The Power Trip

  She smiled and unbuttoned her blouse, shaking her large breasts at him.

  Cashoo had never seen enhanced breasts before. So big and firm. He reached out to touch them with his bony fingers.

  Ina slapped his hands away, then unzipped his jeans, directing his long thin hard-on towards her breasts.

  He got the idea, plunged his penis between her huge breasts, and within seconds he ejaculated.

  Ina smiled at him once more before shooing him away.

  It made a pleasant change to own the power for once. It was her way of getting back at both Cruz and Sergei for treating her as if she didn’t matter.

  They thought they owned her.

  Think again.

  She knew everything about both of them.

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  After speaking to Eddie in New York, Hammond sank into a black fury. Goddamm it, he was out of town for a few short days, and all of a sudden there was a girl he barely knew accusing him of sexual harassment.

  Skylar Byrne, some stupid dumb intern who, as far as he could recall, had come onto him.

  Or had she? Whatever . . .

  Bitch! Fucking bitch! They were all bitches at heart.

  How dare she accuse him. And how dare Eddie go along with it as if the girl was telling the truth. The actual truth was that she was waiting for a big payout, and Eddie was too dumb to realize what was going on.

  On top of that nonsense, Eddie had informed him that Radical had been expelled from her strict Swiss boarding school, and was now staying at his apartment until Hammond and Sierra arrived home.

  Great. Radical. Such a perfect boost for his public image with her green-streaked dyed black hair, and her unbearable snotty teenage attitude.

  Hammond was fully aware that he would need Sierra’s help in dealing with both these problems. The public was in love with Sierra, she was their darling and could do no wrong. This was excellent, because he needed her to shut down Skylar’s accusations, before shipping Radical off to another boarding school far, far away. One thing about Sierra – she kept a clear head when it came to putting out fires. She’d know exactly how to crisis-manage.

  He’d told Eddie to shut the Byrnes up by promising them a meeting the moment he got back. Sierra would have to be at that meeting, supporting him while he informed the Byrnes that it was all the fantasies of a power-struck young girl with a crush, who’d used her imagination to make up silly stories. With Sierra in the room there was no way the Byrnes would believe their daughter. It would be his word against Skylar’s, and nobody played honest, moral and upstanding better than Hammond Patterson – especially with the lovely Sierra by his side.

  Unfortunately the timing was hardly perfect, what with Sierra getting restless because of seeing Flynn Hudson, who’d apparently fed her a mouthful of lies.

  Well, not actually lies. Hammond had doctored the photos to break them up. Flynn had not deserved a girl like Sierra, so he’d dealt with the situation. At the time it had cost him, but the results were well worth it.

  The car accident was a happy mistake, causing Sierra to lose Flynn’s baby. Good riddance to that. Although the downside was that she’d taken off, and it was a few years before he’d managed to lure her back in and marry her.

  Sierra Kathleen Snow. The perfect political wife. She was his ace in the hole, and there was no way he was letting her go.

  It was unfortunate that Flynn had inserted himself back into their lives again, stirring Sierra up, trying to persuade her to break free.

  As usual Hammond had managed to get her under control. She always believed his threats, and so she should, for in his mind he knew he was capable of anything. And he was certainly capable of getting rid of Flynn once and for all.

  When they got back to New York, the demise of Flynn Hudson was number one on his agenda.

  * * *

  ‘I think I’m ready to return to the real world,’ Flynn remarked to Cliff as they sat on the top deck drinking Jack and Cokes before dinner. ‘All this luxury – it’s not for me. I need to be where the action is.’

  ‘You gotta admit it’s not bad though,’ Cliff said, reaching for the guacamole dip. ‘I could get used to it. Might even buy myself a sailing boat.’

  ‘I’m going to try an’ leave tomorrow,’ Flynn said, clinking the ice in his glass.

  ‘It’s the big birthday night tomorrow,’ Cliff reminded him. ‘Why not wait?’

  ‘Got things to deal with,’ Flynn said restlessly. ‘Besides, I’m better off on dry land.’

  Cliff nodded. ‘I get it, but I’m happy to be taking a break. No paparazzi, no interviews, no five a.m. calls to the set.’

