Monthly Archives: August 2024

August 19, 2024

This entry is part 32 of 36 in the Flash Fiction: Warning Shots

Written in 55 minutes.

Late June 2000

Jason laid back in the bed, one hand beneath his head, his ears cocked for the sound of Elizabeth’s return though he wouldn’t be able to hear the soft fall of her bare feet over the dull roar of the waves outside the window. They were louder tonight, and he remembered now that a storm had been forecast. He’d have to make sure the terrace doors were all closed and check the windows.

He sat up, swung his leg over the side of the mattress, wincing when the healing wound low on his abdomen protested. Maybe today’s activities hadn’t been exactly the best idea, Jason thought, pushing himself to his feet, but he had no regrets.

He could rest tomorrow.

There was a crack and roll of thunder. Jason leaned over to find his jeans. He was just fastening his jeans when he heard another crack—but this one was followed by the flash of lightning illuminating the room, and Jason realized that the first sound hadn’t been thunder after all. It had sounded closer—

He jerked open the drawer on the dresser, retrieved his handgun. He checked the safety and headed for the hallway.

—

It was just like that night. A hand reaching out from the darkness, from nothing, grabbing her, snatching her backwards so fast that she’d lost her breath—

One arm wrapped around her torso, pinning her arms to her side, the hand digging into her upper bicep. The other hand on her arm, clamping down on her lips and nose that she couldn’t breathe.

She twisted, tried to bite the hand, wriggled, but it didn’t stop, she couldn’t think, couldn’t process what was happening—the ocean waves mixed in with her memories, and maybe it wasn’t the water, but the wind roaring in her ears, and her legs felt so cold, they’d been dragged across the snowy ground, rocks and dirt shredding her panty hose—

Her feet were bare. She couldn’t find her shoes.

No, no, no no no not again not again please not again

—

Luke paced the small office of the airport. “How long does it take to get a plane ready? Just turn the key and start the damn thing—”

Sonny sent him a dirty look, then turned back to the phone. “Look, Marco, I don’t care. There are other people who can prepare for a storm—it’s not even a hurricane—I need you to go to the house and check the phone lines. Did they pick up Dario?”

Luke glanced over when he heard Sonny set the phone down, the dull plastic receiving clacking down hard on the base. “Well?”

“Marco has three guys out looking in Dario’s usual places, but there’s a tropical storm that’s in the area. The island’s only supposed to get the back edge of it, but it’s complicating everything. We can’t even get a flight plan.” Sonny dragged his hands down his face. “How the hell did I forget about this guy?”

“That’s a damn good question. Some guy goes after her, Jason humiliates him in front of his buddies, and you don’t think he goes at the top of the damn list? You and Jason, you always think no one else has any enemies,” Luke muttered. “You never look past your own faces.”

Sonny started to challenge him, but the phone rang again. He snatched it up. “Yeah, yeah, I don’t care. Get the flight plan filed. We’ll stop in Miami and wait out the storm if we have to. Get it done.”

—

There was no sound in the house, no Elizabeth in the kitchen, and Jason’s pulse picked up, his heart thudding in his ears. But his hands remained steady, his steps quiet and measured as he crept down the hall, his eyes sweeping the darkness at the closed doors. He couldn’t remember now if any of had been open before.

He hadn’t done a sweep of the house when they’d returned, Jason realized with a thud. Securing the house with the open windows and terrace was a pain in the ass, but they didn’t need that kind of security, he thought. They controlled all ways onto the island. Which meant this was someone on the island.

And that left only one person who might be inside the house. One person who had a damn good reason for wanting to hurt Elizabeth.

Jason stopped outside her door. He listened, and he couldn’t hear anything, not over the wind and waves outside. The rain had started, and was pelting the roof, the walls. He didn’t know what room Elizabeth had been dragged into, and he didn’t just want to kick a door in —

He couldn’t think about what might be happening while he debated. Couldn’t think about how scared Elizabeth might be or—couldn’t do it. He only had one chance, one opportunity, and he wasn’t going to screw it up.

—

Classes. She’d taken all those self-defense classes, but no one ever taught you how to think when your brain was frozen, how did you stop it, how did get back into your body, how did you make it all go away, to stop swirling and screaming and—

Thunder crackled and lightning flashed, and the room around them was illuminated — Elizabeth saw her surroundings. And it was enough. It snapped her back, and she knew where she was.

It wasn’t the Port Charles Park on Valentine’s Day. And this wasn’t the man who had raped her. It wasn’t happening again. It wasn’t cold, and those weren’t rocks digging into her feet, but the cold tiled floor.

It was now, and Elizabeth was never going to let someone make her a victim again. She’d worked too hard—

She forced herself to go limp, making her body dead weight. Her attacker grunted, but his grip slipped just enough for Elizabeth to clamp down hard on the hand in her arm. He yelped, but his hand fell away, and she screamed.

——

“What if we’re in the air and something happens?” Sonny demanded, watching as the jet in the hangar was prepared for the trip. “What do we do then?”

“I don’t know,” Luke retorted. “What are we going to do if something happens and we’re on our asses here in Port Charles?”

He dragged a hand through his hair, stalked over to the window that looked out over the hangar. “I don’t like any of this,” he muttered. “Storm coming, you can’t reach the house. Maybe an island in the middle of nowhere was a bad idea.”

He turned back to find Sonny on the phone again, but his expression had shifted. Luke’s heartbeat picked up. “What? What happened?”

“We—we can’t get a flight to the island.” Sonny looked at him. “Not until the morning. The storm is shifting its path. It’s going to hit the island head on in about an hour. And it’s being upgraded to a category one hurricane.”

Luke exhaled on a long breath. “Okay. We’ll get to Miami, and you’ll charter a motherfucking boat. I’ll drive it myself.”

“Luke—look—”

“Don’t tell me that’s suicide, and don’t tell me Jason can handle it. The phones are out, Corinthos. That’s before the storm ever hits them. Your guy can’t find this Dario person in any of his usual places. That’s why he hasn’t picked him up yet. It’s already happening, and I’ll be damned if we’re going to twiddle our thumbs a thousand miles away—I can’t do nothing—”

“Marco said he’d go up to the house—” Sonny’s face was gray. “There’s nothing we can do, Luke.”

“Get us to Miami. At least get us closer.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll see if I can manage that.” Sonny picked up the phone again.

—

Elizabeth’s scream ripped through the air, just behind her bedroom door, and whatever caution Jason had been holding on to disappeared. He hit the door with his shoulder, breaking it off the hinges, sending flying into the room, splinters falling to the floor.

He had the gun raised and pointed before he could even take in the scene — near the terrace doors, thrown wide open, drapery whipped around by the rain and wind swirling into the room, he saw Elizabeth being held by a dark figure, an arm around her neck and the other at her waist.

“Let her go!” Jason roared, but he couldn’t get a good shot, not with the darkness in the room, the way Elizabeth’s head was moving back and forth. She twisted, and then her leg was in the air, her foot came down hard—Jason saw the flash of her elbow—She planted both blows at the same time, leading her attacker to grunt and lose his grip.

Elizabeth twisted out of his grasp, whirling around to bring her knee directly into his groin before flying across the room. Jason caught her with his other arm, dragging her against his side, only barely registering the pain.

The lightning flashed again, casting light on Dario Colon’s grim expression as he got to his feet. Thunder cracked and rolled, the sounds were on top of each other. He saluted them with two fingers at his temple, then darted backwards.

Jason shot twice after him but knew he hadn’t been able to hit his mark as Dario flew over the terrace wall. By the time Jason got out there, he couldn’t find the other man in the dark, the pelting his skin as he stood there, trying to find him.

“Damn it, damn it—” Jason engaged the safety, set the gun on the dresser and came towards Elizabeth, dragging her back into his arms. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“N-No, no, I’m okay. But he got away—he’ll come back—” Elizabeth swallowed hard. “Jason—”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll get out of here. We’ll go into town. I’ll get you somewhere safe,” Jason said. He went to the lamp on the side table of her bed, flicked the switch. Nothing.  Damn it. Damn it.

