trade diamonds for it.”

 

Wow! I must admit, the old say of the mice will play while the cat’s away is true. I’ve been in transit, with no real internet connection, and left Tia and Maddie to their own devices. And devised they did! LOL. Is there such a word?

Oh well… Malak turned out to be a real ‘malaka’ and is now dead-or maybe dead. Warren may have been named Malak as well. Actually perhaps most of Gabriella’s men could be considered ‘malakes’ (use a Greek translation site for meaning. I don’t think I could explain the meaning without blushing to my fingertips and then I won’t be able to type…lol)

So, this week she’s been drugged, hallucinated with the best of them, felt really close to half a dozen men, escaped out a bathroom window-only to be captured by more men, been informed her memories were erased at her request, and has lost her twin brother!

Wow! These authors have my head spinning. And here I am trying to do some research to send her on an archeological dig!

Allow me a moment to recap Gabriella’s authors and remind you to visit their MySpace pages or websites to leave them a message. In order of appearance:

Moi-Aleka Nakis,  www.alekanakis.com,  www.myspace.com/alekanakis

Tia Fanning, www.myspace.com/tiafanning

Catherine Chernow, www.catherinechernow.com,  www.myspace.com/catherinechernow

Maddie James, www.maddiejames.com, www.myspace.com/paprbackriter

Jacquie Rogers, www.jacquierogers.com, www.myspace.com/JacquieRogers

The Writer, www.myspace.com/nome_di_piuma

Rita Karnopp, www.ritaritr.com, www.myspace.com/ritakarnopp

Lorena Streeter

The good thing is that these twisted-but fantastic-  authors have agreed to remain in Gabriella’s round robin writing schedule.  So please let us know what you want to see with Gabriella.

Next week’s line up has three new contributors and two returning writers:

Monday: McKenta Reilly

Tuesday: Susan Peek

Wednesday: Karen Kendall, www.karenkendall.com, www.myspace.com/karenkendallauthor

Thursday: Aleka Nakis

Friday: Catherine Chernow,

 

So pack your atlas, tighten your seat belt, and prepare for the adventure to intensify!

Friday, June 15, 2007

Gabriella's Summer Adventure 2.5 by Maddie James From the previous installment:  "From this moment on, you will refer to me as Master Francis, or just master. Which ever you prefer."          "Oh, cut the crap, Francis!  And can you loosen up that choker a little bit?  Geez."         Her brother did as she asked, fumbling with the clasp.  "We need to make sure it's pretty secure though, the diamonds are sewn inside."         She whirled.  "What?  Oh no.  I'm not smuggling those diamonds in.  I retired, remember?  And what was all that shit about me choosing to have my memory erased?  That's a strange lot you've got us messed up in, Francis."         "I'm just glad you played along.  I was afraid there for a minute or two that you were going to blow it."         She glared at him.  "I'm smarter than that and you know it."         "Damned straight.  I only work with smart women."         She glanced out over the street.  "So if I'm so smart, why the hell am I so frigging in the dark, huh?  You gotta tell me what is going on here, Francis.  And by the way, I thought you were in Jamaica."         He placed his hands on her shoulders.  "Change of plans.  Gabby, look.  Right now just play the game.  I'm your Master, you are my Submissive."         "But you are my freakin' twin brother!"         "Shsh…would you keep your voice down!  Hell, this is enough of a convoluted mess already, we don't need telling the world our real identities to screw it up even further."         She agreed.  "All right.  So where do we go from here?"         A rowdy crowd hustled by.  He pulled her into the shadow of a doorway.  "There is a private plane waiting for us at a smaller airport outside the city.  We'll take a cab and I'll fill you in on the way.  How's your Arabic?"         Not that damned good.  She'd not spoken it in…oh, four years?  Right before she'd retired.         And with that, he clipped a chain to the back of her choker and pushed her out into the street.  "Move, woman.  I'll get us a cab."         Gabriella grit her teeth and obeyed. ***         The puddle-jumper bumped and grinded in the night.  With every jerk Gabriella knocked her head against her window and then tried to settle back down into sleep.  Useless.  She glanced around the plane.         About 19 seats, she determined.  Small commuter.  About half of them were filled.  She'd studied those who were waiting at the airport and had a pretty good bead on most of them –except for the guy sitting directly behind her.  He was an enigma.  Difficult to get a read on.          Until this trip she'd trusted her gut about people and was spot-on the vast majority of the time.  Lately, however, she was slipping.          Francis jerked her chain.         "Would you stop that!" she whispered, leaning over.         She registered his boyhood chuckle.  "Need to keep you in line."         "I'm not doing anything."         "Yes you are."  He jerked his head back toward the guy behind her.         She mouthed.  "What?"         Her jerked her chain more and pulled her closer, still speaking on the hush.  "Stop checking him out."         Her eyes were level with his.  < SPAN>"I'm not!"         "Yes you are."         She sat back in her seat.  Francis gave her some slack.  Leaning forward, she looked out the window.  They'd moved to a lower altitude and she could see the city lights below. The plane's engine jerked, jumped, and made a funny noise.         "Shit."         That came from Francis.  She whirled to look at him.  Uh-oh.  He knew planes.  That "shit" comment didn't bode well for any of them.         Their plane nosed downward, shifted to the left.  So did she.  Francis reached over and undid her chain.  Not a good sign.         "Ladies and gentleman please make sure your seatbelts are fastened."  The co-pilot spoke in French.         "Oh, hell's bells."         "Appears we have an electrical problem, folks, nothing to worry about…"  The plane righted itself, appeared level again.  "However our landing gear is a bit…stuck."         Francis reached for her arm and pulled her closer.  He grasped her face in both his hands so she would look him straight in the eyes.  He spoke on a whisper.  "Listen to me, Gabriella.  Listen very carefully.  If anything happens to me…go to the Hotel Marrakesh.  Ask for Hakim.  He will tell you where to take the diamonds.  Do you understand me?"         Shaking her head, she returned, "Nothing is going to happen to you, Francis.  We'll be fine."         "A car is waiting.  Find it."         "But you—"         A screeching sound rent the air between them.  Gabriella covered her ears.  She searched for Francis face in the dark, then looked outside to see the lights of the city below racing up toward them.         Fast.         "We're going too fast," she whispered.         "Heads down, folks, hands over them.  Brace yourself."  She did as she was told.  Sort of.  And reached over for her brother's hand.  Found it.  Held it.  Squeezed.         The plane jostled, nosed up, then down, wavered, sluiced lower in the night sky, angled, leveled, back wheels touched down, then the nose, skidded along asphalt….         Sideways, screeching…grinding.  Sparks.  She could see sparks.       Smoke.  Putrid.          God, her guts were rattling out.         Francis.  Where was his hand?  Francis?         The plane ground to a halt.  Pitch black.  More smoke.  The co-pilot cursed in French and began working to unlatch the side cabin door.  Behind her, Mr. Mysterious had pushed her seat back up, along with pulling the Emergency latch on the exit over the wing.  She undid her belt and turned around.         "Francis.  Francis!"  She tried to see through the haze.  Her brother didn't answer.         She moved across the row.  His seat was empty.  "Francis!" she screamed.         Large hands gripped her shoulder and dragged her backward.          "No!  I can't find my brother!  Stop!  Where are you taking me?"         He thrust her out the window and onto the wing.  Pushing her from behind, she moved, still in the dark.  From out of the corner of her eye she saw a red and white lights flashing, coming closer.         Thank God.  Someone's coming to help.         She landed on the asphalt with a thump.  She looked back.  Mr. Mysterious?  "Hey!  Be careful there, big guy!  You could have broken my ankle."         She rubbed at her foot and then bolted up.  Where were the others?  The rest of the passengers?  Where was Francis?         A car came careening around the wing, screeching tires and laying rubber.  (Well, she imagined it was laying rubber, it was dark.)  Someone pushed her from behind.          "No.  I can't go.  I need to find my brother.  Francis!"         A door opened on the small sports car.  Of course, it was black, too, as was its interior, so she could barely see the thing.         Except for the whites of the eyes of the guy behind the wheel.         The man behind her pushed her again.          She whirled.  "Would you just stop!"         She landed with a thump into the passenger seat.         Mr. Mysterious leaned in, and damn! he smelled just like Mr. Smell Good.  Great.          "Get her out of here," he shouted at the driver.  "I'll go take care of the other one."         Panic raced through her.  "What?"         He slammed the door and the driver peeled out ahead of the Emergency vehicles.  She twisted in her seat to look back at the plane.  "What?  What is he doing?  Where is my brother!"         She pummeled the arm of the man driving the car.  "Where are you taking me!  What the hell is going on here!"         He braked and slammed the car into a sideways halt.  She jolted forward, nearly hitting her head on the windshield, her shoulder smashing into the dash.         For a few very lengthy seconds, they sat very still, right there, in the car, in the dark.  She didn't move.  Neither did he.  Gabriella wasn't even sure either of them breathed.         In the wink of an eye, he turned on the light.         "Warren?"  What the hell?         "Sweetheart, do you realize how happy I am to see you?"         She damned near cried.  "You have to go back.  My brother..."         He placed a calming hand on her forearm.  "Francis is safe.  No worries there.  My partner went back to find him."         "Malak?"  She wasn't sure whether to be hopeful, or not.         Sadly, he shook his head.  "No, sweetheart.  Not Malak.  I'm afraid to tell you, that Malak is dead."         Dead.       Malak is dead?      Stunned, she sat there a moment, unmoving.  Warren flipped off the light and plunged them once again into darkness.  She didn't know what to say, what to think.         Warren revved the engine of the tiny sports car.         "We need to leave sweetheart.  We need to deliver those diamonds to Hakim before midnight.  Is this the first time you've been to Morocco?"         Diamonds.  She'd all but forgotten about the stupid diamonds.  She reached up to her neck.  The choker was gone.

 

Finally, she set the cup down and took a deep breath. Warren hadn't moved. "About Malak," she began.

"What about me?"

Gabriella turned, only to meet the dark, penetrating eyes of the man she once considered an angel. She nearly passed out in shock. To think, she almost surrendered her body to him, even dreamt of him as her protector. Now, he was her most dangerous enemy. A demon in disguise.

Malak.

A devilish smirk crossed his lips, quickly turning her shock to fear. His smile, the lift of his eyebrow, and the gleam in his eyes said it all. He had her now. There was no escape. And that knee to the groin incident had not been forgotten. She would pay dearly for that insult. 

His burning gaze slowly roamed over her, igniting her skin. Her heart raced and her breath quickened. Images of him erotically torturing her naked body with his hands and lips floated through her mind. 

Perhaps his punishment would not be such a bad thing.

Gabriella was instantly horrified. What the hell was wrong with her? Was she so hard up she'd give herself over to this diamond smuggling criminal? She couldn't possibly still feel something for him. No, she didn't. Not at all.

As if he heard her thoughts, his hypnotic eyes captured hers, daring her to deny the attraction between them.

Oh, God. She couldn't. Despite all that had happened in the last forty-eight hours, she couldn't. She read so much in his intense stare. Promises of desire, passion… love? It called to her, tugging at her heart. Suddenly, an eerie sense of recognition teased her. She tried hard to capture the smoky moment, to explore the faraway memory of long ago, but she couldn't hold it. It slipped from her grasp and quickly faded, like déjà vu.

 "Hello, Malak," Warren piped in, sarcasm lacing his voice. "Please, join us."

Warren's interruption pulled Gabriella back to the here and now, and thankfully, back to her senses. Danger! Danger! Her stomach knotted as Malak continued to stare her down. What was he going to do?

Long fingers wrapped around the chair next to hers, sliding it out. The movement disturbed the air, and his alluring scent floated around her. She held her breath, refusing to fall under the spell of the devil again. Everything about him was an illusion. He didn't care for her. He was just using her. She was but a means to an end.

She warily followed his every move as he silently took a seat. This wasn't over, she knew that. Malak was just buying time because Warren was here. But what now? Should she ask Warren to take her back to the Embassy? She glanced over to the handsome man on the other side of her.

Warren gave her a reassuring smile and placed his hand over hers. "Don't worry, princess. He's not going to touch you ever again. I'll see to that."

Malak's expression turned dark. "Nice, Warren. And what exactly did you do to earn her trust?"

Something was off here. Gabriella tried to retrieve her hand, but Warren held firm.

"You know what your problem is, Malak?" Warren asked. Suddenly, rapid French spewed from his lips.

"What makes you think Gabriella would ever want you after—" Malak finished his response, but also in French.

This isn't happening…

"I want…" Gabriella pulled harder on her hand, but Warren wouldn't let go. The two men continued their conversation in low tones.  "Please, I just want—"  

"Warren. Malak.  Fancy meeting you two here."

Scott!

Gabriella let out of a breath of relief as a heavy silence descended upon the table. Nothing would happen to her with Scott around. She'd known him for years. They were college buddies. They once even shared a night of drunken passion together after attending a wild dorm party.

 She rewarded her friend a smile. "Scott, will you please—"

"One moment, princess."

Princess?

Scott sat down in the chair across from her. He looked at Warren, Warren looked at Malak, Malak looked at Scott, and then they all shared a knowing gaze. Scott whispered something to them in French, and a new conversation ensued.

Gabriella's focused on her coffee cup, but it quickly became a giant blur of color. She wasn't stupid. It was obvious they were all in league with each other. And knowing what she did about Malak meant that Scott and Warren were not the heroes she thought they were. She couldn't trust any of them.

A tear slipped down her cheek. How did she end up in such a mess? She was tired of the head games and the betrayals. She didn't understand anything that was happening around her, couldn't distinguish the truth from the lies, and no longer knew what was real, and what was not.

"Gabriella. Are you okay?" Warren gently tilted her chin up, but she refused to lift her eyes. "Good going, Malak. You've scared her."

"We're not going to hurt you, princess. You have to trust us," Malak soothed, taking her other hand into his.

She actually giggled at his declaration, remembering what happened that last time her angel said such a thing. Her eyes darted around the table. The three actually looked concerned, she'd give them that. Lying bastards.

"Do you?" he asked.

She looked to Malak. "What?"

"Trust us?"

What was the use in fighting them? She really had no other choice at the moment. She would have to play their game, for now. She nodded.

Funny, they all smiled, even relaxed a bit at her answer.

Warren squeezed her hand. "Gabriella, we're wondering—"

"Wait," she interrupted. "I'm really not feeling well. May I use the ladies room?"

They looked at each other for a few moments. Finally, Warren spoke. "You promise not to run away?"

She nodded again.

"Who would you like to go with you?"

Gabriella knew they wouldn't let her go without a chaperone. But which one to choose? She assessed the three, trying to figure out which would be easier to get away from if the opportunity presented itself. Malak was rock hard muscle, as was Warren. However, her friend was toned, but leaner.

"Scott."

Malak and Warren actually looked a little taken aback, almost offended. Scott rose from his seat and came to her side. The other two released her hands as Scott pulled out her chair and helped her up. Cupping her elbow, he led her through the maze of tables to the back of the café.

"You really have nothing to fear, Gabriella. Honestly, we would never hurt you. If anything, you are very, very dear to all of us. But there is something we need from you." Scott waited until they reached the restroom door before continuing. "We need your pack of gum. The one Malak gave you on the plane."

She put on her best poker face. "I… I'm not sure."

He looked worried. "Please, try to remember?"

"I think it might be—" Suddenly, she flung her hand over her mouth and ran through the bathroom door.

Footsteps followed as she ran for the stall and locked it behind her. Dropping to her knees, she shoved her fingers as far down her throat as she could. Instantly her gag reflex responded. She emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

A low knock sounded. She gagged herself again. More vomit spewed forth.

"Gabriella? Gabby? Open the stall?"

She faked a violent cough while wiping her mouth with toilet paper. "Scott, please, I need water. Hurry," she choked out.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Yes! The second the bathroom door closed, she rushed from the stall. She was just about to leave when she spotted the small, high window. Better chance of escape if she could avoid passing by the men all together.

She climbed the sink and unlatched the heavy glass, lifting it up. She stuck one foot out and, using one hand to keep the window from closing on her, used the other to pull herself up. Her bare arms and calves scraped against the rough metal as she swung her other leg out, but the pain was the least of her concern. She had quite a drop on the other side.

Gabriella sat for a moment, teetering half in and half out of the window, wondering if she just made a very bad decision.

The bathroom door opened. "Here's some wat—Gabriella! Get down from there!"

Scott's voice was the only prompting she needed. A moment of free falling and her feet hit the uneven alley. She fell back, landing on her behind with a jarring thud.

Run!

Her ankle was throbbing, but she forced herself to her feet. She hobbled toward the main road. At the speed she was going, the three men would catch up with her before she ever made it there.

A white van turned into the alley. Desperate, she waved to get the driver's attention. She'd take a ride from a stranger, she'd do just about anything to get away. The van slowed as it approached, rolling to stop when it reached her. The side door opened. A huge man in a black mask pulled her in.

She didn't even have time to scream before the van door was closed and the vehicle screeched off.

Gabriella fought to disengage the strong arms wrapped around her body. "Let me go!"

"Princess, stop," a gruff voice order. "We're here to rescue you."

How did they know her "nickname"?

When she stopped flailing, the man released her. She scrambled across the metal floor and into the corner of the empty van. Three men, dressed all in black, including masks, stared at her.

The large one, the one that had abducted her, was the first to whip off his face cover. Adding to his severe scowl were the stormiest grey eyes she'd ever seen. He assessed her… cold and calculating. She noticed his long dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail at the base of his neck.

She resisted the overwhelming urge to reach out and tug on it.

The next man pulled off his mask, revealing a dazzling smile. "We thought we were going to have to go in and get you. But you came to us. Wonderful!"

Gabriella blinked hard, just to make sure she wasn't seeing things. "Doctor St. Remy?"

"Please, call me Henri. Oh, and this brute here is F.C. but he rather you call him Francis. By the way, he only lets you call him that." The third guy removed his mask. "And you already know Charles."

Charles?

"Hi, Ma'am," Charlie said with a small salute.

Oh. My. God. Charlie from work? Charlie the janitor? Didn't she just fire his hottie ass three months back when she caught him going through her desk drawer? Yes, she did. She found him one night playing with her stash of chocolate cupcakes.

She shook her head. This was all too much.

Henri lifted his hand toward the driver. "And you might also recognize young Alex.

Alex tipped his head back, offering a smile and a wink before returning his eyes to the road. She did remember him! From the airport! The handsome young man with the stack of magazines in line at the newsstand. He was on her plane too!

"Alex is new to the organization," Henri continued, "but he's been the one assigned to keep an eye on you lately."

"You've been following me? What organization?"

 The doctor hesitated and looked to Francis, who shook his head.

Oh, no. She just traded one set of captors for another.

Henri removed a medical bag from the front seat and crawled to her side. "Let me look at your ankle."

She flinched back. "Don't touch me."

"Gabriella, I'm really a doctor. Look, I'll explain everything to you, but only if you let me tend to your injuries."

His warm hazel eyes looked sincere enough. But could she trust him? It seemed she couldn't trust anyone anymore. She looked at her feet. Her ankle was hurting something fierce.

She nodded.

