"Oh, baby," Laurel moaned as she tried to soothe Joe.
"Get away from me!" Joe snarled. "I hate you!"
Laurel pulled herself up and looked Joe in the eyes. "I understand," she said stiffly. "You're hurt. I'm so sorry. I never would have ordered the bomb put in the convertible if I had thought for one minute that you or your unborn child would have been hurt. I didn't know."
"But you knew Frank and I were close," Joe accused her. "And you were willing to kill him."
"He's not your real brother," Laurel entreated him to understand. "You can't be close. At least, not now that you know the truth."
"Is it the truth?" demanded Joe, his blue eyes narrowed on her suspiciously. "This wouldn't be the first time your people have messed with my mind."
"That was not my doing," Laurel told him, her eyes stormy. "My agents took it upon themselves to work with the people at Lazarus. The ones who survived to report in were disposed of."
"You're a murderer," Joe said with contempt. "You could never be my mother."
"But I am," Laurel insisted, her voice, like her countenance, growing weary. "We will talk further once you have rested," she continued. "Beginning tomorrow, you will be free to explore the island but for this evening I think you should confine yourself to your quarters."
"Why?" demanded Joe. "What are a few hours difference going to make?"
"It's your first night here," she explained. "You could get hurt in the dark."
"So I am a prisoner," Joe stated.
"Only by geography," Laurel assured him. "Anything you want, you have only to ask for," she continued. "Except, of course, for a phone or something like that," she amended.
"You won't let me leave," Joe said. "No matter how much you sugarcoat it: I am a prisoner."
"No, you're not," Laurel insisted, smiling faintly. He was just as stubborn as Jeremy had been. "As of daybreak you will be free to go anywhere you choose."
"On the island," Joe specified.
"Yes," she agreed.
"See. A prisoner."
Sighing in defeat, she went to the door. "Lance!" she called out. Within seconds, Joe's talkative escort from the ship arrived. "Please show Joe to his room and see that he stays there until morning."
"This way, Joe," Lance said, leading the way out of the room and up a set of stairs.
"So what would you do if I tried to leave tonight?" Joe asked Lance curiously as he was led up a set of stairs.
"Put you to sleep," Lance answered. "All of the weapons in use on the island are filled with tranquilizer darts. You will not be harmed."
"And she won't care if I leave the house tomorrow by myself?" asked Joe.
"Not at all," Lance replied. "Were it not already dark at your arrival, you could have begun exploring already. There is no way for you to get off of the island so it doesn't matter if you go off on your own."
Lance stopped in front of the second door on the left and opened it. "This is your bedroom," Lance informed Joe. "The door on your left is the closet and the one on the right is your bathroom." He walked over to a set of glass doors and slid them open. "Your balcony," Lance said. "But be careful. It is over a cliff."
Joe joined Lance outside. He caught his breath as he looked out over the choppy sea. "It's beautiful," he breathed.
"And dangerous," Lance warned again, pointing down. Joe looked down and saw what Lance meant. If he should fall, it was at least a five hundred-foot drop to the rocks below.
"Dinner will be brought to you shortly," Lance said, going back into the bedroom. "Breakfast is normally at seven a.m. but since it's such a late night, we will be having brunch at ten instead. Welcome home," Lance ended before leaving Joe alone and closing the door.
Joe looked around his prison. Along one wall was a large flat screen television complete with a DVD player. One of the bookcases that lined the opposite wall held a multitude of DVD's, all of which he had either seen at the theater more than twice or wanted too. There were two more bookcases holding an assortment of horror novels, comic books and car magazines.
Near the balcony doors was an entertainment system with a CD player, cassette player recorder and radio. The speakers had been hung up; one on each side of the room. A desk was set up by the window near the balcony and Joe groaned when he saw a trigonometry book lying on top of several other schoolbooks. "I'm to be tutored, no doubt," Joe mumbled, going to the king size bed and sitting down. The bed rolled beneath him as the water was displaced.
"Great," he grumbled. "Everything I could want except my family and freedom."
Family! Joe fell back on the bed and looked at the ceiling forlornly. How were his parents...No, not my parents...going to react when they found out their son had been switched at birth with the son of the leader of the Assassins? Would they hate him? Would they blame him for the being alive when their son was dead?
And Frank! Joe felt the tears spring to his eyes. How would he be able to survive without Frank? He depended on him for so much. Just seeing his face made Joe happy. Joe knew as long as Frank was there nothing could hurt him. Joe let the tears flow freely until his eyes closed and his head hurt too much to worry anymore.
