Chapter Seventeen

Owen watched Marianne's form disappear through the maintenance gate, the yellow raincoat lost in the drizzling rain. He ran his hands through his soaking hair and cursed himself, stomping his foot against the concrete steps of the Samsung building. He turned to face the building, and then whirled around, hoping to see her coming back.

She wasn't.

"What're you doin', Owen?" He mumbled to himself, stalking towards the entrance towards the door. He pulled it open savagely and tromped inside, anger boiling in his belly. He was wet, but he didn't feel cold – every nerve within his body was tightened to the maximum. He felt hot all over and furious inside. First you try to kiss her and then you let her walk away. Idiot!

He wasn't sure what had come over him at the bottom of the hill – he'd just found himself with his hands along her jaw, entranced by her presence; her body falling into against his, her breath so graciously tender on his lips. He had felt her eagerness, her desperation, the desire – the passion. Owen had kissed many girls before, but he'd never kissed one that was craving his every move, anticipating his actions, reading his mind. She taken hold of his arms when he wanted her to, she'd moved toward him and let him come the rest of the way perfectly. It had been like a dream.

What was his problem?

Marianne wasn't his type of girl – he didn't particularly go for huskier girls, or girls that frustrated the life out of him. She was more like a sister than anything else – always challenging him at every turn and pestering him to death. He couldn't stand her argumentativeness.

His thoughts drifted to the upstairs conversation they'd had just a few moments before her abrupt exit. What had she been thinking? He had heard she was a bit conspiratorial from a few employees as she stuck her nose into political conversations and had sported her opinions boldly, but he hadn't imagined she'd have the nerve to speak them out of closed quarters. He'd been in shock when Wu had asked her such questions, for one; but he'd been entirely blown out of the water at her responses. Owen hadn't expected her to be so brutally honest.

Or so stupid.

He was pretty sure Claire would fire her – one didn't just mouth off to Wu without consequences. But, then again, he'd seen stranger things here before. Claire didn't like Marianne, that was for certain, but her work was pristine and quick – he doubted they'd be able to find someone so eager to push papers and assist him, as well as be quick to pick up the work. Also, Owen doubted he'd be able to find someone so entranced with the raptors like she was, but that he suspected wasn't the primary concern.

He stood before the bench he'd rested Sophie in, to find her still sleeping. The Samsung building, abandoned, felt hollow and void with no voices or activity in it, but he didn't mind. His muscles felt like jelly, having to push and pull and fight the weather with the doctors. Not only that, his head was still swimming with what had happened with Marianne, and his chest was still aflame. His lips were still tingling though nothing had happened.

He seated himself on the bench next to Sophie's sleeping form. Maybe he was attracted to Marianne. If there was one thing Owen knew, it was that love is fickle, and that it strikes anywhere at any time with anyone – without mercy. It could be entirely possible he was attracted to Marianne - was strong, passionate, willing, and everything he'd always looked for in a girl. She seemed stable and sure of herself, and she was beyond intelligence and efficiency. The only problems he saw with her was her sassiness and her physique.

But did that matter? Truly? Would that keep him from pursuing someone who was like him that he could identify with – that was smart, strong, and devoted? He didn't know Marianne well at all, as it had been only four weeks, but he knew enough to determine that he liked her more than he disliked her, despite their differences. He'd always enjoyed women who were challenging and made him think twice – and Marianne certainly did that. But was he really ready to pursue this? He hoped he wasn't so shallow as to let her go because of her physique, because in the grand scheme of things, it didn't really matter. The things that stayed the same were heart, personality, will – bodies came and went. Souls were what mattered.

He looked to Sophie – the girl seemed to adore Marianne. She lit up every time she was around. Perhaps this little bug he so loved had read into something he couldn't, or refused to see. Perhaps she could sense something about Marianne that Owen was immune too – maybe it was some gift God gave to children. He chuckled as she snuggled closer to him, for warmth, and he slipped his arms under her body to pick her up. Standing, he quickly moved out the door and towards the Jeep, where he put her in the backseat carefully. He'd take her back to the resort and let her sleep.

He climbed into the Jeep, shifted it into gear, and left the Samsung building.

. . .

Marianne had trekked it back to her bungalow, her legs feeling as if they were gelatine bricks. She staggered through the door, practically falling over as she tried to kick it closed, shedding her raincoat on the floor.

She fell onto the couch, her entire body numb. She was freezing, wet, dirty, and emotionally spent – how could she have been so stupid? She'd had a lot of time to process her feelings on her walk home, but she couldn't feel anything else other than satisfaction at the look on Wu's face. She closed her eyes and processed the silence – the only sound the natural pelting of water on the roof of the bungalow.