Steady hands lifted her foot and examined the swollen area. "You've had quite an adventure the last couple of days," the doctor remarked as he gently slid her flip-flop off. Digging into his bag, he removed a roll of cloth bandage.

"And it seems I'm on another one," she muttered.

Henri began wrapping the bandage around her ankle. "We were just about to raid the restaurant to get you. Then our person on the inside radioed in. He informed us that you hadn't left the bathroom yet, but some commotion happening back there. We had a feeling you might have gone out the window."

"How did you know I needed to be rescued?"

Henri removed a couple alcohol pads and a small bottle antibacterial gel from his bag. "We're your friends." He opened the packets and rubbed the pads on her scraped arms and legs.

Gabriella winced at the sting. "I really don't know any of you."

Henri placed dressing and tape on the more severe cuts. "You know us. You've met all of us at least once in your life, princess."

"The men I was running from also called me princess," she whispered.

Nothing. No comment from any of them.

The doctor took her hand into his and rotated it at the wrist, checking for breaks. Satisfied, he wiped her palm clean with a pad.

The silence was eating at her. "Please, who are you? Just tell me. I- I- I need to know," she stammered.

Henri stopped his examination and met her gaze. Something in his eyes gleamed. Regret? No something deeper. She looked at his hands as they held hers. His touch seemed so familiar. Why was that?

"How do you know me!" she cried, pulling her hand out of his grasp.

"As I said, we're your friends. We've all been in and out of your life for the last ten years."

Gabriella gave an empty laugh of disbelief.  "Charlie and I just met last year. And you, doctor, I met this morning. Alex I saw two days ago at the airport. And Francis, we've never met until now."

What made her think that the doctor would be honest with her? There was no way she'd known these four that long. She wouldn't have forgotten a single moment she spent with these men. How could she?

"You've known Scott, Malak and Warren for as long as you've known us."

Lies! Lies! Lies! "You're wrong. I've known Scott since college, but I only met Warren once, and that was last year. I just met Malak. Why do you insist on lying to me?" 

"Gabriella, I know it's hard, but trust me. You know Malak. You know Francis. And even though you don't remember me, you and I know each other very well, too."

 "Don't, Henri," Francis interjected. "Can't you see? You're only upsetting her more. Leave it. "

"No," the doctor hissed. "She needs to know the truth. No brainwashing, no hypnosis, no drugs. No more."

Gabriella gasped. "Drugs? Brainwashing? What—"

"Then we just let her go," Francis interrupted. "She can start a new life somewhere without our interference in it."

Henri shook his head. "Could you let her go so easily, F.C.? Let her walk out of your life forever? I know I can't. And neither can Malak or Warren. They've actually compromised their mission for her. And we've compromised our relationship with them to rescue her."

She didn't understand any of it. "Tell me what's going on! Don't talk about me like I'm not here!"

Henri turned back to her, his expression softening. "In these last days, as you met with each of us, didn't you feel some sort of connection? Like you've always known us? Maybe something akin to déjà vu?

Malak. Warren. Scott. Yes. She looked at Alex, driving silently and concentrating on the road. No, not with him. Her gaze moved to Charlie. No, him neither. She met Henri's concerned eyes. Yes, she felt something there she couldn't quite explain. Like she'd known him forever, but…  She turned toward Francis. Even if she didn't feel it, which she did, his solemn expression would have told her the answer. Yes.

Oh, God. Henri was telling the truth. But no matter how hard she tried, she could remember him. The stress of the situation, the unanswered questions, everything was just wrong. Her world was literally crashing around her. She tried to stop the tears, but couldn't.

She covered her face with her hands. "What's happening to me? Is this some horrible nightmare?"

Strong arms gathered around her. "Please don't cry, Princess," Henri whispered in her ear.

She pulled away. "Why do you all call me that! I'm not a princess! Who are you people!"

"We all work for an organization that specializes in gathering information."

"What?" she hiccupped. "Like the CIA?"

"No, more covert. We don't officially exist."</FONT>

"So what do I have to do with this? How do we know each other? I don't understand."

Henri let out a heavy sigh. "God forgive me, but you are, or were, our number one source of information. If you weren't feeding us information, you were moving things for us. Every business trip you took, or vacation, there was a good possibility you carried a critical piece of information, or a disk, or a document, etc."

"Why me? Why not someone else?" she asked, still unable to believe the things she was hearing, but somehow, deep inside, knowing it was the truth.

Lifting his hand, Henri used his thumb to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Because you have a highly photographic memory, an ability to look or hear something one time and retain all those details in your mind. Not most information-- all of it. Down to the punctuation. It's uncanny."

She'd always had a good memory, but not to the extent he was talking about. And if everything Henri said was true, her memory wasn't even adequate anymore. For the life of her, she couldn't remember him.

 "Papers can be lost. Phone calls can be tapped into. E-mails can be monitored and disks stolen. But only a handful of us can access the information you have in your head. After you give us the information we need, we alter the memory or erase it completely. Most of us didn't even allow you to remember meeting with us."

Brainwashing? Hypnosis? Drugs?

The last two days played in her mind. The weird erotic dreams, the inconsistencies, the feeling that she was missing something important… Could it really be possible that they were drugging her up, messing with her mind, erasing her memories?

Realization dawn on her. Henri had said she'd known all of them very well.

Her body shook in despair. "That's what you meant? Known, as in intimately. How could you? I've been with all… I can't even remem… what am I? Some piece of ass? Your plaything? You used me and then took the memory away?"

"No, no, Gabriella. You are our princess. We've always taken care of you. It just wouldn't be fair to walk in and out of your life, especially after some of the special moments you've shared with some of us. We didn't want you to be hurt. We were trying to protect you."

 Francis crawled over and sat next to her. "Princess, you've not been with all of us. We never manipulated your feelings. You chose who you chose, and it seems that we all were too weak to resist you. However, as each of our time with you ended, we did what we felt was best so you could move on with your life. We made ourselves non-existent to you. Understand, our missions take us away for long periods, and it wouldn't have been right to make you wait for our return."

It all made sense now. How she always seemed to be alone, but never felt lonely. How she never had close-close friends, but always felt comforted.

"I was always working. How could all this have happened when I was working so much," she asked.

"Your boss is on our payroll," Charlie whispered. "He sent you where we told him to, he gave you time off when we told him to. And when I found out what his intentions toward you were—let's just say he stopped being so forward. If you hadn't quit, you would've been promoted by the end of the year."

Pure anger surged through her. "So what, you all turn on and turn off my memories at will? You manipulate my life? What gives you the right?"

"Gabriella, the intelligence you carried helped prevent at least three major conflicts and countless terrorist attacks. You've helped us overthrow dictators, and put an end to major underground activities such as child slavery and a human trafficking ring."

"Then why didn't you just hire me!" she screamed. "Why the lies, why the deceit! Why not just ask!"

"We did," Francis said quietly.

Henri held up his hand. "F.C., don't. We all promised her we'd never mention—"

"You did work with us once, right after you graduated college. You couldn't take… it hurt you to much to know that such terrible things went on in the world. So you left."

"Why?"

 "It happened after a failed mission," Henri murmured. "Your team went out-- you and three escorts. Information about an imminent attack was passed on to you. Before you could board the plane and leave the country, you and your escorts were detained and arrested. By the time we were able to rescue you, the attack had occurred and many died. The guilt you felt… You wanted out, but you knew how important your skills were to the mission. You were the one who asked for it to be this way."< O:P>

<P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; LINE-HEIGHT: 25pt; mso-pagination: none; mso-line-height-rule: exactly">No, that didn't make sense. "Then why didn't you just erase the one memory? Why would I leave my job if it was so important? Tell me the truth. I want to know."

Charlie took a shallow breath. "Before we could get there, your escorts were executed, and what you endured during the three days you spent in prison was--"

"Enough!" Francis ordered.

A cold, horrible feeling slithered into her core. She decided right then she didn't want to remember.

"Why am I here now? What has changed?"

"Warren, Scott and Malak," Charlie answered. "It started with a disagreement a mission. We couldn't choose a side, so to say, since the one is not any better than the other. However, not choosing one could lead to a long drawn out civil war. But Malak wants to retire, as does Warren, so they chose to help the side that offered the most money for the information. But we had no idea they had dragged you into this mess until Alex called back tell the rest of us that Warren and Malak had come to get you."

Henry continued, "When you fell ill on the plane mid-flight and the plane was diverted here, Warren called me in to check on you. They told me about your hallucinations, your dreams, how your memories were fading in and out. And I realized that the serum they've been giving you was not working properly. Your mind is rejecting the drug and our suggestions. The side effects have been severe. Your headaches, your fainting spells, and as I mentioned before, the dreams and hallucinations.

"The plane was diverted here because of the terrorists, not because I was sick."

Princess," said Charlie, "The plane was never hijacked."

"Yes, it was. They poisoned the air. Everyone fell asleep. Malak and Warren stopped it."

"Then why didn't they fall asleep too?"

"They told me they had on invisible masks. There was a gun in my lap. Someone asked for it. Warren said it was dangerous. I got out of my seat. The plane tipped and I fell into Warren's lap. He told me to do whatever Malak said. Later, after I was interrogated about the incident and talked to the media, I found out they were Air Marshalls. We went out to dinner."

"No, Gabriella. That's not how it happened," Alex spoke up. "I was there. Malak came on board and gave you the pack of gum with the diamonds in it. You took a piece, and placed the pack in your bag. You all talked. The serum, which was in the gum, kicked in and Malak discussed some details of the mission with you. You went to sleep. Everything was okay until around mid-flight when you woke up asked for water. Malak got up to get you some."

"You know about the diamonds?"

Charlie shook his head. "Yes, the three tiny microchips hidden in the pack of gum?

"Then what really happened?"

"While he was gone, you wanted to leave your seat. Warren, who was sitting across the aisle from you, said it was dangerous for you to do so. You got up anyway and fell right into his lap. Malak tried to collect and put you back in your own seat. You fought, kicking and punching at him. Then you fainted. The plane was diverted here. You were taken to the hospital. You were never interrogated and you never spoke to the media."

"But if it didn't happen the way I remembered, then why did Warren and Malak not tell me?"

Henri shook his head. "Not to upset you maybe? I don't know."

"If you work with Malak and Scott and Warren, then why are you taking me away from them?"

"It wasn't fair of them to interrupt your life the way they did."

"What? How? What did they do?"

"Well, they convinced you to leave your job. After that, they talked you into taking that trip to the UAE-- one, so they could use you to help them complete the mission, and two, in the hopes that when it's all over, you'd choose to stay with one of them. Things have gotten heated as they compete for your attention."

The van slowed and came to stop. Gabriella panicked. "Where are we?"

Francis opened the door. "At a private airport. I'm taking you somewhere safe until this mess is straightened out." He jumped out onto the runway.

Henri helped her up and led her to the exit. "But what about Malak and Warren?" she asked. "Won't they come looking for me? They want the location of the diamonds."

"Yes, they'll be looking for you. If we had gone in and taken you from the cafe, they would have known immediately it was us. However, since you climbed out the window, you bought yourself some time and some privacy. It will take them a while to figure out where you ran off to and who you're with."

He handed her off to Francis. Large strong hands grasped her waist and lifted her down. "Oh, and I have the microchips," the doctor assured her.

Gabriella gazed up at Henri in astonishment. "How?"

"I know you well, princess. And I know where you like to hide things." He leaned down and gave her a searing kiss. "Don't worry. I'll make sure the mission is completed," he mumbled as he pulled away from her lips.

"You're not going with me?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, love. But I might catch up with you later."

"Wait! What do—"

The van began driving off. "Enjoy your time with Master Francis," Henri hollered. "You always did seem to love his kind of attention."

 Gabriella watched the van until it disappeared in the distance. She smiled, remembering the awesome kiss Henri gave her, and hoped he didn't wait to long to find her again.

Did Henry say Master Francis?

Gabriella turned to her new companion only to find his intense grey eyes contemplating her. Something about the way he looked at her made her stomach flutter. He was so… male.

She still wasn't sure of the situation she was in or who she should trust. But what could she do?

Go with the flow, try to make the best of it, and pray to God that they weren't lying when they said you were safe with them.

"What now, Francis?" she asked lightly. "Are we going somewhere on that plane, or are we just going to stand here?"

He pulled a small black necklace out of his pocket. "Turn around and lift your hair, Gabriella."

The way he said her name brought goose bumps to her skin. She hesitated for a moment, then something inside warned her not to disobey. She did as he asked, finding the action familiar, maybe even comforting.

Swift hands buckled the velvet choker around her neck. "From this moment on, you will call me Master Francis, or just master. Which ever you prefer."

 

