Holiday Cruise #MFRWhooks

An amnesia victim found by the side of the road is befriended by Lillian, an older woman with early Alzheimer's. Lillian takes the victim, who they call Hallie, with her as a companion on a Caribbean cruise. Eric is an Interpol agent working on catching an international jewelry theft ring. He's undercover as the ship's doctor on the Caribbean cruise ship. Sparks fly when Hallie and Eric meet, but as the cruise progresses Eric’s thinking Hallie might be the thief stealing from the passengers. His reasoning is Hallie’s amnesia and Lillian’s Alzheimer's make a good cover. What’s the chance of two people traveling together having amnesia and Alzheimer’s? And then Lillian keeps coming up with pieces of jewelry passengers have dropped or lost.

To complicate everything someone is trying to kill Hallie and she has no idea why. Lillian finds an older cowboy who she's interested in and then there's the sleazy man who keeps hitting on Hallie. As the cruise progresses Hallie gradually starts to regain her memory. Eric decides she's not a thief, but has to find the real one and keep Hallie safe while their romance heats up.

Jack yanked her roughly against his chest and shoved her into a corner.

“No.” Hallie yanked one arm free and shot it at his jaw.

A shocked expression slashed across Jack’s face.

“There you are. I thought you promised to meet me for a drink?”

Jack dropped his hands. He spun around to face the speaker who approached them.

“What the hell...?”

Eric stretched his hand toward Hallie. “I don’t like being stood up. Shall we?”

“Yes, of-of course.” Hallie took his hand.

Eric slipped his hand around her waist and led her away.

Jack watched them depart, his eyes smoldered with anger, his chin jutted forward. “We’ll finish this later,” he hissed after her.

“Did we have a date, Dr. Peterson?” Hallie asked.

“No and call me Eric. I saw what he was doing. You didn’t appear to be enjoying it. My God, woman, don’t you have any idea how to handle a situation like that? And how the hell did you get yourself into that position in the first place? I didn’t take you for a stupid person.”

“I’m not stupid,” Hallie sniffed. “But you’re right. I feel pretty dumb right now. Jack out maneuvered me. It didn’t matter what I did, he wouldn’t give up.”

Hallie trembled.

“I suggest you stay away from him in the future. I might not be around to save you next time. Are you sure you’re all right?” Eric stopped and looked down at her.

“Yes, I think so. Don’t worry. I don’t plan to let him anywhere near me again.”

“Good.”

“I kicked, scratched and even yelled at him to leave me alone. Nothing worked and no one paid any attention when I yelled. I-I think he was going to try and make love to me right here on the deck. Thank you for rescuing me.”

“You looked terrified. I couldn’t believe you’d let him grope you like that.” Eric snapped.

“I couldn’t stop him. I did punch him. I even managed to draw blood at one point,” she said.

“You need to learn to throw a better punch than that if you want to do any damage.”

“Maybe you could teach me?”

Eric shook his head, “We’ll saw you had no idea how to handle him--so Eric to the rescue. By the way, he wanted sex, he didn’t want to make love to you, trust me. There is a difference. Don’t you remember anything about relationships? Or appropriate behavior between men and women?”

“Nope.”

“You can’t remember anything about how you reacted in the past?”

“How could I? I don’t remember my past. How would I know how I reacted? And maybe no one has ever tried to rape me before. I don’t know. Give me a break. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Good. I hope so. You have no knowledge at all about what happens on a date?”

“No, not really; conversation, eating, maybe a movie, I guess. I’m going to have to learn that process all over again, except, it’s going to be harder because when you’re an adult you’re supposed to know what it’s all about. People expect that you know the games and the rules. Jack certainly thought I did. I feel like a child trying to play grown up games.”

“I guess I am going to have to give you lessons.” Eric warmed her with his smile. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“You don’t have to. I’m fine now.”

“You’re still shaking. Come on over here where it’s quiet.” Eric found a sheltered corner, away from most of the passengers. “Sit down, doctors’ orders. I’ll be right back with two drinks. You could use something to relax you. They have special sail-away drinks. You okay with that you?”

He slipped his uniform jacket off and draped it around her shoulders, over her shawl.

