Authors: Kate Sweeney
© 2013 by Kate Sweeney
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
First Edition: 2013
This Ebook Is Published By
Walker, LA USA
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Executive Editor: Ruth Stanley
Cover design by Tiger Graphics
The Land Rover found every bump and pothole in the dirt road. That, coupled with the steamy midmorning sun had Michaela’s head pounding; she groaned loudly with every meeting of rubber and earth.
“Christ, Sean! Can you please for the love of God, miss just one?” she asked seriously.
Sean chuckled evilly. “That’s what you get for getting shit-faced last night, sis,” he said as he drove through the dense forest away from the village in Panama.
His sister moaned and held onto her head. Even her hair hurt as she ran her fingers through it. It was an interesting evening, however, as she smiled happily.
“Do you think we’re doing the right thing, Mick?” Sean asked.
Michaela looked over at her brother. “Sean Michael Brennan, you worry too much, just like Dad.” She reached over and ruffled his jet-black hair. She looked at his soft profile and laughed. “But ya look just like Ma, darlin,” she said in a thick Irish brogue.
Her brother laughed along. “Yeah, Michaela Colleen Brennan and you have that annoying habit of thinking everything will be just fine, like Ma.” Then he looked at her hair streaked with blond from the constant tropical sun and caught her smiling icy blue eyes. “But ya look just like Dad, darlin,” he cooed in kind.
They drove in silence for a moment or two.
“Poor Dee,” Michaela sighed unhappily as did her bother.
“Yes, the poor thing,” he concurred.
Deirdre, the youngest and just out of college, was a strawberry blonde with hazel eyes. Both siblings glanced at each other.
“The milkman,” they said, laughing at their long-running joke about their little sister.
“Back to my question…” he started seriously.
“Sean, yes, I think we’re doing the right thing,” she said as the Land Rove was now gratefully on the main highway that led toward Panama City. “When I graduated from college with a degree in architecture and you on your way to being a brilliant, and handsome, engineer, we both wanted to do something with it.”
Her younger brother nodded completely agreeing as he drove. “Remember what Ma and Dad said. Someday we’ll be inheriting Brennan Construction and when we do,” she stopped and went into her Irish mode, “Ya better do somethin’ worthwhile or we’ll haunt ya’s from the grave.”
Sean threw his head back and laughed remembering how both parents said just that. Sadly, both parents died in an automobile accident just three miles from their home in Chicago. Some drunk, hopped a median; they were instantly killed. The only saving grace is that they went together.
Now, five years after she worked the family business and made sure Deirdre and Sean were set, Michaela had been presented with an unusual contract. Their foreman, Juan Martinez had a relative, a doctor who wanted to build a clinic in the village in Central America where they both had grown up. Apparently, this village was sixty miles from nowhere with no medical facility. Now, the young doctor wanted to give something back, to do something for the greater good.
Initially, Juan was going to quit Brennan Construction and move back, take his family and help his distant cousin. However, both Brennan siblings had a wonderful idea. They did not want to lose their best foreman, being with the company since the beginning when Michael Brennan started it over forty years ago. They also remembered their parents’ words. So, they went to the proper authorities in Chicago, got all the red tape and enormous amount of paperwork out of the way and here they were, on their way to pick up Juan and his family. Brennan Construction had a one-year contract to build the clinic.
Sean and Michaela had been in Los Rios for three weeks already. They met with the government officials, lawyers and townspeople getting everything ready for the deployment of trucks, lumber and everything else needed. It was more of an undertaking than both young siblings had realized. They had yet to meet the doctor, or Doctora Rivera as he’d been called for three weeks. Michaela cursed herself for not taking Spanish in high school. Of course being a good Catholic, she took Latin. A dead language, she thought smiling to herself. She was surprised they even offered it at school. Her mother and father were elated; Michaela figured they still had hopes of her joining the nunnery. That was so not going to happen. So, what else were you going to take at an all girls Catholic high school? Latin it was and she hadn’t used it since.