Thursday, June 14, 2007 Gabriella's Summer Adventure 2.4 by Tia Fanning Finally, she set the cup down and took a deep breath. Warren hadn't moved. "About Malak," she began. "What about me?" Gabriella turned, only to meet the dark, penetrating eyes of the man she once considered an angel. She nearly passed out in shock. To think, she almost surrendered her body to him, even dreamt of him as her protector. Now, he was her most dangerous enemy. A demon in disguise. Malak. A devilish smirk crossed his lips, quickly turning her shock to fear. His smile, the lift of his eyebrow, and the gleam in his eyes said it all. He had her now. There was no escape. And that knee to the groin incident had not been forgotten. She would pay dearly for that insult.  His burning gaze slowly roamed over her, igniting her skin. Her heart raced and her breath quickened. Images of him erotically torturing her naked body with his hands and lips floated through her mind.  Perhaps his punishment would not be such a bad thing. Gabriella was instantly horrified. What the hell was wrong with her? Was she so hard up she'd give herself over to this diamond smuggling criminal? She couldn't possibly still feel something for him. No, she didn't. Not at all. As if he heard her thoughts, his hypnotic eyes captured hers, daring her to deny the attraction between them. Oh, God. She couldn't. Despite all that had happened in the last forty-eight hours, she couldn't. She read so much in his intense stare. Promises of desire, passion… love? It called to her, tugging at her heart. Suddenly, an eerie sense of recognition teased her. She tried hard to capture the smoky moment, to explore the faraway memory of long ago, but she couldn't hold it. It slipped from her grasp and quickly faded, like déjà vu.  "Hello, Malak," Warren piped in, sarcasm lacing his voice. "Please, join us." Warren's interruption pulled Gabriella back to the here and now, and thankfully, back to her senses. Danger! Danger! Her stomach knotted as Malak continued to stare her down. What was he going to do?'s interruption pulled Gabriella back to the here and now, and thankfully, back to her senses. Danger! Danger! Her stomach knotted as Malak continued to stare her down. What was he going to do? Long fingers wrapped around the chair next to hers, sliding it out. The movement disturbed the air, and his alluring scent floated around her. She held her breath, refusing to fall under the spell of the devil again. Everything about him was an illusion. He didn't care for her. He was just using her. She was but a means to an end. She warily followed his every move as he silently took a seat. This wasn't over, she knew that. Malak was just buying time because Warren was here. But what now? Should she ask Warren to take her back to the Embassy? She glanced over to the handsome man on the other side of her. Warren gave her a reassuring smile and placed his hand over hers. "Don't worry, princess. He's not going to touch you ever again. I'll see to that." gave her a reassuring smile and placed his hand over hers. "Don't worry, princess. He's not going to touch you ever again. I'll see to that." Malak's expression turned dark. "Nice, Warren. And what exactly did you do to earn her trust?" Something was off here. Gabriella tried to retrieve her hand, but Warren held firm. "You know what your problem is, Malak?" Warren asked. Suddenly, rapid French spewed from his lips. "What makes you think Gabriella would ever want you after—" Malak finished his response, but also in French. This isn't happening… "I want…" Gabriella pulled harder on her hand, but Warren wouldn't let go. The two men continued their conversation in low tones.  "Please, I just want—"   "Warren. Malak.  Fancy meeting you two here." Scott! Gabriella let out of a breath of relief as a heavy silence descended upon the table. Nothing would happen to her with Scott around. She'd known him for years. They were college buddies. They once even shared a night of drunken passion together after attending a wild dorm party.  She rewarded her friend a smile. "Scott, will you please—" "One moment, princess." Princess? Scott sat down in the chair across from her. He looked at Warren, Warren looked at Malak, Malak looked at Scott, and then they all shared a knowing gaze. Scott whispered something to them in French, and a new conversation ensued. Gabriella's focused on her coffee cup, but it quickly became a giant blur of color. She wasn't stupid. It was obvious they were all in league with each other. And knowing what she did about Malak meant that Scott and Warren were not the heroes she thought they were. She couldn't trust any of them. A tear slipped down her cheek. How did she end up in such a mess? She was tired of the head games and the betrayals. She didn't understand anything that was happening around her, couldn't distinguish the truth from the lies, and no longer knew what was real, and what was not. "Gabriella. Are you okay?" Warren gently tilted her chin up, but she refused to lift her eyes. "Good going, Malak. You've scared her." "We're not going to hurt you, princess. You have to trust us," Malak soothed, taking her other hand into his. She actually giggled at his declaration, remembering what happened that last time her angel said such a thing. Her eyes darted around the table. The three actually looked concerned, she'd give them that. Lying bastards. "Do you?" he asked. She looked to Malak. "What?" "Trust us?" What was the use in fighting them? She really had no other choice at the moment. She would have to play their game, for now. She nodded. Funny, they all smiled, even relaxed a bit at her answer. Warren squeezed her hand. "Gabriella, we're wondering—" squeezed her hand. "Gabriella, we're wondering—" "Wait," she interrupted. "I'm really not feeling well. May I use the ladies room?" They looked at each other for a few moments. Finally, Warren spoke. "You promise not to run away?" She nodded again. "Who would you like to go with you?" Gabriella knew they wouldn't let her go without a chaperone. But which one to choose? She assessed the three, trying to figure out which would be easier to get away from if the opportunity presented itself. Malak was rock hard muscle, as was Warren. However, her friend was toned, but leaner. "Scott." Malak and Warren actually looked a little taken aback, almost offended. Scott rose from his seat and came to her side. The other two released her hands as Scott pulled out her chair and helped her up. Cupping her elbow, he led her through the maze of tables to the back of the café. "You really have nothing to fear, Gabriella. Honestly, we would never hurt you. If anything, you are very, very dear to all of us. But there is something we need from you." Scott waited until they reached the restroom door before continuing. "We need your pack of gum. The one Malak gave you on the plane." She put on her best poker face. "I… I'm not sure." He looked worried. "Please, try to remember?" "I think it might be—" Suddenly, she flung her hand over her mouth and ran through the bathroom door. Footsteps followed as she ran for the stall and locked it behind her. Dropping to her knees, she shoved her fingers as far down her throat as she could, instantly her gag reflex responded. She emptied the contents of stomach into the toilet. A low knock sounded. She gagged herself again. More vomit spewed forth. "Gabriella? Gabby? Open the stall?" She faked a violent cough while wiping her mouth with toilet paper. "Scott, please, I need water. Hurry," she choked out. "Okay, I'll be right back." Yes! The second the bathroom door closed, she rushed from the stall. She was just about to leave when she spotted the small, high window. Better chance of escape if she could avoid passing by the men all together. She climbed the sink and unlatched the heavy glass, lifting it up. She stuck one foot out and, using one hand to keep the window from closing on her, used the other to pull herself up. Her bare arms and calves scraped against the rough metal as she swung her other leg out, but the pain was the least of her concern. She had quite a drop on the other side. Gabriella sat for a moment, teetering half in and half out of the window, wondering if she just made a very bad decision. The bathroom door opened. "Here's some wat—Gabriella! Get down from there!" Scott's voice was the only prompting she needed. A moment of free falling and her feet hit the uneven alley. She fell back, landing on her behind with a jarring thud. Run! Her ankle was throbbing, but she forced herself to her feet. She hobbled toward the main road. At the speed she was going, the three men would catch up with her before she ever made it there. A white van turned into the alley. Desperate, she waved to get the driver's attention. She'd take a ride from a stranger, she'd do just about anything to get away. The van slowed as it approached, rolling to stop when it reached her. The side door opened. A huge man in a black mask pulled her in. She didn't even have time to scream before the van door was closed and the vehicle screeched off. Gabriella fought to disengage the strong arms wrapped around her body. "Let me go!" "Princess, stop," a gruff voice order. "We're here to rescue you." How did they know her "nickname"? When she stopped flailing, the man released her. She scrambled across the metal floor and into the corner of the empty van. Three men, dressed all in black, including masks, stared at her. The large one, the one that had abducted her, was the first to whip off his face cover. Adding to his severe scowl were the stormiest grey eyes she'd ever seen. He assessed her… cold and calculating. She noticed his long dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail at the base of his neck. She resisted the urge to reach out and tug on it. The next man pulled off his mask, revealing a dazzling smile. "We thought we were going to have to go in and get you. But you came to us. Wonderful!" Gabriella blinked hard, just to make sure she wasn't seeing things. " Doctor St. Remy?" Doctor St. Remy?" "Please, call me Henri. Oh, and this brute here is F.C. but he rather you call him Francis. By the way, he only lets you call him that." The third guy removed his mask. "And you already know Charles." Charles? "Hi, Ma'am," Charlie said with a small salute. Oh. My. God. Charlie from work? Charlie the janitor? Didn't she just fire his hottie ass three months back when she caught him going through her desk drawer? Yes, she did. She found him one night playing with her stash of chocolate cupcakes. She shook her head. This was all too much. Henri lifted his hand toward the driver. "And you might also recognize young Alex. Alex tipped his head back, offering a smile and a wink before returning his eyes to the road. She did remember him! From the airport! The handsome young man with the stack of magazines in line at the newsstand. He was on her plane too! "Alex is new to the organization," Henri continued, "but he's been the one assigned to keep an eye on you lately." "You've been following me? What organization?"  The doctor hesitated and looked to Francis, who shook his head. Oh, no. She just traded one set of captors for another. Henri removed a medical bag from the front seat and crawled to her side. "Let me look at your ankle." She flinched back. "Don't touch me." "Gabriella, I'm really a doctor. Look, I'll explain everything to you, but only if you let me tend to your injuries." His warm hazel eyes looked sincere enough. But could she trust him? It seemed she couldn't trust anyone anymore. She looked at her feet. Her ankle was hurting something fierce. She nodded. Steady hands lifted her foot and examined the swollen area. "You've had quite an adventure the last couple of days," the doctor remarked as he gently slid her flip-flop off. Digging into his bag, he removed a roll of cloth bandage. "And it seems I'm on another one," she muttered. Henri began wrapping the bandage around her ankle. "We were just about to raid the restaurant to get you. Then our person on the inside radioed in. He informed us that you hadn't left the bathroom yet, and that there was some commotion happening in there. We had a feeling you might have gone out the window." "How did you know I needed to be rescued?" Henri removed a couple alcohol pads and a small bottle antibacterial gel from his bag. "We're your friends." He opened the packets and rubbed the pads on her scraped arms and legs. Gabriella winced at the sting. "I really don't know any of you." Henri placed dressing and tape on the more severe cuts. "You know us. You've met all of us at least once in your life, princess." "The men I was running from also called me princess," she whispered. Nothing. No comment from any of them. The doctor took her hand into his and rotated it at the wrist, checking for breaks. Satisfied, he wiped her palm clean with a pad. The silence was eating at her. "Please, who are you? Just tell me. I- I- I need to know," she stammered. Henri stopped his examination and met her gaze. Something in his eyes gleamed. Regret? No something deeper. She looked at his hands as they held hers. His touch seemed so familiar. Why was that? "How do you know me!" she cried, pulling her hand out of his grasp. "As I said, we're your friends. We've all been in and out of your life for the last ten years." Gabriella gave an empty laugh of disbelief.  "Charlie and I just met last year. And you, doctor, I met this morning. Alex I saw two days ago at the airport. And Francis, we've never met until now." What made her think that the doctor would be honest with her? There was no way she'd known these four that long. She wouldn't have forgotten a single moment she spent with these men. How could she? "You've known Scott, Malak and Warren for as long as you've known us." Lies! Lies! Lies! "You're wrong. I've known Scott since college, but I only met Warren once, and that was last year. I just met Malak. Why do you insist on lying to me?"  "Gabriella, I know it's hard, but trust me. You know Malak. You know Francis. And even though you don't remember me, you and I know each other very well, too."  "Don't, Henri," Francis interjected. "Can't you see? You're only upsetting her more. Leave it. " "No," the doctor hissed. "She needs to know the truth. No brainwashing, no hypnosis, no drugs. No more." Gabriella gasped. "Drugs? Brainwashing? What—" "Then we just let her go," Francis interrupted. "She can start a new life somewhere without our interference in it." Henri shook his head. "Could you let her go so easily, F.C.? Let her walk out of your life forever? I know I can't. And neither can Malak or Warren. They've actually compromised their mission for her. And we've compromised our relationship with them to rescue her." She didn't understand any of it. "Tell me what's going on! Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" Henri turned back to her, his expression softening. "In these last days, as you met with each of us, didn't you feel some sort of connection? Like you've always known us? Maybe something akin to déjà vu? Malak. Warren. Scott. Yes. She looked at Alex, driving silently and concentrating on the road. No, not with him. Her gaze moved to Charlie. No, him neither. She met Henri's concerned eyes. Yes, she felt something there she couldn't quite explain. Like she'd known him forever, but…  She turned toward Francis. Even if she didn't feel it, which she did, his solemn expression would have told her the answer. Yes. Oh, God. Henri was telling the truth. But no matter how hard she tried, she could remember him. The stress of the situation, the unanswered questions, everything was just wrong. Her world was literally crashing around her. She tried to stop the tears, but couldn't. She covered her face with her hands. "What's happening to me? Is this some horrible nightmare?" Strong arms gathered around her. "Please don't cry, Princess," Henri whispered in her ear. She pulled away. "Why do you all call me that! I'm not a princess! Who are you people!" "We all work for an organization that specializes in gathering information." "What?" she hiccupped. "Like the CIA?" "No, more covert. We don't officially exist." "So what do I have to do with this? How do we know each other? I don't understand." Henri let out a heavy sigh. "God forgive me, but you are, or were, our number one source of information. If you weren't feeding us information, you were moving things for us. Every business trip you took, or vacation, there was a good possibility you carried a critical piece of information, or a disk, or a document, etc." "Why me? Why not someone else?" she asked, still unable to believe the things she was hearing, but somehow, deep inside, knowing it was the truth. Lifting his hand, Henri used his thumb to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Because you have a highly photographic memory, an ability to look or hear something one time and retain all those details in your mind. Not most information-- all of it. Down to the punctuation. It's uncanny." She'd always had a good memory, but not to the extent he was talking about. And if everything Henri said was true, her memory wasn't even adequate anymore. For the life of her, she couldn't remember him.  "Papers can be lost. Phone calls can be tapped into. E-mails can be monitored and disks stolen. But only a handful of us can access the information you have in your head. After you give us the information we need, we alter the memory or erase it completely. Most of us didn't even allow you to remember meeting with us." Brainwashing? Hypnosis? Drugs? The last two days played in her mind. The weird erotic dreams, the inconsistencies, the feeling that she was missing something important… Could it really be possible that they were drugging her up, messing with her mind, erasing her memories? Realization dawn on her. Henri had said she'd known all of them very well. Her body shook in despair. "That's what you meant? Known, as in intimately. How could you? I've been with all… I can't even remem… what am I? Some piece of ass? Your plaything? You used me and then took the memory away?" "No, no, Gabriella. You are our princess. We've always taken care of you. It just wouldn't be fair to walk in and out of your life, especially after some of the special moments you've shared with some of us. We didn't want you to be hurt. We were trying to protect you."  Francis crawled over and sat next to her. "Princess, you've not been with all of us. We never manipulated your feelings. You chose who you chose, and it seems that we all were too weak to resist you. However, as each of our time with you ended, we did what we felt was best so you could move on with your life. We made ourselves non-existent to you. Understand, our missions take us away for long periods, and it wouldn't have been right to make you wait for our return." It all made sense now. How she always seemed to be alone, but never felt lonely. How she never had close-close friends, but always felt comforted. "I was always working. How could all this have happened when I was working so much," she asked. "Your boss is on our payroll," Charlie whispered. "He sent you where we told him to, he gave you time off when we told him to. And when I found out what his intentions toward you were—let's just say he stopped being so forward. If you hadn't quit, you would've been promoted by the end of the year." Pure anger surged through her. "So what, you all turn on and turn off my memories at will? You manipulate my life? What gives you the right?" "Gabriella, the intelligence you carried helped prevent at least three major conflicts and countless terrorist attacks. You've helped us overthrow dictators, and put an end to major underground activities such as child slavery and a human trafficking ring." "Then why didn't you just hire me!" she screamed. "Why the lies, why the deceit! Why not just ask!" "We did," Francis said quietly. Henri held up his hand. "F.C., don't. We all promised her we'd never mention—" "You did work with us once, right after you graduated college. You couldn't take… it hurt you to much to know that such terrible things went on in the world. So you left." "Why?"  "It happened after a failed mission," Henri murmured. "Your team went out-- you and three escorts. Information about an imminent attack was passed on to you. Before you could board the plane and leave the country, you and your escorts were detained and arrested. By the time we were able to rescue you, the attack had occurred and many died. The guilt you felt… You wanted out, but you knew how important your skills were to the mission. You were the one who asked for it to be this way." No, that didn't make sense. "Then why didn't you just erase the one memory? Why would I leave my job if it was so important? Tell me the truth. I want to know." Charlie took a shallow breath. "Before we could get there, your escorts were executed, and what you endured during the three days you spent in prison was--" "Enough!" Francis ordered. A cold, horrible feeling slithered into her core. She decided right then she didn't want to remember. "Why am I here now? What has changed?" "Warren, Scott and Malak," Charlie answered. "It started with a disagreement a mission. We couldn't choose a side, so to say, since the one is not any better than the other. However, not choosing one could lead to a long drawn out civil war. But Malak wants to retire, as does Warren, so they chose to help the side that offered the most money for the information. But we had no idea they had dragged you into this mess until Alex called back tell the rest of us that Warren and Malak had come to get you." Henry continued, "When you fell ill on the plane mid-flight and the plane was diverted here, Warren called me in to check on you. They told me about your hallucinations, your dreams, how your memories were fading in and out. And I realized that the serum they've been giving you was not working properly. Your mind is rejecting the suggestions, along with the serum. The side effects have been severe. Your headaches, your fainting spells, and as I mentioned before, the dreams and hallucinations. "The plane was diverted here because of the terrorists, not because I was sick." Princess," said Charlie, "The plane was never hijacked." "Yes, it was. They poisoned the air. Everyone fell asleep. Malak and Warren stopped it." "Then why didn't they fall asleep too?" "They told me they had on invisible masks. There was a gun in my lap. Someone asked for it. Warren said it was dangerous. I got out of my seat. The plane tipped and I fell into Warren's lap. He told me to do whatever Malak said. Later, after I was interrogated about the incident and talked to the media, I found out they were Air Marshalls. We went out to dinner." "No, Gabriella. That's not how it happened," Alex spoke up. "I was there. Malak came on board and gave you the pack of gum with the diamonds in it. You took a piece, and placed the pack in your bag. You all talked. The serum, which was in the gum, kicked in and Malak discussed some details of the mission with you. You went to sleep. Everything was okay until around mid-flight when you woke up asked for water. Malak got up to get you some." "You know about the diamonds?" Charlie shook his head. "Yes, the three tiny microchips hidden in the pack of gum? "Then what really happened?" "While he was gone, you wanted to leave your seat. Warren, who was sitting across the aisle from you, said it was dangerous for you to do so. You got up anyway, and fell right into his lap. Malak tried to collect and put you back in your own seat. You fought, kicking and punching at him. Then you fainted. The plane was diverted here. You were taken to the hospital. You were never interrogated and you never spoke to the media." "But if it didn't happen the wya I remembered, then why did Warren and Malak not tell me?" Henri shook his head. "Not to upset you maybe? I don't know." "If you work with Malak and Scott and Warren, then why are you taking me away from them?" "It wasn't fair of them to interrupt your life the way they did." "What? How? What did they do?" "Well, they convinced you to leave your job. After that, they talked you into taking that trip to the UAE-- one, so they could use you to help them complete the mission, and two, in the hopes that when it's all over, you'd choose to stay with one of them. Things have gotten heated as they compete for your attention." The van slowed and came to stop. Gabriella panicked. "Where are we?" Francis opened the door. "At a private airport. I'm taking you somewhere safe until this mess is straightened out." He jumped out onto the runway. Henri helped her up and led her to the exit. "But what about Malak and Warren?" she asked. "Won't they come looking for me? They want the location of the diamonds." "Yes, they'll be looking for you. If we had gone in and taken you from the cafe, they would have known immediately it was us. However, since you climbed out the window, you bought yourself some time, and some privacy. It will take them a while to figure out where you ran off to and who you're with." He handed her off to Francis. Large strong hands grasped her waist and lifted her down. "Oh, and I have the microchips," the doctor assured her. Gabriella gazed up at Henri in astonishment. "How?" "I know you well, princess. And I know where you like to hide things." He leaned down and gave her a searing kiss. "Don't worry. I'll make sure the mission is completed," he mumbled as he pulled away from her lips. "You're not going with me?" He shook his head. "Sorry, love. I might meet up with you later." "Wait! What do—" The van began driving off. "Enjoy your time with Master Francis," Henri hollered. "You always did seem to love his kind of attention."  Gabriella watched the van until it disappeared in the distance. She smiled, remembering the awesome kiss Henri gave her, and hoped he didn't wait to long to find her again. Did Henry say Master Francis? Gabriella turned to her new companion only to find his intense grey eyes contemplating her. Something about the way he looked at her made her stomach fluttered. He was so… male. She still wasn't sure of the situation she was in or who she should trust. But what could she do? Go with the flow, try to make the best of it, and pray to God that they weren't lying when they said you were safe with them. "What now, Francis?" she asked lightly. "Are we going somewhere on that plane, or are we just going to stand here?" He pulled a small black necklace out of his pocket. "Turn around and lift your hair, Gabriella." The way he said her name brought goose bumps to her skin. She hesitated for a moment, then something inside warned her not to disobey. She did as he asked, finding the action familiar, maybe even comforting. Swift hands buckled the velvet choker around her neck. "From this moment on, you will call me Master Francis, or just master. Which ever you prefer." Francis opened the door. "At a private airport. I'm taking you somewhere safe until this mess is straightened out." He jumped out onto the runway. Henri helped her up and led her to the exit. "But what about Malak and Warren?" she asked. "Won't they come looking for me? They want the location of the diamonds." "Yes, they'll be looking for you. If we had gone in and taken you from the cafe, they would have known immediately it was us. However, since you climbed out the window, you bought yourself some time, and some privacy. It will take them a while to figure out where you ran off to and who you're with." He handed her off to Francis. Large strong hands grasped her waist and lifted her down. "Oh, and I have the microchips," the doctor assured her. Gabriella gazed up at Henri in astonishment. "How?" "I know you well, princess. And I know where you like to hide things." He leaned down and gave her a searing kiss. "Don't worry. I'll make sure the mission is completed," he mumbled as he pulled away from her lips. "You're not going with me?" He shook his head. "Sorry, love. I might meet up with you later." "Wait! What do—" The van began driving off. "Enjoy your time with Master Francis," Henri hollered. "You always did seem to love his kind of attention."  Gabriella watched the van until it disappeared in the distance. She smiled, remembering the awesome kiss Henri gave her, and hoped he didn't wait to long to find her again. Did Henry say Master Francis? Gabriella turned to her new companion only to find his intense grey eyes contemplating her. Something about the way he looked at her made her stomach fluttered. He was so… male. She still wasn't sure of the situation she was in or who she should trust. But what could she do? Go with the flow, try to make the best of it, and pray to God that they weren't lying when they said you were safe with them. "What now, Francis?" she asked lightly. "Are we going somewhere on that plane, or are we just going to stand here?" He pulled a small black necklace out of his pocket. "Turn around and lift your hair, Gabriella." The way he said her name brought goose bumps to her skin. She hesitated for a moment, then something inside warned her not to disobey. She did as he asked, finding the action familiar, maybe even comforting. Swift hands buckled the velvet choker around her neck. "From this moment on, you will call me Master Francis, or just master. Which ever you prefer." Francis opened the door. "At a private airport. I'm taking you somewhere safe until this mess is straightened out." He jumped out onto the runway. Henri helped her up and led her to the exit. "But what about Malak and Warren?" she asked. "Won't they come looking for me? They want the location of the diamonds." "Yes, they'll be looking for you. If we had gone in and taken you from the cafe, they would have known immediately it was us. However, since you climbed out the window, you bought yourself some time, and some privacy. It will take them a while to figure out where you ran off to and who you're with." He handed her off to Francis. Large strong hands grasped her waist and lifted her down. "Oh, and I have the microchips," the doctor assured her. Gabriella gazed up at Henri in astonishment. "How?" "I know you well, princess. And I know where you like to hide things." He leaned down and gave her a searing kiss. "Don't worry. I'll make sure the mission is completed," he mumbled as he pulled away from her lips. "You're not going with me?" He shook his head. "Sorry, love. I might meet up with you later." "Wait! What do—" The van began driving off. "Enjoy your time with Master Francis," Henri hollered. "You always did seem to love his kind of attention."  Gabriella watched the van until it disappeared in the distance. She smiled, remembering the awesome kiss Henri gave her, and hoped he didn't wait to long to find her again. Did Henry say Master Francis? Gabriella turned to her new companion only to find his intense grey eyes contemplating her. Something about the way he looked at her made her stomach fluttered. He was so… male. She still wasn't sure of the situation she was in or who she should trust. But what could she do? Go with the flow, try to make the best of it, and pray to God that they weren't lying when they said you were safe with them. "What now, Francis?" she asked lightly. "Are we going somewhere on that plane, or are we just going to stand here?" He pulled a small black necklace out of his pocket. "Turn around and lift your hair, Gabriella." The way he said her name brought goose bumps to her skin. She hesitated for a moment, then something inside warned her not to disobey. She did as he asked, finding the action familiar, maybe even comforting. Swift hands buckled the velvet choker around her neck. "From this moment on, you will call me Master Francis, or just master. Which ever you prefer." No, that didn't make sense. "Then why didn't you just erase the one memory? Why would I leave my job if it was so important? Tell me the truth. I want to know." Charlie took a shallow breath. "Before we could get there, your escorts were executed, and what you endured during the three days you spent in prison was--" "Enough!" Francis ordered. A cold, horrible feeling slithered into her core. She decided right then she didn't want to remember. "Why am I here now? What has changed?" "Warren, Scott and Malak," Charlie answered. "It started with a disagreement a mission. We couldn't choose a side, so to say, since the one is not any better than the other. However, not choosing one could lead to a long drawn out civil war. But Malak wants to retire, as does Warren, so they chose to help the side that offered the most money for the information. But we had no idea they had dragged you into this mess until Alex called back tell the rest of us that Warren and Malak had come to get you." Henry continued, "When you fell ill on the plane mid-flight and the plane was diverted here, Warren called me in to check on you. They told me about your hallucinations, your dreams, how your memories were fading in and out. And I realized that the serum they've been giving you was not working properly. Your mind is rejecting the suggestions, along with the serum. The side effects have been severe. Your headaches, your fainting spells, and as I mentioned before, the dreams and hallucinations. "The plane was diverted here because of the terrorists, not because I was sick." Princess," said Charlie, "The plane was never hijacked." "Yes, it was. They poisoned the air. Everyone fell asleep. Malak and Warren stopped it." "Then why didn't they fall asleep too?" "They told me they had on invisible masks. There was a gun in my lap. Someone asked for it. Warren said it was dangerous. I got out of my seat. The plane tipped and I fell into Warren's lap. He told me to do whatever Malak said. Later, after I was interrogated about the incident and talked to the media, I found out they were Air Marshalls. We went out to dinner." "No, Gabriella. That's not how it happened," Alex spoke up. "I was there. Malak came on board and gave you the pack of gum with the diamonds in it. You took a piece, and placed the pack in your bag. You all talked. The serum, which was in the gum, kicked in and Malak discussed some details of the mission with you. You went to sleep. Everything was okay until around mid-flight when you woke up asked for water. Malak got up to get you some." "You know about the diamonds?" Charlie shook his head. "Yes, the three tiny microchips hidden in the pack of gum? "Then what really happened?" "While he was gone, you wanted to leave your seat. Warren, who was sitting across the aisle from you, said it was dangerous for you to do so. You got up anyway, and fell right into his lap. Malak tried to collect and put you back in your own seat. You fought, kicking and punching at him. Then you fainted. The plane was diverted here. You were taken to the hospital. You were never interrogated and you never spoke to the media." "But if it didn't happen the wya I remembered, then why did Warren and Malak not tell me?" Henri shook his head. "Not to upset you maybe? I don't know." "If you work with Malak and Scott and Warren, then why are you taking me away from them?" "It wasn't fair of them to interrupt your life the way they did." "What? How? What did they do?" "Well, they convinced you to leave your job. After that, they talked you into taking that trip to the UAE-- one, so they could use you to help them complete the mission, and two, in the hopes that when it's all over, you'd choose to stay with one of them. Things have gotten heated as they compete for your attention." The van slowed and came to stop. Gabriella panicked. "Where are we?" Francis opened the door. "At a private airport. I'm taking you somewhere safe until this mess is straightened out." He jumped out onto the runway. Henri helped her up and led her to the exit. "But what about Malak and Warren?" she asked. "Won't they come looking for me? They want the location of the diamonds." "Yes, they'll be looking for you. If we had gone in and taken you from the cafe, they would have known immediately it was us. However, since you climbed out the window, you bought yourself some time, and some privacy. It will take them a while to figure out where you ran off to and who you're with." He handed her off to Francis. Large strong hands grasped her waist and lifted her down. "Oh, and I have the microchips," the doctor assured her. Gabriella gazed up at Henri in astonishment. "How?" "I know you well, princess. And I know where you like to hide things." He leaned down and gave her a searing kiss. "Don't worry. I'll make sure the mission is completed," he mumbled as he pulled away from her lips. "You're not going with me?" He shook his head. "Sorry, love. I might meet up with you later." "Wait! What do—" The van began driving off. "Enjoy your time with Master Francis," Henri hollered. "You always did seem to love his kind of attention."  Gabriella watched the van until it disappeared in the distance. She smiled, remembering the awesome kiss Henri gave her, and hoped he didn't wait to long to find her again. Did Henry say Master Francis? Gabriella turned to her new companion only to find his intense grey eyes contemplating her. Something about the way he looked at her made her stomach fluttered. He was so… male. She still wasn't sure of the situation she was in or who she should trust. But what could she do? Go with the flow, try to make the best of it, and pray to God that they weren't lying when they said you were safe with them. "What now, Francis?" she asked lightly. "Are we going somewhere on that plane, or are we just going to stand here?" He pulled a small black necklace out of his pocket. "Turn around and lift your hair, Gabriella." The way he said her name brought goose bumps to her skin. She hesitated for a moment, then something inside warned her not to disobey. She did as he asked, finding the action familiar, maybe even comforting. Swift hands buckled the velvet choker around her neck. "From this moment on, you will call me Master Francis, or just master. Which ever you prefer." Francis opened the door. "At a private airport. I'm taking you somewhere safe until this mess is straightened out." He jumped out onto the runway. Henri helped her up and led her to the exit. "But what about Malak and Warren?" she asked. "Won't they come looking for me? They want the location of the diamonds." "Yes, they'll be looking for you. If we had gone in and taken you from the cafe, they would have known immediately it was us. However, since you climbed out the window, you bought yourself some time, and some privacy. It will take them a while to figure out where you ran off to and who you're with." He handed her off to Francis. Large strong hands grasped her waist and lifted her down. "Oh, and I have the microchips," the doctor assured her. Gabriella gazed up at Henri in astonishment. "How?" "I know you well, princess. And I know where you like to hide things." He leaned down and gave her a searing kiss. "Don't worry. I'll make sure the mission is completed," he mumbled as he pulled away from her lips. "You're not going with me?" He shook his head. "Sorry, love. I might meet up with you later." "Wait! What do—" The van began driving off. "Enjoy your time with Master Francis," Henri hollered. "You always did seem to love his kind of attention."  Gabriella watched the van until it disappeared in the distance. She smiled, remembering the awesome kiss Henri gave her, and hoped he didn't wait to long to find her again. Did Henry say Master Francis? Gabriella turned to her new companion only to find his intense grey eyes contemplating her. Something about the way he looked at her made her stomach fluttered. He was so… male. She still wasn't sure of the situation she was in or who she should trust. But what could she do? Go with the flow, try to make the best of it, and pray to God that they weren't lying when they said you were safe with them. "What now, Francis?" she asked lightly. "Are we going somewhere on that plane, or are we just going to stand here?" He pulled a small black necklace out of his pocket. "Turn around and lift your hair, Gabriella." The way he said her name brought goose bumps to her skin. She hesitated for a moment, then something inside warned her not to disobey. She did as he asked, finding the action familiar, maybe even comforting. Swift hands buckled the velvet choker around her neck. "From this moment on, you will call me Master Francis, or just master. Which ever you prefer." Francis opened the door. "At a private airport. I'm taking you somewhere safe until this mess is straightened out." He jumped out onto the runway. Henri helped her up and led her to the exit. "But what about Malak and Warren?" she asked. "Won't they come looking for me? They want the location of the diamonds." "Yes, they'll be looking for you. If we had gone in and taken you from the cafe, they would have known immediately it was us. However, since you climbed out the window, you bought yourself some time, and some privacy. It will take them a while to figure out where you ran off to and who you're with." He handed her off to Francis. Large strong hands grasped her waist and lifted her down. "Oh, and I have the microchips," the doctor assured her. Gabriella gazed up at Henri in astonishment. "How?" "I know you well, princess. And I know where you like to hide things." He leaned down and gave her a searing kiss. "Don't worry. I'll make sure the mission is completed," he mumbled as he pulled away from her lips. "You're not going with me?" He shook his head. "Sorry, love. I might meet up with you later." "Wait! What do—" The van began driving off. "Enjoy your time with Master Francis," Henri hollered. "You always did seem to love his kind of attention."  Gabriella watched the van until it disappeared in the distance. She smiled, remembering the awesome kiss Henri gave her, and hoped he didn't wait to long to find her again. Did Henry say Master Francis? Gabriella turned to her new companion only to find his intense grey eyes contemplating her. Something about the way he looked at her made her stomach fluttered. He was so… male. She still wasn't sure of the situation she was in or who she should trust. But what could she do? Go with the flow, try to make the best of it, and pray to God that they weren't lying when they said you were safe with them. "What now, Francis?" she asked lightly. "Are we going somewhere on that plane, or are we just going to stand here?" He pulled a small black necklace out of his pocket. "Turn around and lift your hair, Gabriella." The way he said her name brought goose bumps to her skin. She hesitated for a moment, then something inside warned her not to disobey. She did as he asked, finding the action familiar, maybe even comforting. Swift hands buckled the velvet choker around her neck. "From this moment on, you will call me Master Francis, or just master. Which ever you prefer." No, that didn't make sense. "Then why didn't you just erase the one memory? Why would I leave my job if it was so important? Tell me the truth. I want to know." Charlie took a shallow breath. "Before we could get there, your escorts were executed, and what you endured during the three days you spent in prison was--" "Enough!" Francis ordered. A cold, horrible feeling slithered into her core. She decided right then she didn't want to remember. "Why am I here now? What has changed?" "Warren, Scott and Malak," Charlie answered. "It started with a disagreement a mission. We couldn't choose a side, so to say, since the one is not any better than the other. However, not choosing one could lead to a long drawn out civil war. But Malak wants to retire, as does Warren, so they chose to help the side that offered the most money for the information. But we had no idea they had dragged you into this mess until Alex called back tell the rest of us that Warren and Malak had come to get you." Henry continued, "When you fell ill on the plane mid-flight and the plane was diverted here, Warren called me in to check on you. They told me about your hallucinations, your dreams, how your memories were fading in and out. And I realized that the serum they've been giving you was not working properly. Your mind is rejecting the suggestions, along with the serum. The side effects have been severe. Your headaches, your fainting spells, and as I mentioned before, the dreams and hallucinations. "The plane was diverted here because of the terrorists, not because I was sick." Princess," said Charlie, "The plane was never hijacked." "Yes, it was. They poisoned the air. Everyone fell asleep. Malak and Warren stopped it." "Then why didn't they fall asleep too?" "They told me they had on invisible masks. There was a gun in my lap. Someone asked for it. Warren said it was dangerous. I got out of my seat. The plane tipped and I fell into Warren's lap. He told me to do whatever Malak said. Later, after I was interrogated about the incident and talked to the media, I found out they were Air Marshalls. We went out to dinner." "No, Gabriella. That's not how it happened," Alex spoke up. "I was there. Malak came on board and gave you the pack of gum with the diamonds in it. You took a piece, and placed the pack in your bag. You all talked. The serum, which was in the gum, kicked in and Malak discussed some details of the mission with you. You went to sleep. Everything was okay until around mid-flight when you woke up asked for water. Malak got up to get you some." "You know about the diamonds?" Charlie shook his head. "Yes, the three tiny microchips hidden in the pack of gum? "Then what really happened?" "While he was gone, you wanted to leave your seat. Warren, who was sitting across the aisle from you, said it was dangerous for you to do so. You got up anyway, and fell right into his lap. Malak tried to collect and put you back in your own seat. You fought, kicking and punching at him. Then you fainted. The plane was diverted here. You were taken to the hospital. You were never interrogated and you never spoke to the media." "But if it didn't happen the wya I remembered, then why did Warren and Malak not tell me?" Henri shook his head. "Not to upset you maybe? I don't know." "If you work with Malak and Scott and Warren, then why are you taking me away from them?" "It wasn't fair of them to interrupt your life the way they did." "What? How? What did they do?" "Well, they convinced you to leave your job. After that, they talked you into taking that trip to the UAE-- one, so they could use you to help them complete the mission, and two, in the hopes that when it's all over, you'd choose to stay with one of them. Things have gotten heated as they compete for your attention." The van slowed and came to stop. Gabriella panicked. "Where are we?" Francis opened the door. "At a private airport. I'm taking you somewhere safe until this mess is straightened out." He jumped out onto the runway. Henri helped her up and led her to the exit. "But what about Malak and Warren?" she asked. "Won't they come looking for me? They want the location of the diamonds." "Yes, they'll be looking for you. If we had gone in and taken you from the cafe, they would have known immediately it was us. However, since you climbed out the window, you bought yourself some time, and some privacy. It will take them a while to figure out where you ran off to and who you're with." He handed her off to Francis. Large strong hands grasped her waist and lifted her down. "Oh, and I have the microchips," the doctor assured her. Gabriella gazed up at Henri in astonishment. "How?" "I know you well, princess. And I know where you like to hide things." He leaned down and gave her a searing kiss. "Don't worry. I'll make sure the mission is completed," he mumbled as he pulled away from her lips. "You're not going with me?" He shook his head. "Sorry, love. I might meet up with you later." "Wait! What do—" The van began driving off. "Enjoy your time with Master Francis," Henri hollered. "You always did seem to love his kind of attention."  Gabriella watched the van until it disappeared in the distance. She smiled, remembering the awesome kiss Henri gave her, and hoped he didn't wait to long to find her again. Did Henry say Master Francis? Gabriella turned to her new companion only to find his intense grey eyes contemplating her. Something about the way he looked at her made her stomach fluttered. He was so… male. She still wasn't sure of the situation she was in or who she should trust. But what could she do? Go with the flow, try to make the best of it, and pray to God that they weren't lying when they said you were safe with them. "What now, Francis?" she asked lightly. "Are we going somewhere on that plane, or are we just going to stand here?" He pulled a small black necklace out of his pocket. "Turn around and lift your hair, Gabriella." The way he said her name brought goose bumps to her skin. She hesitated for a moment, then something inside warned her not to disobey. She did as he asked, finding the action familiar, maybe even comforting. Swift hands buckled the velvet choker around her neck. "From this moment on, you will call me Master Francis, or just master. Which ever you prefer." Francis opened the door. "At a private airport. I'm taking you somewhere safe until this mess is straightened out." He jumped out onto the runway. Henri helped her up and led her to the exit. "But what about Malak and Warren?" she asked. "Won't they come looking for me? They want the location of the diamonds." "Yes, they'll be looking for you. If we had gone in and taken you from the cafe, they would have known immediately it was us. However, since you climbed out the window, you bought yourself some time, and some privacy. It will take them a while to figure out where you ran off to and who you're with." He handed her off to Francis. Large strong hands grasped her waist and lifted her down. "Oh, and I have the microchips," the doctor assured her. Gabriella gazed up at Henri in astonishment. "How?" "I know you well, princess. And I know where you like to hide things." He leaned down and gave her a searing kiss. "Don't worry. I'll make sure the mission is completed," he mumbled as he pulled away from her lips. "You're not going with me?" He shook his head. "Sorry, love. I might meet up with you later." "Wait! What do—" The van began driving off. "Enjoy your time with Master Francis," Henri hollered. "You always did seem to love his kind of attention."  Gabriella watched the van until it disappeared in the distance. She smiled, remembering the awesome kiss Henri gave her, and hoped he didn't wait to long to find her again. Did Henry say Master Francis? Gabriella turned to her new companion only to find his intense grey eyes contemplating her. Something about the way he looked at her made her stomach fluttered. He was so… male. She still wasn't sure of the situation she was in or who she should trust. But what could she do? Go with the flow, try to make the best of it, and pray to God that they weren't lying when they said you were safe with them. "What now, Francis?" she asked lightly. "Are we going somewhere on that plane, or are we just going to stand here?" He pulled a small black necklace out of his pocket. "Turn around and lift your hair, Gabriella." The way he said her name brought goose bumps to her skin. She hesitated for a moment, then something inside warned her not to disobey. She did as he asked, finding the action familiar, maybe even comforting. Swift hands buckled the velvet choker around her neck. "From this moment on, you will call me Master Francis, or just master. Which ever you prefer." Francis opened the door. "At a private airport. I'm taking you somewhere safe until this mess is straightened out." He jumped out onto the runway. Henri helped her up and led her to the exit. "But what about Malak and Warren?" she asked. "Won't they come looking for me? They want the location of the diamonds." "Yes, they'll be looking for you. If we had gone in and taken you from the cafe, they would have known immediately it was us. However, since you climbed out the window, you bought yourself some time, and some privacy. It will take them a while to figure out where you ran off to and who you're with." He handed her off to Francis. Large strong hands grasped her waist and lifted her down. "Oh, and I have the microchips," the doctor assured her. Gabriella gazed up at Henri in astonishment. "How?" "I know you well, princess. And I know where you like to hide things." He leaned down and gave her a searing kiss. "Don't worry. I'll make sure the mission is completed," he mumbled as he pulled away from her lips. "You're not going with me?" He shook his head. "Sorry, love. I might meet up with you later." "Wait! What do—" The van began driving off. "Enjoy your time with Master Francis," Henri hollered. "You always did seem to love his kind of attention."  Gabriella watched the van until it disappeared in the distance. She smiled, remembering the awesome kiss Henri gave her, and hoped he didn't wait to long to find her again. Did Henry say Master Francis? Gabriella turned to her new companion only to find his intense grey eyes contemplating her. Something about the way he looked at her made her stomach fluttered. He was so… male. She still wasn't sure of the situation she was in or who she should trust. But what could she do? Go with the flow, try to make the best of it, and pray to God that they weren't lying when they said you were safe with them. "What now, Francis?" she asked lightly. "Are we going somewhere on that plane, or are we just going to stand here?" He pulled a small black necklace out of his pocket. "Turn around and lift your hair, Gabriella." The way he said her name brought goose bumps to her skin. She hesitated for a moment, then something inside warned her not to disobey. She did as he asked, finding the action familiar, maybe even comforting. Swift hands buckled the velvet choker around her neck. "From this moment on, you will call me Master Francis, or just master. Which ever you prefer."