“Jason?”

“The power’s out.” Which meant the phone was out, and neither of their cell phones worked here. And if Dario had been in the house before they got home from dinner, he might have had time to screw with the car.

Jason picked up the gun. “Get dressed. Fast. We need to get out of here.”

This entry is part 34 of 47 in the Flash Fiction: Chain Reaction

Written in 65 minutes.

Recovery Room: Bar

Though the bar wouldn’t open for several more hours, the front door was unlocked when Jason checked it. Worried that there’d been a break-in, he pushed it open. The main part of the bar was dim, only sunlight peeking around the edges of the windows offered any illumination.

At first glance, the room appeared empty and there was were no obvious signs of trespass — the chairs had been neatly stacked on the tables, the floors were clean. It looked like it always did after closing though it had been some time since Jason had been to the bar as a patron, and Mike spent more time at Kelly’s these days.

One table in the corner by the doors to the kitchen was disturbed, its chairs settled in their usual places, and it was there that Jason found Mike. There were papers on the table, a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass by his side. The bottle hadn’t been open—the paper wrapped around the top still intact.

Jason approached the table almost reluctantly, and the fall of his steps stirred Mike. The older man looked up, blinked at the intrusion, then let out a slow breath. “You here with more bad news?”

“I don’t know,” Jason said. He stepped behind a chair, resting his hands on the back of it, but not taking a seat. He wasn’t sure of its welcome, wasn’t entirely sure that with some time and space, Mike was regretting his support of Jason in the wake of the shooting. Had Courtney felt abandoned, Jason wondered, and had that led her to the hotel, to the bullet that claimed her life?

Mike gestured at the papers on the table. “Arrangements,” he said, then dragged a hand down his face. “Have to pick a funeral home for my daughter.”

“If there’s anything I can—”

“You’ve—you’ve done enough.” Mike lifted his eyes to Jason again, then closed them, some of the stiffness easing. “That—I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t—I don’t blame you.” He chuckled lightly, though the sound was bitter. “I don’t want to blame you. It’s not your fault. None of this is. Not really. It’s mine.”

Jason pulled out the chair, sat down, clasped his hands on the table. “Mike, that’s not true—”

“Yeah? Tell me, Jason. How much of the darkness in Michael—how much is it from that piece of shit I left him with?” Mike demanded, and Jason looked down. “Maybe Michael would have always been a bit brooding, but what he turned into? Those seeds were planted by Deke, and if I had been any kind of man, well, that wouldn’t have happened. So Michael, that’s on me.”

Mike reached for the bottle of whiskey, twisted off the cap, tearing the paper that sealed it shut. “Courtney. Courtney. She was a little bright beam of sunshine from the moment she was born. Looked just like her mother. I told myself it’d be different. That I was different. That little girl just smiled and laughed all the time, looked at me like I hung the moon.” He turned away, the grief so stark on his face that Jason’s throat felt tight. “I couldn’t live up to that. Could never be the man that she thought I was, so I left. I left her alone with her mother, and she came looking for me here. She came to Port Charles, and if I weren’t here—”

He dipped his head. “I keep trying to tell myself I’m doing better. That I’ve been there for my kids these last few years, and maybe that’s true. But you never get that time back. You never get the trust back. There’s something that gets built in those early years, and when you don’t have it anymore—you can’t ever fix it.”

“Mike, Courtney was here because of you, but that’s — it’s not why she’s gone.”

“No. It’s not. Someone killed her. Someone she must have known a little bit, because she opened the door. She must have let them in, Mac told me.” He poured the whiskey, the bottle clicking against the top of the glass, his hand trembling. “D-do you think she was scared? Do you think she knew? Did she have time to know what was going to happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“I want it to be your fault. I want to rage at you and even at Elizabeth for having an affair. For breaking my little girl’s heart.” His voice was thick now, his dull blue eyes glazed with a sheen of tears. “Because if you hadn’t done that, she’d have been at home. She wouldn’t be dead.”

Jason dropped his eyes to the table, to the dark, scarred wood texture rough under his hands. “I know that. I’m sorry—”

“But it’s not your fault. And it’s not mine. Maybe you and me, we put the pieces in place. That’s on us. I brought her here, and you put her in that hotel.” Mike’s breathing was a bit ragged and he stared down at the whiskey, but didn’t drink. “But I didn’t lift that gun, and you didn’t pull the trigger. That—that’s not on us.”

He set the glass down, pushed it to the middle of the table. Put the cap back on the bottle. “I’ll feel guilty every day for the rest of my life for not being the father my kids deserved. And I expect you’ll carry a measure of guilt for what happened between you and Courtney. That’s right. That’s fair. You make a mistake, you carry the weight of it.” He exhaled in a long, low, shaky breath. “But I’ll be damned if I carry her death on my shoulders. And you aren’t going to either.”

His eyes found Jason’s now. “I’m going to arrange for my daughter’s funeral because it’s the last thing I ever get to do as her father. But Michael is still here, and I can still do right by him.”

Jason flexed his hands. “I went to see Sonny yesterday like we talked about. He was…he was clear. Lucid.”

Mike lifted his brows. “That’s—that’s good. Did he talk about that night?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Then I called the doctor at Rose Lawn. Sonny signed the papers. A seventy-two hour hold for evaluation. He went last night.”

“That’s good. It’s good. He’ll talk to someone who knows better than any of us, and we’ll sort out what’s going on.” Sonny’s father dragged a hand down his face. “But he talked about that night.”

“Yeah. He remembers it in bits and pieces. He—he says it was him. That night.” Jason paused. “He saw Ric with Elizabeth and Carly in the courtyard, thought he saw Ric lunge for Carly, and he just—he shot at him.”

Mike was quiet for a long moment, then pressed his lips together, looked away. “He remembers being the shooter.”

“I think—I think he thinks so. He says he threw the gun away on the way back to the Towers. Maybe he is. I have some guys looking for it. The timeline is tight, I know, but the only reason we thought it wasn’t him—”

“We thought the PCPD had the gun, and he didn’t have it when he came back. And what happened to Courtney—that doesn’t fit.” Mike shook his head. “I don’t understand how any of this works, Jason. What happened that night is a terrible, terrible tragedy, but almost inevitable if Michael is the one holding the gun. But—”

“But everything that’s happened since then feels like someone trying to clean up after him. To hide his identity as the shooter,” Jason acknowledged. “I don’t know—I don’t know if you heard but Ric went missing from the hospital yesterday. A false transfer,” he added when Mike scowled. “I thought it might be Lorenzo Alcazar pulling the strings. Maybe he liked that I was being accused of it, and knew Ric and Courtney’s stories would fall apart eventually. But there are still a lot of questions even that’s happening.”

“Maybe. If I had known Courtney was the other so-called witness, I would have tried harder to talk to her. To track her down, but—”

“Justus wanted to hold on to that information,” Jason admitted with some reluctance. “He—he was worried I might be accused of witness tampering.”

“I get it. I do. It just…” Mike shook his head. “It just means we have to work harder. But one way or another, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

Lorenzo Alcazar was on a lot of minds that day, including Mac Scorpio’s. He skimmed the case file on the only other Alcazar he’d come into contact with — Luis.

“Twins creep me out,” Scott muttered, looking at a newspaper clipping with a photo of the Alcazar brothers. “Someone just walking around with your face—” He hesitated, looked at Mac. “Sorry—”

“At least James Meadows wasn’t related to me,” Mac muttered, rolling his shoulders. “But yeah, I didn’t spend a lot of time looking into Luis Alcazar’s background last year. We had more than enough to keep us occupied.”

“True enough. Plenty of suspects right here in Port Charles.” Scott looked back at Mac. “But Morgan seemed to think this was the only possibility—unless he’s just screwing with us so he can go after the real bad guy—”

“No. No. We’re not doing this again, Scott,” Mac interrupted, and Scott made a face. “You wanted to play games the last time, and look what happened. We’re doing this my way which means the right way. I’ll get a full background check on Luis and Lorenzo Alcazar—”

“We might not have time for that—”

“If you have any ideas that don’t include screwing with Jason Morgan, by all means, lay them out. But right now, the guy is dealing with enough. And if you step one more foot wrong, Bobbie’s going to throw you out the window, and I’m going to let her, do you understand?” he demanded.

