Way Out of Line

By Trish Jackson

Trent lied about her age. Hal was convicted of statutory rape. Two lives, ruined.

Despite a brutal existence in prison, a desperate escape and a chance for a new life in Africa, Hal never forgets his first love. If only there were some way he could return home, return to Trent. Never, warns his wise friend Demetrio, reminding Hal that they are escaped felons, and to be caught is to go back to prison.

Trent can't forget Hal, nor can she forgive herself for his fate. The future holds no promise, and finally she seeks solace and expiation in a cult calling itself The Church of Hallowed Revelation. Her parents seek to have her deprogrammed, but instead lose her to ruthless kidnappers, who hold her in their African headquarters until her ransom is paid.

Seeking a hostage held by a quasi-military faction, Hal and Demetrio head into the wilderness. At the end of their quest is violence, death, and--just perhaps--another chance for Hal and Trent.

This title is published by Uncial Press and is distributed worldwide by Untreed Reads.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Untreed Reads
• Release date: May 18, 2012
• ISBN: 9781601741370

Trish Jackson

Trish Jackson grew up on a farm in Zimbabwe, Africa, which sparked a love of adventure and suspense, and being a romantic at heart, she writes romantic suspense thrillers and romantic comedy. She moved to the U.S. in 1990, loves country living, horse riding, chocolate and all animals. Trish's passion is helping the innocents of the world - children, the elderly, the mentally challenged, and animals. Her stories are set in small towns, where the people enjoy country values, and the pace of life is a little slower, and her characters always include the four-legged kind.

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CHAPTER 1

Hal St. Clair swallowed hard. His mouth was dry, his breathing shallow. His heart hammered so loud in his chest he could hear it. He thrust his hands into his pockets to hide their trembling.

We find the defendant, Halford St. Clair guilty as charged.

Guilty as charged, guilty as charged, guilty as charged...

The words echoed through his brain. His ears started to ring, and he felt himself sway backwards. Ted Hilliard's firm hand on his shoulder steadied him. He blinked, shook his head and tried to breathe. He saw pity in Ted's cool green eyes.

I'm sorry Hal. We tried. I don't know what to say. We can appeal, you know that.

It's okay, Ted, he heard himself from far away, as if in a dream. It'll work out. You did your best, and I'm thankful for that. I don't think anything's gonna change if I appeal.

I'm not a criminal. This can't be happening. His face burned. He didn't want to look at Mrs. McNaughton but he couldn't help himself. Her red-lipsticked mouth curled up in a hint of a smile, her cold eyes glowed with triumph.

It wasn't wrong. I love her. He wanted to shout the words.

Hal's thoughts flashed back uncontrollably to the prison guard's counsel the previous day.

You fucked up big, Man, the guard had said. You fucked da wrong girl. You know why? I'm gonna tell you why. Word is that your girl's mama got a brother who a Congressman. He gonna make sure you put away for a long time. Hear what I'm saying? You'll remember Tyrone's word when da sentencing come down.

Sentencing was imposed a week later. Hal heard the sentence as if from a great distance. Only two words registered in his mind; ...fifteen years.

No, he shouted. No, you can't do this to me. I'm not a criminal!

Ted pulled him down into his chair. Behind him, the courtroom erupted and voices rose as the spectators and the press reacted to his sentence. The judge banged his gavel and glared menacingly.

The bailiff led him firmly towards the rear exit of the courthouse, where guards were waiting. Come on boy, give me your hands. The voice was gruff.

The cold steel of the handcuffs gripped his wrists behind his back. One guard pointed a rifle at him while another wrapped manacles around his ankles. Together they shoved him roughly into a truck.

Hal studied the other five passengers from under lowered eyelids. They were all older, except perhaps one. His head was bowed so Hal couldn't see his face, but the pale, freckled skin, scrawny body and red hair projected an air of vulnerability that reminded Hal painfully of Jonny. He sure doesn't look like a criminal to me. Glad Jon's not here to see this.

He swallowed hard. Perspiration ran in small rivulets down his back and he wanted to scratch where it itched. He pressed against the bars behind him while sweeping a glance quickly across the other faces.

A trickle of fear slid through his body like oil on a hot surface. The icy stare from the man directly across from him held a malevolent challenge and his mouth twisted into an evil smile.

Hal closed his eyes. He shuddered, suddenly cold. The eyes said it all. Not skin color. That ranged from pale white through coffee to dark black. Nor body size, or the dark stubble on their chins.

It was their eyes.

No one spoke during the interminable journey. Hal was afraid to look up again, so he turned inward to the thoughts that tumbled incessantly around in his head. He still couldn't believe that life had handed him such a dirty deal.