Thursday, June 14, 2007 Gabriella's Summer Adventure 2.4 by Tia Fanning Finally, she set the cup down and took a deep breath. Warren hadn't moved. "About Malak," she began. "What about me?" Gabriella turned, only to meet the dark, penetrating eyes of the man she once considered an angel. She nearly passed out in shock. To think, she almost surrendered her body to him, even dreamt of him as her protector. Now, he was her most dangerous enemy. A demon in disguise. Malak. A devilish smirk crossed his lips, quickly turning her shock to fear. His smile, the lift of his eyebrow, and the gleam in his eyes said it all. He had her now. There was no escape. And that knee to the groin incident had not been forgotten. She would pay dearly for that insult.  His burning gaze slowly roamed over her, igniting her skin. Her heart raced and her breath quickened. Images of him erotically torturing her naked body with his hands and lips floated through her mind.  Perhaps his punishment would not be such a bad thing. Gabriella was instantly horrified. What the hell was wrong with her? Was she so hard up she'd give herself over to this diamond smuggling criminal? She couldn't possibly still feel something for him. No, she didn't. Not at all. As if he heard her thoughts, his hypnotic eyes captured hers, daring her to deny the attraction between them. Oh, God. She couldn't. Despite all that had happened in the last forty-eight hours, she couldn't. She read so much in his intense stare. Promises of desire, passion… love? It called to her, tugging at her heart. Suddenly, an eerie sense of recognition teased her. She tried hard to capture the smoky moment, to explore the faraway memory of long ago, but she couldn't hold it. It slipped from her grasp and quickly faded, like déjà vu.  "Hello, Malak," Warren piped in, sarcasm lacing his voice. "Please, join us." Warren's interruption pulled Gabriella back to the here and now, and thankfully, back to her senses. Danger! Danger! Her stomach knotted as Malak continued to stare her down. What was he going to do?'s interruption pulled Gabriella back to the here and now, and thankfully, back to her senses. Danger! Danger! Her stomach knotted as Malak continued to stare her down. What was he going to do? Long fingers wrapped around the chair next to hers, sliding it out. The movement disturbed the air, and his alluring scent floated around her. She held her breath, refusing to fall under the spell of the devil again. Everything about him was an illusion. He didn't care for her. He was just using her. She was but a means to an end. She warily followed his every move as he silently took a seat. This wasn't over, she knew that. Malak was just buying time because Warren was here. But what now? Should she ask Warren to take her back to the Embassy? She glanced over to the handsome man on the other side of her. Warren gave her a reassuring smile and placed his hand over hers. "Don't worry, princess. He's not going to touch you ever again. I'll see to that." gave her a reassuring smile and placed his hand over hers. "Don't worry, princess. He's not going to touch you ever again. I'll see to that." Malak's expression turned dark. "Nice, Warren. And what exactly did you do to earn her trust?" Something was off here. Gabriella tried to retrieve her hand, but Warren held firm. "You know what your problem is, Malak?" Warren asked. Suddenly, rapid French spewed from his lips. "What makes you think Gabriella would ever want you after—" Malak finished his response, but also in French. This isn't happening… "I want…" Gabriella pulled harder on her hand, but Warren wouldn't let go. The two men continued their conversation in low tones.  "Please, I just want—"   "Warren. Malak.  Fancy meeting you two here." Scott! Gabriella let out of a breath of relief as a heavy silence descended upon the table. Nothing would happen to her with Scott around. She'd known him for years. They were college buddies. They once even shared a night of drunken passion together after attending a wild dorm party.  She rewarded her friend a smile. "Scott, will you please—" "One moment, princess." Princess? Scott sat down in the chair across from her. He looked at Warren, Warren looked at Malak, Malak looked at Scott, and then they all shared a knowing gaze. Scott whispered something to them in French, and a new conversation ensued. Gabriella's focused on her coffee cup, but it quickly became a giant blur of color. She wasn't stupid. It was obvious they were all in league with each other. And knowing what she did about Malak meant that Scott and Warren were not the heroes she thought they were. She couldn't trust any of them. A tear slipped down her cheek. How did she end up in such a mess? She was tired of the head games and the betrayals. She didn't understand anything that was happening around her, couldn't distinguish the truth from the lies, and no longer knew what was real, and what was not. "Gabriella. Are you okay?" Warren gently tilted her chin up, but she refused to lift her eyes. "Good going, Malak. You've scared her." "We're not going to hurt you, princess. You have to trust us," Malak soothed, taking her other hand into his. She actually giggled at his declaration, remembering what happened that last time her angel said such a thing. Her eyes darted around the table. The three actually looked concerned, she'd give them that. Lying bastards. "Do you?" he asked. She looked to Malak. "What?" "Trust us?" What was the use in fighting them? She really had no other choice at the moment. She would have to play their game, for now. She nodded. Funny, they all smiled, even relaxed a bit at her answer. Warren squeezed her hand. "Gabriella, we're wondering—" squeezed her hand. "Gabriella, we're wondering—" "Wait," she interrupted. "I'm really not feeling well. May I use the ladies room?" They looked at each other for a few moments. Finally, Warren spoke. "You promise not to run away?" She nodded again. "Who would you like to go with you?" Gabriella knew they wouldn't let her go without a chaperone. But which one to choose? She assessed the three, trying to figure out which would be easier to get away from if the opportunity presented itself. Malak was rock hard muscle, as was Warren. However, her friend was toned, but leaner. "Scott." Malak and Warren actually looked a little taken aback, almost offended. Scott rose from his seat and came to her side. The other two released her hands as Scott pulled out her chair and helped her up. Cupping her elbow, he led her through the maze of tables to the back of the café. "You really have nothing to fear, Gabriella. Honestly, we would never hurt you. If anything, you are very, very dear to all of us. But there is something we need from you." Scott waited until they reached the restroom door before continuing. "We need your pack of gum. The one Malak gave you on the plane." She put on her best poker face. "I… I'm not sure." He looked worried. "Please, try to remember?" "I think it might be—" Suddenly, she flung her hand over her mouth and ran through the bathroom door. Footsteps followed as she ran for the stall and locked it behind her. Dropping to her knees, she shoved her fingers as far down her throat as she could, instantly her gag reflex responded. She emptied the contents of stomach into the toilet. A low knock sounded. She gagged herself again. More vomit spewed forth. "Gabriella? Gabby? Open the stall?" She faked a violent cough while wiping her mouth with toilet paper. "Scott, please, I need water. Hurry," she choked out. "Okay, I'll be right back." Yes! The second the bathroom door closed, she rushed from the stall. She was just about to leave when she spotted the small, high window. Better chance of escape if she could avoid passing by the men all together. She climbed the sink and unlatched the heavy glass, lifting it up. She stuck one foot out and, using one hand to keep the window from closing on her, used the other to pull herself up. Her bare arms and calves scraped against the rough metal as she swung her other leg out, but the pain was the least of her concern. She had quite a drop on the other side. Gabriella sat for a moment, teetering half in and half out of the window, wondering if she just made a very bad decision. The bathroom door opened. "Here's some wat—Gabriella! Get down from there!" Scott's voice was the only prompting she needed. A moment of free falling and her feet hit the uneven alley. She fell back, landing on her behind with a jarring thud. Run! Her ankle was throbbing, but she forced herself to her feet. She hobbled toward the main road. At the speed she was going, the three men would catch up with her before she ever made it there. A white van turned into the alley. Desperate, she waved to get the driver's attention. She'd take a ride from a stranger, she'd do just about anything to get away. The van slowed as it approached, rolling to stop when it reached her. The side door opened. A huge man in a black mask pulled her in. She didn't even have time to scream before the van door was closed and the vehicle screeched off. Gabriella fought to disengage the strong arms wrapped around her body. "Let me go!" "Princess, stop," a gruff voice order. "We're here to rescue you." How did they know her "nickname"? When she stopped flailing, the man released her. She scrambled across the metal floor and into the corner of the empty van. Three men, dressed all in black, including masks, stared at her. The large one, the one that had abducted her, was the first to whip off his face cover. Adding to his severe scowl were the stormiest grey eyes she'd ever seen. He assessed her… cold and calculating. She noticed his long dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail at the base of his neck. She resisted the urge to reach out and tug on it. The next man pulled off his mask, revealing a dazzling smile. "We thought we were going to have to go in and get you. But you came to us. Wonderful!" Gabriella blinked hard, just to make sure she wasn't seeing things. " Doctor St. Remy?" Doctor St. Remy?" "Please, call me Henri. Oh, and this brute here is F.C. but he rather you call him Francis. By the way, he only lets you call him that." The third guy removed his mask. "And you already know Charles." Charles? "Hi, Ma'am," Charlie said with a small salute. Oh. My. God. Charlie from work? Charlie the janitor? Didn't she just fire his hottie ass three months back when she caught him going through her desk drawer? Yes, she did. She found him one night playing with her stash of chocolate cupcakes. She shook her head. This was all too much. Henri lifted his hand toward the driver. "And you might also recognize young Alex. Alex tipped his head back, offering a smile and a wink before returning his eyes to the road. She did remember him! From the airport! The handsome young man with the stack of magazines in line at the newsstand. He was on her plane too! "Alex is new to the organization," Henri continued, "but he's been the one assigned to keep an eye on you lately." "You've been following me? What organization?"  The doctor hesitated and looked to Francis, who shook his head. Oh, no. She just traded one set of captors for another. Henri removed a medical bag from the front seat and crawled to her side. "Let me look at your ankle." She flinched back. "Don't touch me." "Gabriella, I'm really a doctor. Look, I'll explain everything to you, but only if you let me tend to your injuries." His warm hazel eyes looked sincere enough. But could she trust him? It seemed she couldn't trust anyone anymore. She looked at her feet. Her ankle was hurting something fierce. She nodded. Steady hands lifted her foot and examined the swollen area. "You've had quite an adventure the last couple of days," the doctor remarked as he gently slid her flip-flop off. Digging into his bag, he removed a roll of cloth bandage. "And it seems I'm on another one," she muttered. Henri began wrapping the bandage around her ankle. "We were just about to raid the restaurant to get you. Then our person on the inside radioed in. He informed us that you hadn't left the bathroom yet, and that there was some commotion happening in there. We had a feeling you might have gone out the window." "How did you know I needed to be rescued?" Henri removed a couple alcohol pads and a small bottle antibacterial gel from his bag. "We're your friends." He opened the packets and rubbed the pads on her scraped arms and legs. Gabriella winced at the sting. "I really don't know any of you." Henri placed dressing and tape on the more severe cuts. "You know us. You've met all of us at least once in your life, princess." "The men I was running from also called me princess," she whispered. Nothing. No comment from any of them. The doctor took her hand into his and rotated it at the wrist, checking for breaks. Satisfied, he wiped her palm clean with a pad. The silence was eating at her. "Please, who are you? Just tell me. I- I- I need to know," she stammered. Henri stopped his examination and met her gaze. Something in his eyes gleamed. Regret? No something deeper. She looked at his hands as they held hers. His touch seemed so familiar. Why was that? "How do you know me!" she cried, pulling her hand out of his grasp. "As I said, we're your friends. We've all been in and out of your life for the last ten years." Gabriella gave an empty laugh of disbelief.  "Charlie and I just met last year. And you, doctor, I met this morning. Alex I saw two days ago at the airport. And Francis, we've never met until now." What made her think that the doctor would be honest with her? There was no way she'd known these four that long. She wouldn't have forgotten a single moment she spent with these men. How could she? "You've known Scott, Malak and Warren for as long as you've known us." Lies! Lies! Lies! "You're wrong. I've known Scott since college, but I only met Warren once, and that was last year. I just met Malak. Why do you insist on lying to me?"  "Gabriella, I know it's hard, but trust me. You know Malak. You know Francis. And even though you don't remember me, you and I know each other very well, too."  "Don't, Henri," Francis interjected. "Can't you see? You're only upsetting her more. Leave it. " "No," the doctor hissed. "She needs to know the truth. No brainwashing, no hypnosis, no drugs. No more." Gabriella gasped. "Drugs? Brainwashing? What—" "Then we just let her go," Francis interrupted. "She can start a new life somewhere without our interference in it." Henri shook his head. "Could you let her go so easily, F.C.? Let her walk out of your life forever? I know I can't. And neither can Malak or Warren. They've actually compromised their mission for her. And we've compromised our relationship with them to rescue her." She didn't understand any of it. "Tell me what's going on! Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" Henri turned back to her, his expression softening. "In these last days, as you met with each of us, didn't you feel some sort of connection? Like you've always known us? Maybe something akin to déjà vu? Malak. Warren. Scott. Yes. She looked at Alex, driving silently and concentrating on the road. No, not with him. Her gaze moved to Charlie. No, him neither. She met Henri's concerned eyes. Yes, she felt something there she couldn't quite explain. Like she'd known him forever, but…  She turned toward Francis. Even if she didn't feel it, which she did, his solemn expression would have told her the answer. Yes. Oh, God. Henri was telling the truth. But no matter how hard she tried, she could remember him. The stress of the situation, the unanswered questions, everything was just wrong. Her world was literally crashing around her. She tried to stop the tears, but couldn't. She covered her face with her hands. "What's happening to me? Is this some horrible nightmare?" Strong arms gathered around her. "Please don't cry, Princess," Henri whispered in her ear. She pulled away. "Why do you all call me that! I'm not a princess! Who are you people!" "We all work for an organization that specializes in gathering information." "What?" she hiccupped. "Like the CIA?" "No, more covert. We don't officially exist." "So what do I have to do with this? How do we know each other? I don't understand." Henri let out a heavy sigh. "God forgive me, but you are, or were, our number one source of information. If you weren't feeding us information, you were moving things for us. Every business trip you took, or vacation, there was a good possibility you carried a critical piece of information, or a disk, or a document, etc." "Why me? Why not someone else?" she asked, still unable to believe the things she was hearing, but somehow, deep inside, knowing it was the truth. Lifting his hand, Henri used his thumb to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Because you have a highly photographic memory, an ability to look or hear something one time and retain all those details in your mind. Not most information-- all of it. Down to the punctuation. It's uncanny." She'd always had a good memory, but not to the extent he was talking about. And if everything Henri said was true, her memory wasn't even adequate anymore. For the life of her, she couldn't remember him.  "Papers can be lost. Phone calls can be tapped into. E-mails can be monitored and disks stolen. But only a handful of us can access the information you have in your head. After you give us the information we need, we alter the memory or erase it completely. Most of us didn't even allow you to remember meeting with us." Brainwashing? Hypnosis? Drugs? The last two days played in her mind. The weird erotic dreams, the inconsistencies, the feeling that she was missing something important… Could it really be possible that they were drugging her up, messing with her mind, erasing her memories? Realization dawn on her. Henri had said she'd known all of them very well. Her body shook in despair. "That's what you meant? Known, as in intimately. How could you? I've been with all… I can't even remem… what am I? Some piece of ass? Your plaything? You used me and then took the memory away?" "No, no, Gabriella. You are our princess. We've always taken care of you. It just wouldn't be fair to walk in and out of your life, especially after some of the special moments you've shared with some of us. We didn't want you to be hurt. We were trying to protect you."  Francis crawled over and sat next to her. "Princess, you've not been with all of us. We never manipulated your feelings. You chose who you chose, and it seems that we all were too weak to resist you. However, as each of our time with you ended, we did what we felt was best so you could move on with your life. We made ourselves non-existent to you. Understand, our missions take us away for long periods, and it wouldn't have been right to make you wait for our return." It all made sense now. How she always seemed to be alone, but never felt lonely. How she never had close-close friends, but always felt comforted. "I was always working. How could all this have happened when I was working so much," she asked. "Your boss is on our payroll," Charlie whispered. "He sent you where we told him to, he gave you time off when we told him to. And when I found out what his intentions toward you were—let's just say he stopped being so forward. If you hadn't quit, you would've been promoted by the end of the year." Pure anger surged through her. "So what, you all turn on and turn off my memories at will? You manipulate my life? What gives you the right?" "Gabriella, the intelligence you carried helped prevent at least three major conflicts and countless terrorist attacks. You've helped us overthrow dictators, and put an end to major underground activities such as child slavery and a human trafficking ring." "Then why didn't you just hire me!" she screamed. "Why the lies, why the deceit! Why not just ask!" "We did," Francis said quietly. Henri held up his hand. "F.C., don't. We all promised her we'd never mention—" "You did work with us once, right after you graduated college. You couldn't take… it hurt you to much to know that such terrible things went on in the world. So you left." "Why?"  "It happened after a failed mission," Henri murmured. "Your team went out-- you and three escorts. Information about an imminent attack was passed on to you. Before you could board the plane and leave the country, you and your escorts were detained and arrested. By the time we were able to rescue you, the attack had occurred and many died. The guilt you felt… You wanted out, but you knew how important your skills were to the mission. Yo