“Since you’re only half-kidding about the window, yeah, I get it. Let’s start at the beginning.”

Hardy House: Living Room

Elizabeth carefully lifted the black strap of the slung over her head, then tossed the contraption on the sofa behind her. She stretched out her arm, wincing at the pain her shoulder and at her elbow. Then she tried to flex her hand, spreading out her fingers. Her index finger wobbled, and her thumb bent—

But when she tried to curl it into a fist, her fingers only loosely curled over. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she wasn’t ready to give up. She went over to the desk by the stairs, picked up a pencil with her left hand and put it in the right, manually curling the fingers to force it to stay in position.

Then she tried to write her name on the edge of a piece of paper, tried to force her hand into a position and action that she’d taken for granted only a week ago—

But the tip of the pencil barely made any change in the paper, only the faintest of gray scribbles. She couldn’t really press down—the pencil shifted position, and she couldn’t hold it any tighter.

Her lips trembled as she took the pencil in her other hand—tried to write her name that way, but her hand didn’t know what to do, the muscles didn’t have any memory of moving in those ways, and while she was able to write her name, it was scrawled across the paper with awkward lines and angles—

Like the way a child might draw.

A tear dropped on the paper, right over the jumble of lines that should have been the ‘b’ in her first name. Elizabeth tossed the pencil side, went away from the desk, then used her good hand to massage her left as if she could reconnect the nerves and muscles through sheer will power.

A knock at the door broke her concentration. When she peered through the peephole and saw Jason, she pulled the door open. “I told you that you didn’t have to knock—” she started.

“What’s wrong?” he interrupted. He stepped inside, reached over to close the door. “Are you—are you in pain?”

“It’s nice to see you, too,” she muttered, leaving him at the door. She retrieved her sling, started to twist it over her head. “How was Mike?”

“Managing,” Jason said. “I’m sorry. I just—you were crying—”

She heard the steps behind her pause, and when she twisted to look, she saw him at the desk. He must have seen the pencil, noticed the paper sticking out. He looked down at it for a long moment, then at her, and the swirl of emotion in his expression, the way his mouth dipped at the corners had the tears crawling up her throat again. Elizabeth had to look away, to close her eyes.

She heard him drawing closer, then he was next to her, curling her into his side, careful not to jar her injury. He dropped a kiss in her hair, and she pressed her face into his shirt, wishing she could hide here forever.

“I’m sorry. I’m trying so hard to hold it together b-because t-there’s so much more going on, and a-nd I’m alive and w-walking around and Carly isn’t and Courtney never will, and Sonny’s so sick, and I still have the baby—it could have b-been so much worse, I got lucky—”

“Hey. Hey—” Jason stroked her back. “You don’t have to pretend anything with me.”

“It’s just—when things get h-ard or I c-can’t cope, I pick up a p-pencil and make it go away, and I c-can’t do that anymore.” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “I can’t make any of it stop.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t reassure her that they’d be able to make it stop, or that they’d be able to make any of this over. It wasn’t a promise he could keep, and he didn’t make those kinds of promises.

But he held her as she cried, and that was enough. For now.

General Hospital: Carly’s Room

It was times like these that Bobbie wished she’d taken up knitting. Or crocheting. Or any of those hobbies that gave you something to do with your hands, that kept your attention focused on anything other than what was going on.

She’d been in this room off and on for nearly five days now, listening to the sounds of machines beep and buzz, sounds that had provided the soundtrack for most of her adult life. She practically lived in the hospital, the only stable piece of her life for more than two decades.

And the sounds should be comforting now. They were signs that her daughter was alive, that the child she carried was still in good health. But beeps and buzzes and even the squeak of shoes in the hallway couldn’t comfort her anymore.

Bobbie wanted the sound of her daughter’s voice, from the way she held laughter in her words to the high-pitch whine when she wasn’t getting her way, even the jagged edges of her anger —

So used to the sounds of beeps and buzzes and squeaks that Bobbie didn’t register the way some of those beeps began to change. They were closer together, the heartbeat monitor picking up pace—

But Bobbie certainly knew the sound that her daughter made when a low moan emerged from her lips. Bobbie’s head snapped up, and she was just in time to see Carly turn her heard towards her mother, to see the lids lift to reveal just the brown eyes beneath.

“Mama?” the word was breathed more than spoken, but it was music to Bobbie’s ears. She leaned forward.

“There you are. There’s my girl. We missed you.”

August 12, 2024

Update Link: Chain Reaction – Part 33

Happy Monday 🙂 I have only two weeks of summer vacation left, which is a little said. August 26, I return for a week of PD and teacher prep and the kids are back September 3. I got my preliminary class schedule, and it’s actually worse than my old middle school schedule. I’m teaching five classes in a row from 8AM to 11:40PM, and then I have two periods off (lunch & prep) until around 1PM, when I have two more classes. In the old school, I had a 3omin duty in that 11-1PM  time slot, so I can’t decide what’s worse — an extra class or cafeteria duty. We’ll see, lol.

In case you missed it, These Small Hours got a release date! Well, release dates, lol. I’m already working on the posting draft for Book 1, and I’ve finished marking up Chapters 1-7, so those edits are coming along nicely.  Check out Saturday’s post for more information.

See you on Wednesday!

This entry is part 33 of 47 in the Flash Fiction: Chain Reaction

Written in 66 minutes.

Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room

The inside of Sonny’s home looked mostly the same, and Jason realized now that he’d been expecting to find furniture turned over, chairs broken, the mini bar shattered—he’d expected to find destruction. But other than the thin layer of dust that suggested no one had been in to clean, the room was unchanged.

Other than the man sprawled out in the armchair in front of the fireplace, the hearth cold and dark. Sonny was slumped over, one arm stretched along the chair, the other holding his forehead. Jason hesitated, not prepared to find his friend downstairs at all.

At his entrance, Sonny glanced over briefly, his disheveled hair falling across his forehead in curls. “I wondered when you’d get to me.”

Jason didn’t draw any closer. “What do you mean?”

“I woke up this morning,” Sonny said in a strangely even, but lifeless tone, “and I knew were I was. Who I was. When I was.” He finally turned his full gaze on Jason, and there was clarity in his expression. Lucidity. Something Jason hadn’t been expecting. “I’ve been drugged. I know what it feels like after it’s done.”

“We had no choice,” Jason said slowly, taking one step closer. “You were out of control. In the middle of some kind of break.”  He cleared his throat. “What—what do you remember?”

“Not as much as I should, more than I want to. I—” Sonny’s hand fell away from his forehead, into his lap but he still didn’t stir from the chair. Jason came over to the area now, sat on the edge of the sofa. “I remember being here. Needing to talk to you. Looking for Carly. I went out. I don’t—” He furrowed his brow. “I don’t know why I was at Kelly’s.”

Jason stilled. “Kelly’s.”

“Maybe I thought—you were the night before. I thought maybe you’d be there again. Maybe that’s why. All I know—” Sonny rubbed his mouth, looked at Jason again. “I remember Ric. I remember Carly. And—and Elizabeth. And he was hurting them.” He squinted. “I thought he was hurting them. Scaring. So I—” He made a gesture with his hand, and Jason’s stomach rolled. “I don’t remember deciding to shoot — I—there was screaming. And blood.”

“What did you do then?” Jason said, his mind racing. Sonny had been the shooter, but then— “What did you do with the gun?”

“Threw it away somewhere,” Sonny murmured. “Couldn’t look at it anymore. Blood on my hands.” He stared at his clean hands. “Blood everywhere. All I do. All I am. It’s all I bring. Blood. Death. I killed them.” He focused on Jason again. “And now you’re here to kill me. Good. Good. I deserve it. Make it quick. Make it over.”

