Chapter 1
Beach Walk
A tall, beautiful Dominica drifted lazily along Indian Rocks Beach barefooted collecting shells and sea glass. Puffy clouds built overhead on this warm, partly sunny, spring day. The humid Gulf air breezed through her long, wavy brunette hair. Dominica liked that the humidity added spring to her waves. This morning’s ‘vortex’ walk cleared her mind of coming wedding matters. Searching the beach for sea trinkets to decorate her and Juan’s new home entertained and delighted her thoughts.
A new gator tattoo had the healing itch inside her right thigh. She and her cousin, Anne Bianca, or Annie, celebrated Dominica’s engagement a week earlier by getting matching tattoos. Dominica and Annie were cousins and best friends. They graduated from Providence College together. Today, Annie was driving north from Sarasota to south Tampa. They had lunch planned. Dominica walked towards her car thinking a Cobb salad would top off what had so far been a very relaxing morning.
A tall, muscular man wearing a Marlins baseball cap approached from behind her along the water’s edge. He abruptly angled in Dominica’s direction and began walking next to her. Dominica attracted unwanted attention even when she covered her bikini clad, five foot, eight inch lean, tan frame with plain cover-ups. Today, she wore a light blue, knee length sleeveless cotton tunic.
She glanced at the muscular man. He seemed harmless except for his five foot, ten inch, muscle-bound frame. Her dad was a big guy and could look really scary at times, especially when angry. She flashed back to his most scary moment. When Dom was three years old, she spit at him when he asked her to pick her clothes off her bedroom floor. He grabbed a handful of the front of her t-shirt, pulled her nose to nose and simply said in a terrifying voice, ‘Never do that again.’ She never spit at him again.
Dom noticed the man’s dark tattooed forearms accentuated by his short-sleeve bright yellow polo shirt. His tan shorts made him look like the average beachcomber. She moved further inland, away from this spaceater.
She perceived a short, stocky woman on her opposite side making a bee-line in her direction. Mr. muscles saw Dom’s head turned away from him and he swiftly closed in on her from the ocean’s side. She stopped to scan left then right with a frown on her face. Turning quickly in their direction, putting them both in front of her, she boisterously asked “Can I help you?”
The stocky woman smiled and moved quickly at her. She stuck a 38 Smith & Wesson Special into Dominica’s side. “Start walking,” the woman hissed.
The man said in a thick Russian accent, “We not here