The past three weeks had been a linguistic nightmare for both Michaela and her brother even though he took four years of Spanish. She smiled wickedly, thinking about the universal language of love…well, not so much love as lust. In the first week of preparation, both siblings had a great deal of pent-up adrenaline ready to release.
“It’ll be easy for you,” Michaela had grumbled as they sat in her tent on the construction site. She flopped down on her small cot.
Sean had grunted rudely. “Oh, please. You can get a woman faster than any guy I know. C’mon, there are lesbians all over the world, even in Panama City. Let’s go,” he’d said firmly and pulled his sister off the cot.
Their night in Panama City would be remembered as the Brennan Invasion. Michaela was happy to find out there are lesbians all over the world. She cleared her throat and winced—even if she had to pay for it.
Sean now looked over at his sister and grinned. “You’re thinking about Panama a few weeks ago aren’t you?”
Michaela laughed and nodded.
“I never asked, but did you have to pay as much as I did?” he asked with a sly grin.
Michaela gaped at him. “You had to pay too? God, now I don’t feel so bad.” She let out a long sigh of relief. “I have never been propositioned before, bro. That little Rita had me all over the place that night. I thought I was experienced, holy shit,” she said, running her fingers through her hair.
“Well, how do you think I feel? Neither have I,” he exclaimed and laughed now going into his own Irish mode. “I’ve never been with a harlot,” he crooned and wriggled his eyebrows.
As silence filled the car, Michaela stole a glance or two at her brother as he drove; from the wicked smile, she knew he was remembering the erotic evening. They were headed to Panama City now to pick up Juan and Maria.
Sean sighed heavily. “Ah, Panama City is a lovely place.”
“Yes, and it’s nice to have something in common with your brother.”
They glanced at each other. Sean laughed heartily as he shifted gears.
Michaela laughed along and watched her younger brother. Sean turned out to be a good, decent young man. At 28, he had a level head on his shoulders—a worrywart but a lovable one. They both shared similar genes. Both were the same height and same bone and muscle structure, although Sean had more meat on him and Michaela thanked God for that. She visited the gym three times a week to keep the weight off; though working construction was more than enough.
His pitch-black hair and green eyes made him look very sexy. If a brother can be sexy, she thought. But it was his smile that ‘won the ladies’ as their father used to say. Michaela smiled now when she remembered how her father would then look at her and say the same. ‘Ya both have a way with the ladies’ he would say shaking his head. “And your mother won’t get a nun or a priest to brag about to Mrs. Cavaleri down the street.”
Michaela was blessed with a loving, caring family. Her being a lesbian was not exactly what her parents would have wanted but her happiness was. If being a lesbian was who she was and she was happy, then they were happy as well; didn’t understand it at all, but happy for her. They just didn’t talk about it much. To be fair though, they didn’t want to hear about Sean’s exploits either. The balance there was fine with both siblings.
The jarring of tire meeting pothole as Sean drove through the outskirts of the city to the airport broke her from her reverie.
“I can’t wait to see Juan,” he exclaimed looking very much like a ten-year-old.
Michaela laughed as well; she missed the old man too. With their father gone, Juan has picked up the parental gauntlet whether the Brennan children wanted him to or not.
They stood by the narrow runway and waited, both lost in their thoughts. Michaela wondered if they were doing the right thing by leaving the US and living in another country for a year. They had left Deirdre back in Chicago. She was going to graduate school and she didn’t want to miss any time. Michaela didn’t like to leave her home alone although there were enough aunts, uncles, and cousins to take care of her.
Well, this will be interesting if nothing else, she thought as she gazed up into the cloudless sky. She wiped the perspiration off her brow trying to ignore the feeling a doom that wafted over her, making her shiver in the humid, hot day.
They settled Juan and Maria into their room at the Hyatt in Panama City.