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

Elizabeth was too restless to sit or lay down, so she paced the room, taking in the changes made since she’d left—almost exactly a year ago, she realized. The furniture was different, she thought, sliding her finger across the fabric sofa. There was more of it, too. Knick knacks. Dust collectors, her mother had always called them.

Evidence of Courtney was everywhere, Elizabeth thought. There were photos on the mantel of Carly and Courtney, of Jason and Courtney. Courtney with the boys. She traced the smile on Jason’s face in his. He really had been happy with her, she thought, and wondered how he was feeling now. She didn’t doubt his decision to break up with Courtney or to come back to Elizabeth — but that didn’t mean his emotions had been erased.

Something caught her eye, a glint, and she turned to see something shining, wedged beneath the pool table. She crouched down, picked it up. A diamond ring. The same one Courtney had flashed over and over again during those long weeks. She must have thrown it across the room at some point, Elizabeth thought. She grimaced, climbing back to her feet.

She looked around again, seeing the penthouse with new eyes. The remnants of a life cut short. Of a woman who hadn’t been perfect or maybe even good, but one who’d been loved. Would Sonny be clear enough to find out about his sister? Carly, who had felt so betrayed — there’d never be a chance to resolve any of it. Mike, who’d already lost so much time—

And Jason, who had planned a life with her.

Elizabeth set the engagement ring on the mantel by the photo of Jason and Courtney in happier days. Courtney had chosen a terrible path as her relationship with Jason faltered, choosing to ally herself with an evil man, likely thinking the ends would justify the means, the betrayal. Or maybe hoping no one would ever find out. But did those final few weeks erase a lifetime? They’d been friendly once, maybe on the verge of something deeper.

That fledgling friendship had disappeared when Courtney had moved on with Jason, and the bitterness had spread between them, poisoning any chance for something else. Now Courtney was dead, a casualty of whatever war was being waged against Jason, and her murderer was still out there, likely planning another attack.

Elizabeth looked back towards the door, wondering what was happening across the hall, and hoping she had the strength to face whatever happened next.

Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room

 

Jason exhaled slowly, then shook his head. “I’m not here to do anything but help you,” he told his friend. Sonny scowled, lunged to his feet. Jason rose quickly in response, then was startled when Sonny gripped Jason by the shirt, dragged him close, his dark eyes burning.

“I am nothing but death and destruction,” Sonny growled. “Blood and pain and misery. I kill everything and everyone I touch—”

Jason covered Sonny’s hands with his own, gently pushing him back. “Elizabeth and Carly are alive.”

“W-What—” His hand trembling, Sonny dragged it through his hair. “But—”

“Elizabeth—she was—” Jason touched his shoulder. “She had surgery, and she’s been discharged. She’s across the hall, safe. I promise. And Carly—she’s still in the hospital,” he said, “but you didn’t kill her. The baby is safe.”

“I thought—” Sonny staggered back, looked away from, staring unseeing at the cold, dark fireplace. “I woke up, and I remembered blood.”

“They were hurt, yes. You need help, Sonny. You need more than I can give you. You know that.”

“Not dead. But hurt. Injured. Blood—” Sonny spread his hands out again. “On my hands. Always on my hands. You can’t see it—” He turned to Jason, holding them out. “Since I was fourteen. My mother. I killed her.”

“You didn’t do that, your stepfather—”

“If I stayed around, if I gave Deke someone to beat on—” Sonny wiped his mouth, shaking. “He never would have touched her. It starts with her. It always starts with her. I see her sometimes—” He closed his eyes, dropped back on the chair. “I see her and I see Lily and I see the son I could have had and the—” He licked his lips. “My mother. My mother was—I see the baby. It should have been hers, but I stole it from her.”

Jason grimaced. He was losing Sonny again, had to pull him back. “Hey. Sonny. Sonny—” He crouched in front of his friend. “You need to stay with me. Here and now. Lily has been gone for a long time. Your mother even longer.”

“I’m not—” Sonny closed his eyes. “I never told you, did I? Couldn’t. Couldn’t bring myself to say it. To admit just what I’ve done—my mother. When I see her, it’s always with the baby. I never—she never told us if it was a boy or girl—”

Mixing up Adela’s pregnancy with Ric, Jason thought, and sighed. “Okay, I need to make a call—”

“The doctor said they couldn’t save her. Couldn’t save the baby, couldn’t save my mother. And Deke—you know—he just smiled.” Sonny closed his eyes. “I couldn’t let him get away it. It was the smile that did it. I had to get rid of him. Had to make him pay for what he’d done.”

Jason frowned, tipped his head slightly. “Your mother was pregnant when she was died?” Sonny had blamed himself for not doing more to get his mother away from his stepfather for years—but if his mother had been pregnant—

“Yeah. Yeah.” Sonny closed his eyes. “I’m tired. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Okay.” Jason got to his feet. He’d sort out what all of this meant later. One step at a time. “I’m going to make a call. You need more than I can give you, Sonny. Will you let me help you? Will you let me make this okay?”

“Is that even possible?” Sonny asked dully.

“I don’t know,” Jason admitted. “But we’re going to try.”

General Hospital: Carly’s Room

Bobbie tucked the blanket more tightly around Carly, then settled back to watch her daughter’s face, looking for any evidence that she was regaining consciousness. If she could tell them what happened — who had done this—

The door squeaked behind her, and she turned to find Scott creeping in. With disdain, Bobbie faced Carly again. “You’re not welcome here.”

“I get that. I just—”

She heard his footsteps come closer, but wouldn’t look at him.

“I came to update you—”

“Jason already told me about Courtney. Tell me, Scotty—” She twisted now, coming to her feet as she did so. “Would Courtney be dead if you’d never paid her a damn bit of attention? If you’d ignored her bullshit story? Would she still be alive now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I just—”

“Jason didn’t do this to my daughter. To Elizabeth. He was with me the entire time. You’re calling me a liar, and I can’t—I can’t understand—” Her eyes burned. “I know you never loved me, but you were my friend! How could  you hurt me, my family like this? Did I never matter at all?”

“I was trying to fix it, okay! I was trying to make up for what happened this summer—I thought if I could make Ric and Courtney tell me why they were lying, I could trap him somehow, and I could give you all of it—”

“You were playing us?” Bobbie shoved Scott, and he fell back a few steps. “You arrested Jason like that, put him out in the public as the shooter, to what? Force the real shooter to act? Well, he did, Scott! He did! He murdered another woman in a cold blood. Is that what you wanted?”

“No. No—”

“This is on you. You and Mac and anyone else who let their personal grudges blind themselves to reality, to justice. You might as well as have put the bullet in that girl by letting the world think you believed her! I am ashamed to know you, to ever thought I loved you!”

Scott dipped his head, took a deep breath, then lifted his gaze back to hers. “Well then I’ve got nothing to lose by telling you that Ric Lansing is missing. And we don’t know where he is or who took him.”

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

Elizabeth was on the sofa, a remote in her hand, and something making noise on the television screen against the wall. She flicked it off quickly when Jason came in, closed the door.

“Don’t get up,” he cautioned her quickly, coming over to stop her before she started to stand. “We need—I need to stay here a little longer. To—wait for the doctor.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth winced, rubbed her shoulder. “He agreed.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I called the doctor. He’s coming with the paperwork and we’ll take Sonny to Rose Lawn. It’s—” Jason shook his head. “He was clear. Lucid. Whatever break from reality he was going through, it ended when he woke this morning.”

“Oh, well that’s a relief. It’ll be easier for him to accept help—” Elizabeth stopped, pressed her lips together. “But you don’t look relieved.”

“No. I’m not.” Jason dragged a hand down his face, then his expression fell on the mantel, on the photos. He swallowed hard, looked at Elizabeth. “Sonny was the shooter. It happened the way we thought.”

“But—” She faltered. “I don’t understand.”

“The time was so tight, and he didn’t have the gun when he came back. That’s—I clung to it. I didn’t want to be him,” Jason admitted. “But then Courtney—we found out about her—and I don’t understand why someone would go after her unless they were covering their tracks. But Sonny didn’t—he wouldn’t.”