  The two of them had become quite friendly over the past few days. Cliff had enjoyed listening to Flynn’s stories about his world travels.

  ‘You know,’ Cliff said, signalling Renee for a refill, ‘you should consider writing a script.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ Flynn asked, thinking that there was nothing he’d like less.

  ‘’Cause you’ve had some damn fascinating adventures.’

  ‘Kinda,’ Flynn said modestly.

  ‘You’ll write a dynamite script, I’ll star in it,’ Cliff said, quite getting into the idea. ‘It’s about time I played a real character with integrity.’

  ‘What makes you think I got integrity?’ Flynn quipped.

  Cliff laughed. ‘Y’ know, I like you,’ he said. ‘You’re an interesting guy. You should take a trip to L.A., come stay with me an’ Lori for a couple of weeks, months – whatever suits you. Bring Xuan – that’s if you can pry her away from Aleksandr.’

  ‘Uh . . . yeah,’ Flynn said, hesitating for a moment. ‘About Xuan – between us, she’s not my girlfriend.’

  ‘You don’t have to explain to me.’ Cliff paused, then added an expectant, ‘Although, if you’re in the mood to talk – what’s up with you and the Senator?’

  ‘I guess you heard about the fight?’ Flynn said ruefully.

  ‘Hey – this yacht is luxurious, but it’s still close quarters. What goes on soon spreads around, not to mention the shiner you gave him. Ever thought of doing stunt work?’

  Flynn grimaced. ‘He deserved it.’

  ‘No love lost between you two?’

  ‘We go back, all the way to college,’ Flynn ruminated. ‘Hammond was always a prick.’

  ‘He’s done well for being a prick.’

  ‘An insidious, smart prick, I’ll give him that,’ Flynn allowed. ‘Treacherous as a fucking snake.’

  ‘Suitable character traits for a politician.’ Cliff said dryly. ‘Believe me, I’ve met a few of those.’

  ‘You live in L.A. – why am I not surprised?’

  Cliff cleared his throat and laughed. ‘So . . . the current battle?’ he prompted, as Renee delivered his fresh drink.

  ‘Long story,’ Flynn said, rubbing his chin.

  ‘Aren’t they all?’

  ‘Wouldn’t want to bore you.’

  ‘I’m an actor,’ Cliff said, flashing his movie-star smile. ‘We live to listen to other people’s stories.’

  ‘Okay, you asked for it,’ Flynn said, deciding that if he didn’t tell his story to someone soon, it was going to suffocate him.

  And so he began . . .

  * * *

  ‘Something unfortunate has taken place,’ Hammond announced, as he and Sierra moved around their stateroom getting ready to go up for dinner.

  For a moment Sierra panicked. Had Hammond somehow or other managed to throw Flynn overboard. Was he dead?

  Oh God! Her face paled, she could barely speak. ‘What?’ she muttered.

  ‘There’s this young intern,’ Hammond said matter-of-factly. ‘A new girl at the office. She’d developed what you might call an obsessive crush on me.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’ Sierra asked, relief overcoming her.

  ‘Because,’ Hammond said in a sanctimonious tone, ‘as my dear wife, you need to be aware of these things.’

  ‘An
d that would be because?’ Sierra asked, eyeing him warily. Something was coming, something she wasn’t going to like.

  ‘This poor deluded girl is apparently accusing me of improper conduct towards her.’

  Sierra almost burst out laughing. Improper conduct indeed! Had Hammond tried to fuck her and gotten caught? She couldn’t be happier.

  ‘Oh dear,’ she murmured. ‘That is unfortunate.’

  ‘It’s nothing earth-shattering,’ Hammond continued. ‘However, we do have to deal with it.’

  ‘We?’ Sierra questioned, taking pleasure in making him squirm a little.

  ‘Yes, we,’ Hammond said sharply, not appreciating her attitude.

  ‘And what if I don’t care to help you out on this?’ Sierra said coolly.

  Hammond’s jaw tightened as a venomous expression crossed his face. ‘I can tell you’re not listening to me, my dear,’ he said, icy cold. ‘It seems you are forgetting the things I can arrange. It seems that perhaps you do not care about the well-being of a certain someone.’

  Threats.