“Tomorrow we meet with my cousin and the attorney. Tonight, we celebrate,” Juan announced. “Once we start with the construction, we will not see Panama City for a while.”
Dinner was a gastronomical event. Both Brennan siblings were amazed at the food. Being Irish food was usually boiled to death. Their mother was an excellent cook but this was amazing.
During the meal, they discussed the next year. “I spoke with the locals already. Once we get the road cleared, we’ll get the well dug and the electric set up. It won’t be for a while though,” Michaela said as she ate.
Juan agreed. Sean, however, looked a bit dismayed.
Maria noticed. “Sean, what is wrong?”
“I don’t know. Last week when Mick and I were in Los Rios, there just seemed to be an underlying feeling of tension. I can’t put my finger on it,” he said, shaking his head.
Michaela rolled her eyes and drank her beer. “You are a worrywart, brother. They’ve been very helpful and very friendly. Don’t worry,” she said and ruffled his short hair.
He chuckled and ducked out of her way. “Knock it off.”
“Well, we shall see after tomorrow,” Juan said tiredly and pushed his plate back. “I, for one, am exhausted.”
Maria gently wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “I am as well.”
Both Sean and Michaela looked at their watches. It was only nine o’clock. They glanced at each other but said nothing.
“We have a busy day tomorrow,” Juan continued.
Michaela felt Maria’s eyes upon her. She offered a weak smile. Maria raised an eyebrow. “Well, let us retire, husband and let these two have their fun,” she said and patted her husband on the shoulder.
Juan frowned looking from Michaela to Sean. “It is late. Do you know your way around Panama City?”
“Yes,” they both answered quickly avoiding each other.
Juan Martinez rubbed his weathered forehead. “I know you two too well. Growing up, you two were like two peas in the pods. Always getting into some mischief. No mischief tonight.”
Michaela avoided looking at her brother as the red blotch rose from his neck to his hairline; he looked like a thermometer. Juan cleared his throat in fatherly fashion. Both siblings suddenly found the empty plates extremely interesting.
Michaela glanced up to see Maria’s motherly glare. Her big brown eyes were accentuated by her stone-white hair; Juan looked the same. Maria was confused then noticed the blushes on both brother and sister and she hid her grin as well. Looking at the stern look on her husband’s weathered face, she couldn’t help herself.
She gently cleared her throat. “Before we were married, Señor Juan Martinez had visited Panama City on many occasions.”
Sean hid his laugh in his napkin; Michaela just sat there waiting for the explosion.
Juan gave Maria an incredulous look. “Woman,” he warned quietly.
Mick and Sean still said nothing, not daring to look up.
“Husband, do not go on so. These poor children are in a foreign country far from home doing a noble thing. They are normal healthy adults. Now stop this. I too remember Panama City,” she warned her husband who now found the table very interesting as well.
After a moment, Michaela couldn’t take the awkward silence any longer. “Oh for godsakes, somebody say something!”
All four started to laugh. Juan shook his head and stood. “You two just look out for each other. I do not want to get a call from the policía.”
Maria gently pushed him away from the table. She kissed each sibling on the head. “Good night, my children. Have a good time,” she whispered and walked away.
The night was hot and steamy; what else was new? Michaela thought as they walked into the Red Sunset Bar. It was not very crowded as they sat at the small bar.
One hour later, both Brennans were feeling no pain.
“Why do I drink tequila?” Mick asked as she took a healthy drink of her beer.
“Dunno, Mick,” Sean said. He picked up his glass of beer and examined it. “This beer is not like Guinness, that’s for sure.”
With that, three women walked into the bar. Michaela remembered them from their last visit to the Red Sunset. She turned and grinned as she spied Rita, the señorita who nearly gave her a heart attack then. However, right behind them was a woman who made Michaela’s heart stop in her chest.