“No, of course not.” Elizabeth managed to get to her feet, touched his arm. “I’m so sorry, Jason. And I’m sorry for what happened to Courtney. I was looking around, and I just—I just—I want you to know that you don’t have to hide how you felt about her. Not with me.”

Jason looked at her for a long moment, then leaned his forehead against hers, cupping her face with his hands. “I don’t know what I’m feeling,” he admitted. “I just don’t know what to do about any of this. How to—Sonny just told me that he sees his mother. Hallucinates her holding the baby she was pregnant with when Deke Woods beat her to death,” he bit out.

Elizabeth’s lips parted. “What?”

“Pregnant women,” Jason murmured. “I thought it was about Lily, and maybe it was. Maybe that stirred some of it. But losing Lily and the baby, then he and Carly lost their first child—the kidnapping and thinking he’d killed Carly—I don’t even want to think about what he’d do if he knew you were pregnant, too. But to find out that his mother died while pregnant? It just—it explains a lot of things,” he admitted. “I just—Sonny blames himself, and he sees his mother. He sees her holding the baby. He sees Lily and their son—”

“How terrible for him, for his mind to wage war like that when he’s not well.” Elizabeth curled into his side, and he pulled her against him, pressing his lips to his air. “I’m so sorry, Jason. But Sonny’s going to get help. You said the doctor is coming. A-and I believe Carly will wake up, and she’ll be okay.” She met his eyes. “We’ll find out what happened, and we’ll get through this. I’m not going anywhere.”

August 10, 2024

Happy Saturday! I’ve got some great news about These Small Hours, and it’s probably not a surprise if you know me at all, lol. I split this post into three parts so you can concentrate on what you want to know.

Behind The Scenes

After finishing the first draft in April, I’ve been working on the second draft all summer. It’s been slow, mostly due to outside influences, but it’s been good. The story is so much better than it was, and much deeper than I had envisioned. It’s one of the frustrating, yet amazing parts of writing soap opera fanfiction is the way stories can spiral if you set up the umbrella event and let it ripple out fully.

Because I chose Kate’s shooting as my inciting incident, I ended up with much more story than I had planned. It was initially designed as Jason/Elizabeth & Johnny/Nadine vehicle, but I’ve had a lot of fun deepening Patrick & Robin, Jax & Carly, and even adding in more Sonny & Kate. Audrey, Bobbie, Spinelli, Lucky, Maxie, and as well as the Zaccharas are also featured. Like always, I ended up sort of rewriting the show.

The size of the story has ballooned as a result — from 29 chapters in development to 42 in the first draft to 72 in the final plan! That’s insane, lol, and far too much to write and edit at once. So, unsurprisingly, I am splitting this story into a trilogy (you guys should have taken bets as SOON as I said this was a tightly focused story because I am incapable of such things.  The really amazing thing is once I split the story into those separate pieces, I found that I really did have three separate narratives already in place!

Release Dates & Book Information

Only Book 1 has a preview at this point since, well, spoilers 😛

These Small Hours: Book 1 releases Tuesday, 17 September.
Set September 2008. In the days and weeks following the shocking shooting of Kate Howard as she walked down the aisle, Port Charles is engulfed in chaos. No one knows who committed the crime, but the Zacchara family are at the top of everyone’s list. Johnny’s trying to stay off everyone’s radar, more worried about Lulu’s mental health than his own safety, but that might not be possible with Sonny on the warpath. It falls on Jason’s shoulders to keep the peace, but tragedy strikes again and Jason’s faced with another devastating loss. How much more will he be able to stand?  Chapters 1-32

These Small Hours: Book 2 releases Tuesday, 5 November.
Set October 2008. Chapters 33-56. 

These Small Hours: Book 3 releases Tuesday, 24 December.
Set November 2008. Chapters 56-72.

Early Access & Patreon Schedule

My Patreon is an easy way to support me and help defray the costs of my hosting, any writing & design software, and keep me from taking an extra job in the summer, so I have more time to write!

  • Digital Shop
    • Alpha Draft: This ended up being the alpha draft for all three books. It’s available now in the shop.
    • Beta Draft, Book 1:  Aug 13 for $5 (the price of the Devoted tier). 349 pages, 132 pages. This covers material from Chapters 1-22 of the alpha draft. 
    • Posting Draft, Book 1: Sep 10 for $5 (Devoted tier). Length unknown.
  • Stalker Tier: Available now.
  • Obsessed Tier: Available now.
  • Devoted Tier: Aug 11
  • Fan Tier: Sep 16

August 9, 2024

Update link: Warning Shots – Part 31

Hope you guys enjoyed that cliffhanger on Wednesday! For both Chain Reaction and Warning Shots, I’m pretty much pantsing it, plotting as I go, so the last three or four endings of both stories have been completely a surprise to me as well as to you guys. Just hope I can keep it up.  I did sit down about an hour ago to work out today’s update and it’s pretty ambitious, so just hoping I can pull it off for a REALLY good Friday ending 😛

I’m also relieved to report that this is the last late start for the Phillies for the entire season. They play at 8 and 4 this weekend, which is muuuuch better than 9:40 and 10:10 (stupid time zones) so I can go to sleep like a normal person and wake up on time.

See you on Monday 🙂

This entry is part 31 of 36 in the Flash Fiction: Warning Shots

Written in 110 minutes. The first scene was supposed to take 5-10 minutes. It took 40, and once I realized I was going to have to either make the ending really abrupt and terrible or go over, I decided to go over and take a little more time, lol. I’m sure you won’t complain.

Late June 2000

It was strange to think of Jason having a favorite restaurant anywhere, Elizabeth thought, but if she had to picture him out to eat somewhere other than Luke’s or Kelly’s, she supposed the nondescript wooden building set only a few dozen yards from the shore might fit that bill — except it was filled with people, lights, and music — three things she would never associate with Jason.

“Zaco’s Tacos?” Elizabeth asked, reading the words scrawled over the restaurant before looking at Jason with surprise. “Really?”

“It’s to throw off tourists from the casino,” Jason told her, taking her hand and winding around the crowded inside to a back deck where there were a few tables. “People mind their own business here.”

“Oh, well that explains everything,” Elizabeth said. She sat in the chair Jason pulled out for her, and let him order for the both of them when a man came over to the table, greeting Jason by name with a huge smile. “I forget sometimes that you probably know everyone on the island.”

“Yeah. I mean, they’ve heard of me,” Jason said. “Sonny started buying up land and property here a few years ago, as soon as he started to make real money,” he added. “Eventually, he owned enough to be the largest property owner on the island, and taking over the resort and casino meant that he was also the biggest employer.” He grimaced, reached for the water on the table.

“And you’re business partners now, so—”

“It’s still Sonny’s. But sometimes they don’t see it that way.” Jason shrugged a shoulder. “And it’s easier not to argue.”

“So Sonny doesn’t really own an island, he just controls one.”

“Most of it,  yeah. He just…likes to own things.” Jason shifted, a bit uncomfortable, and Elizabeth decided to change the subject. She didn’t really want to talk about Sonny anyway, though she was fascinated by how Jason had built such a strong and deep relationship with someone who seemed so different from him.

“You know, this is the most time I’ve ever spent near an ocean,” Elizabeth told him after their food had been delivered. She swirled her fork around her jerk chicken dish. “Colorado is land-locked, so the most I ever saw was lakes and rivers.”

“I didn’t—I never thanked you,” Jason said, and she frowned at him. “I know Bobbie’s a friend, and gave you a break on Kelly’s, but I’m sorry you had to put your life aside—”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, I’m really being put out here. Spending two weeks in the Caribbean, not dealing with customers—spending time with you—the horror.”

Jason smiled slightly, but his expression remained a little tense. “You—you didn’t have to do any of this. I just want you to know I’m not taking it for granted. I know I wasn’t really—I’m not a good patient.”