  Again.

  Forever.

  She was still caught in his trap.

  * * *

  ‘Exactly how long are you planning on keeping this up?’ Aleksandr enquired when Bianca awoke from a too-much-red-wine-induced sleep.

  Bianca slid from the bed, glared at her lover, made her way into the bathroom and slammed the door. ‘Until you apologize,’ she yelled from behind the closed door.

  Aleksandr was frustrated. Bianca and her jealous fits were ruining their trip. She was one obstinate woman behaving badly.

  Was he making a mistake proposing to her?

  Did she deserve the million-dollar rare emerald and diamond ring he had stashed in his safe?

  If she didn’t come around by tomorrow, he was seriously contemplating cancelling the celebratory dinner he’d organized. The dinner, where at the end of the evening he was planning on giving her the ring.

  ‘I am going up to join our guests,’ he shouted at the closed door. ‘We’ll see you later if you’re not too hungover.’

  ‘Fuck you!’ a furious Bianca retaliated.

  Another fine evening in paradise.

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Cruz dressed for business. Army fatigues. Combat boots with special rubber soles. A flak jacket with plenty of useful pockets to store his pistols and knives. He was a walking fortress, ready for anything.

  Amiin was dressed in a more colourful fashion, although his main outfit was all dark brown. On his head he wore a bright orange wool cap, and around his neck were several long flowing scarves of various colours.

  Cashoo opted for jeans, two T-shirts under a heavy sweatshirt to keep out the cold, and a red bandana across his forehead.

  There was no dress code for being a pirate. They wore whatever they chose to wear – it was the weapons that mattered. Each of the two boats was fully loaded with assault rifles, semiautomatic combat pistols, rocket blasters, machetes and an assortment of swords – a Somalian tribal thing.

  Cruz didn’t care how his men operated, as long as they got the job done.

  Viktor and Maksim, the two bodyguards Sergei was sending to bring Kasianenko back, were both of Russian origin. They’d been with Sergei for several years and they were loyal soldiers in Sergei’s army of security. Neither of them was happy about this mission. They were not sea-faring men, they were security bodyguards who preferred to operate on dry land. However, Sergei paid top dollar, so they did as they were told, whether they liked it or not.

  They regarded the pirates as useless scum, way beneath them.

  In turn, the pirates jeered and laughed at them with their close-cropped hair, neat clothes and their Glock guns. There was no love lost. There was certainly no respect.

  Sergei lectured them both before their departure. ‘What you gotta do is keep your eye on Kasianenko. You bring him to me, an’ you’ll be well rewarded. Oh yeah, an’ see that those morons don’t shoot him in the ass by mistake. I want him alive an’ kickin’ like a fuckin’ wild pig. Got it?’

  They got it.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, Cruz was busy checking the weather. There was a storm brewing, only it wasn’t due to hit until four or five a.m. His goal was to reach The Bianca by two a.m. By the time the storm moved in they would have already boarded and taken over the yacht, and he would be on the phone making ransom demands.

  Timing was everything.

  Cruz was an expert at timing.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Dinner on The Bianca was a casual affair. Aleksandr had informed everyone that since tomorrow was Bianca’s birthday celebration, tonight would be low key. The theme of the night was a barbecue, to take place on the upper deck. Two tables of six. Checkered tablecloths. Beer and red wine. Country music on the speakers. Couples seated together. Jeans and shorts was the dress code.

  Ashley wore faded cut-offs and a pink shirt tied precariously under her breasts. Taye was in jeans and a wife-beater – muscles bulging. Lori opted for cute sequined shorts and a tank top, her red hair tied in bunches.

  ‘You look exactly like a little kid,’ Cliff told her, tweaking her chin.

  ‘And you look like a grizzled old cowboy,’ she teased.

  ‘That’s some compliment!’ he said with a self-deprecating chuckle. ‘Not exactly the look I was going for, but I guess it’ll do. However, I take umbrage with grizzled.’

  ‘That’s ’cause you haven’t shaved,’ she pointed out, running her index finger across his chin.

  ‘Thought I’d grow a beard, I’m that relaxed.’

  Lori cuddled close to him. ‘It’s so nice to see you like this.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like no more Mister Movie Star.’