By Lorena Streeter2.3

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"  Warren's furious voice whipped across her brain, reactivating her headache.  He continued without waiting for her answer.  "In case you don't remember, you took a rather nasty knock to the head last night."  He looked at her suspiciously.

"In fact, forget the circus stunt, why are you even out of bed?  And don't," he warned, obviously reading deception in her face, "even try to tell me the doctor said it's okay.  I've known Henri for nearly twenty years, and there is no way he released you to go wandering around Paris on your own."

On top of the headache, a wave of weariness stormed over Gabriella, pushing aside her terror for just a minute.  Interesting dreams aside, this vacation was starting to look like a bad idea.  Between being poisoned in mid-air and, well, whatever it was that had happened at the hot tub, adventure was overrated, and her corner office was looking more fun by the minute.  So much for hanging out by the pool in Dubai, or joining a safari in Africa.  Right now, she just wanted to go home.  Alive.  Unfortunately, she didn't think the man attached to the hand holding her shoulder in a vise grip was going to let her just walk away without an explanation.  The question was, could she trust him?

"C'mon, Gabriella," Warren said finally, turning her gently, but definitely, toward the street.  His hand slipped off her shoulder and came to a rest at the small of her back, trailing fire as it moved across her thin cotton shirt.  Get hold of yourself, Gabby.  What the hell are you thinking, thinking about sex at a moment like this.  You were attracted to Malak -- pardon, the angel of death -- too, which doesn't say much for your judgment in men.

"No."  Gabby came to an abrupt stop, forcing Warren to stop with her.  Maybe she could trust him, maybe she couldn't.  But she'd just remembered someone she definitely could trust.

"What?"  Warren was looking down at her with an odd expression.  Of course, he thought she'd slipped and fallen last night, and she just didn't remember it that way.  So maybe ...

"Warren.  You said I knocked you out last night.  So how do you know how I got hurt?"

"Malak brought me back first.  It took both of us to move you."  He grinned suddenly, the smile reaching all the way into his eyes and warming her low in her stomach at the same time.  "You aren't quite as light as you look, princess."

There was that princess crap again.  Well, enough time to worry about that later, even if it wasn't her favorite nickname.

"So you didn't actually see me fall."

"Well, it happened pretty fast." The smile was fading.  "What are you saying?  You can't mean Malak ....good Lord, woman, I've known him for years.  We went to college together.  Met up after a decade each in different branches of the service, and became marshals together.  Whatever you're thinking, Malak isn't behind it."  There was a warning in his voice that Gabriella decided to heed.  For now.

"Okay, fine." She allowed a note of impatience into her voice.  Just as well.  She'd been so busy trying to leave the old Gabriella behind for this adventure, she'd forgotten that she wasn't really the dumb tourist she'd been playing at.  Hell, anyone who could navigate the mean streets of Manhattan could handle a little international intrigue.  Just ... she really was going to have to stop trusting every handsome man she came across.

"There's more going on than you think, though," she continued.  "But--" she hesitated.  If he wouldn't do this ...she refused to complete the thought.

"Look, you have to admit things have been a little crazy."

Warren nodded, the wariness creeping back into his eyes.

"Take me to the embassy."  That was what -- or, rather, who, she'd forgotten.  With a little luck--which she figured she was about due for--Scott Danvers wouldn't be off on leave or some courier mission or something.  And he owed her.  Which meant he was the perfect person to verify that Warren Michaels was who he claimed to be.   Which meant she could tell Warren about the diamonds. 