“No, you’re really not,” Elizabeth agreed and his smile was a little wider now. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be,” she said a bit more softly, and Jason looked at her. “You got hurt because of me—”

“No—”

“We were standing next to each other, but not that close.” She looked down at her dinner, moved the food around on the plate. “You could have easily dived in the other direction to safety, but you didn’t. Your first thought was—was me—a-and I don’t know if I’d—I saw what that bullet did to you.” She lifted her eyes, saw his intense stare. “I was scared when I realized you’d been hurt, and so angry with myself for not seeing it before. The blood—” She looked down at her hand, pressed her fingers together. “I should have known—”

“You were upset and scared—and I’m glad it was me and not you—” Jason leaned forward. “I wouldn’t change anything. Except passing out in the parking garage,” he said with a wince.

“Well, yeah, that wasn’t particularly fun. You’re not exact the lightest thing I’ve had to drag around,” Elizabeth said, and she was relieved to see the smile back on his face. “But I got you upstairs, and thank God Sonny was there to take over. I don’t know where I else I might have gone.” She folded her arms on the table. “Um, we haven’t—I mean, I know what we talked about before we came down here. But I guess I wanted to—” She rubbed her finger across her lip. “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to ask if you’d changed your mind.”

“Changed my mind?” Jason echoed.

“That day in my studio, we—we talked about why you didn’t want—” She hesitated, struggling to find the words, then just sighed. She was edging around the subject, hoping Jason would fill in what she was trying to ask. “I wanted to know where we are. Figuratively, not literally,” she added. “What…what we’re doing.”

Jason exhaled slowly, looked out towards the ocean, the sun dipping below the horizon, the reflection rippling out over the water. “I think it’s too late to stop it,” he admitted, and she frowned. “Maybe if I’d realized it sooner, I could have.”

“Makes me sound like a fungus,” Elizabeth said, trying to force some humor into the pit that curled in her stomach. “As inevitable as the chicken pox—”

Jason winced. “That’s not how I meant it.” He dragged a hand through his hair, then slid into the chair next to her so that they were closer and he was no longer directly across her. He looped his arm over the back of her chair. “By the time I realized what I was feeling,” he told her, his voice low, “it was too late to stop it. I’m not going to apologize for thinking you deserve better. For knowing it,” he added, and she wrinkled her nose. “But you’re the one that decides if that matters. So if this—if I’m the choice you want to make—then I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure you never regret that.”

Elizabeth reached for his other hand, taking it between both of hers. “You said my name,” she murmured. “That day in our dorm room. Do you remember?”

Jason frowned, shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

“You said my name, and I stopped for a moment, because I couldn’t remember if I’d ever heard you say it before. I must have, but maybe you’d never said it that way before that day. And our hands brushed when I tried to move the desk. I felt your touch.” She licked her lips, met his blue eyes. “And it startled me. The way it felt against my skin—” Her fingertips danced down the line of his index finger to his palm, then up again. “I’m not going to say that I started falling that day, but I noticed you in a way I hadn’t before.”

Jason swallowed hard, looked down at their joined hands. “Elizabeth—”

“That’s what I mean—right there—the way you say it. It’s softer than the rest of your words.” Her lips curved into a smile. “I felt safe with you from the moment I met you, and that wasn’t true of most men. I could talk to you, tell you things I hadn’t even said to Lucky—or maybe I had, and he hadn’t heard me. You always listened. Even when you couldn’t have cared less.” Their eyes met again. “That night you came to the dorm, and we went up to Vista Point. You told me I was letting myself down, that what I thought was love wasn’t good enough. That I should never settle for less than I deserve. I heard you, and I’ve spent the last few months learning to believe that.” She touched his jaw. “I did deserve better than what I had, and I’ve found it. I found you. So I hope you know when I make this choice, I’m choosing it with my eyes wide open. I’m choosing you, and I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure you never regret it either.”

He leaned forward, captured her lips in a brief, searing kiss, but drew back almost before she could really sink in. Then he sat back, and she looked around, remembered that they were in a crowded restaurant. She bit her lip, looked back at her dinner. “We should probably finish eating.”

“Yeah.” Jason returned to his chair. “Do—we can take a walk on the beach if you want, when we’re done.”

Elizabeth looked out over the nearby shoreline, then smiled, looked back him. “I’d rather walk on our beach. Just us.”

—

It had been hours since his conversation with Luke, and Sonny still couldn’t shake the sensation that he’d missed something. That there was a detail he couldn’t make fit. He mulled over it the rest of the day, and continued to roll it around in his head when he went home, poured himself a drink.

What was bothering him? Sonny paced over to the windows. It was a simple set of facts. Someone—probably Anthony Moreno—had put out a contract using David Reece as their middle man. They’d shot at Jason and missed. So why hadn’t there been any issues since that night? If it was Moreno, why wasn’t he trying to get Jason out of hiding? Why didn’t he go after Sonny now with the momentum on his side?

It was that detail, Sonny thought. Something about the way it had all gone quiet and he’d never found any of the hint of the contract on the street. Only the shooter had known, and Reece wasn’t responding to any of the usual outreaches. The contract was unfilled, but even if it was personal, why not go for the jugular? Why not force Jason to come out? A few attacks on Sonny would have done that.

Sonny went over to the desk, reached for the phone. He needed more information, and there was only one person he could ask.

—

The house was quiet, cloaked in shadows, with only a few exterior lights to illuminate the driveway when they returned. Night fell quickly when there was little civilization to hold it back. The moon was tucked behind some shadows, so that even the water was black against the dark sky.

But Elizabeth didn’t care that there wasn’t enough moonlight to walk the beach. Somewhere between the restaurant and the house, she’d made a decision.

As soon as they were inside, when Jason had, by force of habit, flipped the lock, Elizabeth slid her hands up his chest. “I was thinking,” she said, “of the beach.”

Jason’s hand curled over her shoulders, his fingers rough against the skin left bare by the thin straps of her tank top. “I could get a flashlight if you really want that walk—”

“No, I mean—” Her fingers drifted down his torso, played with the hem of his shirt. “Earlier. On the beach. Today.”

“What about it?” Jason murmured, tucking an errant curl behind her ear, then trailing his fingertip down her cheek.

“And tonight at the restaurant—I keep coming back to this one thing. When you touch me—” She slid her hands beneath the shirt, careful to keep away from his injury, only touching the tight muscles of his abdomen. “I stop thinking.”

“You—” Jason swallowed hard. “You said that earlier.”

“I think I want to test that theory—” She leaned up on her toes to kiss him lightly. “See how long I can stop thinking. If you’re…I mean if you’re not too tired. Or hurt.”

His hand cupped the back of her neck, and then he was kissing her the way he had earlier, hungrily, backing her up until she was against the wall, the heat sliding through her like a lava flow, scorching everything in its path. She dragged his shirt over his head, desperate to feel him against her. Then her top was gone, thrown somewhere behind them.

Panting slightly, Jason broke away, his hand at the base of her neck, his fingers curved around her throat. “Are you sure? You have to tell me if you want me to stop—”

“I will, I will—” Greedily, Elizabeth dragged him back to her, worried that this feeling would go away, that she’d start thinking again and lose her nerve. “Just don’t stop touching me.”

——

Sonny grimaced, paced the length of Luke’s office. “I know it’s here. I know it’s in the contract from Reece. That’s the key to this whole thing—”

“Yeah, yeah, but you’ve been over it a thousand times with Benny.” Luke offered him a cigar and Sonny shook his head, turned it away. “So what’s different today?”

“Today, you’re going to listen to him talk about the conversation he had with the shooter before we, uh, arranged for his exit,” Sonny said. Luke smirked, and went to let in Benny Abrams, Sonny’s business manager.

“Luke, Sonny. I hope nothing’s wrong,” the older man said. He closed the door. “You said you wanted to talk about the shooter, but I told you everything—”

“Start from the top for Luke,” Sonny directed, and Benny just shrugged.

“Shooter wasn’t that forthcoming, mostly because I think he know who hired him. That’s the beauty of going through some like David Reece. You get to have some deniability.” Benny paused. “He gave us Reece’s name and said his only directive was to make sure that Emily Quartermaine wasn’t hit in the crossfire.”