  ‘No more Mister Movie Star, huh?’ he said, amused.

  ‘That’s right. No more Mister Sexiest Man Alive.’

  ‘What? You don’t think I’m sexy?’ he teased.

  ‘You know I do.’

  ‘You’re cute,’ he said, kissing her on the forehead.

  ‘Thanks,’ she purred. ‘I try.’

  ‘And you’re pretty too. What a bonus.’

  ‘Double thanks.’

  ‘You know what, Lori?’ he said, squinting at her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘We’re pretty damn good together.’

  ‘And you’re only just discovering this?’ she said breathlessly.

  ‘Don’t kick a compliment in the teeth. Just go with it, baby.’

  ‘I think I will,’ she said, grinning at him.

  And at that moment in time she’d never felt more content. It was about to be another incredible night.

  * * *

  ‘I’m taking off in the morning,’ Flynn informed Xuan before they went up for dinner. ‘It’s time for me to go.’

  She was silent for a moment, busy painting her toenails with a crimson polish – a very girly thing for Xuan to do.

  ‘And that would be why?’ she asked at last.

  ‘You know why,’ he said irritably. ‘This is fucking torture for me, watching Sierra continue to screw up her life. We finally talked, and now she won’t even look at me. You’ve got no idea what that feels like. I have to leave.’

  ‘If you go, then what about me?’ Xuan asked.

  ‘You can do what you want. Come. Stay. Whatever. I’m sure Aleksandr enjoys having you around.’

  ‘I’m supposed to be your girlfriend, or have you forgotten?’

  ‘Are you serious? Nobody believes we’re together any more. Not when you’re hovering over Aleksandr like he’s some kind of god.’

  ‘I am not,’ Xuan retorted, her cheeks flushing pink. ‘Why would you say that?’

  ‘Listen, we’re in confined quarters – nothing goes unnoticed. And for your information, Bianca is seriously pissed.’

  ‘That’s quite ridiculous,’ Xuan said. ‘Aleksandr is merely offering his assistance and good will towards the less fortunate in the world
. He is an intelligent man, generous and soulful.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, sure. And you’re not jonesin’ to jump into bed with him, right?’

  ‘No, Flynn,’ she said solemnly. ‘I am not.’

  ‘Then let’s both leave tomorrow,’ he encouraged her.

  ‘No,’ Xuan said, taking a long slow beat. ‘You do what you want, I have decided to stay.’

  ‘Fuck it,’ Flynn said, marching towards the door. ‘Like I give a shit. I’ll see you upstairs.’

  * * *

  Mercedes reviewed the situation. Eighteen crew members. Twelve guests, including Kasianenko and his diva girlfriend. The onslaught for the big party was tomorrow, so no extra bodies aboard tonight.

  She relished the evening ahead, and had prepared accordingly. Drugs were not usually her thing, but to stay alert she’d gulped down several Red Bulls and snorted a few lines of coke. Coke always kept her up and at ’em, Cruz had taught her that. Who needed school when she had a poppa like Cruz to educate her?

  She’d also emptied two bottles of sleeping pills into the soup for the crew that the chef always had bubbling on the stove, and for good measure she’d crushed up another batch of sleeping pills and mixed them in with the baked beans being served with the barbecue. Sleepy passengers were far less likely to cause trouble, and getting everyone to bed early was of paramount importance.

  She’d left Kyril alone until later. The timing had to be right with him. He was such a big man that she wasn’t sure what level of drugs would knock him out. Better too much than too little. She’d deliver his hot chocolate later than usual – he probably wouldn’t even notice. The man was a machine, a stoic, silent machine.

  Guy threw her a suspicious look as they crossed paths. ‘You’re lively for someone who could barely move yesterday. Had a miraculous recovery, did we?’ he asked sarcastically.

  ‘I bet you’re glad you’re not a girl, and don’t have to go through our monthly nightmare,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘You’d throw a shit fit, couldn’t handle it.’

  ‘You got a smart mouth on you, little missy,’ Guy retorted, taking out his frustration regarding Jeromy Milton-Gold, for he was still steaming. ‘I’ve decided to dock you yesterday’s pay since you were unable to carry out your duties.’