For a moment she'd considered having Warren escort her back to the airport -- with all the chaos surrounding their arrival, she didn't know if they'd even come in where they'd originally been headed.  For all she knew, that interrogation had taken place on a military base.  But no one else knew the diamonds were there, and if a cleaning lady was going to find them ...Gabriella ruthlessly pushed that thought out of her head.  What was done, was done.  Warren would demand an explanation if she asked to go to the security office before anything else, and until she knew she could trust him, she wasn't explaining anything.

"The embassy?  Why?"

"Because," and now she wasn't faking the impatience.  Men could be so obtuse sometimes.  "I don't know you, I don't trust you, and if you don't take me to the embassy, you're never going to get to ..."  She stopped, horrified.  Mind out of the bedroom, Gabby!  Never mind that you've been nearly killed at least twice, not to mention almost kidnapped, and you haven't been out of the country 48 hours.  All you can think about is what Warren's -- no, imaginary Warren's -- mouth felt like ... Gabriella brought that train of thought to an end.  Hoped Warren didn't notice through her thin shirt that her nipples were taut from the imagined memory of him suckling them.  Thanked God that unless her knees buckled, he'd not see any other signs of her arousal.  Frankly, she thought, this was taking relief at being alive just a bit far.

She was so lost in her thoughts, that the taxi pulling up beside them startled her.  Warren held the door open for her, but she still looked before she got in.  No Malak, thank God. Hopefully she wasn't getting herself into more trouble getting in with Warren.

"American Embassy," she said quickly to the driver.  There, no matter what happened now, she had a witness to what she wanted.  Warren got in next to her without a word, nodding to the driver, then facing her.

"American Embassy," he agreed.

 

*****

 

Their arrival at the embassy was almost anticlimactic.  And Gabriella didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed -- she'd almost gotten used to disaster -- when Scott was not only in, and able to confirm Warren's identity, but turned out to know him.  So he was trustworthy after all.  Unless he was hiding something from Scott, of course.  After all, he didn't think Malak was up to anything evil, and look how much he knew about that.

"Now what?"  Just then, Gabriella's stomach growled.  Warren smiled, a slow, sexy smile that almost made her forget she was starving.  "Lunch?" he asked, cocking one eyebrow.

"I think so.  The last time someone fed me something it was poisoned, so maybe we could go to McDonald's?"

"McDonald's? In Paris?" Warren appeared genuinely shocked.  "Non," he said with an exaggerated French accent overriding his normal crisp tones.  "Non, non, non.  I know the perfect place."

The perfect place turned out to be an ethnic eatery full of the spicy smell of curry.  Gabriella looked around with delight.  This was the kind of adventure she'd planned on.  Leaving the pollution choked streets of Paris for the colorful Moroccan bistro, with its rich scents and colorful fabrics.  Looking around her, she was amazed at the diversity of the diners surrounding them.  There were angst-ridden college students dressed in black, businessmen and -women in sophisticated suits, all of them with the unmistakable style of the Parisian; there were men in traditional North African robes, and even a few obvious Americans and other tourist types.  The smell of coffee mingled with the food smells and Gabriella realized she was not only ravenous, she really wanted some coffee.  Or a diet Coke.  Or something, anything with lots of caffeine. 

Warren ordered for them in what sounded like flawless French.  Then he leaned back in his chair, and simply looked at her.  The waiter arrived with coffee just as Gabriella was starting to squirm.  She sipped at it, savoring its flavor and the rush.  How long had it been?  Since she'd left New York?  Finally, she set the cup down and took a deep breath.  Warren hadn't moved.

"About Malak," she began.

By Rita Karnopp2.2

"Good Lord," Gabriella said, holding the cold cloth to her forehead.  Was it really all a dream?  No, it was a nightmare!  It was a ridiculous...but creative nightmare at that!

"So, there you are!"

Gabriella didn't have to look over at the deep voice, to know it was Warren.  "It appears so.  So tell me, how exactly did I get here."  She wasn't sure she even wanted to know.

"You really don't remember?"

"Would I be asking if I did?  Come on Warren, I really don't feel much like mincing words at this point.  My head feels like it's going to split open and I really am tired of this whole damn situation."

"You really did wake up on the wrong side of bed.  You don't remember slipping on the bubbles and taking a nose dive into the hot tub?"

She closed her eyes and could only imagine being that graceful.  Should she admit it was normal, just one of her Polish moments?  No, too much information, it might be used against her.  "No, tell me, Warren, exactly how graceful did I look diving into the hot tub, bare ass naked?"

"Aw, don't be so hard on yourself.  After we stopped laughing, you might say we suddenly realized you had a nasty bump on your head and you ...uh.... well, let's just say, we managed to get you to your hotel room, and call the doc."

"You know, Warren.  I think I've had about all the vacation I can stand."

"Don't be so hard on yourself.  It could be worse."

"Really, exactly what could be worse?"

"You might have killed me, instead of just knocking me out."

"What?  I knocked you out?  Really?  I remember the smell, you know, the nice smell and I started getting groggy.  Just like on the plane.  I do remember seeing you out cold, on the floor.  I thought Malak might have drugged us both."

"Suspicious, aren't you?"

"What the hell do you expect.  I'm working on having a great vacation and if I'm not being attacked on the plane, I'm being attached in a hot tub.  You tell me!  Shouldn't I be just a little paranoid?"  As she asked the question, she noticed him wince.  So, there was something more going on than he was sharing with her.

"I have an appointment, but I will be back later today and hopefully you'll feel up to my taking you out for some dinner."

Gabriella closed her eyes, then quickly opened them.  She didn't trust Warren.  "Thank you.  That would be nice, if I feel up to it," she added.

She held still as he walked over to her and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.  She held still, enjoying the closeness and tenderness of the moment.  She watched as he quietly left the room.

"Interesting," she mumbled.  She felt like closing her eyes and sleeping it off...but she couldn't.  Something didn't feel right.  Call it woman's intuition, instinct, or just plain old nerves. 

She slipped her feet out of the crisp sheets and over the edge of the bed.  She glanced at the door knob and saw it move.  In one quick motion, she slipped back into bed, and closed her eyes.

She heard the slight squeak of the opening door, and forced herself to take slow, calm breaths.  Footsteps told her someone moved close to the bed.  Malak’s manly scent filled the room and she focused on breathing.

"My, my, aren't you a sight to behold.  An angel when you're sleeping and a she-devil when awake."

She didn't respond.  The shrill scream of the phone made her jump, but she faked falling back asleep when he grabbed it on the second ring.

"No, she's still out.  What do you mean, bring her there?  You really think she's going to come with me?"

Gabriella listened, hoping he didn't watch her for a reaction.

"Hell, no, Warren has no idea she's carrying the diamonds.  Hell, she has no idea she's carrying the diamonds.  That's the problem, we can't just ask her.  I don't have a clue where she put the damn pack of gum.  Could have left it on the plane, but I didn't see it there.  I've checked her pockets and her suitcase."

She moaned softly, then nestled her face into the pillow.  Malak hid diamonds in that pack of gum?  She wondered where she's put it.  She searched her memory, then knew.  And she wasn't telling Malak.

"Damn it, Enrico, I don't have time for this shit.  She is traveling all over Europe.  We play this right and we can use her for some time.  This will be my last shipment, then I, too am retiring and living the easy life.  Hell, who knows, I just might try to wine and dine the lady and marry her!"

Gabriella wondered how warped could this man be?  Smuggler and user, Lord what had she gotten herself into?

She felt his nearness and struggled to breath.  He left a soft, warm kiss on her cheek.

"Tell you what, Enrico.  Give me a week and I'll have your damn diamonds.  Until then, don't contact me, I'll contact you."

Gabriella held her breath, then released a nervous sigh as the door closed behind Malak.  She didn't waste any time getting out of bed, and stopped only when the room swayed slightly right and left.  Her head felt like a pressure ball, but she didn't have time to waste worrying about it.  She needed to get the hell out of Dodge, and fast.

She was surprised to find her own suitcase in the closet.  One look told her nothing was left untouched.  She pulled on forest green Capris, a Beatles Yellow Submarine tank top and matching green flip flops.  She pulled her waist-length hair into a ponytail, fastening it with a large clip.

There was no time for makeup, and she really didn't care at this point.  She grabbed her bag and headed for the door.  Could she remember which bathroom stall she left that gum in? 

She slipped out of the hotel room, and hurried down the hall.  Taking the stairs, she rushed down flight after flight.  At first she didn't worry about the sounds of steps following . . . until they started coming faster.

Gabriella knew she was being followed.  She clutched the heavy bag and pushed herself faster.  Bright sunshine blinded her as she emerged from the hotel side door.  Within minutes she flagged down a taxi and climbed inside, next to another passenger.

"Well, my dear, you look breathless," Malak said, a look of satisfaction swept across his face."

Within one motion, Gabriella slammed her bag into his chest while she drove her knee hard into his groin.  His impish grin faded quickly, replaced with disbelief and pain.

She backed out of the cab and ran down a dark alley.  It didn't seem smart, but she didn't have much choice.  Someone was following; she heard the footsteps and heavy breathing. 

Geeze, Louise, what next?"  She shouldn't have asked, it was a dead end.  A figure moved closer and she wanted to scream . . . but nothing came out.  Closer and closer he came.  She noticed a ladder hanging alongside the building and rushed to it. 

She jumped and missed the bottom rung.  She glanced in the direction of the figure approaching, and noticed he stood, watching.

She jumped again, this time grabbing the rung and pulling herself up....up...and just as she felt the bottom step under her feet, someone or something grabbed her ankle and pulled her hard to the ground.

 

Gabriella’s Summer Adventure.

Day One, Week Two

By The Writer

 

As the words, “you’re safe,” repeated in her mind, Gabriella felt herself slipping further and further away…
                                                                                 * * *

She was weightless, cool water surrounding her. The water was such a rich deep blue, so tranquil. She was swimming. How was this possible at such depths without diving gear? She could breathe or at least, no requirement to breathe. At that moment, she caught movement in her peripheral vision. Oh, they were so beautiful, these large creatures, sidling up next to her. A smiling aqua giant looked at her and the realization of what she was doing dawned on her. She was navigating in the depths of the sea with a herd of Sea turtles. They were so elegant, gliding through the sea. It was as if she knew them, could understand their language. She was part of their clan. Diving deeper, following the herd, reaching total darkness, deeper, deeper, they all dove. Gabriella felt the serenity overwhelmingly peaceful.
                                                                                       ***

Gabriella was so relaxed lying there in the darkness. The room was only slightly spinning and she knew it was from all the champagne she and Warren had shared. She heard the water running in the sink, even beyond the closed door of his hotel bathroom. Nervously, she adjusted the Egyptian cotton sheets to frame her naked body in what she thought to be an alluring pose. She wanted so badly to feel the strength of Warren’s exquisite body so closely pressed against her own.

She felt a slight breeze coming in through the open window. As the sheers billowed, she could catch a glimpse of the full moon, high in the night’s sky. The moon, her only witness to this evening’s events, which were about  to unfold. How come this chemistry with Warren wasn’t felt at all during their “speed date”?  Tonight it was as if she’d been his lover for years.

As Warren emerged from the bathroom, Gabriella could make out this frame in the darkness. His muscled deltoids, so perfect, as if chiseled by Michael Angelo himself. He slowly bent down to kiss her, before climbing onto the bed himself. Collecting her from her waist to reel her in, closely next to him. She felt so feminine in his strong, decisive arms. Warren, stroking the hairs framing her face, looking seductively into her eyes, in total silence. Gabriella felt her muscles give way into total submission. She lay there, trembling .

She tried to speak, but Warren covered her lips gently with his fingers. “Just lie there Princess, and do as I ask,” he uttered in tender dominance.

Gabriella was shocked how her body reacted to this side of Warren. The shockwave was titillating, so unexpected, running hard and fast from her pounding heart to deep within her nether-regions. Oh my gosh, no man has ever touched me in this way, who would have thought THIS from boring Warren?

 His lips slowly caressed her neck. Gentle kisses, an unexpected nibble, in concert with the motion of his thumb and forefinger gently rolling over her nipples. Oh yes, her breasts were very pert now, from his attention. She couldn’t hide her excitement from him, not if she wanted to.

Warren  was amused by this and chuckled in delight at his obvious conquest. He spoke in a whisper, “Oh my beautiful pet, no words are necessary, as your body is visibly speaking volumes to me.” Then with the skill of a surgeon, he peeled back the sheet, inch by inch, as his lips made their way down her tummy.

The trembling  subsided and was replaced with the most pleasurable resolve. Gabriella wanted to linger in this moment forever. The anticipation growing, she wanted this man to cause her body to buckle and soar into orgasmic bliss. He stroked her creamy soft skin, as he began to part her legs, bending close to teasingly kiss the tender most areas of her inner thighs. As she felt his heated breath approach her, his soft lips, gently kissing, she knew she was about to get her wish. Once she felt his tongue penetrate the petals of her flower she skyrocketed, her breathing was labored, her chest heaved. She let out a primal scream, from the very center of her being.

She sat up in bed, only to realize it was daylight, Warren was no where to be seen. They must have all been dreams. Oh so many dreams. She looked down to find an ice pack in her lap. It must have slipped down as she sat up in bed screaming, mid coitus.

Gabriella surveyed her surroundings, focusing on the room service trolley, and her sudden desire for café noir, was almost too much to bear.

“Ms. Cavalier,”  an unknown voice spoke, “please lie back down, I’d like to examine you further, now that you have regained consciousness.”

“Who are you?” Gabriella asked, as the pain and pounding became more pronounced in her head.

“I’m Dr. Henri de St. Remy, the hotel physician. I was summoned after your nasty fall, as you were stepping into the hot tub last evening.”

 Her head began to swim again, fragments of memory flooded back to the forefront of her thoughts. What happened to Warren? Was he rendered incapacitated? Were Malek’s intentions sinister? What was with those dreams? Gabriella fell back onto the pillow, in a faint from all the confusion and pounding in her head.

Gabriella's Summer Adventure... week one

 

 Gabriella's first week has thrown us many curves.  She quits her job, packs her bags, and heads for the adventure of a lifetime.  She arrives at JFK International Airport and boards a flight to Dubai.  To her surprise, Mr. Smellgood from the gift shop sits beside her and offers her a pack of gum she’d placed back on the counter in her hurry to make her flight.  With a sip of champagne and a snap of her gum, Gabriella finds herself drugged and in a deep sleep.  She awakes when a scuffle in the aisle lands a gun in her lap.  Mr. Smellgood, Malak - her own private Angel, and an old speed dating partner, Warren, save the day by apprehending terrorists trying to hijack the plane.  She finds herself in Paris with a handsome air marshal on each arm, and after a long day and a romantic dinner, she somehow meanders into a hot tub with both of them.  Surprised when Warren warns her not to drink the wine, Gabriella loses her guts and runs for shelter in the bathroom.  Feeling hands wrap around her forearms, she turns and looks into Malak’s eyes. Is that Warren lying in a heap on the floor?  Yes it is, and he can no longer help her.  She loses consciousness and awakes to Malak’s melodic voice greeting his Princess good morning.  She is now a Princess, and on a planet far, far away from earth. Not only is she in a distant galaxy, but she is also in the line of descendents of the ruling women for this alien land.  Malak informs her it is his mission, his duty, to seduce her and to impregnate her.   Is Gabriella dreaming all this?  Or has she really been transported to a planet in a galaxy parallel to the Milky Way?  Read The Writer's installment on Monday for the answers. 

Read the blog on … http://www.myspace.com/alekanakis

 

 

Gabriella’s Adventure – Part V – Jacquie Rogers

Yesterday’s adventure ended with:

A soft breeze and the pungent smell of salt tickled her nose.  Gabriella blinked, eyes crusty and sleep-laden.  An open window met her hazy gaze as she tried to come awake.  Alive.  Filmy white sheers that framed the floor-to-ceiling windows willowed in and out with gentle gusts.  A sea blue sky wafted in between like a water color painting.  Green palm fronds peeked in from what looked to be a bricked patio…or maybe some kind of portico.

She slowly perched herself up on her elbow.

“Good morning, Princess.  How did you sleep?”

Involuntarily, she turned toward the voice.  Malak.

*    *    *    *    *

And the story continues:

“Why do you insist on calling me ‘Princess’?”  Gabriella’s mind slowly cleared itself of cobwebs as she struggled to recall exactly what had happened.  Malak—angel? Or demon?  She felt heavy bands holding down her wrists.  Demon.

“Because you are Princess Gabriella from the planet Htrea, which is in the parallel universe to the Milky Way.”

“I suppose that’s why I’m in handcuffs?”

“Those aren’t handcuffs.”  He lifted her right hand, kissed her palm, and placed it on his naked chest, then studied her eyes as if looking through to her soul.  “Those are wrist bands from the Royal House of Akela, whose queens have ruled Htrea for over a thousand years.  I am Malak, your protector in every way.”

A tiny gasp escaped her mouth.  She wondered if he’d brought her to one of those places featuring sexual role-playing games.  She’d heard of them online, but didn’t know much about them.

“Tell me your desire.”

“My desire is to know how you brought me here.”  She reclaimed her overheated hand and decided to go along with Malak and his farfetched story.  While she certainly wasn’t doped up enough to believe him, neither was she inclined to cross him until she knew exactly what had happened to Warren and why.  “In a spaceship, I suppose.”

He smiled, and lawsy, she couldn’t even look at him without going all gooey inside.  But he could be a murderer!  He certainly had a hard time telling the truth.

“Capsule, more like it.”  He shrugged.  “We don’t travel in a line from Point A to Point B like Earthlings do; we time-hop to our destination.”

“Right.”  The sea breeze kept her grounded and shielded her from Malak’s nonsense.  She focused on its gentle caress.  As long as she kept Mr. Smellgood talking, she doubted he’d do her in.

“The Royal House of Akela . . . am I related to the queen?”

“Yes.”

He seemed rather tightlipped all of a sudden.  Gabriella took note of his reluctance to speak of her supposed kinship with his phantom queen—could be a chink in his outlandish story.  After all, even if she were a princess, why would she have lived her entire life on Earth?

Gabriella sat up, her head still a bit woozy but better than it was.  “Shall we go see her, then?  If I’m related to the queen and her family, I should be introduced immediately.”

Malak slid his hands around her waist.  “Maybe a tour around the Royal Village would be in order?”

In the spirit of going along with his story, Gabriella nodded, which was about all she could do since the warmth in his hands made her legs feel like jelly.  She chided herself once more—he could be a murderer.  She knew nothing about him other than he was devastatingly handsome, he attracted her by his scent, he told ridiculous tales, and he made her want to jump his bones. 

The latter wouldn’t happen, though, until he brought her back to her hotel in Paris and she was satisfied that Warren was okay.

“Let’s go.”  With stern resolve, she pushed his hands away and stood.  He kept his distance, but she knew if she wavered even a bit, he’d be right there to steady her.  While that thought was comforting, it was also annoying that she thought it was comforting.  Never had she needed a man for support before, and by darn, she didn’t need one now.

“The queen won’t be expecting you until tomorrow, so you may explore all you wish.  Funds have been transferred into your bank account, should you wish to make a purchase.”

“How nice.”

The door opened to pure insanity—women riding mauve three-legged horses whose hind legs hopped, supported by the front leg that looked more like a tent pole than a leg.  Not a smooth ride, for sure.  Little children played with nets, chasing ladybugs the size of footballs.  The bugs seemed to be having a good time.  But Gabriella didn’t see a single man. 