“Sounds great, but it’s not necessary.” She felt warmer in the jacket and his musky male scent enveloped her. It was pleasant and sexual. She knew didn’t react to all men’s scent this way. She looked up and noticed his lip curled slightly as he smiled.

“Yeah, it is. Keep the jacket on to help warm you up. I’ll be right back.”

Hallie sat on the edge of the chair. She forced herself to take deep, calming breaths. She relaxed slightly and leaned back. Eric’s jacket slipped from her shoulders to the deck. She bent to

pick it up when she felt rather than heard a buzzing sound, something like a mosquito, past her left ear.

Strange.

She sat back up and twisted around to adjust Eric’s jacket. There was a hole in the back of the deck chair.

Funny, I don’t remember it being there before I picked up the jacket.

She ran her finger over the hole.

“Here we go.” Eric carried a couple of tall, red, orange and yellowed colored drinks topped off with parasols.

“What were you doing?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. There was a funny sound, like a mosquito, and I think this hole just appeared.”

“What the hell...?” Eric placed the drinks onto a nearby table. He ran his finger over the hole.

“It’s a bloody bullet hole.”

“A what? You’re kidding?”

“No, I’m not. Where were you when it happened?” Eric looked at the hole. He squinted back in the direction it would have come from.

“I guess that’s when I bent down to pick up your jacket.”

“My God, you could have been killed.” Eric pulled Hallie into his arms and squeezed her against his chest. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“I think so. I mean, I wasn’t hit or anything. I can’t figure out what’s happening. This has to be one of the worst nights of my life.”

November 2021 Update

And then the Americans celebrate Thanksgiving. It is a Federal holiday celebrated on the fourth Thursday in November. Traditionally, this holiday celebrates the giving of thanks for the autumn harvest. This year it will be on November 25^th. It’s a big family holiday with lots of food and football.

I’m taking a break from editing. I need to get the house winterized, pack and plan our trip, then drive south. I do most of the driving. Our daughter will be staying in our place while we’re gone. So no blurb this month.

Murder Off-Leash #MFRWhooks

She let out an involuntary gasp. At the far end of the room Mr. Andrews, still sat in his favorite chair. He was slumped forward, dark blood matted the back of his head. The man behind the chair turned, his gun pointed at her.

Their gaze locked briefly. Susan shivered as she stared into his cold, pale blue eyes.

Wolf barked furiously. He strained at the leash, attempting to lunge forward. He jerked her closer to the man. He fired at her but missed when Wolf jerked her off balance.

In that split second, the animal’s shaggy head rubbing against her waist, Susan Brown, single mother and professional dog walker, knew the true meaning of terror. Her chest contracted. She heard a scream.

It couldn’t have come from her. She couldn’t even breathe. She felt frozen, unable to move. She offered up a wordless prayer that her legs would move. She turned and felt a flash of relief when they responded. Yanking at the leash with both hands to get the dog started, Susan raced out the door and down the apartment hallway. Another shot missed her.

Oh God, I’ve got to get to Hank. I can’t let anything happen to my son. He’s too young to be without his mother.

Her pulse pounded in her ears, terror clutched her throat, her thoughts on her son she ran. The enormity of what she had just witnessed sank in. He would be after her, probably speeding silently down the hall behind her. Even if she got away, he’d have to find her. He ‘d have to kill her.

The dog’s leash was still wrapped tightly around her hand. Wolf whined as he tried to return to his master. Her mind fixed on her son, sweet, loveable Hank she dragged the dog along with her. . She had to get to Hank. If the killer shot her, what would happen to her son? No father, and then no mother. Even if she escaped the killer would hunt her down. He’d find out about Hank. He might try to get to her through her son. Oh God, and then he’d kill them both.

Prodded by fear for her son, Susan rounded the second-floor landing, feet barely touching the floor.

Damn, the dog is slowing me down.

She should let go of the leash, but it was wrapped too tightly around her hand. She would have to stop to release it. So, she kept running, dragging the reluctant, barking wolfhound behind her.

She didn’t see the man until she landed on top of him at the foot of the stairs. The three of them collapsed in a pile. Man, woman, and dog, all leashed together. Susan's gaze met his glare. She found herself staring into deep, Mediterranean-blue eyes. Her stomach contracted in a spasm of cold recognition. Then the terror blasted back, full force.

This had to be the worst day of her life.

“What the hell’s goin’ on?” He snapped.

