Shaking the morbid thoughts off, I sip on my coffee, savoring that first hit of caffeine. I soak in the silence, allow it and the incredible view of the ocean from my home office to soothe my disquiet.
Just as I turn my attention back to my manuscript, contemplating what happens next, my cell phone rings again. Loud in the silence. Seeing my assistant’s name on the screen again, I connect the call.
“Hey Toni.”
“Good morning, Tigs. How’s it going?”
“Good, thanks, hon. You?”
“Same.” I can hear the smile in her voice. Toni’s probably the most bubbly, upbeat, optimistic person I know.
“What’s up?”
“How’s the book coming?”
“It’s coming along. I’m currently researching snipers and sniping for the storyline, but it’s taking a little longer than anticipated.”
“How so?”
“I was hoping I could find one to interview. No luck so far though. I thought I had a lead a couple of days ago, but it proved to be a dead-end.”
“Oh. I didn’t know you were at that point already. I have a contact at the naval base, a family friend, who’s sure to have someone we can talk to amongst the teams he commands. Let me reach out to him and see what I can organize.”
“You’re a rock star, Toni. What would I do without you?”
“Good thing you don’t ever have to find out, no?”
“That’s for sure.”
“All right, sweets, I’m going to let you get back to it, and I’ll see what I can organize for you. I’ll be in touch.”
“Chat soon.”
The sexy sniper from the courthouse the other day pops into my mind. A pang of disappointment has me sighing. Observing him interact with his teammates and seeing how protective he was of the woman with them, the intensity of his gaze when we talked out front of the building, I can’t deny missing that in my life.
I’m blessed with my circle of friends – as the saying goes, quality over quantity — but with the long hours I work and the constant travelling I used to do, a relationship was never something I fostered.
It never felt right to expect someone to be waiting for me to come home from my travels, or to be thankful for any spare time I could give them between assignments and deadlines. But there’s no denying the yearning for someone to treat me the way those men treated that woman.
While it was obvious she was with one of them, the other five men were still pretty attentive and protective, ensuring she was all right at all times. When Armatrout was given bail, it was incredible to see them close ranks, keeping her at the heart of their group and everyone away from her.
The whole thing pulled at the romantic in me. Yes, I picked the very antithesis of romance in my career, but it doesn’t mean the heart of a romance addict doesn’t beat within me. I simply chose to champion the abused by highlighting their plight through my writing. And since crime is what I knew, that’s the genre I stuck with when transitioning from non-fiction to fiction.
But days like today, I deeply regret my career choice. Maybe I should have tried my hand at writing romance after all. Not that I truly believe it would eliminate the nightmares that still haunt me. I’m just grateful they’re far fewer now.
Coffee. That’s what I need to help me out of the funk this morning. Coffee and the escape of crafting a story. Grabbing my mug, I dash to the kitchen to get myself cup number two before seating myself back at my desk to lose myself in the story I’m writing.
After a solid fifteen minutes of staring at the blinking cursor on my monitor, I push back from my desk in disgust. Obviously more rattled by the bad dreams than I was willing to admit, I realize there’ll be no words until I can center myself.
The beach is the best place for soothing the soul and quieting the mind. And that’s where I’m headed, I decide, so I grab my flip-flops and keys before I head for the elevators. Exiting on the ground floor of my building, I make my way down to the beach just across the street.
In a matter of minutes I’m on the well-maintained strip of sand. Shoes in hand, I start walking, already feeling the magic at work within me. My mind starts to calm, and the ragged edges smooth. Taking a deep breath, I take the fresh sea air into my lungs and exhale the lingering anxiety.
Setting my sights on a rock formation some distance away, I walk toward it while I work on clearing my mind. By the time I reach it, I’m feeling a million times better. Slower this time, I make my way back before flopping down on the sand to watch the ebb and flow of the waves.
With no time to track it, I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting enjoying the tranquility when I’m overtaken by a feeling of being watched. Carefully, I scan all around me, trying my best not to seem as if I am, but see nothing out of the ordinary. I’m literally the only person there.
The sensation makes me comprehend how vulnerable I am with no one else about, so I get to my feet and head for home. This time, I pay attention to everything around me as surreptitiously as possible, but get back to my building still not having seen anything or anyone suspicious. By the time I let myself into my condo though, I have an idea for what comes next in the book.