Energy began to sap from her body until she forced herself from the couch. Stripping off her clothes, she managed to take a scalding shower and wash out her hair and the mud off her body – as well as the worries of the day. Her heart was still aching inside her from what Owen had done to her, but it was equally bruised from her own foolishness of turning away from him when he'd wanted to talk. She pushed the thoughts from her mind as she stroked some conditioning cream into her hair before the mirror. It was a fantasy, what she was hoping for.

Marianne had half a mind to call Alan, but thought better of it. He didn't want to hear her cry about her day – and she didn't want to hear him say "I told you so". She ached for his company, since she'd only talked to him three times since her arrival four weeks ago. They mostly exchanged emails and texts, but she still missed his voice and his company. She lowered herself to the floor and sat cross-legged in the middle of her living room, pondering her day and her sorry state.

She closed her eyes, taking in the serenity, when her phone rang.

Moaning, she crawled over to her pants she'd abandoned and dug out the phone, seeing that it was Barry. She rolled her eyes – he'd probably called to talk to her about Owen or defend him, like guys did. She dreaded answering it, but she did, and pressed the phone to her ear. Her stomach sank in her abdomen.

"Barry," she said dryly, messaging the bridge of her nose. She let out a slow exhale, hopefully giving him the hint that she was in no mood to talk about Owen – or talk in general. Really, all she wanted to do was sleep. But, Barry was breathing heavy and the wind over the connection made it hard to discern where he was and what was going on. Marianne's body bristled as something clashed in the background, and muffled voices were calling over the line. She slowly got up and approached the window. She asked again, "Barry?"

"Marianne!" He sounded frantic and dishevelled. Thunder cracked outside, jolting Marianne in her place behind the glass. She peered outside, finding movement across the road. The rain had picked up again, coming in sheets now, pelting against the window. She noted the movement was actually a person, running towards her front door, and Barry swore over the line before it went dead.

"Barry!"

She was about to redial when a sharp knock came on her door. Her heart pitched and she bolted for the door, whipping it open, to find Barry, soaked through, standing under her canopy. His shirt was stained with blood and mud, and he was breathing heavily. Her eyes widened and she stuffed the phone in her back pocket before lunging for him, as he staggered through the doorway.

Her attention immediately went to the blood on his shirt, "Are you hurt?" she asked him. He shook his head and stepped back out into the rain, gesturing for her to come. She furrowed her brow and grabbed her raincoat. "Barry! What's going on?"

"It's the raptors!" he exclaimed over the wind. Thunder struck the sky and lightning erupted in a jagged bolt across the sky above them. Her heart whirled, her stomach dropped to her ankles, and her breath hitched in her throat. Panic overcame her as she shrugged the coat on and slammed the door behind her, following Barry back out into the rain.

"The raptors? What's wrong with them?" She hurried towards him, following him across the road to where a silver Silverado was parked under the large fronds of a tropical, local tree. He hurried her, waving frantically, before slipping in the truck. Marianne came to the passenger side, pulled open the door, and stepped up into the truck. Panting, she stared at Barry as he was already tearing away from her bungalow and down the muddy road. She was dripping when again when she grabbed his forearm. "Barry. What's wrong?"

"It's Delta," he breathed heavily, cranking up the heat in the truck. Barry began navigating the road expertly, not slowing around curves, "Something's happened. I'm not sure what."

Panic overtook her. Delta? Sick? Wounded? Her heart began to hammer and she felt as though she'd be sick. Marianne swallowed thickly, dismay lacing itself through her veins, dread punching her in the gut like a blow in a boxing ring. Her mouth instantly parched and gooseflesh dotted her skin. Her grip tightened on Barry's arm, as she wondered where Owen was outloud, "Where's Owen?"

"He's not answering his phone," Barry swallowed, "So I called you. I'm sorry, it's your night off –" she cut him off by shaking her head, slapping the dash and rolling her wrist to indicate he should go faster.

"No, no, never mind that. Get going," she dug the phone from her pocket and punched in Owen's number, slamming the phone between her shoulder and ear. She swallowed tensely and closed her eyes, trying not to panic. She could do this. She knew where the meds were and knew basic first aid– or so she hoped. If not, she could always call the vet team and get them out to help. The least she could do would be to sedate Delta and get her out of the paddock – if she was even still in there. "Is she in the paddock still?"

Barry shook his head, "No. We moved her. But her sister's ain't too happy."

Owen's voicemail. "I'd imagine so," she redialled him, replacing the phone and bracing herself against the door as Barry took another corner sharply. When she got his voicemail again, she cursed him and stuffed it back into her pocket. "Someone's gunna have to go get him in the resort," she grumbled.

"I'll drop you off and go get him," Barry interjected, roaring to a stop before the paddock a few moments later. Marianne abruptly left the truck and hustled towards the observation cage, where the guys were gathered with flashlights and rainslickers, a few on the ground. She skittered to a stop when she saw Delta, laying on her side, hardly moving, making squawking noses quietly as if she were fading.

