Annihilate Me (Vol. 4) (The Annihilate Me Series)
Read Annihilate Me (Vol. 4) (The Annihilate Me Series) Online
Authors: Christina Ross
ANNIHILATE ME, VOL. 4
For my dear friends.
And my family.
And especially for my readers.
Thank you for wanting more of Jennifer and Alex’s
story.
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permission in writing from the author.
First ebook edition © 2013.
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons living or dead (unless
explicitly noted) is merely coincidental. Copyright © 2013 Christina Ross. All
rights reserved worldwide.
Vol. 4
By Christina Ross
CHAPTER ONE
South Pacific
November
For
the past month, Alex and I had been living on a tiny postage stamp of an
island, not far from Bora Bora.
It
was so small that it was unnamed.
I
called it Wenn Island.
Alex called
it Jennifer
’
s Jungle.
And
in a way, I suppose he was right.
Because when we weren
’
t
working, especially during the early mornings, I roamed the island, savoring it
for its rough, unparalleled beauty and stunning ocean views, and damning it for
the very reasons we were here.
Because of the threats against our lives, one of which had nearly killed
Alex, we were away from our friends, away from Manhattan, and away from Wenn.
Away
from life as we knew it.
We
lived in the main hut.
But you
could hardly call it a hut because of its sheer size, which was
impressive.
Even though I
considered it a house, its thatched roof, bamboo floors, Polynesian vibe, and
glass walls that slid completely open to allow the fresh, salty air to flow
inside, at least gave it the elements of a hut.
The
property had every modern convenience, with the exception of fresh drinking
water.
That and other supplies were
flown in to us via Wenn when we needed them.
Otherwise,
the house was self-sustaining.
Solar
panels and, when needed, generators supplied electricity.
Because it rained hard and often in
sprints throughout the day, rainwater was collected in a massive tank, filtered
through a complex filtration system that drained into another tank, and was
used for showering and washing dishes, floors, hands, and laundry.
Internet
and cable television were delivered via a powerful dish attached to the side of
the house.
Alex and I conducted
business with Wenn through a sleek office that overlooked the ocean, as did
every room in the house.
The office
included several computers and a large-screen television on which we used Skype
to conduct meetings, to confer with the board, to keep in touch with Blackwell
and Tank, and, for me, to talk with Lisa.
It
wasn
’
t ideal, but we had each
other, the location was gorgeous, the ocean was warm and inviting, and most
importantly, we were safe.
Also with us were Alex
’
s executive assistant, Ann, her husband
Mark, and their adorable eight-year-old son, Max.
They lived in a smaller yet beautiful
house on the other side of the island, so all of us were assured of our
privacy.
We each had our own Jeep,
with the exception of Max, who often wondered aloud when he was going to get
his.
When Alex offered to buy him
one, Ann, Mark and I merely looked at him.
“Seriously?”
I asked.
“Every
boy needs a Jeep,”
Alex said.
“Maybe
in eight years,” Ann replied.
“When
he’
s legal.
”
“Deal—when
he’s legal.”
We
were a full month into life on the island.
Whoever had threatened Alex and me had yet to be caught despite Alex
’
s influence and the pressures put on the FBI
and the police as a result of his influence.
Alex had said several times to me that
he and Wenn had made too many enemies over the years.
Some of them made as far back as when
his father ran Wenn.
“It
might have nothing to do with me,” he said.
“It could be, that with my father dead,
the vendetta now is against me.
I
symbolize my father’s legacy.
Keep
in mind that that
’
s a
possibility.
Because at this
point?
I don’t know if it has to do
directly with me.”
If
that was the case, how were we ever going to figure out who had done this to
us?
Peachy Van Prout
’
s party list was key and it still was being
researched, because someone had taken our photograph at that party, and sent it
to us.
But
there were two hundred people there that night.
So, who was that person?
And did it really take a month to figure
it out?
On Skype, Blackwell told me
to be patient, but that was becoming difficult for all of us, including Ann and
her family.
This
island escape was never meant to be forever.
And while I knew it wouldn
’
t be, I missed Lisa, I missed Blackwell, and
I missed our lives in the city, as I knew Alex, Ann, Mark, and Max did.
Because of her loyalty to Alex, Ann had
moved her family to be with us during the transition.
But how long would that last?
Regardless of how well Ann was being
compensated, who could blame her or Mark if one day soon they decided this wasn
’
t for them.
Neither Alex nor I knew where Ann and
her family stood when it came to that.
They appeared to be enjoying their time on the island, but that would
end.
The
only question was when.
Alex
waited until the day after we landed on the island to break the news to the
public that he was indeed alive.
Wenn issued a press release stating that Alex was well and running Wenn,
only from a secret location for “practical reasons
.
”
No
additional explanation was offered.
A firestorm of controversy ensued that drove Wenn
’
s stock down.
Finally, it was decided that Alex must
appear on video to prove that he was, in fact, alive.
With my iPhone, I shot the video against
a blank wall in our office so there was no possibility that our location could
be interpretted or revealed.
Alex
addressed his stockholders
’
concerns
and said that soon he
’
d be
back in Manhattan.
“Now
isn
’
t the time,” he had
said.
“But rest assured, I
’
m still running Wenn, only remotely, which
is easy enough with today
’
s
technology.
Whoever has targeted me
and my fiancée, Jennifer Kent, will be brought to justice.
We will return to Manhattan when it
’
s safe to do so.
I appreciate your concern and your
ongoing support.
But please know
that I am still, very much, the director of Wenn.”
With
that, the video went viral, and Wenn
’
s
stock rose.
Now,
I stood on the beach in a bikini, drying my hair, and watching Alex rise naked
from the sea.
He was far more
athletic than I was, and had spent more time in the ocean before swimming to
shore, standing, and walking toward me with that same grin on his face that
always got me.
I loved him
dearly.
At some point soon, we
would be married.
But we both
agreed that we needed to get through this situation and back to Manhattan
before that happened.
“Apparently
the water is very warm,” I said, glancing down at his nakedness, which was
substantial.
“Even
if it were fifty degrees, I
’
d still
bear the shrinkage,” he said.
“We
’
ll have to put that to the test sometime.”
“Where?”
“Iceland?”
“I
see.
Well, fine then.
Iceland, it is.
I
’
ll
prove you wrong.”
“Or
maybe at your home in Maine?
You
could take a dip in the ocean sometime in February?”
He
continued to emerge from the sea, glistening with water shining off his
shoulders, hair, his ridiculous abs, and his taut, lightly hairy pecs.
“The last time we were in Maine, I took
you on the beach.”
“So,
why don
’
t you do it now?” I
asked.