Without You I Have Nothing Read online

  Without You I Have Nothing

  A love story combined with heart stopping suspense.

  A story of survival and graphic death.

  You will feel the fear!

  This novel is a work of fiction.

  Any references to real events, businesses, organizations, or locales

  are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 A Significant Meeting

  Chapter 2 The Following Weeks

  Chapter 3 Secrets No More

  Chapter 4 A Fairy Tale Date

  Chapter 5 A Plea for Help

  Chapter 6 That Special Friend

  Chapter 7 The Little One Is Called

  Chapter 8 Mistaken Identity

  Chapter 9 Meeting the Family

  Chapter 10 The Moment of Truth

  Chapter 11 Back to Reality

  Chapter 12 The Wedding

  Chapter 13 At Last

  Chapter 14 Forewarnings

  Chapter 15 The Prophecy is Fulfilled

  Chapter 16 Pearl Harbor in a Night Club

  Chapter 17 Flying Brings Its Rewards

  Chapter 18 Paying The Piper

  About the Author

  Chapter 1 A Significant Meeting

  The harbor-side street was busy with the Friday evening rush.

  At the well-lit entrance to a popular hotel four security guards carefully studied each vehicle as it paused to drop off passengers. The guards thoroughly scrutinized each passing patron as they entered the bar.

  When a large SUV pulled into the forecourt, one left his station to move to the driver’s door. Recognizing a friend he could only laugh, “Hello, Peter, why are you here? You have always made me believe you were too busy to come to such a place. Give me your keys and I’ll park your vehicle. It’s the least I can do when you did such a good job repairing my car. You go off and enjoy yourself but behave. We don’t want to throw you out.”

  Still chuckling, he drove off.

  Left standing at the entrance Peter tried to rationalize exactly why he had come to meet his two friends, Ted and Bob. ‘This is no place for me! I cannot relax in the company of women and I have no social graces at all. Perhaps if my parents had lived then it might be different. Life in the jungle taught me to kill but never prepared me for this. Perhaps I should just go back to the workshop. I don’t drink, I’m uncomfortable with women no matter my feelings for them and I am poor company. Perhaps I should just return to the workshop!’

  As he waited for the return of his car keys, he watched three women alighting from a taxi.

  A tall, elegant redhead flanked by two friends who seemed to be dragging their unwilling and unhappy companion with them, gained his attention.

  The vision of that redhead as she disappeared into the hotel suddenly made him change his mind and he turned to follow them.

  Full of happy, boisterous people dressed for their 'Friday Night' drinks and socializing, the dimly lit bar was smoky, huge, well organized and over-crowded. Obviously, a popular meeting place in the Sydney Hyatt, the room was a constantly moving kaleidoscope of suits and skirts as late arrivals sought seats. Busy waiters dashed back and forth while friends mingled between tables.

  The noise was deafening, even without the music from the large band.

  Those couples on the handkerchief sized dance floor were taking the excuse of dancing to grope one other. Like disturbed ants, the couples continually moved from group to group, as if touching antennae to establish personal relationships in the seething nest.

  Peter quickly moved to join two men leaning against the bar in a quiet corner.

  The new group of three, conspicuous in their own company, took no notice whatsoever of the activities around them. Two, obviously white-collar workers, were dressed in expensive, smartly tailored business suits. Peter, a blue-collar worker, dressed in jeans and an open necked shirt, dwarfed them although they, also, were burly men.

  “Hey Peter, time for another drink. Are you going to have a beer this time or stick with the lime and soda? Be brave have a Fosters!” They addressed this bear of a man as a friend and good-naturedly teased him about not touching alcohol.

  In the furthest corner of the room sitting at a table were three attractive young women - an unusual group as no men approached them. One, who had drawn Peter’s attention earlier, seemed most ill at ease. The noticeable antics of the older bosses pulling their young secretaries hard against their bodies did not amuse her.