Her heart seized, the other three raptors hissing and screeching and clawing at the main gate furious as if hell were on their heels. Marianne whipped a look to them, reaching through the gate with their talons, rain from her hair slapping her in the face. She was breathing hard and she looked over her shoulder to find Barry tearing away from the paddock, his taillights gone in the sheets of rain.

In an instant she pounced towards the observation area, shoving past Briggs and another worker, who had lights. He grabbed at her arm when she tore through the entrance, "Annie, wait a second!" His thick and strong accent was lost on the wind as she roughly shoved his arm off of her.

"No, Briggs!" She quelled and staggered towards Delta, tripping in a pot hole. Her vision began to swim when tears pooled in her eyes. She dropped into the mud next to the animal and looked up to the man standing over her with a light, another beside Delta in the muck. She glared. "Who have you called?" She demanded, her voice straining over the wind. Her throat was raw and sore, but she didn't care, and tucked her dripping locks behind her ear. Thunder erupted on the wind and lightning flashed again. The rain fell around her in blankets, wetting her yet again, threatening to steal her resolve for this place. She slowly moved her hand to touch Delta's snout, but the animal hissed lowly in her throat and inched away slowly, as if she were in pain. The animal's gaze was lazily and slow, indicating infection.

The man's reply was simple. "Owen," he said quietly, "and we called you."

. . .

Zach came out of the shower to find Grey scribbling in his journal again, engrossed with drawing a picture. His hair was wet and he was in pajamas. Zach approached the other double bed and flopped onto it, closing his eyes and drinking in the silence.

Claire had sent them back to their room an hour after she'd sent them away to deal with the storm outages and whatever else was wrong. She'd promised to do something fun with them tomorrow if time permitted, but Zach had stopped counting on her promises. Right now all he wanted to do was sleep and crawl under a rock. This trip had been nothing but a disaster from the get-go. He rolled onto his stomach and grabbed a pillow, tucking it under his chin.

"This blows," he muttered.

Grey replied, "Yep."

There was silence between them now, and Zach huffed. They had to do something, or he was going to go mad – and so was Grey. He closed his eyes and was quiet for a long moment before his stomach let out an unceremonious growl, signalling him that he wasn't just tired, but he was hungry too. Grey looked over at him.

"I'm hungry too," Grey said simply.

Zach nodded. He got up and began putting on his sandals – they were going out to supper, regardless if Claire came or not. He wasn't waiting around anymore. After all, they were VIPs on this island, and they could do whatever they wanted and eat whatever they wanted. He snapped his fingers at Grey.

"Come on, get your stuff around – we're going to get something to eat."

Grey's face wrinkled, "But Aunt Claire –"

"Aunt Claire blows," Zach spat at him, "And I'm starving. Let's go." He tossed Grey's hoodie at him, the kid catching it quickly and flopping his journal closed. Zach zipped up his own sweater and opened the hotel door, Grey quickly slipping the hoodie on and changing into jeans. He hurried out the door, Zach checking his pockets for his phone and the hotel key card. They passed down the hall quickly, to the elevators, where they got off on the ground level and entered the lobby, which was buzzing with nervous and anxious guests ready to get out of the rain.

He checked with the receptionist, who gave them complimentary umbrella's – since, after all, they were Claire's nephews. Zach opened his and stepped into the rain, Grey following suit, until they sloshed down the stairs and entered the vacant, abandoned park. No one was out and around, except some employees running to and from shops and locations cleaning up debris from the storm and tending to their duties. Zach walked briskly toward the main strip, stepping over branches and into puddles, Grey hot on his heels.

They finally came to the first place they agreed on – Margaritaville, where he knew they served great appetizers and had great arcade games. He stepped through the doors, shook out his embrella, and fastened it closed – only to find the place only half full, with quiet music and a few people at the bar drinking drinks and munching on pretzels. Zach scanned the place with his eyes and spotted a corner booth, Grey following him into the building.

Instantly, a waitress came over to them and gave them suspicious looks, "Aren't you guys a bit young to be in here?" She asked, her tone cautious and warning. She put her hands on her hips and then tossed one of her braids over her shoulders.

"To eat and have Cokes?" Zach said, bitingly. Her brows rose a few inches, indicating her surprise at his statement and his attitude. Zach didn't care. He pushed the hood of his sweater from his head and gestured between him and Grey. "Two Cokes and we'll take menus,"

Grey held up the wrist band on his wrist, pointing at it, "We're Claire Dearing's nephews."

She nodded slowly, giving them a look that told them she didn't care, nor was impressed. She spun on her heel, only to return with menus and two Cokes in glasses. She abandoned them at the first sign of an outing, and they glanced at the menus a good ten minutes before she came back. Ordering burgers and fries, she left them to themselves and Zach looked around.