Susan struggled against him. The dog leash, tangled around their legs, held their bodies firmly together.

The frantic dog continued to bark and struggle for freedom. The result pulled them even tighter together. The barking , the heat, the sweat, and the closeness surrounded and compressed her so she couldn’t breathe.

With supreme effort, spurred on by terror, Susan managed to get her feet solidly on the floor and slide out of the tangled mess. She hit the floor running, raced out the door, down the few steps and into the descending darkness of the humid, crowded, New York Street.

“You! Stop! Wait! Stop! Damn it!”

July rain spattered her face, dripped off the end of her nose and chin. Behind her, she could hear him swearing and the dog barking. Free of the dog she sprinted through the crowd, down the street and around the corner. Her feet pounded against the pavement as she pushed past blurs of people, lights, and buildings. She vaguely heard the angry voices as she shoved her way through the crowd, slamming bodies that were in her way and for the first time she could remember, she was glad of her height and her long legs. They rapidly covered the distance between her and Hank. Once they were safe, she’d take time to figure out a plan.

She felt badly about leaving the dog. Poor Wolf...he was such a sweet animal. Now he’d lost both his master and the only other person he knew, his dog walker. Hopefully, someone would be found to look after him, but that wasn’t her concern. Not now. Her mind was unable to focus and kept flitting from one idea to the next. She had to maintain her concentration and come up with a damn plan, for the sake of her son.

She didn’t slow down until she neared the apartment building. She jogged up the steps and into the building. She stopped and waited. She peaked outside. No sign of the killer. Hopefully, she’d have a little time to work out a plan.

The youngest of four, her family usually helped her solve her problems, even helped her make decisions. Until she was thirteen and was left home alone with her mother, they had done everything for her. She had finally realized she was responsible for her own life and needed to take control of her own decisions. It was slow work. When she was under stress she reverted to her engrained patterns of behavior, wanting someone else to take the responsibility.

She sighed because she not only had to fight this battle alone, but somehow, she had to make sure Hank was safe. If she contacted her family the killer might even track them down and use them to get to her.

Who knew what a cold-blooded killer might do to keep from getting caught?

October 2021 Update

Fall is officially here. Leaves are changing color, weather is cooling down and it’s leaf scuffling time.

In Canada we have Thanksgiving coming up the second Monday of the month. It has been an official holiday since November 5, 1879. It celebrated the harvest and other blessings of the past year.

According to Wikipedia on January 31, 1957, the Governor General of Canada issued a proclamation stating: "A Day of General Thanksgiving to Almighty God for the bountiful harvest with which Canada has been blessed – to be observed on the second Monday in October."

Thanksgiving corresponds to the British and continental European harvest festival with churches decorated with cornucopias, pumpkins, corn, wheat sheaves, and other harvest bounty. British and European harvest hymns are sung on the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend.

While the actual Thanksgiving holiday is on a Monday, Canadians may gather for their Thanksgiving feast on any day during the long weekend; however, Sunday is considered the most common. Foods traditionally served at a Canadian Thanksgiving may include roasted or barbeques turkey, ham, stuffing, sausage meat, mashed potatoes, yams, gravy, cranberry sauce, corn, various autumn vegetables (including squashes and Brussels sprouts), and pumpkin pie. Various regional dishes and desserts may also be served, including salmon, wild game, butter tarts and Nanaimo bars.

The Canadian Football League usually holds a nationally televised doubleheader, the Thanksgiving Day Classic.

Many communities in Canada hold events in the week prior to, and/or on the day of the holiday. It could include a parade consisting of floats, civic figures in the region, local performance troupes and marching bands.

I’m still plugging slowly along at my editing, but I have difficulty concentrating. My muse has apparently taken a long vacation or is staying safe from Covid. It’s on the increase in my area and all over. We have the highest number of active cases since the pandemic began.

Jerking the steering wheel sharply to the right, Mitch pulled the car into the service station, stopping at a pump one over and the pump behind her. He stayed in his car, attempting to slide his large frame down into the seat, pulling his Yankees baseball cap over his eyes.

“Fill’er up,” he mumbled to the attendant. “Oil’s fine.”

