Jeremy Robinson - Kronos

“I…Damn. I didn’t check her for a weapon.”

“Indeed. While you’re foolish mistake almost made your life forfeit, next time it could very well be mine. Do not make that mistake again, or it will cost you more than one month’s pay. Understood?”

Remus began sweating beneath his Hawaiian shirt. Trevor’s calm exterior and half smile were no consolation because Remus knew better than to truly anger him.

“Now, then, a final question.” Trevor clasped his hands behind his back and strode over to Remus so that they were face-to-face. “What two valuable bits of information did we learn tonight?”

The first answer came in a flash. Remus gripped his fists tight. “Someone tipped him off about the woman.”

Trevor nodded. “We’ll need to find out whom, of course, but I suspect any number of our crew might be cursed with consciences, so that will prove futile until the hunt is over. And, the second?”

Remus grew nervous as nothing came to mind. Unable to concentrate he glanced away from Trevor’s piercing, light blue eyes. His vision landed on one of the security screens, and he smiled. He met Trevor’s eyes. “Atticus has a weakness. He cares for the woman.”

Trevor smiled. “You just earned back your lost pay and saved your testicles.”

Remus paled and looked down to find a silenced pistol aimed at his crotch. He let out a long sigh as Trevor moved away and placed the pistol on the desk. He turned to the security monitors. “Now then, let’s see what you were looking at.”

An image of Andrea filled a security screen. She stood in Atticus’s Incan bathroom, removing first her wet suit, then a formfitting blue T-shirt, revealing her ample breasts concealed only by a sports bra. A moment later, Atticus entered the bathroom and crouched in front of her.

“Oh, ho, ho! Our man moves fast!” Trevor said as he threw himself back into his swivel chair and propped his feet up on an end table topped in petrified wood. “It appears I will find entertainment tonight after all!”

Remus pulled up a chair and settled in. He looked at the monitor, and growled, “Shoulda been me.”

“Someday,” Trevor said, patting the hulking man’s arm. “You still have your manhood intact. Be happy for that. Now shush and watch.”

Remus crossed his arms and focused on the screen. Atticus had his hands on her stomach and was moving up. Remus made a silent pledge to himself. No matter how much Trevor liked Atticus, he’d make him pay for what had happened. If Atticus left the Titan, Remus would hunt him down. If he stayed on board, Remus would bide his time and arrange an accident. And when Atticus was dead, the Coast Guard chick would be his. He’d keep her on board and alive until he got bored with her. Then Laurel could have his way with her.

The Titan-Gulf of Maine

A groan escaped Andrea’s lips as Atticus probed her body with his fingers. She’d involuntary convulsed when he’d first touched her, and she found herself growing more nervous with every passing moment. Very few men had seen her in just a bra. Even fewer had touched her so gently.

“Ouch!” Andrea winced, as Atticus pressed on her ribs with his fingers. “That hurt like hell.”

Atticus smiled and stood. “It’d hurt a lot more if it were broken. You’ve got some good bruises though. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Anywhere else hurt?”

Andrea thought about telling him that all sorts of body parts hurt, just to see if he’d give them the same kind attention as her ribs, but decided against it. Though they’d once been close, there was a lot he still didn’t know about her, and she didn’t want him to get the wrong impression. But what was the right impression? Every minute she spent with him, she was less and less sure. “No. Aside from being exhausted, just my ribs hurt.”

Andrea moved to put her blue T-shirt back on, but he stopped her by taking hold of her wrist. “Not so fast. Hold on.” He moved back into the bedroom. What he was doing, she had no idea, and she did her best not to imagine.

He returned a moment later holding three ice cubes. He opened up the bathroom closet and took out a thin washcloth, which he used to wrap up the ice. “Hold this against your ribs for about fifteen minutes. It will help with-”

“I know what it’s for,” Andrea said. She looked out after him as he snatched a blanket off the bed and moved to the couch in the living room. I guess that settles that question, Andrea thought.

Andrea sighed and returned her attention to the amazing bathroom surrounding her. It was otherworldly, and most likely belonged to a nation that didn’t know it was missing. She glanced back into the living room one more time and found Atticus’s eyes closed. Asleep already.

Without bothering to shut the bathroom door, Andrea removed the rest of her clothes and turned on the Incan shower, which cascaded like a mountain waterfall. As soon as the water fell, gentle jungle sounds filled the air from a speaker in the ceiling. She felt her muscles relax and the tension that had build up over the past few days ebb slightly. As she stepped under the warm water, her eyes returned to the open door. It was a sophomoric invitation, leaving the door open like that, and she knew she’d chastise herself for it in the morning, but she couldn’t help but wish Atticus would join her, if only to hold her.

As the room filled with steam, Andrea turned away from the door and let the water pour over her face, ignorant of the mechanical eye focusing in on her body from the ceiling above.

The cushy sofa did little to ease Atticus’s chaotic emotional state. His body grew heavy and tense as it came down from the adrenaline rush brought on by his encounter with Remus. Memories of happier times resurfaced from the photo Andrea had given him and shouted to be recognized. Plans for the confrontation with the creature dubbed Kronos scratched at his mind’s eye, eager to be seen. The death of Giona, still fresh, festered in his soul like an open wound. On top of all that, Andrea’s presence in the next room fought for his attention.

Somehow her presence cast a shadow over the dueling thoughts and emotions, and as he lay on the sofa, pretending to be asleep, his mind fixed most keenly on his old friend, now a woman. He could still feel her soft skin under his fingers as he felt first her ribs for signs of fracture, then her belly and sides for signs of hemorrhage. Finding none, he let his hands linger on her body for a few moments’ longer, gaining renewed energy and hope from her warmth.

Sensing motion, Atticus opened his eyes. He looked to the bed. Andrea had yet to return. The bathroom door remained wide open, and the sound of the waterfall shower falling onto the stone floor echoed out. She was in the shower. She’d left the door open.

He knew Andrea was naked in the shower, but he couldn’t see her. He knew he had feelings for her, resurfacing with her return to his life, and had no doubt she returned…something for him. She was there, after all. But was the open door merely carelessness after the trials of the night or was it truly what it appeared to be: an invitation?

Atticus sat up on the couch and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. He stood and paced. He walked toward the open bathroom door, but stopped at the mini-fridge. He popped an ice cube in his mouth, and returned to the sofa.

As the plush cushion absorbed him, he noticed the photo of himself, Maria, and Giona at the beach, still resting on the coffee table. He picked it up and allowed his eyes to trace the lines of his dead girls.

God, I miss them.

Andrea had risked her life to deliver the photo, somehow knowing that the sight of it might return some of his sanity. The woman was obviously insane.