"Get away from me!" Joe snarled. "I hate you!"
Laurel pulled herself up and looked Joe in the eyes. "I understand," she said stiffly. "You're hurt. I'm so sorry. I never would have ordered the bomb put in the convertible if I had thought for one minute that you or your unborn child would have been hurt. I didn't know."
"But you knew Frank and I were close," Joe accused her. "And you were willing to kill him."
"He's not your real brother," Laurel entreated him to understand. "You can't be close. At least, not now that you know the truth."
"Is it the truth?" demanded Joe, his blue eyes narrowed on her suspiciously. "This wouldn't be the first time your people have messed with my mind."
"That was not my doing," Laurel told him, her eyes stormy. "My agents took it upon themselves to work with the people at Lazarus. The ones who survived to report in were disposed of."
"You're a murderer," Joe said with contempt. "You could never be my mother."
"But I am," Laurel insisted, her voice, like her countenance, growing weary. "We will talk further once you have rested," she continued. "Beginning tomorrow, you will be free to explore the island but for this evening I think you should confine yourself to your quarters."
"Why?" demanded Joe. "What are a few hours difference going to make?"
"It's your first night here," she explained. "You could get hurt in the dark."
"So I am a prisoner," Joe stated.
"Only by geography," Laurel assured him. "Anything you want, you have only to ask for," she continued. "Except, of course, for a phone or something like that," she amended.
"You won't let me leave," Joe said. "No matter how much you sugarcoat it: I am a prisoner."
"No, you're not," Laurel insisted, smiling faintly. He was just as stubborn as Jeremy had been. "As of daybreak you will be free to go anywhere you choose."
"On the island," Joe specified.
"Yes," she agreed.
"See. A prisoner."
Sighing in defeat, she went to the door. "Lance!" she called out. Within seconds, Joe's talkative escort from the ship arrived. "Please show Joe to his room and see that he stays there until morning."
"This way, Joe," Lance said, leading the way out of the room and up a set of stairs.
"So what would you do if I tried to leave tonight?" Joe asked Lance curiously as he was led up a set of stairs.
"Put you to sleep," Lance answered. "All of the weapons in use on the island are filled with tranquilizer darts. You will not be harmed."
"And she won't care if I leave the house tomorrow by myself?" asked Joe.
"Not at all," Lance replied. "Were it not already dark at your arrival, you could have begun exploring already. There is no way for you to get off of the island so it doesn't matter if you go off on your own."
Lance stopped in front of the second door on the left and opened it. "This is your bedroom," Lance informed Joe. "The door on your left is the closet and the one on the right is your bathroom." He walked over to a set of glass doors and slid them open. "Your balcony," Lance said. "But be careful. It is over a cliff."
Joe joined Lance outside. He caught his breath as he looked out over the choppy sea. "It's beautiful," he breathed.
"And dangerous," Lance warned again, pointing down. Joe looked down and saw what Lance meant. If he should fall, it was at least a five hundred-foot drop to the rocks below.
"Dinner will be brought to you shortly," Lance said, going back into the bedroom. "Breakfast is normally at seven a.m. but since it's such a late night, we will be having brunch at ten instead. Welcome home," Lance ended before leaving Joe alone and closing the door.
Joe looked around his prison. Along one wall was a large flat screen television complete with a DVD player. One of the bookcases that lined the opposite wall held a multitude of DVD's, all of which he had either seen at the theater more than twice or wanted too. There were two more bookcases holding an assortment of horror novels, comic books and car magazines.
Near the balcony doors was an entertainment system with a CD player, cassette player recorder and radio. The speakers had been hung up; one on each side of the room. A desk was set up by the window near the balcony and Joe groaned when he saw a trigonometry book lying on top of several other schoolbooks. "I'm to be tutored, no doubt," Joe mumbled, going to the king size bed and sitting down. The bed rolled beneath him as the water was displaced.
"Great," he grumbled. "Everything I could want except my family and freedom."
Family! Joe fell back on the bed and looked at the ceiling forlornly. How were his parents...No, not my parents...going to react when they found out their son had been switched at birth with the son of the leader of the Assassins? Would they hate him? Would they blame him for the being alive when their son was dead?
And Frank! Joe felt the tears spring to his eyes. How would he be able to survive without Frank? He depended on him for so much. Just seeing his face made Joe happy. Joe knew as long as Frank was there nothing could hurt him. Joe let the tears flow freely until his eyes closed and his head hurt too much to worry anymore.