Luke pursed his lips, considered the words. “That’s it? You got Reece and lay off when Emily Q isn’t around?”

“Yeah.”

“You know, I never understood why they went after Jason here,” Luke said. “On that night. Jason’s at the damn garage all of the damn time. Why not take him out there?”

“We thought it was the message to you—”

“Maybe.” Luke squinted. “How long did he have the contract?”

“A day, he said. Why?” Benny asked.

“Something I’m just—” Luke tipped his squinted. “He named Jason as his target? He said that? He had orders to get rid of Jason Morgan.”

Benny opened his mouth, then closed it. “Well, no, not in those specific words. He just said he picked up the contract the day before from David Reece, that the target spent a lot of time with Emily, and to keep her and the family out of the crossfire—what, what?” he demanded when saw Sonny’s grimace and Luke whipped the cigar from his mouth.

“Shit, shit, shit—” Sonny muttered, snatching up the phone on Luke’s desk.

“What am I missing?”

“Elizabeth didn’t work on that Friday. She wouldn’t have been out in public until the concert.” Luke hissed. “Damn it—she lives on the Quartermaine estate—”

With the phone in the crook of his shoulder, Sonny’s scowl had only deepened. “Jason was shot shoving Elizabeth to the ground. He aimed for her! God damn it—Jason’s not picking up.”

—

Jason lifted Elizabeth, ignoring the pinch in his side when her legs wrapped around her waist, kept kissing her. He carried her down the hall, by passing her bedroom and heading for his, backing in, knocking the already ajar door wide open, then kicking it closed, never breaking contact or concentration.

Elizabeth was the focus, the center of everything, and for as long as she as she’d let him, he was going to spend every second making sure she never regretted it. He planted one leg on the bed, then gently laid her down, his fingers reaching for the button of her jeans. Her hands covered his for just a minute, and he froze, his eyes going towards his. Did she want him to stop—

“I can do that faster,” she breathed. She leaned up kissed the underside of his jaw. “You worry about your pants, and I’ll take care of mine.”

He cupped her face in his, kissed her again, then leaned his forehead against hers. “Best deal I’ve ever heard.”

—

“There’s not a storm on the island, is there?” Luke wanted to know. “I mean, we can call up to your resort, leave a message—”

“No, no, you don’t understand—damn it, I was so stupid. So goddamn stupid. We all were. We were so sure Jason was the target, that Moreno was behind it or hell, your stupid kid, that I didn’t even think to ask myself what if it was Elizabeth—”

“Okay, but other than my kid who didn’t do this,” Luke bit out, “who the hell would hate Elizabeth enough to do this—”

Sonny pressed his fingers to the phone, hung up the current call, then dialed again. “I sent her right into the lion’s den, God damn it—Marco?” he bit out. “Yeah. Yeah. I need you to find Dario Colon and shove him in a jail cell until I get there. Tell Armando I’ll handle it. Then get up to Jason’s. The phone must be out.” He hung up the phone, took a deep breath.

“Who the hell is Dario Colon?”

—

She clung Jason, her legs wrapped tightly around Jason, her heart pounding so hard that it drowned out the sound of everything, even the roar of the ocean waves just beyond the house.

He pressed his forehead against hers, his own chest still rising and falling rapidly. “Are you all right?” he managed to say.

“I am….” Elizabeth finally opened her eyes, saw his face above hers. She touched his cheek. “If there something better than perfect because that’s where I am.”

He nuzzled her neck, rolling off her, but pulling her against him. She curled into his side, enjoying even the way the sweat rolling down his chest felt against her fingers. She’d done that to him, they’d done that together, she marveled. This gorgeous man had been out of breath from making love to her.

“Are you—” Jason frowned. “Are you laughing?”

“No—” She giggled, pressed her fingers to her lips. “No.”

“I might not pick up on all the cues—” Jason shifted and now she was on her back again, and he was looking at her, his elbow planted in the mattress. “But I know what laughing sounds like.”

“I just—I can’t help it. I laugh when I’m happy.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “And I’m happy right now.” She bit her lip. “Are you?”

“That is definitely one of the things I’m feeling.” He leaned down, kissed her lazily. “Relieved. Grateful that you didn’t decide to go with your third date idea.”

Elizabeth drew her brows together for a moment, then laughed again. “I forgot about that. Well, if you count correctly, this is our third date.”

Jason arched a brow. “How do you figure that?”

“Well—” She touched his chest, tracing the hollow of his collarbone. “If you count the beach in March, then the club a few weeks ago—I mean you did give me the ticket and drive me home, so—that would make this our third date.”

He just shook his head, but kissed her again. She sighed, contented—and thirsty.

“Mmm, I could drink a gallon of water.” Elizabeth sat up. “I’m going to grab some from the kitchen. Do you want any?”

“I’ll get it—” Jason started to get up, but she shook her head.

“No, I’ve got it.” She saw her jeans, then wrinkled her nose. “Can I just borrow one of your shirts? I don’t feel like putting those back on—and don’t say I don’t need something to wear—” she said when he opened his mouth.

“I wasn’t—yeah. Top drawer.”

Elizabeth shimmied into a dark blue t-shirt,  then kissed him one more time. “I’ll be right back.”

She left the door partially ajar and headed down the hallway towards the rest of house, all her body cells practically humming. She was practically dancing on air, she thought. All the pieces of her had been stitched back together, and she was alive in ways she hadn’t even been before that night—

So distracted in her own happiness, Elizabeth didn’t notice that her bedroom door had been opened sometime between their arriving home and her trek towards the kitchen. She always kept it closed, worried that Jason or anyone who came to the house might see what she was working on before she was ready.

But the partially ajar door didn’t register to her—until she was just past it. She paused, frowned, and started to turn—

Not fast enough. The hand clamped down on her math, an arm jerked her off her feet and yanked her back, into the room, kicking the door closed.

August 7, 2024

Update Link: Warning Shots – Part 30

I hate these west coast trips — and for some God awful reasons, the Dodgers start a half hour later than the Mariners, so it’s a 10:10 start Monday – Wednesday — and I’m afraid to go to sleep when they have the lead because MAYBE I can keep them from losing. (I know, I know.) We’re back at 9:40 tomorrow and that’s slightly better for my sleep schedule.

I finally reached the halfway point for These Small Hours, yay! This means Act 1 and Act 2, Part 1 are FINALLY done! These needed the most reworking story wise — I basically rewrote the entire main conflict and that took a lot of work. It’s still rewriting the Russians/fake drugs storyline but I changed my mind on how to write it during the first draft. In the second half of the book, there are a few pieces that I’m rewriting, but for the most part, I can keep what I have so yay! The first half of the edit took three months, which I wasn’t expecting, lol, so let me get into the second part before I start really setting deadlines and dates.

I’ll see you on Friday!

This entry is part 30 of 36 in the Flash Fiction: Warning Shots

Written in 64 minutes.

Late June 2000

He nearly didn’t go after her, but after a moment of indecision and ignoring the pain in his side, Jason moved as quickly towards the house as he could, only stopping to rinse the sand from his feet just by the terrace.

He expected to find her in her room, the door closed, but instead she was sitting on one of the loungers, a towel clutched to in front of her. Jason stopped just at the top of the stairs, unsure what to do now that he’d caught her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and her head snapped up, her brow furrowed. Jason swallowed hard. “I wasn’t thinking, and I went too fast, didn’t I? Or I-I made you uncomfortable and I’m sorry for that. It’s just—” It was just that he’d tried very hard not to think about her that way, especially after she’d told him about Lucky, about what that little son of a bitch had said to her. But then he’d seen her, walking towards him out of the water, water sliding down her bare skin, with nothing more than scraps of cloth covering— “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“You didn’t—” Elizabeth slowly got to her feet, still holding the towel in front of her, her eyes averted, on the ground. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me—”

“But—”

Her gaze flickered to him briefly before dropping again. “I just—um, I forgot. You’re hurt—”

“I’m fine—” Jason stepped towards her. “Is…is that why—”

“Why I ran away like a little girl? The kid that I keep promising I’m not?” She finally met his eyes head on and his throat tightened when he saw the shimmer of tears. “It’s really not you. I promise. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”

“Okay,” Jason said slowly, taking another step towards her, relieved when she didn’t back up. “Then what’s wrong?”