The attendant, a pimply-faced kid in his teens, removed the lid from the gas tank, cautiously eying the large dog lying in the back seat as he filled the tank. The dog raised his head and let out one bark. The attendant jumped back, spilling the gas. “Jeez.”

“Don’t worry He doesn’t bite.” At least I don’t think he bites...maybe I should buy a muzzle just in case, Mitch thought to himself. He had no idea why he had that dog in his back seat. He didn’t even like dogs, hadn’t since he’d been bitten by that damned Doberman. He had overcome the fear when he’d joined the force, but he still didn’t like the damn animals.

He turned and looked at the large sad brown eyes, as the dog lay slobbering all over his seat. “It’s okay, boy. It’ll get better. It can’t get much worse.”

Mitch paid the attendant, then shifted the gears of his older model, slightly rusted, dark blue Chevrolet. The car looked more like an old family sedan, but he’d had the engine rebuilt under that slightly rusted hood. It could take almost any damn car on the road. Every once in awhile some hotshot teenager would rev his engine as he pulled up beside him at a stop light, challenging him to a race, laughing at his heap. Mitch always enjoyed the shocked look on the kid’s face when he left him behind, eating his dust.

He eased the car forward, pulling out of the service station and moving to a spot on the street where he could watch her in his rear view mirror. She and the kid had gone inside the convenience store.

Mitch reached into the brown grocery bag on the seat beside him. Just in case she didn’t stop, he’d picked up enough junk food to last for a couple of days, including dry dog food and a couple of jugs of water. He’d also managed a stop at one of the fast-food drive-thrus along the highway, when she and the kid stopped for lunch. The fries were cold, but still not too bad. He bit into another hard, cold, greasy one, and waited for her next move. He could sure use a cold beer about now. He should have picked up a six-pack. He scratched his chin, then rubbed his hand up his cheek. He needed a shave. Like that was going to happen.

The whining started in the back seat. Then the shaggy head appeared, resting on the top of the passenger’s seat, leaning over Mitch’s shoulder. Mitch grabbed a hand full of dry dog food and dumped it on the back seat. He’d have to get the damn car vacuumed one of these days.

The dog slid back down on to the seat, munching away on the dry food. He appeared to be in mourning if dogs did mourn. Most of the time he just kind of lay there on the seat, whining occasionally. He hardly even barked anymore.

September 2021 Update

In September, in Canada, we have two statutory holidays. The first one is Labour Day. It was voted as a legal holiday, July 23rd, 1894. It’s held on the First Monday in September. This year it’s Monday, September 6th. This holiday celebrates the achievements of workers. Labour Day has its origins in the labour union movement, specifically the eight-hour day movement, which advocated eight hours for work, eight hours for recreation, and eight hours for rest.

The second holiday is National Day for Truth and Reconciliation. This is a new holiday recently voted on by the government. It will be the last day of the month. This year it will be held on Thursday, September 30th. The federal government, in collaboration with Aboriginal people, established, a National Day for Truth and Reconciliation to honour survivors, their families, and communities, and ensure that public commemoration of the history and legacy of residential schools remains a vital component of the reconciliation process.” It’s a commitment to reconciliation and ensuring that the tragic history and ongoing legacy of residential schools in Canada is never forgotten. This day provides an opportunity for each Canadian to recognize and commemorate the legacy of residential schools. This may present itself as a day of quiet reflection or participation in a community event.

Summer is racing toward the end. Children are already back in school, some wearing masks, some not.

Covid cases have been rising for the last few weeks and with cold weather ahead it becomes more concerning. And the variant, Delta, is affecting more and more children. Forest fires continue. As well as hurricanes and floods. These are world-wide issues. I send positive thoughts to all those affected.

All these challenging events affect my writing. I’m overwhelmed and find it difficult to get lost in my story and I’m worried about the upcoming months.

Dog training (Obedience): Command: Go at the leash

“Is the dog his?” Pete nodded to where the animal sat with his head on the man’s lap.

“Yeah, I guess. Behaves like he belongs here.”

“Yeh, man, he does. Whattcha gonna do with him?”

“Me? With who? Oh, the dog? How the hell should I know? I figure he might have seen the murder. Hell, he might be our only witness. Don’t suppose downtown will buy into keeping him as a material witness...” Mitch raked his gloved hand over his hair.

“Doubt it.”