He spotted someone in the corner booth, a guy that seemed oddly familiar, in wet clothes littered with mud, complete with dishevelled and stringy wet hair and a beer. Zach instantly remembered him from earlier – he was the guy with the little girl Grey had been curious about, whom Claire had been talking to. Zach stared at him a few minutes before Grey noticed, then elbowed him in the ribs.

"Hey, isn't that the guy -?"

"Yeah, that's him," Grey didn't need to finish his statement, since they both knew who the man was. He must've felt them staring, because he gestured at them with his bottle and nodded their direction. Zach waved and nodded back, the man getting up from his place. He approached them with his beer bottle and stuffed his hand into his pocket. He tipped the bottle and took a drink, coming up to their table.

Zach looked at him expectantly. "Hi." Was all he said. Grey took a drink of his Coke and stared up at the man, who nodded and removed the bottle from his lips. He exhaled, satisfied, and nodded to them.

"Hey." He managed. His voice was hoarse and deep, but smooth. He gestured with his bottle between them, "Aren't you two Claire Dearing's nephews?" He asked, his brow dropping into a curious furrow. Zach nodded.

"Yeah, that's us."

Grey drank at his Coke, still watching the man. The man's corner of his mouth rose in a slight smile, and he pulled his hand from his pocket and extended it to Zach. "Name's Owen. Nice to meet you guys."

"Zach," he introduced himself, shaking the man's hand, then he pointed to Grey. "That's Grey."

"Cool," Owen slipped into the booth beside Grey without asking. Zach wasn't sure who this guy was, but he seemed laid back and kinda cool, so he didn't protest. If things got weird he could always get rid of him – it wasn't like he was a total stranger. He knew Claire, obviously. "So. How long you guys here for?" He started conversation.

"Until August," Grey piped up. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, then attacked his straw with his lips again, pulling for another drink. The guy called Owen looked at Grey and nodded, taking another drink of his Coors. Zach envied his collectiveness and the coolness emanating from him.

"August, huh? All summer."

Grey nodded. "Yep."

"And you're enjoying yourself I hope?" He looked to Zach, who dropped his stare into his drink. He wasn't about to answer that question, because in all honesty, he wanted nothing more to be on the first ferry out of here and be home, with his girlfriend, and his own bed. He wanted to be with his parents, despite their differences.

"Yeah. It's good," Grey replied, cheerily. Zach kicked him under the table as if to signal him to stop lying. Grey gave him a glare but looked away when Owen fell against the back of the booth and chuckled. He lifted a shoulder in a shrug and took another quick drink. They were quiet a moment. Zach didn't look the man in the face – this man knew his Aunt, and could get them in trouble if she found out they were here. He scowled at the thought.

As if reading his mind, Owen asked, "So. You guys aren't supposed to be out here, are you?". He looked expectant, as if they were required to answer his investigation. Grey shifted again and Zach shrugged his shoulders, looking away and rolling his eyes. Owen chuckled. "That a no?"

"We were bored," Grey shrugged. Owen glanced back at Zach, who looked away from him. He wanted to slap his brother across the face, "It was Zach's idea." No he wanted to punch him into the next century.

"Ah, well," he chuckled, "I figured –"

At that instant, the door to the building burst open, bouncing on the hinges, and in stepped an African American man. He was dripping wet with mud on his shirt and blood, and he looked as if he'd been seeing ghosts for the past forty years. Zach's heart plummeted and he braced against the table, and Owen instantly released his drink and bolted for the door. "Barry!" he exclaimed, obviously knowing the man. The man dripped heavily on the door, the entire place staring at him. Thunder struck outside and Zach noticed the rain had picked up.

"Owen, you must come!" The man called Barry panted, motioning towards the door, jerking his thumb. Zach spotted a silver truck parked halfhazardly outside, lights blaring and wipers going full bore, "Something's happened!"

"What, what?" Owen quipped him for questions.

Barry clenched his fist around Owen's wrist and shook his head, "Just come!" Zach's heart pitched in his chest and he shared a look with Grey, who had a mixed look of excitement and terror on his face. The man called Owen looked over his shoulder at them. Zach knew that look, the one that told him the man was going to tell Claire where they were, but was weighing his options. If he left them and told Claire, she'd explode on him and ask him why he'd left him – but if he took them with him, Zach wasn't so sure either: he didn't know this man, and the situation certainly didn't sound…fantastic.

To his dismay, Owen jerked his head towards the direction of the door at them, "Come on, fellah's, let's move. I'll take you back to your Aunt's when I get back." He hustled out the door with the other man, Zach and Grey sharing a look. Owen stopped on the porch of the building, "You two coming, or what?"

Grey was the first to leave the booth, Zach only delaying as he smiled awkwardly at the waitress.