“I—” She closed her eyes, took a long, deep breath, then looked at him. “I don’t know. I just—I had a moment to think, and it was—it was just so fast—the way I just completely forgot where I was and—” She sat back on the lounger, pressed her forehead to the towel. “Can it just be enough that you didn’t do anything wrong? Do we have to talk about it?”

“No,” Jason said, carefully sitting on the lounger across from hers. “We don’t have to talk about anything if that’s what you want.”

Elizabeth sighed, sat up, rested the towel on her lap, her fingers plucking at the rough cloth. “But you’ll never touch me again because maybe I’ll go crazy on you—”

“Elizabeth—”

“I don’t want that. I don’t,” she said, shaking her head as if he’d protested. “I just—I want to be normal, you know? You—” She looked at him again. “You looked at me, and I could see what you wanted, and I liked it. And you’ll stop because you don’t want to scare me or pressure me—and then you’ll bottle it up and—”

“I’ll get irritated, and resentful and make it your fault,” Jason finished. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose, but didn’t argue with him. “You think what happened with Lucky is your fault.”

“A little, maybe. I could—I could have done more, I guess—I know he’s the one that said it, and that’s on him, but I know the lack of—that it was affecting us. I could feel it happening, and I wanted to fix it—but it was already too far gone—” She bit her lip. “I don’t want to make the same mistakes.”

“You’re not. Elizabeth—”

“I just—I was so young when it happened,” Elizabeth confessed in a quiet voice. “I didn’t even know how much that night stole from me until I started to get it back—I’d never had a boyfriend. Never been kissed. I’d had crushes, but I’d never felt—” Her mouth tightened, and he hated to see the misery shimmering in her eyes. “The way I feel about you. It’s like pieces of me are waking up and coming back to life, and I s-should be glad. Okay? I sh-should be happy that I’m not scared and that maybe I can do and have all the things that I thought were gone.”

He hated this, he hated every minute of being on this side of the terrace and not right next to her, not holding her as the tears spilled down her cheeks. But he was—

Jason exhaled slowly. He was afraid to touch her. Just like she’d worried.

Bracing one hand against his side, he moved across the small space separating them and sat next to her, leaving a few inches between them. “You get to feel whatever you’re feeling, Elizabeth. There’s no right or wrong here.”

She shifted slightly to angle herself towards him, he was relieved to note, tears spilling from the corners of her beautiful eyes. “I shouldn’t be angry.”

“Why not? Why wouldn’t you be angry?” Jason wanted to know. “Something was taken from you. You had to take it back, piece by piece, and you never should have had to do any of that work.”

She pressed her hands to her mouth, closing her eyes, her shoulders shaking, but when he pulled her against him, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, she didn’t flinch, but leaned in. He kissed the top of her head, and held her for a long moment, before she pulled back, swiping at her eyes.

“I should, um, go take a shower. The salt water is going to make my hair a complete mess.” She nervously ran a hand through the tangled, damp strands, already curling madly in the humidity. “Um, are you—I didn’t—hurt you, did I?” Elizabeth gestured at the wound in his side. He’d stopped wearing a dressing a day or two earlier, and the sides of the wound had started to close, but it would lead a visible scar.

“No, no. I just—” He got to his feet, held out his hand. She let him pull her up. Jason kept her hand in his. “I forgot, too,” he said, echoing her words. Going on instinct, he added, “I saw you—” Then he swept his eyes down her body, before meeting her eyes. “And I wasn’t thinking about it anymore.”

Elizabeth’s smile widened and he saw that light come back in her eyes. “I know the feeling.” She stepped closer to him, their bodies brushing. “Do you remember the night we were out here? A few months ago?”

“I do.”

Elizabeth raised her hand, lightly touched his chest with her fingertips the way she had that night. “You must have thought I’d lost my mind that night, but I couldn’t stop myself.” She licked her lips. “I told myself I was imagining it. But I wasn’t, was I?”

“No. And let me finish what I was started that night.” Jason cupped the back of her head, drew her against him, and kissed her. She relaxed against him, and he held her with his other hand splayed against her back, skin to skin. He’d meant to just kiss her lightly, just to reassure her, but he lost himself in the way she tasted, the feel of her beneath his hands, everything he’d been trying to pretend he didn’t want for weeks and weeks.

When they broke apart, they were both breathing heavily, their hearts pounding—he could feel hers against his chest, the flutter of her pulse under his fingers when he cupped her jaw. Her eyes were slightly glazed when they finally opened. She was so beautiful.

When her lips curved again, he realized he’d spoken the words out loud, and that he didn’t remember saying it before. He hadn’t given her anything she really deserved, and that was going to change, Jason decided right now.

“Tonight, I want to take you somewhere.”

“Oh yeah?” She wound her arms around his neck. “Where?”

“Out to dinner. There’s a place I go when I’m here, and you’d like it.” He kissed her again, stroked his fingers along her cheek. “We’ll go out on the bike.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Elizabeth asked, her fingers combing through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah.” He caressed her bottom lip with his thumb, the way he’d done that night on the sofa. “What do you say?”

“The best offer I’ve had in months. Just tell me when and where so I know what to wear.”

“About six,” he decided, because he needed to make a few calls. “And we’re on the bike, so—” He sighed. “None of those skirts you like.”

“You look a little disappointed when you say that, so maybe I’m not the only one that likes them.” She kissed him again, but then backed away. “But I really need to wash my hair so it’s half decent. And grab our things from the beach—”

“I’ll get them.” He didn’t want to let her hand go, but didn’t have a choice when she headed for the doors. She turned back and smiled back at him, then went inside. Her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks pink, and he felt his own smile in response, stretching across his face.

Oh man, he was in real trouble.

—

More than a thousand miles away, another man was in a little trouble but Sonny Corinthos wasn’t one to admit that easily. Which is how he found himself sitting across from Luke in the back office of the club with a bad feeling swirling and no way to explain it.

“You just like being dramatic,” Luke said, looking at the end of his cigar before putting it back in his mouth and reaching for the lighter.

“Coming from you, that’s funny.” Sonny rubbed one finger along his bottom lip. “He made the meeting too easy. That’s what it is.”

“He was supposed to play hard to get?” Luke smirked. “Sorry, but you’re just making up reasons to be worried. Get Jason home, set up the alibi, and you’ll be all set.

“Yeah, yeah. I just—” Sonny got to his feet. “I feel like there’s something I missed. You know? Like a piece of this puzzle I’m missing. I can’t stop thinking that it’s all…simple. We still don’t even know for sure that Moreno set up the hit—”

“You’re not back to thinking my boy did it—” Luke scowled. “Even if he did, he wouldn’t know how to contact David Reece—”

“But other people do. I just don’t—”

“No one else has a reason to hate Jason the way Moreno does. And we’ve been over this. Elizabeth was just an accident — the shooter waited for Emily to be gone. End of story. No one even knew Morgan and Liz were really an item. They do now, but—”

Sonny sighed. “I know. I know. Lucky was the only one saying that bullshit, and no one believed him. They wouldn’t have waited so long if they did.”

“See? What’s what I’m saying. Make the meeting, finish this.”

“Yeah. Maybe when it’s over, I’ll be able to shake this feeling—I just hate feeling like I missed a detail.”

“You missed nothing,” Luke said again. “We went over it and over it. Relax, it’s all good.”

Later, Sonny would wish that he’d paid attention to his feeling, that he’d really gone over every detail because, well, he had missed something.

Something very important.

And it was too late to fix it.

——

On the island, he watched from the protection of the palm streets clustered around the house. Watched as the puta pranced down the steps in skin-tight jeans and a tight black top, strapped on her helmet, climbed on the bike, and the duo roared off down the road.

When they came back, he’d be waiting. He could be patient. He’d waited months, hadn’t he?

But it was going to end tonight.