The sky was blue, the sea smelled of salt, but everything else had gone wonky. 

“What’s the name of this village?” she asked Malak.

“Sikan.  It’s named after the seventh daughter of the seventh queen of the Royal Akela line.”

The statues in the village square resembled those of Aphrodite and Zeus.  Hera stood in the corner, a scowl on her face.  Then again, any woman whose husband fooled around like Zeus would have a bad attitude.  Gabriella had always sympathized with Hera.

Malak waved and a woman dressed in sleek lavender riding a three-legged horse approached them, dismounted, and dropped into a deep curtsy before Gabriella.  “May I assist you, Princess?”

Gabriella had to admit that things had progressed further than a bad dream with this princess stuff.  “Please stand,” she told the woman.  “What is the name of your beast of burden?”

“This animal is called a hollaby.  He can carry 500 stone and lope for half a cycle without food or water.  Would you like mine?” She handed Gabriella the reins.  “I give him to you.”

“Thank you, miss, but I don’t know how to ride.”  Gabriella smiled and patted the hollaby on the nose.  “So while your offer is generous, I think he will be of more service to the queen under your care.”

“The princess desires to tour the village.  Is your hollaby well trained?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll use him, then.  You’ll find funds transferred into your account by starset.”

The woman left, and once again, Gabriella was alone with Malak, her protector, but also the man most likely to do her harm.

“Princess, would you care to break your fast?”

Not really, but then she was curious about the food—nearly as curious as she was about the hollaby.  “Sure.”

He helped her mount the exotic animal.  Once she got into the rhythm of the hollaby’s stride, the ride wasn’t unpleasant, although she worried about getting carsick.  They passed several geodesic domes made of glass, or at least some clear material, and several more square brown buildings before Malak stopped the animal and helped Gabriella down.

“This is the queen’s favorite breakfast restaurant.  It’s called Aluv’s Offshore Café and I’m sure you’ll enjoy it as much as Her Highness.”

“You seem to know a lot about her.” 

He clammed up again.  She wondered about the nature of his relationship with the queen.  Her lover, maybe?  Malak tied the hollaby to the hitching post and escorted me into the small building.  The blue and white interior sparkled as if it were brand new. 

The seating hostess curtsied.  “Welcome, Princess!”

“We’ll sit at the royal table,” Malak said.  “Bring coffee.  Black.”

The woman scurried away and he led Gabriella to the table at the corner window.  A waitress brought coffee and bowls filled with round berry-like fruits of all colors.  “Enjoy.”

He picked up an orange berry, studied it, then brushed it along Gabriella’s lips.  She wanted to lick it, feel it on her tongue, but he moved the berry away from her. 

“Do you like it?”

“The berry makes me tingle.  Is it like a cinnamon stick?”

“Ah, much more than that.”  He plopped the berry into his own mouth and savored it.  “Oh, so much more.”

Everything about this man drew her, and her frustration with him mounted.  “Take me home, Malak.  I don’t know who you are or why you showed up in my life, and I’m having a super hard time believing I actually rode a hollaby, or that whole story about me being a princess.  So take me back to my hotel room in Paris.  Now.”

His jaw set, and his eyes guarded, he took my hand in his.  “Princess, that is the one thing I cannot do.”

“What can you do, then?  I don’t want to be here, Malak.  I want to vacation in Paris.  I want to forget my job and my ennui.  I want to have a good time.  A good time!  Not be a princess.  You got that?”

He picked up another berry, this time a blue one, and rubbed it over her lips again.  When she opened her mouth slightly, her tongue touched the berry.  Desire exploded in a line from her tongue to deep in her womb.  Never had she wanted a man the way she wanted this one.

“My job is to make you desire me, to beg me to make love to you, and to have my baby.”

A brick flew through the window, nearly bashing her head, but Malak tackled her and saved her from a certain concussion and maybe a skull fracture.

His body pressed against mine, his breath tingling my ear.  “You’re safe, Princess.”

“From what?”

 

Gabriella’s Adventure – Part IV – Maddie

An excellent dinner, fabulous wine, a breezy bistro in Paris, and a hunky man at each elbow filled Gabriella’s night.  Adventure.  Yes, she could get used to this.  

            As they strolled toward her hotel, she struggled with whether she should kiss either of them goodnight.  Or both.  And to what depth she would want to kiss them.

            Would a kiss ruin this?  She loved being pampered by these two men.  Of course neither of them were interested in her, really.  They were just being nice after everything she’d been through today.  She enjoyed their company and they enjoyed hers, she was pretty certain.  That was it.  So the appropriate thank you, she determined, was a very warm and polite kiss on the cheek, and a hug upon leaving.

            Unless, of course, there was obviously more.  Like flat-out, blatant chemistry.

            From either, or – dare she say – both?

            Warren, my yes, he was such a surprise.  Had turned out quite different from what she’d expected after that speed dating thing.  Strong.  Super-sexy.  She still got chills remembering how he felt crammed up against her backside on that plane.  An act that she wouldn’t mind repeating, in more intimate ways, if the timing was right…

            And then Malak.  Ah…just the sound of that name rolling off his tongue sent shivers down to curl her toes.  Angel.  Her angel.  Her protector.  He had indeed taken care of her.  And could he take care of her in other ways, as well?

            Well, she was out for adventure, right?

            She shuddered.

            “Cold, Gabriella?  Here, take my coat.”  Malak whisked off his jacket and wrapped her snug inside.  His arm lingered, draped across her shoulders, pulling her in close. 

            Smelled like him.  Ummm…  She took a deep whiff.  Mr. Smellgood.

            Something niggled at her. 

             Warren leaned in from her left.  “You know, Gabriella, there is a wonderful hot-tub in my room.  I think that would sufficiently warm you up.”

            She slanted a gaze at Warren, lifting one brow.  “Why, I think that is a fabulous idea, Warren!”  She jerked her gaze toward the other man.  “What do you think, Malak?  Will you join us?”

            Malak abruptly stopped their stroll and tightened the grip he had on her shoulder.  “Gabriella, you surprise me!  Are you inviting me to join you and Warren in his hot tub?  Are you suggesting that the three of us…”

            Suddenly realizing the consequences of her query, she darted glances back and forth between Warren and Malak.  Both of them stood smiling like Cheshire cats.  Had she put her foot in it?  Is this what she wanted? 

Both men.  In a hot tub.  With her?

            A child-like and delicious little giggle welled up in her and begged to burst out.

            She hooked her arms in the crook of both men’s elbows.  As she moved forward, she said in her best Scarlett O’Hara drawl, “Why yes, sirs, that is exactly what I am suggesting.”  Both men noticeably picked up their paces.

*          *          *

            “I’ll be right out,” Gabriella called from Warren’s bathroom.  “I just need to fix this…”   Towel.  The damned thing wouldn’t tuck in right.  Obviously, she didn’t have enough boobs to tuck anything into.

            Finally managing to tuck, she stood back and looked at herself in the huge vanity mirror.  Why in the world did she think she could pull of something as decadent as a threesome? 

            “Just look at you,” she whispered.  “You barely have enough chest there for one man, let alone thinking about sharing it with two.”

            With that, the towel fell to her feet.  “Damn.”

            A brisk knocked sounded at her door.  “Gabriella, my sweet,” the deep, sexy voice growled, “come on out.  I promise you I won’t bite.  Much.”

            Malak.  She shook off a shiver. 

            “Coming!”  Without another look in the mirror, she gathered up the towel and her courage, tucked the thing anyway it would have it, and slowly opened the bathroom door.

            Dark.  Except for a warm glow coming from around the corner.  And bubbles.  She could hear the bubbles.  As she cautiously stepped closer, running her hand along the wall as a guide, she could feel the steam from the hot water.  She peeked slowly around the corner toward—

            Oh my.  What a sight to behold.  The sunken tub was ringed with candles, casting a warm glow over the water, with just enough room for – gulp – three.  Speaking of three, she noticed three wine glasses sparkling in the candlelight, placed just so around the edge.  Hers right in the middle of theirs.  And in the tub were two smiling, sexy and virile men – her men –  sunk in to their glistening pecs and beckoning to her.  Their two towels were tossed conspicuously in a jumble behind.

            “Come, Gabriella, the water is superb.”  Malak’s coffee-chocolate voice rasped over her.  Suddenly her breasts were taut and holding up her towel quite nicely.

            She slid her gaze to Warren.  His finger crooked out at her, summoning her forward.  A sinful smile raced across his face.

            Gabriella stepped forward and dropped her towel.

            As she slipped one set of toes in the water, she shyly looked at her two men.  They smiled back appreciatively and with their wine glasses now in hand, toasted her entrance.

            “That’s it, Gabriella.  One toe at a time.  Make us wait.  The waiting is half the fun.”  Malak grinned and taunted her.

            “No.”

            She pulled her foot back out of the water and shot her gaze to Warren. 

            He stood up.  All the way up.  Water sluicing off his body and running in rivulets toward the tub.  Gabriella was certain a finer body she’d never seen.  No.  Ma’am.  Never.  He reached over to grasp her wine glass and moved forward. 

Toward her. 

            Wet.  Hot.  Hers?

            He reached for her hand.  “Step down in the water, Gabriella.”  His voice was smooth as top shelf vodka.  She had no choice to but do his bidding.

            He was fully wet.  She wasn’t.  Yet.  Until he moved in closer, slid his free arm around her, and pressed her body into the length of his.  Holy crap…  She wanted to just melt into his hot, wet body.  His other hand still holding the glass of wine, he nuzzled her neck and into her hair until he placed his very wet and warm lips next to her ear.

            “Whatever you do, Gabriella,” he whispered.  “Don’t drink the wine”

            Jerking back, she looked him square in the face.  The wine-infused, hot-tub sultry, and come-hither bedroom eyes he’d thrown on her earlier were gone.  In their place was the hardened look of man who was serious. 

Dead serious.

            Ice ran down her spine. 

She backed off.  Stumbled out of the tub.  Tripped over her towel.  

“Gabriella!”

Warren grasped her hand.  She tugged it away.  She could hear Malak splashing behind her.  A thousand thoughts sped through her brain.  Something sickening sweet rent the air as she raced ahead.

Get to the bathroom.  Lock the door.  Then what?

Trapped.  That’s what.

Hallway! 

No clothes.

To hell with clothes!

Useless.  Her feet were leaden.  Every movement blurred.  Strong fingers were grasping upper arms.  Turning her.  Twisting her body back toward him.

“Warren, let me go!  I’m sorry.  I changed my mind!”  She fought back tears.

Her eyes met with deep-set, dark azure ones.  “Warren can’t help you now.”

Fuzzy.  She looked behind Malak.  Was that Warren in a heap by the tub?  Her tongue felt thick.  Mr. Smellgood, is that you?  May I just snuggle into your…

*          *          *

            A soft breeze and the pungent smell of salt tickled her nose.  Gabriella blinked, eyes crusty and sleep-laden.  An open window met her hazy gaze as she tried to come awake.  Alive.  Filmy white sheers that framed the floor-to-ceiling windows willowed in and out with gentle gusts.  A sea blue sky wafted in between like a water color painting.  Green palm fronds peeked in from what looked to be a bricked patio…or maybe some kind of portico.

            She slowly perched herself up on her elbow.

            “Good morning, Princess.  How did you sleep?”

            Involuntarily, she turned toward the voice.  Malak.

            “Pardon me, but don’t you think that’s just a tad bit dangerous?”

            Gabriella’s eyes crossed as she stared down at the gun in her lap.  The breath left her body in short, shallow pants and a tiny trickle of perspiration snaked down her back. Her heart raced, beating a staccato rhythm in her chest.

            Pushing his tortoise-shell framed glasses up the bridge of his nose, the man seated across from her in the next aisle asked, “I say, is that one of those toy pistols?” 

            Gabriella’s eyes opened wide.  Toy pistol?  What in hell was he talking about?

            She rose to her feet, but her legs trembled.  The pistol slipped from lap as the jet pitched, careening to the left.  A woman’s shrill scream pierced the air.  Gabriella would have screamed, too, if her mouth didn’t feel like a giant ball of cotton and her head didn’t pound as though a 100-piece band marched through it…

            “The gum!” she cried out, as her fuzzy brain registered a dim memory of Malak.  He had told her his named meant ‘angel’ in Arabic.  Some angel, she thought bitterly.  He poisoned me!   She glanced around, but her head hurt too much to move it.  As her blurry eyes settled on the rest of the passengers aboard the large jet, she noticed that quite a few of them yawned, as though they had all been asleep… 

            Had Malak poisoned them all?  Worse yet…how?  Had they all eaten that tainted gum? 

            She recalled seeing some of those passengers in the same shop she had been in at the airport right before they embarked on what was now becoming a terror-filled journey.  Maybe Malak had planted the poison gum there…maybe that was his plan!

The plane pitched again.  She lost her balance, her feet flying out from beneath her legs. 

            The next thing she knew, she landed on something firm, hard and…warm.  A muscled arm snaked across her waist.  She gazed down at the elegant cut of the dark blue silk covering the forearm that held her close to a broad male chest.

            “I say, Gabriella, I rather like this.”

            She turned towards the direction of that familiar voice…

            “Warren?” Her eyes grew wide.  “Warren Michaels?  What are you doing here?”

            She groaned, thinking of the last time she had seen him – at one of those ‘speed date’ events her girlfriends dragged her to three months ago. Warren Michaels - the most boring man on the face of the earth.  Her ten-minute ‘speed date’ had seemed like ten hours.  Gabriella frowned, thinking of that date and what he spoke about…the weather, the weather…the weather…

            Boring.

            She hadn’t returned his emails when the ‘Love, Inc.,’ the company that sponsored the speed date event, notified her that she was on Warren’s, ‘definitely interested’ list.

            He shifted in his seat as the jet tilted once more.  Bags slid into the aisle, people screamed.  The next thing she knew, three black-hooded men shot down the aisle, one of them brandishing the gun she held minutes ago!

            Gabriella’s stomach lurched, bile rose in her throat.

            “You two!” One of the black-hooded men shouted at Gabriella and Warren.  The hulking, shrouded man stood inches away from Gabriella.  “Up!” He ordered.  “Now…”

            Where was Malak, she wondered?  He had given her that sedative-loaded gum and now, he had disappeared into thin air…

            She wanted to cry.  Her dream vacation…she’d never experience it.  And she would spend her last hours on earth with boring Warren Michaels.

            “Move!”  The men shouted in unison.  “Get to the back of the plane.”  Gabriella rose to her feet, then felt something cold and hard dig into her lower back.

            “I say…you get the gun out of her back right now.”

            Her eyes bugged out, her mouth hung open.  Warren?  Was that boring Warren Michaels defending her? And what was with that crazy British accent? 

            Great, just great…not only was he boring…he was crazy, too. 

            One of the black-hooded men shoved the barrel of the gun into Warren’s back.  He tripped, pitching forward, placing his hands Gabriella.   She fell forward, right into the group of passengers standing in front of her.  They all went down like dominoes as the plane pitched once more.

            Her stomach couldn’t take much more of this!

            She heard people shouting again, watched as a man rose to his feet in the middle of the aisle…

            His deep blue eyes met hers…

            Malak!

            Gabriella saw the slight shake of his head, saw him mouth something that sounded like, ‘stay down.’  The next thing she knew, she felt that steely forearm around her waist again.

            “Do what Malak says, Gabriella,” a deep, male voice whispered in her ear.  His warm breath tickled her lobe.  She struggled in vain to rise, for his body covered hers…

            His long, hard, body, she thought.  She wouldn’t mind snuggling against that muscled frame.  Oh, what she wouldn’t give to spend lazy days on a sandy beach curled up next to…

            “Don’t move, love, or I won’t be able to do what I have to.”

            She swung her head around…

            “Do what?”

            She watched as Warren lifted two fingers to his brow in silent salute to…

            Malak!

            The next few minutes went by in a blur for Gabriella as she got caught up in a tangle of arms and legs.  She heard shouts …and grunts…as a struggle ensued between the black-hooded men – and Warren and Malak.  The gun went off, she saw a flash, smelled an acrid, burning odor. 

            When she lifted her head, she saw Malak and Warren slap handcuffs on the three assailants.

            The passengers and crew began to cheer as Malak and Warren hustled the three men out of the cabin, towards the back of the plane.

            It was the last thing she remembered before she fainted, her face pressed into the floor beneath her.

***

            Hours later, Gabriella sat in the security office at Charles DeGaulle airport near Paris, France.  She had been questioned by a horde of people…including the media.

            “What a way to start a vacation,” she mumbled, sinking further into the chair Warren had deposited her in before he went back out to get debriefed.  She cradled her chin in her hand, resting her elbow on the arm of the chair.  Tears stung her eyes, but she wouldn’t give in, refusing to let the events of the past few hours made her sad…

            She was alive…thanks in no small measure to Warren and Malak.

            “Here, I brought you some coffee.”  Malak strode through the door just then.  She sniffed, inhaling the fragrant odor of the steaming cup of java he held in his hand.

            Malak.  Her angel.  Everyone’s angel aboard flight 271 to United Arab Emirates.

            “How do you feel?”  Malak took a seat next to her and frowned.  Running a long, bronzed finger down her nose, he said.  “You were brave, Gabriella.”  He shook his head full of jet-black hair.  “You stayed calm.  Anyone other woman…”

            “Would have screamed her bloody head off.”

            Warren entered the small room.  Her eyes traveled up his tall frame.  His suit jacket lay slung across one broad shoulder…

            She remembered the feel of that shoulder when the careening jet had tossed her straight into Warren’s lap…

            Gabriella took a sip of the hot coffee, swirling the sugary brew over her tongue.  Her hormones were in overdrive.  She couldn’t let the sight of these two handsome hunks detour her from her mission…

            Which was to get answers…lots of them!

            She placed the coffee down on the small table next to her.  She narrowed her eyes and shook her head at Malak.  “That Trident gum you gave me just as the plane took off…it was poisoned.” 

            He shook his head.  “It wasn’t the gum, Gabriella.  Those three terrorists poisoned the air in the jet – they used an extremely rare chemical found in fancy perfumes that causes…”

            Her shoulders slumped.  She mumbled, “Mr. Smellgood.”

            Malak glanced at Warren.  “What’s she talking about?”

            She sighed and gazed at Malak.  “I thought it was you…I thought you were wearing some kind of really sexy cologne.”  Her cheeks heated at the directions her thoughts took. 

            “It was the poisoned air, Gabriella. Anyone who inhaled it, passed out.  That’s the effect the chemical has – it causes dizziness, fatigue, shortness of breath…

            She shook her head and pointed at the two of them.  “But not you?  Didn’t you inhale it?”

            Warren settled his tall frame on the arm of the club chair Gabriella sat in.  He placed an arm around her shoulders and replied, “I’m a poison expert, love. As soon as I smelled that sweet odor, I knew what they were up to.  You have to always be alert and on your guard when you’re an air marshal.”

            She sighed.  “I still can’t believe it…you two are really air marshals?”