“How about convincing downtown to pay for kennel fees? Just until we find someone to take him. Think that would work?”

“Once again, I doubt it. They’d think you were nuts.” Pete said.

“They think that already. Maybe I’ll try finding a relative, or maybe one of those snoopy neighbors.”

“Eh man, not very likely. Too bad. He’s a nice dog, but not many people are going to want an Irish wolfhound. They usually like small dogs, or shepherds.” Pete replied.

“That what he is? A wolfhound? He is damn big. Maybe I could find the nearest SPCA and drop him off...Someone’s bound to want a great dog like him.”

“The SPCA will probably put him down in a couple of days, if no one adopts him. That’s what they do, ya know. You don’t know much about animals, do you?”

Mitch shook his head. “Nope. Never really interested me. Maybe you could take him?”

“Sorry, nope. I live with my family. Remember? There’s five of us and Ma has a poodle.”

Mitch felt his brows furrow. He resented Sanchez for living at home and having a large, loving family. He resented what his own family, and that ex-wife bitch, had done to him and how he didn’t have a home anymore. Anger began to rise inside him as he thought about it. He punched his right hand into his palm. Life outside his work sucked. In fact, he didn’t have one, but that was his choice...at least that was what he told himself.

“Why don’t you take him?” Pete interrupted.

“Huh?”

“The dog. Why don’t you take him?”

“No damn way. First, my landlady says no pets, and my room’s too small. And second, dogs and me don’t get along too good. One bit me once. Since then, I firmly believe that dogs should always be kept at a safe distance.”

“This one looks pretty friendly.”

Mitch scowled. He’d have to figure something out. Right now, the dog was the least of his problems.

“Yeah, well I’ll worry about him later. Right now I better call this in, then we’ll check the roof. You might want to pick up that umbrella in the hall. It might belong to a witness, or the murderer. The lab guys can dust it for prints when they get here.”

He picked up the receiver and dialed the number. The guys uptown weren’t going to like this. They weren’t going to like this at all. In fact, they were going to be downright pissed off. The idea had been to keep the guy alive, at least until after he testified. That’s why he and Sanchez had been assigned this damn babysitting job. They’d even had a heads-up there might be an attempt on his life and the guy still got knocked off.

Damn, it was hot. Mitch wiped his forehead again. He probably wasn’t even going to get time to change his damn shirt. This thing would take all night and probably straight through the next week or two. He’d screwed up. The case would be dismissed due to lack of evidence and the racketeers would be back on the street by tomorrow. No way should the killer have gotten to the perp, not if they’d been doing their job. It was almost like the guy had inside information.

Mitch sighed. He knew he should mention the girl, but this looked like a professional hit. If she saw anything, the shooter would probably be looking for her, too. Mitch wanted to get to her before the killer did.

He was convinced there was an information leak in the department. There had been too many coincidences, even before his brother was shot. Dom’s death had just reinforced his conviction. IA had investigated but never come up with anything. Mitch didn’t want any information leaked that might give the killer a headstart in locating the witness. Mitch wanted to find her first and see what she had to say, either about the murder or what she had seen.

Damn, maybe he was kidding himself. Maybe he just wanted to see her again.

This month, I’m only doing my Group Blog on September 18^th at https://beverleybateman.blogspot.com/

Please follow me on my blog Tuesday and Thursday and the third Saturday at https://beverleybateman.blogspot.com/ for writing tips, hints, and guest authors. I have a great group of authors and their new books this month. And post your thoughts on the blog post, or anything else you have on your mind.

And check out my newsletter this month. https://beverleybateman.us18.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=59d3bc1ca47b46363bacc673f&id=d54f2401ab

August 2021 Update

Not only running late again, but this summer I have very little writing news.

Our temperatures continue to set records, staying in the mid to high Celsius. We have daily high heat warnings. I live in Alberta, and with the high temperatures and no rain, we have a few forest fires in the north. Our neighbors to the west in British Columbia are setting records for forest fires and the amount of acreage burnt. Firefighters from Mexico and Australia have been deployed to BC to help get the fires under control. The smoke from all the fires blows across and covers our province. For weeks, as well as heat warnings, we’ve had smoke advisories recommending we stay inside. We’re not even supposed to walk our dogs. So poor Benji only gets a couple of quick trips daily.