It seemed like just yesterday, although it was actually seven months ago, that he had last seen Trent. He wondered if she still thought about him. Will I ever see her again? She was in his thoughts all the time.

He recalled the guard's advice. You just remember, no matter how many years they give you, you gotta keep your mind focused. They can control your body but they don' know what's going on in your mind. You have ta have a dream, somethin' to live for, and whenever things get bad, and you know dat gonna be happenin' a lot, you just think about what you gonna do when you get out. Never give up dat dream, Man. Don't forget Tyrone Thomas' words. No matter what, your mind is free.

As if he would ever forget her. As if he could. That day, a lifetime ago, when he had first met her, would be imprinted on his brain forever...

It had been one of those beautiful balmy days in early summer, and he had been out in the rowboat, fishing. The fish weren't biting. He had allowed the boat to drift with the wind and take its own course on the smooth water of the lake.

He lay back, enjoying the warmth, and watched the cumulus clouds form, giant snowballs amassing in the sky, an early warning of a late afternoon storm. He dozed for a while in the warm sun, and woke with a start when the boat bumped gently against the bank.

He found himself looking into the warmest eyes he had ever seen. They were the color of amber.

What are you doing here? She sounded perfectly calm, as if strangers in boats drifted up to her every day.

I don't really know. I guess I fell asleep and fate brought us together. He stared at her with unabashed admiration. Her bikini barely covered her breasts. Her skin was golden tanned, her body lean. Her abundant hair, almost red, and lit with soft sun-bleached highlights, framed a heart-shaped face.

Well, you'd best be going. This is private property. My parents don't take kindly to trespassers, and they'll be home any minute now.

Hal's the name. He smiled into the sunny eyes, vaguely aware of the manicured lawns graced by cool trees, and the stately white-painted mansion in the background. Nothing as good to look at as she was. What's yours?

Trent.

That's your name?

Yes, anything wrong with it?

No, it's just--I never met a girl named Trent before.

Well, I didn't choose it. My parents wanted me to be a boy. Now please, you must go. My mother--

Okay, but first promise I can see you again.

What for?

Just so.

I'll be here every day this summer,

Yes, but when will your mother not be here? Hal raised his eyebrows.

She's here most days. Except Tuesdays. Tuesdays she usually goes to the city. Now will you go, please.

Okay. See you Tuesday. A light-hearted feeling embraced him as he rowed slowly away towards home. Looks like this summer is going to be a good one.

* * * *

Trent spent the next three days in restless planning. She decided that she would get the housekeeper, to prepare a picnic. She would let Hal decide where they should go. He would surely know of some quiet beach along the lake shore.

After she showered in the evenings, she found herself spending time in front of the mirror, clad only in her underwear, studying herself critically. Her hair was a constant source of frustration to her. It tumbled rebelliously around her face in waves of vibrant gold. If only it could be straight and sleek like the shampoo ads on TV.

Her skin, she decided, was one of her good points. Clear and sun bronzed with a few light freckles, it glowed with youth and good health, and spoke of her outdoor existence. Her eyes were unusual, and her lips were generous. Sometimes she wished her breasts could be larger, but they were full and firm. Her hips were narrow and her long legs a little thin. Her hands, she knew, were beautiful, with long, fine fingers. She sometimes enameled the nails, but more often than not, she kept them short and clear. Her feet were small and petite. She couldn't see any reason why he would not find her attractive.

A delicious sensation of breathlessness surged into her and lingered every time she thought about him. Her heart beat faster and heat spread from her head all the way down to--there. She tried to remember as much detail as she could about him. He was tall. She had looked up into those teasing grey-green eyes and she was five-nine. His skin was tanned like hers, and although not bulging, the muscles on his broad shoulders and chest were firm. The thought of running her hands through that unruly blonde hair brought a rush of heat again.

I hope he likes me.

Monday evening at the dinner table her mother said, Oh, by the way, Trent, darling, I've arranged for you to go to a tennis gathering at Travers Pennington's house tomorrow. She took a forkful salad and chewed. He's such a nice boy, and your game will benefit from his attentions.

But Mom, I have plans.

Her mother stopped chewing. What do you mean?

I, well, I... She realized her mistake too late. I was planning to spend the day at home and practice my music.

Very noble of you, but I'm sure you'll have much more fun with Travers and his friends.