            “Believe it,” Malak replied, his voice hard.  “Warren and I fly together all the time aboard the international flights to the UAE.” 

Warren continued.  “Malak and I needed to seize hold of the situation quickly, so we breathed through what’s called ‘invisible face masks.’  They’re barely noticeable.    When everyone started passing out, we played along...”

            “…and made like we passed out, too.”  Malak finished.  He angled his head in Gabriella’s direction.  “You seem pale.  Are you sure you’re okay?”

            She blew out a shaky breath.  “I-I thought you gave me that gum.”  Her cheeks heated again.  “I-I thought you were the terrorist.”  She glanced at Warren.  “And you…”

            He raised a brow.  “What, love?”

            “When I met you at that ‘speed date’ event, I thought, well…”

            Warren gave her a cheeky grin.  “That I was the most boring person on the planet?  That’s my cover…and Malak’s is to blend in on these international flights to the United Arab Emirates.  We’re just two, ordinary…”

            “Oh!” she cried.  “Not ordinary.  Not by a long shot.”

            Warren rose to his feet.  He stuck his hands in his trouser pockets.  “You’re free to go, Gabriella.  There’s another flight to UAE and…”

            “No!”  She rose and looked at the two of them.  “I’m staying right here in Paris.”

            Warren shot Malak a look. 

            She reached out and snagged their hands.  What a contrast, she thought, one bronzed and dark…one elegant, yet, rugged.

            “My two new friends.  How can I ever thank you?”  Tears stung her eyes. 

            They both grinned.  “By letting us show you the sights, Gabriella.  We’ve got a couple of days before we have to fly again.  How about letting us show you Paris?”

            “I’d love it!”  She looped an arm through each of theirs.  “I wanted an adventure, and I found it.”

 

           

             

 From the previous post:

“Don’t change that on my account,” he drawled in an unfamiliar accent. Then removing his jacket, he reached into the inside pocket and pulled out a pack of Trident blue. “Think you missed this in your hurry to make the flight.”

 

“Oh, thanks,” Gabriella gushed, surprised by his thoughtfulness. Who would have thought that gentlemen still existed in this day and time? And not only did this gentleman smell great, but he was incredibly handsome too.

She gazed into his deep blue eyes, finding their color captivating. God, she could drown in those depths.

“Are you going to take the gum?”

Snap out of it, Gabby!

“Sorry,” she said, feeling a flush emerge on her cheeks. “I must be really tired.”

Gabriella took the package of Trident from his fingers with a grateful smile. She opened the pack, while he handed off his jacket to the flight attendant.

When Mr. Smellgood finally settled into his seat, she offered him a piece. He shook his head, “I’m okay.”

She unfolded the thin paper wrapper. “Thank you for bringing the gum.”

“My pleasure,” he replied, clicking his seatbelt in place. “Enjoy it while you can. Who knows what adventures tomorrow brings,” he murmured.

She froze, a sense of foreboding ringing in her ears. “I’m sorry? What did you say?”

“Nothing. I’m just thinking out loud.”

Okay, weirdo. Did you poison my gum?

As if reading her mind, a cute smirk formed on his lips and his eyes glittered in amusement.

Suddenly, she felt very foolish. Years of cutthroat business dealings had obviously made her paranoid. She needed to loosen up and stop analyzing every sentence uttered to her.

She popped a piece of Trident in her mouth and held out her hand. “I’m Gabriella.”

“I’m Malak,” he said, wrapping his large fingers around hers. “You have a beautiful name. It fits you, being that you’re a beautiful woman.”

She looked down, wanting to hide her intensified blush. What was wrong with her? She felt like a teenager again.

“I like your name too. What does Malak mean?”

The plane suddenly began moving backwards. They sat in silence as the plane taxied to the runway and the first class attendant gave an overview on flight safety. A couple of minutes later, the engines revved, and they were taking off.

Gabriella closed her eyes tight and squeezed the armrest. She hated the taking off and landing part of flying. It scared her.

“Angel. Malak means angel.”

She opened her eyes to find Malak staring at her.

“Are you heading to the United Arab Emirates for business or pleasure?” he asked.

“Pleasure.” She relaxed a little. “I’ve only been to UAE three times, strictly business, but what little I saw, I loved. So I thought I’d come back.”

“Staying in Dubai or Abu Dhabi?”

“Dubai. It has a great nightlife, amazing resorts, and I can’t pass up the wonderful sites during the day hours. Plus, it will be a great launching place. I want to travel around the world while I can.”

“To where?”

Elation raced through her at the prospect of where she could go. “I thought I might check out the sites in Egypt, or go spend a week lying on a beach in Seychelles. I might try India, or head east to Thailand or Malaysia for some shopping. I don’t know yet. I have no set plans.”

“And you’re going to do this all alone?”

“Why not?” She shrugged. “It’s the best way. Then you can do what you want- when you want. No compromises needed.”

He sighed heavily. “It’s also very dangerous.”

She made an amused face, dismissing his concerns. She was an adult. “What are you going to UAE for?”

“Business. Plus to visit friends and family. A little of everything.”

Gabriella yawned, suddenly feeling very tired. She put her head back, trying hard to keep her eyes open. Poor Malak. He was talking, but she couldn’t concentrate on his words. Was she passing out?

“I’m sorry. I need to sleep now,” she managed to say thickly. Her tongue felt swollen.

A tissue pressed gently against her lips. “Honey, spit your gum out,” Malak’s soothing voice floated around her.”

She complied with the request, then tried desperately to open her heavy lids. “What’s wrong with me?”

Her feet lifted up, cushioned under the leg rest, and a warm fuzzy material fell over her body. Long male fingers removed tendrils of hair from her forehead. “Don’t fight it. It’s for the best. Trust me.”

“Okay.” Was the only word she was able to mutter.

                  * * *

Awoken by a sharp scream, Gabriella opened her eyes. She blinked hard, trying to clear her blurry vision. Though she was able to see slightly better, the world around her swam, swaying to and fro and making her stomach feel sick.

Closing her eyes, she drifted back toward sleep, but her dry mouth- and the fact that some woman was crying loudly- kept her from reaching slumber. Damn, she was so thirsty.

Fine… water, then more sleep.

She leaned to the side to get the flight attendant’s attention. Unfortunately, the sobbing attendant was busy being comforted by some man holding her tightly against him. He was demanding she be quiet.

“I guess I’ll have to wait,” Gabriella whispered to herself in irritation.

Aware there was commotion in the aisle a few feet away, she wasn’t concerned, and focused at the screen in front of her showing a map of their traveled distance. She leaned forward to get a good look.

That couldn’t be right.

She looked to her left to ask...what was his name... Mr. Smellgood, but he wasn’t there. She rubbed her eyes and stared at the screen again. It showed that the plane was almost to its destination.

There was no way she’d been sleeping for that many hours, had she?

Another scream! Definitely not her imagination.

More alert now, Gabriella leaned right and looked down the aisle again. Funny, two men were fighting, colliding into seats and grabbing at each other. Suddenly, they pitched toward her. A heavy object landed hard in her lap as the two men fell on the ground in tangled mess of limbs and grunts.

“Gabriella!” A familiar voice said. “Give that to me!”

She picked up the object and held it close to her nose.

A gun?

 

 

 

           Chapter One

Gabriella crossed her arms and tapped her toes, waiting to pay for the three packs of Trident gum clenched in her fist. It was ten to nine, and the flight was scheduled to take off in fifteen minutes. Boarding was almost complete, and here she was stuck in a line longer than the bathroom wait during intermission at a Broadway show.

She should’ve stopped at the gift shop before clearing security and not waited to hit the gate’s news stand. If those kids didn’t decide between Snickers or Milky Way bars any time soon, she’d miss the flight.

Snickers won, and she sighed in relief. The three bottles of water were next, then the handsome guy with the stack of magazines, the woman with a romance novel, and directly in front of her was a pair of tall, broad shoulders who smelled better than a spring rain shower. She couldn’t see what he was paying for without appearing too nosy, so she settled back on her new Jimmy Choo heels and waited.

Besides, she needed to accustom herself to a new pace and learn to enjoy the moment. No more running from meeting to meeting. No rush hour to beat, no rat race, and no fighting for a cab when meeting friends for dinner. Gabriella Cavalier was a changed woman as of five o’clock last night. She was free.

She’d done it! She’d walked out of the suffocating hell hole and reclaimed her life. Well, maybe not many people would consider the corner office on the fifty-eighth floor with a full view of Manhattan a hell hole, but that is what it had turned into for her these last two years. She was sick of trying to climb further up the corporate ladder and bumping her head on the glass ceiling. She’d never go any higher if she didn’t sleep with the old jackass, but that was one thing she wasn’t willing to do.

Draining her savings and retirement accounts, she’d covered the penthouse’s expenses through the end of the year and calculated a minimum of three months travel before she needed to find a new position and get back to work.

At least the suffering she’d faced in that stifling place for the past ten years was over. She no longer had to put up with old pervert’s eyes staring down her shirt, nor with the cat claws from junior executives scratching at her nerves because she disagreed with their proposals. Not to mention, she was done with daggers in her back from the other senior execs, and only her air ferns to trust not to turn on her.

She’d earned the right to forget the words ‘gainfully employed’ for a few months. She was going to travel and experience the world until she dropped. Doing what she wanted, when she wanted, wherever she wanted.

Gabriella scraped her teeth over her bottom lip. Maybe she was a changed woman, but the overhead speakers just announced last call for flight 432. Her flight.

She reached across Mr. Smellgood, placed the gum back on the display, and then hurried for the gate. No more rushing after this last sprint, she reminded herself. Following the last passenger in line, she handed her boarding pass to the representative and walked down the ramp.

“Welcome. Your seat is on the left.” The flight attendant smiled and offered her a pillow.

“Thank you,” she responded, accepting the lush, down, silk case and glancing at the few passengers scattered amongst a bunch of empty seats. “Looks like we’ll be able to spread out on the flight and get a good night’s sleep.”

“Sure does. We’re only waiting on one more passenger, and then we’ll push back,” the young woman confirmed, adding to Gabriella’s sense of euphoria. “Have a good flight.”

“I plan to.” She smiled and walked down the left aisle, checking for her row number. I didn’t even need the first class seat on this flight. But hey, at least the champagne will help me sleep soundly. And the personal satellite television isn’t bad either.

Gabriella placed her bag beneath the seat next to hers, buckled her seatbelt, and tucked the pillow behind her neck. If only she was able to fall asleep before the plane started to move, she’d feel much better about the take off. She’d always been a wimp about take offs.

The flight attendant came over and offered her a glass of champagne. “Sorry, about the delay. Just a minute or so more.”

“It’s fine,” Gabriella assured her. “I’m just using the time to relax.” She raised the glass in her right hand. “With a few sips, I’ll be asleep in no time.”

The stewardess smiled at her and walked back to the galley. Sipping-or was what she did considered gulping- half of the sweet bubbly drink, she closed her eyes and waited for the plane to leave the gate.

She must have been more tired than she’d thought, because she awoke when she felt something brush against her knees.

Mr. Smellgood smiled down at her. “Sorry. I’m in A.”

“No problem,” she said, looking into his dark blue eyes. She reached for her bag and repositioned it on her side. “I didn’t think there’d be anyone sitting here, so I stretched out and made myself comfy.”

“Don’t change that on my account,” he drawled in an unfamiliar accent. Then removing his jacket, he reached into the inside pocket and pulled out a pack of Trident blue. “Think you missed this in your hurry to make the flight.”

Join us on Tuesday, when Tia Fanning throws her spin on Gabriella's travels.
If you'd like to write part of Gabriella's Adventure, please visit the Amazing Summer page for details.

Wow! I’m amazed by the responses I’ve received. Hey, maybe my mom was right— you can count on your friends. So to all of you, and you know who you are, thanks for offering to write. What surprised me is the interest from other readers and writers I’m just meeting. So, welcome to all and don’t forget to sharpen your pencils as we depart! I think Gabriella is in for a ride.

 

I’ve been hesitating about posting all day. The reason being, I didn’t want to make a mistake in what I put up as guidelines. But, hey, I broke the first rule by doing that.

 

Guidelines:

 

*There are no mistakes. Only twists and turns that life will throw at Gabriella.

I was talking with Tia Fanning today, and she asked, “What if I take your hero and make him a horrible criminal?” Yikes!  She then wanted to change Gabriella’s hair color! So this so-called close friend of mine dug the knife a little deeper when I objected and said, “Fine when it’s my turn to write- if I don’t like her hair, she’ll duck into the ladies’ room and change it!”

 

Get the idea? We’re doing this together. What one writer perceives as a hero, an other can see he as a whimpering momma’s boy! LOL  The is no right or wrong.

 

We need to write something that advances the story. Length, time of happenings, locations, plots, and even characters are up to the person who claims the day.  FYI, Tia has put dibs on Tuesday. Gosh, poor Gabriella is going to be dizzy from all the spins Tia will write into our adventure.

 

*Turn off the internal editor.  Don’t worry about answering all the questions a comment or quote may bring to the surface. Let the next writer deal with some. Think of this as a free writing style exercise. It will make it more fun and Gabriella will have to get out of situations that only one author could never come up with.

 

*Spelling and typos are not important.  Putting this in here to cover my own hide. I’m on a streak of misspellings and typos this month. Just had my nails trimmed down so I don’t hit the wrong keys. (Hey, I needed to blame it on something...hehehe). Seriously, we’re here to have fun. If we each need to spend hours on proofing something, we won’t be able to meet other deadlines, and eventually, Gabriella will be stranded in the middle of the Sahara with only one bottle of Evian and no way to get home. Just have fun.

 

*Use the chat box on my www.myspace./alekanakis.com  for messages to the group, or comments in the blog.  If you message me personally, everyone won’t be able to see it.

 

Okay, here are some questions and comments:

 

Pen in hand, at the starting gate . . . bring it on! I'm still not sure what we're doing, but I'm game for anything.

Are you sure I can't crawl into your suitcase???

Posted by Jacquie Rogers

Jacquie, We’re writing a collaborative book on Gabriella’s Summer Adventure.

Plus, we don’t need to haul suitcases around the world. Our fingers will do the miles. This is the way to travel together! We’ll never have a misunderstanding about whose turn it was to cook, and we’ll have an endless choice of showers. I only have 1 ½ baths at the summer house. But, you know you’re always welcomed:-)

 

Well... you know what I write... <naughty grin> I'm game and will append where appropriate. This could be quite fun, not to mention an extraordinary collaborative effort.
Have a great weekend!
Warm Regards,
~TW

Posted by The Writer

Exactly, ‘collaborative effort’. Can you imagine an inspirational twist on Thursday, and then you take over with your, hm-hm, erotica on Friday? Oh, it’s going to be nuts!

 

I was asked by a few people what exactly needed to be done and how they could help.

 

Great!
First, read the blog on Monday (she'll be at the airport), then let me know when you want to turn in some continuance 'writing'--it isn't a 100% copy edited type of thing, it's more fun --and I'll let readers know not to write in for the day that I already have a piece and they should look for your part of the story... Plus, wouldn't it be funny if Gabriella eventually finds a home with a publisher? hehehe. Know anyone? LOL

 

Okay, I'll read the blog on Monday (should I subscribe to your blog in order to do that?). And...is this going to be a sort of 'writing round robin' where different authors are providing different parts of the same story? Where we build on what's already been written? (in other words, if I contribute a part to Gabrielle's adventures, in order to push the story forward, will the next writer have to build on what I write...or start something altogether new for Gabrielle?)

Sincerely,
Catherine Chernow
www.CatherineChernow.com

P.S. - Hmmmm...maybe I do know a publisher!! LOL...

 

Bingo! Catherine hit it on the head. This is a ‘writing round robin’. Tuesday picks up where Monday left off, Thursday with Wednesday etc... That is why I insist on not concentrating on ‘proof reading’ and just writing. There won’t be much time.

Any dibs on Wednesday?

 

Plus we need to accept what the other authors put on paper. Maybe I want Gabriella to go overseas (which I do), but Maddie wants her to visit her grandma in Florida (hypothetical).Well, Maddie can write it anyway she wants, but when it’s my turn she’ll be back at Miami International Airport.

 

Honestly, friends...how could a publisher pass on this? –Proofing you might say...lol. That’s why copy editors were born:-) Think of it as job creation.

 

Okay, I think this is getting too long for a Saturday night, and I still have so much more. However I want to address one final thing. This ‘effort’ includes readers and writers. Pass the word on and encourage others to submit and comment.

 

Val here...........I love summer and ready for any adventure! Looking forward to reading more...................make it exciting and shocking!

Posted by Valerie

Yup, Val that includes you and Lainey, too. Both, authors and readers! Combine the two and it’s a sure formula for fun and success.

 

 What an imaginative and clever idea! You're brave to take it on. Wow. An entire summer devoted to picking and choosing who has the most interesting, entertaining and informative travel stories. Fun stuff. I'll follow along and hopefully be able to participate. I love to travel--virtually and literally!

Lainey

Posted by Lainey

BTW: You’ll need to send your writing to me at aleka@alekanakis.com so that I may post it. As soon as I have it, I’ll forward your work to the next day’s writer (if we have one) so that they could get a head start. Since I’ll be in a different time zone- seven hours ahead- I want to post it by three o’clock a.m. EST. This means you should be getting the story when you wake up in the morning.

 

Check back Monday to see how the adventure begins.

Have a great Sunday!

 

Bon Voyage! Boa Viagem! Buenna Suerte! Kalo Taxidi! Buon Viaggio!

Have a Good Trip!

 

 

I’d like to take this opportunity and invite my friends on a virtual summer vacation!

Today is June 1^st, and the official start of my summer holidays.

As most of you know, I love romance, and I love travel.

So I’ve combined the two and write romance novels set in various parts of the world.

Today, I’m proposing we all take a trip together!

I must be nuts, because after a few days with my ‘bestest’ friend,

 I can’t seem to share the bathroom anymore. However in addition to romance and travel, I love my friends! So...we can overcome that issue and take a virtual vacation.

Monday thru Friday, I’ll be posting the happenings of Gabriella on her vacation. Gabriella could visit the Grand Canyon, walk the Great Wall, or excavate the ancient ruins of Atlantis. We will decide as the summer progresses.

Who will she meet? The handsome man with the peculiar accent seated next to her in first class (or in coach), the zany professor who steals her heart with the stroke of his brush over the dinosaur fossil she’s uncovered, the way-too young hotel clerk in the five-star resort she escaping to, or the soccer player who refuses to give her an interview?

The possibilities and locations are endless.

So I invite you, my friends, to write Gabriella an adventure she won’t forget.

I’ll start the first post on Monday, and then each day I ask one of you write your dreams and desires into her vacation.  In the beginning, I will add your pieces to the puzzle on a first come, first added basis. (Once she’s on her way,  I hope to come up with a better method. Any suggestions?) You can write a paragraph, a page, or a chapter. The only requirement is that your submission be a  day in Gabriella’s travels.

She can country-even continent- hop. Let’s see where we’ll end up this year.

I’ll post the adventure to my myspace blog and website blog daily.

Bon Voyage!

www.alekanakis.com

www.myspace.com/alekanakis

you can subscribe to either blog...just give me the weekend to organize the suitcase (or pack)