She was not the typical lady of the evening. As a matter of fact, Michaela didn’t get that feeling from this woman at all, but what did she know? she thought with a shrug. Perhaps she was like the high-priced escorts in Chicago. Hmm, this could be fun, she thought as her bartender set another shot of José in front of her. She quickly downed the liquor and winced. Yuk, she thought, why do I drink this? She rapidly shook her head as she watched the woman.
She had skin the color of rich caramel. Her hair was a soft, silky deep brown that was thick and pulled back in a white scarf. She wore a white linen shirt with dark slacks and was nearly as tall as Michaela, but it was her eyes Michaela noticed. They were a soulful brown.
“Seaneen, me boy, I’m going in,” she said in a low sultry Irish voice then reached over and picked up his shot glass and slugged it back. All the while, she was eying the lanky Panamanian beauty that was talking in Spanish to the three other prostitutes. Sean followed her gaze and chuckled.
“She looks like she could do you damage, sister. Be careful,” he said with a low rumbling laugh.
“I sincerely hope so,” she said emphatically.
“I’ve had enough,” Sean said, pushing the beer away.
She walked over to the table where the four women sat. “
,” Michaela said watching the woman.
The three other women replied and laughed slightly. She took that as a good sign so she pulled up a chair and sat next to the lanky woman who raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Gazing into her eyes, Michaela noticed that not only were her eyes a soulful soft brown, but a golden almost amber color speckled through them.
“Beautiful,” she mumbled as she held out her hand. “Mick Brennan.”
The woman gave her a smirk and took the hand. “
Mick grinned. “I don’t suppose you speak English?” Mick asked then pondered the only Spanish she knew.
Where’s the bathroom?
I’d like a beer, please.
And the clincher—
How much for the night?
And something else that left nothing to the imagination as to what exactly Mick expected from the night, which worked wonders last week. Why not now?
Mick chose the last question; gave it her best shot knowing her Spanish was horrible.
The woman angrily stood. Mick looked up and blinked stupidly into the fire that blazed in the beautiful eyes. Shit, didn’t I say that right? she asked herself.
With that, the woman reared back and punched Mick dead in the face. Mick flew back and landed with a grunt, flat on her back, while she still sat in the chair.
She tried to get her bearings, listening to the laughter and the screams. She then saw Sean’s incredulous face above her.
“You idiot,” he said, shaking his head.
She tried to move but pain ripped through her head and then—darkness.
When she woke, two different sensations bombarded her poor brain. The left side of her face was ice cold and her right breast felt oddly yet wonderfully warm.
She opened her right eye and then lifted her head letting out a small groan. Looking down, she saw a small delicate hand splayed out across her breast. Okay, that explains the warmth, she thought. She then reached up and touched the small towel that had once been filled with ice, which covered her left eye. Ah, she thought grimly, now I remember. No more tequila. Lifting the sheet, she saw she was naked. Please don’t tell me Sean helped me undress, she groaned inwardly as she moved under the sheet.
Rita woke instantly and sat up, looming over her. “Señorita Mick, you are okay, no?” she asked as she gently took the cloth away.
“I am okay, no,” Mick mumbled and gingerly touched her cheek. There was a sizable bruise just welling under her left eye.
“Ooh, is not so bad, chica,” Rita purred and grinned, kissing her forehead.
Mick sighed as she felt the soft hand touch her cheek and caress her temple. “Am I an asshole or what? I can’t believe I propositioned that poor woman. God, I hope I don’t get deported,” she said seriously.
Rita cocked her head then started to speak softly in her native language, lulling Mick completely.
“Rita honey, I have no idea what the hell you’re saying but don’t stop,” she whispered and closed her eyes.
Rita smiled and gently kissed her lips. She then pulled back. “You speak in your sleep, chica,” Rita murmured against her neck. Mick sighed not really listening, and not really caring
“Who is Amanda?”
Mick’s eyes flew open then and she looked over at Rita. “Amanda? I said Amanda? Shit!”
