After Effects

By Candis Stewart

New Orleans was the perfect spot to slink off to and lick her wounds. Resolutely accepting her father’s challenge that she finally become self-sufficient, Aranda finished college and became a graphic designer for a transportation company, unaware of the crime that was rampant in that industry.
Kyle, undercover narcotics agent, arrives in New Orleans for an investigation and decides to temporarily lease a condo in the same complex as his previous lover, Aranda. Aranda Lohr had rocked Kyle Callahan’s world six years ago, yet he can’t help but wonder how she’s involved with her coworker, Paul Miller, his chief suspect, and he’s determined to find the truth.
They’d first met when she appeared on a small island getaway he frequently used for respite after a mission. Suspicious of her motives, he nevertheless found her intriguing and made certain she was stranded for at least the night by heaving her small rowboat back into the swirling gulf waters. By morning, he was convinced she was as naïve she portrayed.
Shortly after, he’d shown up at her father’s upscale country club in Florida, posing as a wealthy patron’s chauffeur, while investigating his newest assignment. Aranda was fascinated with him, and so was every other woman. After a brief but steamy romance, Aranda is taken aside by another female admirer who maliciously enlightened Aranda of his ‘true’ profession--gigolo, not chauffeur. Dedicated to his job, he’s forced to employ any means at his disposal to fulfill his mission and tell her nothing of his secrets, even if it meant going against his heart. She missed his hints that all may not as it seems. Then she walked out of his life.
Like a moth to a flame, she is drawn once again to Kyle from the moment he arrives in New Orleans. Her problems at work intensify. Dare she allow herself to dream again despite her suspicions? No longer a young girl, she winds up in his arms and his bed. Finally deducing his true occupation but not yet completely convinced of his innocence, she overhears Paul’s conversation discussing the details of a drug drop. Nagging doubts prevent her from contacting Kyle with the information. She’s determined to trap the dealers herself, with the help of a few trusted friends. Backfiring, she finds herself kidnapped to shut her up.
Kyle manages to save her and not jeopardize his mission, finally resolving both of their past issues and misconceptions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Candis Stewart
• Release date: Oct 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466066168

Candis Stewart

My advertising work has been published in many trade publications in the transportation industry. I've worked as art director, designer and copywriter for over twenty-five years, and in addition to writing After Effects, I have written and illustrated two children’s picture books, a humorous cookbook, and am working on a paranormal romance. I have found that writing copy for advertising gives an advantage to the fiction writer, because each word is so carefully chosen and positioned for maximum impact.

Book preview

After Effects

Candis Stewart

Published by Candis Stewart at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Candis Stewart

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter 1

Kyle unfolded himself from the sleek black sports car, stretching like a cat as he brushed a lock of even blacker hair from his wide forehead. Using a palm to shield his eyes from the glaring rays of the southern sun, he leisurely scanned the surroundings. His large, angular frame towered over the low-slung vehicle, absorbing every detail in the area, from the impenetrable reflections on the various patio doors of the condos to his left to the heat waves rising from the pavement at his feet. Finally satisfied he hadn’t been followed, he resolutely strode toward the condo’s directory in the upscale complex and committed her unit number to memory. No need to do the same with her name; he’d never forget that. He ruefully shook his head at life’s twisted fate, then went to the office to make arrangements to purchase a condo.

* * * *

Forcing herself back to reality and away from memories better left alone, Aranda finalized the finishing touches on her ‘To Do’ list for the day. She arranged three tidy piles in order of importance at the top of her already neat desk. She leaned forward to catch Beatrice’s exaggerated whisper, watching her friend’s dark eyes widen as her darker hairline rose.

They found seeds in the container. Beatrice leaned in, anxiously awaiting Aranda’s response.

Meaning? As in ‘illegal substance’ seeds?

Beatrice nodded sagely, her straight black hair bobbing gently.

Well, it sure won’t be the first time. Sea and land containers were sometimes used for drug smuggling so it didn’t come as a big surprise to anyone. It had slowed down after 9-11, but it was virtually impossible to inspect every single container. The public simply had no concept of the volume of imports versus manpower to perform the level of scrutiny that would make everyone sleep sounder. Any white powder? Aranda asked.

Beatrice first looked puzzled while her part rose even higher. Ah, she nodded. No sé. I mean, I do not know. There have been people sniffing around, asking questions. Her Spanish accent grew even stronger with animation.

Aranda smiled at her friend’s dramatics. Dockworkers sometimes found telltale signs of illegal substances that were carried via ship to Oceanland. New Orleans, being a major port-of-call and closer to where many of the drugs originated, made for an ongoing battle with law enforcement to keep illegal drug trafficking to a minimum.

Randi, they’re saying, Beatrice always enunciated heavily when she was excited, that they’re investigating the whole import-export business here. And not just for drugs, she finished, nodding.