Our area opened up the Covid rules. Now it’s no masks except on public transport and government buildings. On August 16^th there won’t be any Covid rules. If you’re a contact of Covid you don’t have to isolate. No size limits on group sizes. Since they opened up, our daily Covid cases have increased. We were down to 2 active cases and now we’re up to 103 active cases in our town. Some businesses have decided to require masks or ask for proof of immunization, but the government isn’t recommending it. They say we can’t beat Covid, so we need to learn to live with it. I don’t disagree with the theory, but we need to take baby steps and learn how to live with it. It’s also against CDC, public health and WHO recommendations.

My editing is going slowly, like at a snail’s pace and my muse hasn’t returned so even less writing.

Susan turned, looked toward the play area, and called out. "Hank! Hank, honey, we’re going."

There was no answer.

"Hank. Hank. Where are you?" Susan raced outside. The play area was empty.

"Hank!" She screamed. Terror grabbed her body and squeezed tight.

There was no sign of Hank or the dog. Not a sound. It was deadly quiet.
Mitch heard her screams. He raced past Susan toward play area. and was right beside her. The kid had to be around.

How could he have let a little boy disappear? Some cop he was. It was beginning to look like Maria was right when she said he was a lousy cop as well as a lousy lover

"It’s okay, Susan. He’s around here. If anything had happened, we would have heard Wolf bark."

"Maybe he shot Wolf before he had a chance to bark. Maybe he’s shot Hank. Hank!" Susan screamed.

"We would have heard the shot. Or we’d see Wolf. He’s not going to lug a dead dog anywhere. Besides, he’s not after Hank. He’s after you. He would keep Hank alive to get to you."

"Hank! Where are you, honey? Don’t play games with Mommy. Please honey." She raced down the outside of the motel. Her eyes brimmed with tears

Mitch matched her stride. "Hank! Hank, where are you boy? Wolf! Here boy."

"He’s found us, and he’s got Hank. I’m sure I heard someone last night." Susan’s voice rose to a high pitch.

"No. There was no one there last night. He wouldn’t have found us — you, yet. There hasn’t been time and I haven’t given out any information. It will take him a couple of days to catch up. Trust me."

"Right, I should trust the guy who let a murder occur in front of me. Hank! Hank, please honey! Answer Mommy! Oh God, please let him be alright. He was in the play area a minute ago. I shouldn’t have left him alone. I should have been in there with him. It’s my fault. If anything’s happened to him, it’s my fault. I can’t even take care of my own son."

“You’re a great mother. We’ll find him.” Mitch strode around the motel building. The kid had to be here. Maybe he was playing hide and seek. There was no way the Iceman would have found them yet. No way. He wasn’t that good. Was he?

Susan followed after Mitch. "Hank! Wolf! Hank! Where are you?"

"Hank! Hank, where are you?" Mitch yelled.

It seemed like an eternity, but in about five minutes they had circled the motel twice, with no sign of Hank or Wolf.

"He’s gone. He’s been kidnapped. I know it." Susan ran her fingers through her hair, tears streamed down her cheeks.

Mitch pushed Susan in the direction of the cafe. "Look, I’m going to check out that grove of trees over there. Why don’t you go back to the cafe and ask if they’ve seen him, or if they’ve seen anything suspicious?"

If he found anything in those trees, he didn’t want Susan with him.

"Are you sure?"

"Uh huh, positive. He and Wolf may have gone back there. You know, maybe they were hungry again. I’ll also ask the motel clerk if he’s seen anything."

Susan started running toward the cafe. "Please, please God, let him be there."

Mitch heard her praying as he headed for the grove of trees. He was doing a little praying of his own. He walked slowly through the trees, looking for any sign a boy and a dog might have been there. He believed they had just wandered off. Where would a boy and his dog go? He glanced back at the cafe to see if Susan had found them...

Part of him was looking for Hank and the dog; the other part was still reeling from that kiss. The result from that kiss was screwing up his ability to concentrate. He’d done it partly to throw her off balance, but also because he desperately wanted to kiss her. He’d wanted to do it from the first, when she ran into him at the bottom of the stairs. He still remembered his reaction to her lips when she was lying on top of him, her lips millimeters from his. The memory of her haunted him, even when she wasn’t there.

