The anticipation of facing Jarrod after so many years of pent-up hatred toward him released a rush of adrenaline. The thought of seeing him for the first time since his divorce sent a chill up his spine and made the hair on the back of his neck bristle. Even though he was incensed by the thought of facing Jarrod, he was impatient to learn why his cousin had vandalized the erection crane, and, further, why he thought Ryan broke into his lab.
Ryan figured it was too early to make contact with Jarrod. To do so in broad daylight chanced neighbors or bystanders witnessing an undoubtedly hostile exchange between the two men; prudence dictated that he await nightfall to complete his objective. He needed to find a quiet place to rest. At the moment, he didn’t feel safe even staying on the same street. He remembered a movie theater near the shop where he purchased his coffee earlier in the morning, and decided to wait out the time in the security of the darkened interior. Late in the evening, he would return to confront Jarrod.
Ryan hoped with every fiber of his being that the coming confrontation would bring an end to the years of hatred between the two men. He would face Jarrod unarmed; to do otherwise would be incredibly foolish. God willing, Ryan felt that the hatred between the two men would end before a new sunrise. This ends tonight…one way or the other.
TWENTY-FIVE
Nassau, Bahamas
Captain Eduardo Suarez was true to his word. He sailed Jurassic through the night, nearing the cape of Florida south of Key West well in advance of Hurricane Hannah’s predicted arrival in Galveston Bay. Holloway had instructed the captain late in the evening to proceed toward Key West, and to report which direction the hurricane was heading. From Key West, they would steer either to his enclave south of Bannerman Town, one of the out islands of the Bahamas, or proceed on to his estate in Hilton Head, South Carolina. It was indeed auspicious that Holloway ordered they depart the area prior to Hannah’s arrival, as meteorologists predicted that 100-mile-per-hour winds would lash Galveston Harbor when she finally made landfall. Law enforcement agencies ordered evacuations because significant damage was expected throughout the Gulf Coast.
Jurassic could have easily sustained the fifteen-foot swells in open water, but it would have been unpleasant for those aboard to endure such an onslaught when the practical solution was to relocate out of harm’s way. Fortunately, it was not difficult to convince Holloway to move his $100-million yacht out of the gulf; rarely did he disregard advice that protected his investments. The decision was clearly prudent because Hannah was expected to create considerable damage, even though it would be nothing compared to “the storm of the century” dating back to September 8, 1900, still considered the deadliest hurricane in United States history.
Local Galvestonians still refer to “the storm” with a reverence that only survivors can truly appreciate. When a resident Galvestonian claimed their home survived “the storm,” they meant that it pre-dated 1900; a claim that a family member had died in “the storm” was proof they had roots in the city over 100 years old. Upwards of 6,000 people lost their lives in the aftermath of the tropical cyclone that left the city in ruins, an epic tragedy forever burned into the record of Galveston Bay.
Captain Suarez stood on the bridge of the ship, alternating his gaze between the horizon ahead and the radar weather pattern displayed from the iridescent instrument console. He checked his watch and decided it was time to check in with Holloway, hoping his temperament was more congenial than last night. They were fast approaching a course correction toward the destination where they would berth Jurassic, so risking an early morning squabble was necessary. Captain Suarez preferred to berth in Nassau. From a nautical perspective, staying in open water would be best in case the hurricane took an unexpected turn back out to sea. He had the feeling, however, that Holloway would likely choose his alternate port in Hilton Head. Either way, they were at a point where he needed to change direction for the appropriate port of call.
The captain made his way from the bridge down one flight through a smaller corridor until he arrived at Holloway’s stateroom. He paused at the door, poised to knock, cautiously listening for any interior noise that might suggest his interruption would not be welcome. He decided to take a chance, preparing for an early morning dose of Holloway’s rude behavior.
He rapped lightly on the door. “Mr. Holloway, it’s Captain Suarez. Do you have a moment, sir?”
“Please, come in,” he heard Angelina’s voice call from behind the door.
Captain Suarez entered the luxurious stateroom, his face reddening from embarrassment when he realized that he was alone in the room with Angelina Navarro. She was scantily clad in a tight-fitting chartreuse exercise bra and matching bikini bottom with the word Bitch written in hot pink letters across her shapely derriere. She rode an elliptical machine that was unobtrusively placed to one side of the spacious sitting room. A light sweat made her body glisten from the workout. Angelina was reading Heart of a Woman, the latest Oprah bestseller, which was carefully secured atop the machine. She appeared to have an iPod ready, as the device was strapped to her left bicep, but the ear buds dangling around her neck were not in use. Suarez almost wished Angelina had been listening to her music, making it impossible to hear his knock. But his male libido completely appreciated viewing such a lovely woman almost naked before his eyes.
He scrutinized the room, which appeared in disarray. The ship stewards had not yet cleaned; they dared not interrupt Mr. Holloway except when specifically asked to perform their housekeeping duties. Dirty dishes had not been collected from last night’s dinner, miscellaneous papers were strewn about, and several pieces of Angelina’s clothing lay around the room. There was a red lace bra, which was partially hidden between a seat cushion of a brown leather recliner facing the large plasma TV screen. A rhinestone-decorated stiletto was lying sideways under the glass coffee table in front of the semi-circular couch. Her red negligee was dropped carelessly on the floor in front of a full-length mirror that reflected the ocean beyond. One article of clothing absent in the stateroom was her underwear. Probably because she wasn’t wearing any, the captain thought.
Although enjoying the view of Angelina’s bountiful breasts bouncing to the cadence of the machine, Captain Suarez grew exceedingly uncomfortable in her presence, deciding he had best leave before Holloway caught him in the stateroom.
“Good morning, Captain,” Angelina said, greeting him while looking over her shoulder without breaking stride. “Alastair is just finishing his shower; he’ll be out shortly. Make yourself comfortable, please,” she said with a smile. “Would you like some orange juice? Just help yourself. I’d get it for you but I have another fifteen minutes to go.”
“Thank you very much, Ms. Navarro, but, no…I should wait in the hall for Mr. Holloway.” he replied.
“Oh, nonsense, Eduardo,” she said, using his proper name for effect. “He’s not such an ogre. You just stay right there and I’ll get him out here.”
Calling loudly, she said, “Alastair, the captain’s here to see you. Can you come out, or shall I have him return later?”
“Oh, please, no, Miss Navarro. Don’t bother Mr. Holloway. I can surely come back when he’s expecting me,” the captain protested in a hushed voice, upset for not immediately taking his leave when he first realized Holloway was indisposed.
“What in God’s name are you yelling about, Angel?” they both heard Holloway respond from beyond the stateroom. “Tell the captain to wait right there. I’ll be out in a minute. And put some clothes on,” he loudly demanded.
“There now, sweetie. See how easy that was?” she said impishly, suspecting the captain was feeling anything but thankful, judging from the alarmed look on his face.