Rita raised an eyebrow, her dark eyes watching Mick closely. When she remained silent, Mick figured it was her cue to continue with an explanation.
“She was someone I loved very much but was too immature and stupid to realize it.” Her mind wandered back to that time, back when she loved Amanda Higgins and she loved Mick.
However, Amanda wanted far too much from the elusive Michaela Brennan at the time. She wanted her love—all her love and Mick just had no clue how to do that. So, instead, she pushed her away and after a while, Amanda left. Last Mick heard, she was in a six-year relationship, living in Portland, Maine, and had adopted a child. She was happy and content. And Mick never gave her heart to anyone else.
Rita watched her. Mick didn’t know if Rita understood what she had said, not that it mattered. From the tone of Mick’s voice, she figured Rita got the gist of it; that coupled with Mick’s lovesick look, Rita smiled knowingly, bridging the language barrier. She slowly lay across Mick’s long hard body. Mick, in turn, sighed as Rita kissed her deeply; her tongue slowly exploring as Mick moaned into the kiss.
“I make you forget this Amanda,” Rita whispered firmly and gently nipped at Mick’s bottom lip.
“What the fuck is wrong with me? Must have been that smack I took last night. Here I am lying naked, with a beautiful woman and I’m lamenting a lost love,” Mick said, mostly disgusted with herself.
She quickly rolled Rita on her back, kissing her furiously. She wedged her thigh between Rita’s legs. “Yes, Rita, I believe you can make me forget. If anyone can sweetheart, you can,” she whispered and proceeded to kiss her neck, her jaw and her cheek.
Rita sighed and wrapped her legs around the strong thigh as Mick started to gently rock into her. Rita slipped her hand down to reach between Mick’s legs. Gasping at the heat that generated from her impetuous American friend, her fingers teased the outer lips, sliding in.
Mick arched her back and cried out, driving her thigh harder into Rita. Rita writhed beneath her, murmuring in Spanish. Not knowing what she was saying, Mick listened to her soft, passionate cries, hoping it was a sign of approval. Rita could be reciting her laundry list and Mick could care less.
Soon, the vision of Amanda was lost. Lost in the cries of ecstasy from this little Spanish stranger, and placed once again in the past, where forgotten things belong.
Rita woke slowly. She was lying on her side with Mick wrapped around behind her, holding her tight. Rita smiled as she remembered last night and how silly Mick looked, lying on the barroom floor, still sitting in her chair. She then looked at the clock on the wall and gently turned to face Mick, chuckling at the large bruise under her eye.
“Señorita Mick,” she whispered and kissed her warm lips. Mick’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled sleepily. “You must leave, chica,” she said and sat up.
Mick stretched and looked at her watch. It was five a.m. “So early?” Mick yawned and gingerly felt her swollen eye. How in the hell am I going to explain this to Juan and Maria? She thought as she slipped into her slacks.
. I have a job you know,” she scolded playfully. Mick gave her a wicked grin. “None of your blue eyes, chica.”
Mick chuckled and finished dressing as Rita slipped into her red silky robe. She walked over to Mick and stood on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around Mick’s neck. Her robe fell open and Mick sighed, slipping her arms around the small warm waist. Suddenly, both women were in a passionate embrace.
Mick backed her up to the door and Rita cried out as she felt two fingers slip deep inside her. “Ahh!” Rita hissed and bit hard on Mick’s neck.
Mick growled and pulled Rita’s head back with her free hand and kissed her deeply, passionately plunging her tongue deep into Rita’s eagerly awaiting mouth.
Rita lifted her leg and wrapped it around Mick’s. “Mick, harder, harder,” she begged openly and Mick complied with a grunt, bringing her to a furious, overwhelming orgasm. Rita’s little body shook uncontrollably as both women panted heavily into each other’s necks. Rita bit down hard then sucked the tender sweaty flesh.