But it had backfired. That kiss had thrown him totally off balance. He didn’t want anything to do with her. He didn’t want any relationship with any woman, particularly this one. And after that kiss, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to just walk away from her.

She had responded to his kiss, almost without hesitation, which had surprised him. He’d actually expected to get his face slapped. When she hadn’t and he found her receptive, her body warm and sensual moving against his, white heat roared through his body.

He enjoyed her kiss and her body. It was a new feeling he hadn’t experienced before. He had never felt anything like this with Maria. He had pushed himself away and turned his back on her. He couldn’t let her see how she affected him.

He finished checking the small grove of trees and breathed a sigh of relief. Not that he’d really expected to find anything, but you never knew. There was still no sign of Hank, Mitch was starting to get worried. He didn’t figure the Iceman could have found them yet, but... he headed back to the motel.

"Mitch, I found him! He’s here! I’ve found him!" Susan shouted and waved from the front of the cafe.

"Where was he?" Mitch loped across the clearing to her.

Inside he found Susan on her knees, hugging Hank. She was laughing and crying as she touched Hank’s face and rumpled his hair. Wolf sat quietly at Hank’s side, panting and drooling, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

"They were in the cafe, just like you said. Honey don’t ever do that again. Mommy was so scared." Susan kissed Hank on his cheeks, forehead, and mouth and hugged him tightly.

"Wolfie wanted something to drink tho I went in and athked the lady for some water. They were really nice and gave me a big bowl and everything."

"That was nice of you and them, but you should have told me where you were going, honey." Susan kissed Hank on the top of his head as she stood up.

"I didn’t want to bother you and Mr. Pellagrino. You were fighting. And there wath a man watching uth. I got thcared."

"We weren’t fighting. We were just having a discussion, but it’s okay to interrupt. You bother Mommy anytime, promise? Promise me you’ll always tell me where you are. Promise?"

"I promith."

“What do you mean a man?” Susan suddenly realized what Hank had said. Her face froze as terror crept back across like a dark shadow.

“He wath watching uth from the treeth.”

“Who was it? The Iceman?” Susan stared at Mitch. Her voice climbed up an octave.

“No. I’m sure it wasn’t.” Mitch watched her pull Hank tightly against her.

“Then who? Is there someone else on my trail?”

“Probably just a coincidence.”

“You think? I mean you really don’t think it was someone watching us?” Susan stared at him, waiting for his response.

“I really don’t think so. Come on, let’s blow this place.” Mitch tried to sound convincing. Was there another guy? Did the Iceman have a partner? What if they had been found already?

This month, I am part of N.N. Light’s Mystery Suspense Mini event, August 16th at 9 am at https://www.nnlightsbookheaven.com/mystery-and-suspense-bookish-event. Drop by for a chance to win a $66 Amazon gift card. The Rafflecopter direct link is https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db7750127

Please follow me on my blog Tuesday and Thursday and the third Saturday at https://beverleybateman.blogspot.com/ for writing tips, hints, and guest authors. Check out the exciting authors and their new books this month. And post your thoughts on the blog post, or anything else you have on your mind.

July 2021

Running late this month. I’m going to blame it on the summer heat and the Canadian July 1^st and American July 4^th holidays. I hope everyone enjoyed the holidays and stayed safe.

We have been breaking heat records up here with temperatures around 39 Celsius or 100 Fahrenheit.

Our area is going to Stage three of Covid opening, which means no masks except on public transport and government buildings. Some businesses have decided to require masks or ask for proof of immunization. Hopefully it works out and we can enjoy the summer. I’m still a little cautious. We’ll see how the next few weeks go.

Last month I listed my limited goals for the summer. I’m hoping my muse likes the heat and returns home. I have finally started to write and edit. Fingers crossed I can keep it up. One on my challenges is doing blogs and book tours and websites, etc. If I spend my writing time doing them, I don’t have the energy, time or focus for the real writing. So, I’m cutting back on PR for now.

Susan fumbled for the key. Her left hand still gripped the dog leash. Her other hand automatically tried the doorknob, fully expecting it to be locked.

It clicked opened.

She frowned and hesitated a second. That was strange. He always kept it locked.

A soft popping sound came from inside the room.

A low guttural growl became a snarl. The giant wolfhound yanked on the leash, dragging Susan reluctantly through the doorway.