There was nothing to be gained from arguing, she knew. After dinner, behind the closed door of her bedroom she landed a vicious kick on her bed. Ouch! She held her foot and flopped on her back across the offending piece of furniture. Why does this have to happen? Why does it have to be Tuesday? Now he's gonna be mad and leave and I'll never see him again. It's not fair. She cursed herself for not getting a phone number from him. That night she slept fitfully, strange dreams haunted her. Hal was in an airplane. She saw his face, nose pressed to the window. He waved at her, and flew off into the cloudless sky.

* * * *

I beat you fair and square, Trent, darling. Travers chuckled as they walked off the court toward the sunroom. Your tennis is improving though, he added carefully.

Asshole. She said, I'm not playing well today, and you know it, Travers. Any other day I'd thrash you. She waited for the obvious question, but it didn't come.

He wasn't interested in other people. His whole world revolved around himself. Trent stared absently at him, wondering what it was that made him so obnoxious. He was tall and handsome, in a chocolate box sort of way, with his soft brown curls carefully styled, one gold earring, and piercing blue eyes. At six-two, he was well-built and muscular. He always dressed impeccably, today in white shorts and tank top, contrasting brightly with the diligently cultivated tan and contoured muscles. Strangely he had never invoked that magical sensation she had experienced with Hal.

Trent, answer me. Hello, Trent.

She dragged her mind back to the present. Huh? What did you say?

I asked if you want a Coke or a Sprite?

Just water, thanks. You should know me by now. She rocked gently on the swing seat and went back to her musing.

It was probably his obsession with himself that she disliked the most about Travers. She had an idea that her parents were hoping that she and Travers would get married one day. She shuddered at the thought. Ugh!

What's the problem now, Trent?

Oh, nothing. I was just thinking. The image of Hal suddenly appeared in her mind as it had done so frequently this past week. Her lips curled in a smile.

Want another game, Trenty? Or are you scared I'll beat you again?

His question jerked her abruptly back to the present. Don't call me that. And no to both questions. No game, and I'm not scared. I should go home now. Can you take me?

You can't go yet. As soon as Jay and Emma are done with their singles game we're gonna take them on in doubles. Meanwhile you just sit here and chill.

The remainder of the day dragged by, but at last Travers' two friends left. Finally, she could go home.

But Travers had other ideas. Come and see the project I'm working on. It's a dream house. My dream house.

You're not even in college yet.

But imagine how this will impress them when I go for my interview.

Trent followed him into the house. Hal won't still be waiting for me, so there's no reason to hurry home.

Without warning, he turned and pulled her to him. He held her so tightly she could hardly breathe. His lips smashed hers, before he opened them and forced his tongue between her teeth.

Trent writhed and squirmed, hopelessly unable to free herself. Travers held her prisoner with his arms. She tried to lift her legs to knee him but she was wedged too tightly against him. When he finally released her she staggered backwards, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She raised her hand to slap him but he was too quick for her.

He caught and held both her wrists with apparent ease. What's the matter? Anyone would think I raped you!

You forced me to kiss you.

Trent, surely you can see I have feelings for you? Let's face it, we would be good together. I don't care that you're so young.

Her face burned. Don't you ever do that again, do you hear? You creep me out. Now I'm calling a cab, and I'm going home.

* * * *

The three days after he met Trent dragged for Hal, and he was glad of his summer job, waiting tables at La Gondola. Apart from providing him much needed cash, it helped to make the time pass quicker.

Fishing had lost some of its appeal. His unsettled mood did not allow him to while away his time in the boat. His roommate, Richard, had gone home for the summer and he was lonely. He tried to fill the empty hours in the library, researching ideas for a paper he was assigned to write over the summer vacation, but even there he couldn't really concentrate. I can't believe it. Ethics in journalism is such a cool subject and I had so many ideas. Now all I can think about is her. He stared at the computer, unsuccessfully trying to focus his concentration on the information on the screen.

When Tuesday arrived at last, he took extra care combing his thick hair, until it was almost tamed--if you didn't count the bits curling up at the back. He dressed in his favorite gray shorts, a red T-shirt, and boat shoes. He surveyed himself critically in the mirror, practiced his smile, and winked.

He pushed off from the side, jumped in, and started rowing with practiced ease. He had never noticed before how old the boat looked. She would be a lot more impressed if I had a sail boat instead of this old bucket. There's something about sailboats that girls like.

Half an hour later, he pulled the boat up onto the manicured bank and stared anxiously toward the house. His confidence had deserted him and his mouth was dry. He wiped his clammy hands on his pants.

What if she forgot? Can I walk up to the front door and ring the bell? What will I say if one of her parents answers? They didn't sound too friendly.