Any suspects? Money changed hands fast in this business, it was nothing new and everyone understood the rules. If you didn’t, you weren’t around very long. Payoffs for the chance to handle cargo were also part of the business. Receiving, and providing, small ‘favors’ from a broker or manager of a trucking company was commonplace. A cooler of shrimp, expensive dinner, gratuitous use of a camp on Grand Isle or elsewhere: these were small things compared to what went on under the surface. But still, legally considered a bribe. There was a lot of money to be made if you knew the right people, and were willing to bend the rules. And, more likely, relinquish your value system in the process.

No, I don’t think so.

Who’s investigating, do you know?

They’re not going to advertise, Randi! They are over cover!

"It’s under cover," Aranda chuckled as she reached for the ringing phone, grateful Jenkins had hired Beatrice. Her own initial hunch that Betty would work out had paid off big time. Lord knew, Aranda had desperately needed the help. As business grew, she found it increasingly difficult to keep up with the workload. Designing advertising in an expanding and competitive industry was challenging at best, and during the past three years, she and Beatrice had not only become fast friends, but she’d also learned to place considerable trust in Beatrice’s competence. Aranda now considered her the best friend she’d ever had. She wasn’t counting what she considered her ‘former life’, which is how she thought of her father’s restrictive but secure cocoon she’d foresworn, before striking out on her own. Before Kyle. Or after, as the case may be. With her penchant for living life in a fantasy world, it was no wonder she couldn’t forget him. Idly, she felt for the stray curl springing loose from the not-so-smooth coil on the back of her head and tried vainly to shove the vagrant lock back into place, mentally cursing the moisture-laden sticky air. If she could feel the tendrils popping free, what must it look like?

Damn the man. How was it he could still manage to ruin her day? In absentee? Kyle’s face still loomed large in her memory, after all this time, and she wondered if it would ever diminish in significance with more time. If the last six years were any indication, she was in for a big disappointment. She shook her head, another curl springing loose, and futilely attempted to rid her mind of his image.

Hey, Randi! Call on line two. Good. Maybe it would keep the nefarious Kyle at bay from her reminiscing, if just for a while. The day was dragging and Paul, the area salesman, was, as usual, odious. Aranda was unable to lose herself in the daily work routine when his half-leer constantly flashed her. She supposed--she knew--Paul thought himself attractive in the extreme, with his carefully casual style, gold draping his well-worked neck, and even more gold adorning his tanned hands; he thought himself a true gift to the female species, and too obviously aspired to spread himself around.

It’s John at Container Transfer, Paul supplied helpfully with a smirk, peeking around the corner of her office door. Somethin’ going on there?

Thanks, Romeo, but it’s work, she muttered before picking up the phone. Good morning, this is Aranda with Oceanland, she cheerfully identified herself after an instant of composure.

Hey, Randi, it’s John. Glad you’re back. Purely selfish on my part, but I won’t have to deal with that moron any more. How was the vacation? John was dispatcher slash marketing department for a small trucking company that pulled many of Oceanland’s containers, delivering wares across the country; Container Transfer’s reputation was superb and their respective companies were planning a joint ad campaign.

It was great. Just what I needed, she answered wryly, as a matter of fact… she trailed off, glancing over her shoulder.

"Oh, I get it, I don’t have to put up with him any more, but you still do, huh? Don’t tell me, he’s standing over your shoulder again?"

Uh-huh. His father should have left him on the sheets, she mumbled, then had to move the phone away from her ear at John’s barking laugh.

Paul was an ongoing joke between them. In fact, Paul was an ongoing joke between many people. She could almost feel sorry for him. Almost, but not quite. She glanced up as Paul perched on the corner of her desk, swinging his leg. She put a hand over the receiver and broadly hinted, Paul, this may be a while.

He blinked. Oh, sure, kid. He stood up, stretched his six-foot frame to the best of his ability and sauntered off, giving her a mock salute.

OK, he’s gone, John. What do you need?

Weeeell, I’ve got a warehouse full of drivers itching to get home for the weekend. We’ve got six orders here from Mason Brothers--paperwork’s done but none of them have weights yet so I can’t get them released. Ever been in the crossfire of sixteen truckers?

Aranda snorted. No, but I have a vivid imagination. Let me go see if Dispatch forgot to type them on. I’ll get right back to you, OK? The girl that entered the orders was new and had evidently missed part of her training because it was becoming a common occurrence, and John often relied on Aranda to solve the problem since the new girl couldn’t or wouldn’t do her job. She groaned to herself. The urge to sit back and daydream about her brief interlude in the Florida Keys had been threatening to overtake her, but this was just what she needed to keep her mind off her reveries. She smiled wistfully, praying that was possible.

Great, John supplied. And while you’re twiddling your thumbs in that plush office of yours, don’t forget us peasants, eh?