  Karen Wilson, who appeared to be the leader of the group, crunched an ice cube, as she snapped at the redheaded woman with her. “Look Jennifer, lighten up. I don’t want to pay for my drinks all evening!”

  Her companions called her Jennifer and did everything to make certain her first night out with them would be enjoyable.

  Jennifer Blake sighed as her thoughts raced. ‘I hate this. There must be a better way to meet people.’

  She was unhappy. This young lawyer, newly arrived from Melbourne to manage the Legal Department of an insurance company in Sydney, was homesick. Her high academic qualifications did nothing to ease the ache in her heart for her usual Friday night on the farm with her mother, father and twin brother - aggravating pest though he was. She was missing the music, the warmth and the security of her family.

  Remembering that seriously catastrophic incident in her past she allowed her thoughts to wander, ‘If only my brother had arrived on time to pick me up after that school social so that I hadn’t accepted that lift home with those men! Perhaps, had he been on time I would be enjoying the surroundings instead of sitting here like an iceberg terrified that some man…’

  “How gross!” Her thoughts were vocal now.

  “What was that?”

  “I’m sorry, Karen,” Jennifer replied. “The noise in here is deafening. What was it you said?”

  “You’ll get used to it. Isn’t it delightful here? Aren’t you glad you came?” Karen leaned towards Jennifer but her blue eyes searched the crowd. She tossed her head and tugged her blouse down over her breasts as she spoke.

  Jennifer noticed her perfectly manicured nails.

  She knew that Karen and Ruth (Karen’s best friend and workmate), two secretaries at the insurance company, were delighted that she, as the newly appointed head of the Legal Department, had accepted their invitation. They brought her here for a so-called relaxing drink. Of course, they hoped that they would finish the night with dates, and prayed that Jennifer, who had proven so stiff and unbending with men, would join in the evening’s fun.

  “Well, I agreed to come and...” Jennifer did not bother to continue. Karen was not the least interested in her answer and Jennifer doubted that she was even listening. The idea that Karen was looking for someone in particular occurred to her.

  Realizing she was out of her depth even in such shallow waters, she tried to be friendly.

  “How do you manage to keep your nails so long with all the work you do on a keyboard?” Jennifer consciously raised her voice over the din, trying to relax with her two new friends.

  “Oh, these are false. Ruth fixed them for me,” explained Karen.

  Defensively, Jennifer dropped her hands to her lap as if to hide them.

  “My nail polish always seems to get chipped. I look after my nails but I have to keep them short, and bright nail polish just looks wrong on them.”

  Bringing one hand up and holding her fingers out for their inspection, Jennifer added ruefully, “I just can’t seem to do all my work and have beautiful nails.”

  Karen and Ruth started an involved conversation on the
new season’s nail colors and Jennifer knew just how ill at ease she felt in these surroundings. However, everyone else in the room appeared happy.

  As she listened to snatches of conversation from surrounding tables, she envied the smiling faces. Drinking for the sake of drinking seemed to be the prevailing interest, with small talk, flirtations, wandering eyes and wandering hands the norm. Off-color jokes and sexual innuendoes floated in the air. It wasn’t her scene in the first place, but right now, her attitude made her even more isolated.

  Looking around the room at the groups of drinkers, all engrossed in their own self-importance, she became aware that someone was watching her. She felt herself under the surveillance of a ruggedly handsome young man standing at the bar, his gaze locked onto her in a most unnerving manner.

  Quickly looking away, she focused her attention on her two companions.

  “Have you been to Melbourne?” she inquired brightly.

  “No, but we’ve been to the Gold Coast,” they responded as one.

  “Who’d want to go to Melbourne,” teased Karen. “No sun there. We're beach bunnies.”

  Ruth, coming to the rescue, showed some interest. “What’s the social life like there? Is it the same as here?”

  “Well, perhaps, but...” Jennifer did not want to offend her two companions. They were doing their best to be friendly.

