Three Times a Lady

Chapter 35

Like the other beach houses dotting Indian Bayou Avenue on Fort Myers Beach down in Florida – nicknamed ‘the Sunshine State’ for very good reason – Dana Whitestone’s vacation residence sat on stilts to protect it from flooding in the event of hurricanes.

The house itself was weather-beaten in the extreme, light blue in colour and had a charming, laid-back feel to it. A metal seahorse featuring an elaborate curly tail adorned the face of the structure next to the front door.

The mere sight of it made Nicholas’s heart leap for joy inside his chest. This was everything he could have asked for and more. He’d come down to the pristine white sands of Florida’s Gulf Coast to lure the greatest hunter of his kind back to her job and into the final chapter of his decidedly deadly little game.

Much like Joe DiMaggio had Ted Williams and Muhammad Ali had Joe Frazier, Dana Whitestone represented the very worthy foil Nicholas needed to drive him to the top of his art form. She’d lost her taste for fighting temporarily – thanks in large part to him – but Nicholas had something up his sleeve to re-inspire the woman, to re-whet her appetite for chasing killers.

An electric shiver tickled his spine as he drank in the tableau before him like a newborn baby surveying its strange new world for the first time. Everything from the beach-cruiser bicycle parked out front to the black bikini that had been draped over the wooden porch slats to dry in the hot morning sun.

Dana Whitestone’s bikini, Nicholas thought – an article of clothing that had caressed the most intimate parts of her luscious body. Just like he’d soon caress the most intimate parts of her luscious body.

For three mornings in a row now, Nicholas had watched her leave her beach house at the exact same time, following her daily ritual of getting buzzed at one of the tiny beach town’s seaside bars before taking a jog to sober up, waving to her temporary neighbors as though they were lifelong friends as she left. Still, the former FBI agent would find it very difficult to wave to people when her hands had been chopped off. But not just her hands. The more delicate bits of her, too. The delicate bits that not even her bikini could hide from Nicholas’s view for ever.

As if on cue, a moment later, the front door across the street opened up and Dana Whitestone descended the wooden stairs with her short blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. Nicholas glanced down at his Mickey Mouse watch and smiled. Eleven-thirty a.m. Right on time. Some masterful investigator she was. She didn’t even know enough to vary her daily routine. Another rookie mistake on her part for which she’d soon pay dearly.

Nicholas’s stomach flipped over inside his gut as he ran his gaze admiringly over the woman’s well-toned body. Her vacation had been treating her well, that much seemed clear. Very well. Her milky white skin had glazed into a warm golden brown, and her silky blonde hair looked longer and fairer than it ever had before. Nicholas shivered. Had he still been a man possessing all the requisite equipment, his khaki shorts would have strained against his zipper as she stretched her elegant calf muscles against the stairs and rolled her slender neck on her soft shoulders. And why not? She looked absolutely delicious.

Thirty seconds later, the former FBI agent began her run, waving to a young couple who was pushing a baby stroller in front of them before disappearing around a bend in the street. The most popular kid in class; that was Dana Whitestone all right. The prettiest girl in town. The queen of the f*cking prom.

And he had a date with her.

Nicholas turned away from the window and put on his game-face. The end was finally upon them now; the third act finally at hand. And this last act would be an absolute doozy.

Heart slamming in his chest, Nicholas exited his own house precisely three minutes after Dana Whitestone had left hers. Glancing up and down the street to make sure that no one was watching him, he shuffled across the street with his head down. Being a stranger in this neighbourhood was of no real concern – hell, everyone was a stranger here – but there was no point in pushing his luck any more than he absolutely needed to.

Slipping around the back of Dana Whitestone’s vacation house several moments later, he ascended the rickety wooden staircase that was shielded by the high landscaping rising up on both sides of her vacation residence before pulling back the unlocked sliding glass door to the lanai and stepping inside.

He was inside the cunt’s lair!