Plush?! Har-dee-har. She laughed as she instinctively glanced around the dingy room she called an office, barely made habitable by her many potted plants and decorative accessories. She’d even put a new coat of light lavender paint on the walls one weekend. You know I can work circles around you any day. By the way, have you heard anything about the drugs that were found in a container while I was gone? I’ve heard rumors of a big drug bust.

Oh, yeah, everybody’s talking about it. They’re supposed to be working on indictments, he said with mock drama. Why the interest, Miss Aranda? he joked. You clean?

Amusing, John. Her thick gold brows furrowed over green slanted eyes, Just curious. And who are ‘they’?

"Ah, that’s the big question. Not a clue. Nobody knows, which is the way they want it, I suppose."

Hearing familiar footsteps in the office entrance, she ended the conversation. Listen, I’ll have someone check into those weights and give you a call, ok, John? she ended as Jenkins shuffled by, softly replacing the receiver.

Morning, Randi, came Jenkins monotone. Not easily excitable, to say the least, her boss paused for a moment to flash a rare smile.

After a jolt of surprise, she smiled back. She had never noticed how white his teeth were, contrasting smoothly with the silver which streaked his hair. You need to do that more often, Jenkins.

What? Do what?

Erm, smile more often?

Jenkins glanced at his toes and cleared his throat. Yeah, yeah. I’m busy, y’know? But maybe I’ll try harder, his face split into a wider grin, for a smile. How’s that? Glad to have you back, he said before returning to his office, leaving Aranda staring open-mouthed after him.

She sat, stunned, and leaned back into the soft black faux-leather chair. Well, well, will wonders never cease? she murmured to herself. What was going on around here? Rifling through the piles of paperwork in front of her, she blamed it on the moon and promptly forgot about it.

Several hours later she emerged from her work with a brainstorm of an idea for a new brochure design only to find Beatrice looking at her. Eyes warm and brown, nearly the same hue as her straight ebony hair, now peered anxiously down at her.

Randi, You OK? You don’t look well. Even after that long overdue vacation. Beatrice’s concerned face suddenly brightened with inspiration. You need to get out, amiga. Let’s go to the Lakefront tonight, si?

Oh, yeah, I’m fine, Aranda answered absently, waving a hand in dismissal, also subconsciously waving her thoughts away, just worried about my hair, she joked as she patted an errant lock back into place. Looking back at her friend, she asked, What did you say? Sorry--I was thinking.

Your hair is fine. Beatrice looked away quickly, hiding a grin. Aranda’s gold and brown hair was escaping wildly in many directions at once, as usual. Just don’t try to straighten it again, all right? I was asking about going out tonight?

Aranda grimaced. That hair episode had been a colossal mistake, with parts of her normally overactive curls gone flat, while some areas calmed to barely wavy and others maintained their natural effervescence. It had been the reverse-perm from hell. Not a chance. I looked like someone did my hair with an eggbeater. I learn from my mistakes. She scowled before grinning,

Tonight sounds good, though. Let’s get out and have some fun.

It had been a while since the two of them had gone out together and maybe Betty was right. She’d been worrying far too much lately, and it had taken a toll on her nerves. Sometimes she liked to be alone; she truly enjoyed her solitude, her own company. But maybe not tonight. She felt a need to be with vibrant company, have a change of pace. With luck, she could escape the haunting in her mind. Stop thinking of Kyle once and for all.

It had been foolish to return to the scene of the crime, so to speak. She hadn’t been able to force herself back to her father’s summer house in the Florida Keys for years, and just why she had suddenly decided to enter into that painful place again still eluded her. With hardly a blink, she had found herself packed and on a plane, final destination, Sugarloaf Key. The vacation had done her good, to be sure. Her skin was tanned golden, hair shimmering from the harsh sun. Unconsciously, the time away had been designed to purge herself once and for all of her churning emotions. God, how she had loved him. She hadn’t envisioned this counter-effect from her vacation; many of her feelings regarding him had been submerged out of self-survival, had lain dormant, ready to be awakened. But as soon as she’d set eyes on the once familiar island while standing in her father’s home, she’d recognized the great mistake in going back. That vision awakened her like nothing else had. Tears streaming down her face, Aranda had stared balefully out over the Gulf to Kyle’s refuge, hidden inside the dense growth covering a small distant island across a long expanse of water. A pain had torn at her gut, a pain suppressed for so many years, coursed agonizingly through her body again. Unable to stand it, she’d cut her vacation short, and after returning to work, was trying desperately to make it fade.

It wasn’t working.

Is this a private party, or am I invited?

Neither Aranda nor Beatrice had heard Paul behind them. They had been discussing their plans for the evening, and both wished Paul hadn’t eavesdropped but there was nothing to be done about it now. Aranda glanced at Betty, gave a small shrug.

Beatrice rolled her eyes in silent resignation. What time do you want to go? she asked Aranda.

Seven OK? Aranda replied while looking at her desk, and knowing it was a doomed wish, hoped Paul already had plans.

Bet you two pretty gals would like some good-looking company.