  “I haven’t been here long enough to compare. We have many good little restaurants down there and most of them have musical entertainment. There are bridge parties, tennis competitions and...” Her voice trailed away.

  Karen interrupted with a shrill shriek of derision.

  “Bridge, who plays Bridge? No wonder the boys think you’re...”

  “Different,” Ruth interjected, looking severely at Karen who blushed with embarrassment.

  “I’m sorry,” Karen added, trying to cover her unthinking comment, “I didn’t mean... well, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” Jennifer smiled, acknowledging Ruth’s attempt to be diplomatic. “Thank you. I know the men around the office call me the Ice Maiden. Well, at least, that’s one of their polite terms.”

  “You know!” squealed Karen.

  “Let’s change the subject,” said Ruth. “Have you noticed Bob and his mates at the bar?”

  “Oh, are they?” Excitedly Karen swung around to look.

  Automatically, Jennifer followed her gaze.

  “He’s here,” breathed Karen.

  Jennifer looked - towards the bar - towards those same two eyes still boring into her from across the room. ‘Bob? Is that Bob dressed in casuals? No! It couldn’t be he worked for the same firm and he had approached her seeking a date.’ she wondered as she lowered her eyes. ‘The man must surely be looking at Karen.’

  “As if you’re surprised?” Ruth exclaimed cynically. “Isn’t Bob the reason you wanted to come here?”

  Now Karen was completely composed.

  “Yes,” she confided. “And if I can make him come over here with his friends, do your best to play along. I really like him.”

  “Well, I consider Ted’s a heart throb, so it’s all right with me,” added Ruth. “You can bring Ted over for me.”

  Karen began an animated and detailed account of her last encounter with Bob. As she primped and posed, demonstrating each part of her story with exaggerated gestures, Jennifer could see that Karen’s body-hugging pale blue dress with its revealing neckline accentuated her fluffy prettiness. She had already noticed how men’s eyes roved in Karen’s direction and clearly, this was part of the attraction for Ruth to be her best friend.

  Ruth was plain, but smart. Her nose was unfortunately a little large and her dark features heavy, with eyebrows plucked to a thin line, but expert make-up and a good hairdresser had achieved a chic appearance. With her ultra fashionable, avant-garde, red and black outfit, she presented an attractive image. Friendship with Karen would bring men to spare for Ruth.

  Jennifer’s thoughts strayed to the sounds in her stomach, rumbling because she had skipped lunch. Her mind told her that she was hungry. Then her thoughts fluctuated between wishing she were at home with a good book and wanting to be here meeting someone new. Although she was naturally reticent, she considered that she would like to become friends with a good man who could talk sensibly and wouldn’t rush her.

  Looking across at the bar again, Jennifer noticed that the man with ‘the eyes’ was now in conversation with his companions. This gave her an opportunity to study him. Those two eyes belonged to an interesting face. However there they were, studying her again. For a fraction of a second Jennifer allowed her eyes to linger, then quickly turned away to watch Ruth and Karen who were engrossed in a giggling, secretive conversation.

  Appearing to become confused, the man in the casual clothing dropped his gaze.

  Over at the bar, Peter O’Brien sipped his drink, a fresh lime and soda. As usual, he had turned down all offers of alcohol, but he always made sure he shouted the others, no matter what they ordered. With his friends occupied discussing the details of their latest stock purchases, he felt free to survey the scene.

  That magnificent young woman he had been studying caught him staring. How could he meet her? Surprised at his own reaction, he knew he was usually at a loss in female company, but now he found his mind concentrating on that face, the face of the girl with the auburn hair sweeping down over her shoulders.

  “Well, is the car finished yet?” Ted was interrupting Peter’s thoughts, his pleasant voice now anxious and insistent. He had invested a lot in his new toy. “Will it be ready for Sunday’s race?”

  His thoughts still on the girl, Peter was slow to respond as he turned to Ted. “The car’s done and will finish the race if Bob doesn’t red-line it trying to fly.”