He decided to wait. He leaned himself against the substantial trunk of a leafy sycamore tree. After a while, he slid down until he was sitting on the grass. The restaurant had been busy the previous evening, and he had only gotten home after one in the morning, and then he hadn't slept well.

The sunlight filtering through the new leaves of the tree warmed him, and he relaxed, drifting into a doze.

He awoke with a start and blinked in bewilderment. The sun had almost disappeared behind the mountains and a cool breeze curled around the tree trunk and ruffled his hair. I can't have slept all day here. I can't have missed her. She would have woken me.

A beam of light bounced off the tree as a car turned into the driveway. If her parents are as mean as she said, I should leave now. Or should I go and ask after her? He decided against it.

He had arranged not to work this evening, so there was no urgency to get home. He stretched, took one last disappointed glance at the house, and ambled over to the boat. He had pushed off and was reaching for the oars.

Hey! Hey you, don't go.

His heart leaped.

Wait, come back. Please, she shouted.

Hal headed back to the shore and jumped out of the boat, his heart pounding. Where've you been? I waited here all day.

I'm sorry. My Mom arranged something. You never gave me a phone number, so I couldn't let you know. You haven't really been here all day, have you? Their eyes met.

He could see her nipples standing up under the fabric of her white tank top and the goose bumps on her legs below the pink tennis skirt. Her golden hair formed a soft halo around her face. He wanted so badly to touch her, to feel the softness of her golden skin and the hardness of her nipples against his chest. I have been here all day. How long can you stay?

I have to go now. I'm sorry. They'll come looking for me soon if I don't, and they don't let me see boys--you know--alone. Definitely not anyone as old as you.

How old am I, do you think? he said, flattered.

I don't know. You tell me.

I'm twenty-three. How about you?

Seventeen.

You're a baby. I didn't realize... He saw the disappointment in her eyes. "No, I didn't mean... You're still... Trent, I still want to see you again." She may be a kid but she's still hot.

Next Tuesday. Come early, Hal. I'll be here.

What if you're not? I'm not waiting all day again. I have other things to do, you know.

Can't you give me your cell phone number? Then I could call if something comes up.

Okay, do you have a pen or some paper?

No. She looked around helplessly.

Hal picked up a stick. I'll write it in the dirt, here, but you'd better copy it onto some paper before it disappears, Trent. There. Seven four nine five one two three.

Trent. Trent, where are you? The man's voice came from the direction of the big house.

Trent whipped around. I'm coming Daddy.

Hurry up, it's not safe to be out after dark.

I have to go, or he'll come out here and see you, and he'll be angry with me, and with you.

Next Tuesday, then?

Tuesday. She reached out and touched his shoulder for a fleeting second, her face turned up as if trying to read his expression in the gloom. After a moment, she turned and walked quickly toward the house, which was now brightly lit in the encroaching dusk. Her touch had been cool, but a fire burned on his shoulder. He watched her stride up the path before he slowly turned and made his way back to the boat.

When he pulled up onto the bank at home, he was sweating from the effort of paddling so fast.

The next week dragged by even slower than the previous one had. In the library Hal searched the Internet. He found the white home with its extensive lawns and water frontage. McNaughton. Her last name is McNaughton. Apparently everyone who lives in Fort Buffalo, Texas except me knows about them. Her great-grandfather had made his fortune in the oil business. Her father was now the owner and developer of a vast network of oil wells.

Her mother's maiden name was foreign, probably German. Perhaps that's where the money began. Perhaps she was the daughter of a wealthy German Baron, and the money didn't come from old man McNaughton. Or maybe they're just both stinking rich.

I guess that's why they keep her close to them, Hal mused. They have plans for her. I wonder how I would fit into those plans. Probably not at all. It's likely they have some rich guy already picked out for her. Or maybe not. She's so young, just a kid. She said they won't let her have a boyfriend. I should leave it alone, right now, before it causes any trouble. I shouldn't go next Tuesday. They'll never accept me anyhow.

Proud that he'd made such a mature decision, he was able to relax enough to go fishing, and he caught three good-sized bass.

He worked late on Monday night, and slept in on Tuesday morning. When his phone woke him, he reached blindly for it, cursing. Yeah?

Where are you? I texted you but you didn't respond. You're late, and you promised.

Hal sat up abruptly and pushed the hair from his face. Trent. He said nothing for a few seconds, angry with himself for the rush of excitement. I'm sorry I can't make it today. Something came up. Something I have to do. I couldn't call you, you know.

But you promised. My Mom's going to be gone all day. I've made us a picnic.

He weighed his choices. Okay. Give me forty minutes. I'll cancel my... my appointment. I must be crazy, but she sounded so disappointed. He