IslandAffair

“Tell him I was wrong. Tell him
I love him too.”
    Heartbroken, he turned and walked away. His feet barely touched
the sun-warmed sand of the beach when something thudded into him. The force of
the blow to his chest knocked him from his feet and stole his breath. He landed
hard and found himself gazing up at the lush green canopy above him. For a
moment he was numb but pain soon burned its way through the ice and he lifted a
hand to his chest to find its cause. His fingers came away wet with blood. He
heard feet pounding toward him and someone calling his name. Robin tried to
answer but he still couldn’t catch his breath enough to shout. I’ve been
shot , he realized in amazement.
    As though waiting for his acknowledgement the pain turned
into agony and he groaned softly. He started to turn to the sound of the
footsteps and something crashed into his head and took it all away.
    * * * * *
    John stared out at the rain-washed streets, the thick
bulletproof glass silencing the sounds of the traffic below. It inched past,
bumper to bumper in the gray afternoon. Pedestrians stood at the curbside,
briefcases and newspapers standing in for umbrellas as they tried to flag down
yellow cabs. The distant activity only served to emphasize the feeling of
isolation that had worsened the moment he left the little cabin on the beach.
Funny how he had felt lonely before meeting Robin. It was much, much worse now.
The door opened behind him and one of his guardians stuck his head around the
door.
    “They’re ready.”
    John followed him out of the bedroom and back into the
sitting room of the hotel suite. A half a dozen men in smart suits clustered in
front of the TV. They looked like a bunch of stockbrokers waiting for the close
of the stock exchange, nervous anticipation in every line of their bodies. John
knew that there were guns and in most cases badges concealed under those sober
jackets. Someone turned up the volume as the juror read out the verdict and
John turned to look.
    “Guilty, Your Honor.”
    The guards launched into backslapping congratulations,
drowning out the judge’s closing remarks. He didn’t join in. The verdict was
almost unimportant now since Frank Armstrong had suffered a massive stroke in
prison. Not even fit enough to understand the verdict, never mind be in court
to hear it. The man was no threat to anyone anymore. His organization collapsed
and those who weren’t arrested had taken the opportunity to disappear. It all
felt like a massive anticlimax.
    After spending a good portion of the last six months waiting
to get back to his life, John should be ecstatic with the outcome. The problem
was…he left part of himself and his life on the island and he wasn’t sure just
what to do about it. He watched as Dan Sanders disengaged himself from his U.S.
Marshal colleagues and approached. There was an expression on his face that
caused John to automatically tense in anticipation.
    “It’s over.”
    He didn’t sit so John closed his computer and stood to offer
his hand. “So I heard.”
    “What do you intend to do now, John?”
    “I don’t know. Get back to my life I suppose.”
    “Well, I have a message for you that might help you make up
your mind. Robin said to tell you he was wrong. And that he loved you.”
    “What?”
    “The guy, Robin Grant. I found him at the cottage the day we
left. He asked me to tell you.”
    “ Then why the hell didn’t you!? ”
    “You didn’t need the distraction.”
    John’s spine stiffened as anger bubbled in his gut, sizzled
through his veins as the reality of the situation took root. Robin loved him.
Dan knew the truth all this time and the arsehole never told him. Not one
bloody word. Instead, he’d let him believe that they had no future together. Oh
god. Poor Robin. He probably thought John had changed his mind.
    “You bastard !” John reacted without thought. He drew
his fist back and landed a punch packed with months of pent-up frustration and
unrequited love for the man who held his heart. Dan went down hard and within
seconds the other men surrounded him. Dan waved them off from his position on
the floor and accepted a handkerchief someone passed him to wipe the blood from
his mouth.
    John shook off the restraining hands. “You’re fired! You
better pray that we can work this out or I will come after you and take it out
of your hide.”
    The other man regarded him steadily. “You can’t fire me, I
don’t work for you.” John glared at