  Peter grinned at them, knowing that over the years Bob had proved a most considerate driver, babying the cars, always knowing there would be more than one race in a season.

  Ted - rich Ted - was content to reap the benefits from advertising and to supply the cars, allowing Peter to reign as engineer, rarely ordering Bob and Peter about, even though he had sole rights to the machinery.

  “What do you suppose our chances will be?” Really, Bob was more interested in the beer at his elbow than the forthcoming race. To him it was merely a Sunday drive. “Will the car be competitive?”

  “Sure will. Just take it steady. No dancing with the fences or other cars and you’ll give everyone a shock.”

  Peter was confident in his workmanship. His engineering degree, so difficult to earn, and his hard work preparing the car had born fruit, but for some reason, tonight he seemed to have lost enthusiasm for it. Needing a break, he had joined Bob and Ted at their usual Friday night watering hole just to get away from the constant grind of work.

  While the others talked about tactics, his eyes returned to the young woman across the room but hastily he looked away again as she seemed to be studying him intently this time. To cover his confusion, he turned back to make a comment to his friends. Instead, he heard his thoughts coming from his mouth.

  “Who’s the red-head?” he asked.

  Peter shocked himself. Even at this distance, the beautiful girl had broken through his reserve and he could not believe how easily he had dropped his guard.

  “Where?” Bob interrupted his discussion of race strategies.

  “Over there,” Peter nodded with his head, “sitting with two of the secretaries from your office.”

  “With Karen and Ruth?” The added need in Peter’s voice aroused Ted’s interest. His normal matter-of-fact accountant’s voice became animated. “She’s certainly a stunner. That auburn hair tells me she’s red-hot.”

  “Give it away, you two. She’s beautiful if you like that sort of woman. Under that black suit and hiding behind that heart-shaped face of hers is an iceberg.” Bob gave them the benefit of his knowledge.

  “Forget her,” he continued, “that’s Jennifer Blake. She’s just arrived from our Mel
bourne Office to run our legal branch. Believe me, there’s more life in a customer’s long term insurance policy than there is in her. She’s a typical lawyer, the original Ice Maiden, beautiful but frozen. I even phoned people, in the Melbourne Office, and they verified the fact.”

  Turning back to his beer, he resumed his conversation with Ted.

  “That reminds me, Ted. You should call in at Peter’s workshop to check his books more often. After all, you are his accountant.” Bob leaned back against the bar. “Last week, I was there to assess the damage to a client’s car and met a gorgeous little blonde who was gushing all over Peter. You’d have assumed she’d have more sense. Boy was she stacked! Her car wasn’t finished so I offered her a lift as any gentleman would.” Bob laughed at his own joke. “There’s nothing like a grateful, older woman.”

  Peter had heard Bob’s endless stories of his conquests - the same old story with different players. As they all followed such a similar pattern, he seriously doubted their truth. Surely, these accounts of his success with women were a figment of his imagination. What was his problem?

  Unwilling to listen to another blow-by-blow description, Peter deliberately turned his head. Once more, he stared across the room at the girl still seated there. He prayed that she wouldn’t again catch him studying her.

  When she had first drifted past him outside the building with her two friends, she had gained his attention. As he observed her walking into the bar, he had appreciated the swing of her hips and her long tapering legs. Her severely tailored business suit had not hidden her delicate figure. When she sat, modestly she smoothed her skirt to conceal the view of her thighs.

  Bob guffawed suddenly, crashing into his friend’s thoughts. He turned to Peter and gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs.

  “Steady on, mate. You’re panting and almost foaming at the mouth. Take your eyes off Jennifer.” He placed another lime soda at Peter’s elbow. “You’re staring so hard you’ll frighten the poor girl. Any time now, you’ll rip your shirt off and start beating your chest like a bull gorilla. Give it away. You’re wasting your time.” He called the barman and ordered a new round.