Tropical Heat

By Saby Stone

The “Lady in Red” is called the “Scorpion Mistress” in Bermuda and throughout the Caribbean Islands. Rumors on the beaches of Bermuda allege she is a dangerous murderer and her romantic sting made men lose their minds. She is “Fire” and “Too Hot to Handle” by any man.
Vacationing Houston Detective Phillip Gee, has been stung by love too many times and has sworn off of love. Some say he is cold toward women. He is “Ice” and [Too Cold to Hold]. He is just trying to relax and enjoy his vacation when he spots the “Lady in Red” on the beach. He is intrigued with her.
The “Scorpion Mistress” turns up the heat on Phillip Gee, by luring and seducing him into her master plan of revenge. The results are - Love and an Adventure of a Lifetime spanning the tropical trade winds from the Caribbean Islands to the African Continent.
Everyone knows that “Fire” and “Ice” generate Steam so buckle your seat belts and prepare for takeoff as you get ready to experience the Steamy, Hot, Romantic and Suspenseful “Tropical Heat.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Saby Stone
• Release date: Jun 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9780981777061

Saby Stone

Hubert R. Stokes taught mathematics in the Detroit Public School for forty years. He worked exclusively on the eastside of Detroit and helped to educate generations of children. After graduating from Winston-Salem State University in Winston-Salem, N. C. in 1968, he embraced the school motto to “enter to learn and depart to serve.” Later he received his master’s degree in Middle School Mathematics from Wayne State University and continued his dream to motivate his students to be the best that they could be. Mr. Stokes has spent time tutoring youngsters and managing after school recreation programs to help develop well rounded young people. He worked with the Detroit Public Schools, Enrichment Program for Institutionalized Children (EPIC) for over twenty years, laboring to support and educate our at risk youth. He was retired in 2008 by his former students but continues to sponsor activities like Girl Talk and Career Day at his former school. After retirement, he has rekindled his love for Afro-American Studies, choosing to convey our Black Heritage to others in a series of romance novels called Saby Stone Stories. Mr. Stokes has received numerous awards for his teaching abilities, including Outstanding Young Man in America, the Booker T. Washington Educators Achievement Award and Teacher of the Year at Corinthian Baptist Church, just to name a few. Mr. Stokes holds most precious, five awards given to him by his former students who recommended him to “Who’s Who Among America’s Teachers” in 1994, 2000, 2002, 2005, and 2006. Teaching for Mr. Stokes is a unique calling from God. He has kept in contact with many of his former students. His doctor, lawyer, accountant, mechanic, banker, insurance agent and florist are all his former students. Mr. Stokes says, “some teachers teach a lifetime and never know what their former students are doing, but I take pride in knowing about my former students’ accomplishments because their success is my success.”

Book preview

Chapter 1

Too Hot To Handle

One great thing about being in the tropics is feeling the cool breezes that blow across the ocean. The absence of a breeze one early August morning made the heat almost unbearable. What little breeze there was felt as if it had been blown across a hot steel-melting furnace. Bermuda’s weather, which was usually subtropical, was in the middle of a five-day heat wave with each day’s temperature in the triple digits. It was Tuesday, August 2nd, and the weather forecast showed no signs of letting up.

Every shaded spot was occupied with a live body or two. Beach chairs and tables followed the slow movement of the shade from the palm trees as the super hot sun moved across a clear sky. The morning clouds had even run for cover to avoid the heat. The water temperature was very hot, like in an El Nino year where the sea surface temperature rises. Make no mistake, the heat was on and for most people, it was too hot to handle. Intense heat can be very powerful, causing people to change their minds and plans. That day, most tourists chose to stay in their air-conditioned hotel rooms rather than enjoy the splendor of Bermuda. The Bermudians, on the other hand, were gearing up for their annual celebration of Emancipation Day and Somer’s Day on Thursday and Friday, despite the heat wave. Freedom is not taken lightly in Bermuda; it is celebrated to its fullness.

The weather was not too hot for Phillip Gee, however. A former Navy Seal on vacation, Phillip had served several tours of duty in the deserts of Iraq and Afghanistan, so the moist heat of the tropics was a welcome feeling. After fifteen years of service in the Navy Seals, he had recently been discharged. Following his vacation, he planned to join his brother Johnnie Gee at their Houston detective agency. Johnnie was a former detective for the Houston Police Department. Together, they would realize their shared childhood dream of becoming what they called Gee Men. When they played as children, Johnnie called himself James Bond 007 and Phillip called himself Q, the guy who invented gadgets for James Bond. Johnnie planned to use his detective skills and Phillip planned to use his invention and computer skills to make a dynamic duo in the anti-crime business. Their sister, Katherine, won a major lawsuit and was helping to make their dream come true by financing their agency.

Phillip was in Bermuda to meet an old college buddy from MIT to enjoy the festivities, re-kindle their friendship, and chase women. His buddy, Howard, who was single like Phillip, was celebrating a round of great financial success on the stock market. Phillip didn’t know much about the company Howard ran with; all he knew was that he was in the banking industry.

Having been in Bermuda since Sunday, Phillip was developing a following of people who watched him go through his morning routine. He would hit the beach early in the morning, wearing a pair of deep pink Bermuda shorts and a panama tan straw hat to cover his recently shaved head to get rid of his military-style hair cut. He would place his hat on a beach chair in the sun and then calculate the movement of the sun on his watch; upon his return from his run, he would find his hat and chair in the shade. He still wore his dog tags on a chain around his neck, leaving his well-developed Navy Seal chest and abdomen exposed to the elements and the eyes of female onlookers.

Though he came to the island with several new linen outfits and a tuxedo, he let a shopkeeper sell him a pair of pink Bermuda shorts.

You know the male Flamingo has the deep pink color so it can attract the females, the shopkeeper said.

Is that true or are you pulling my leg? Phillip replied.

No leg pulling here, Mister. Look at it like this. A round trip ticket to Bermuda—800 dollars, hotel room—200 dollars a night, a pair of Bermuda shorts—100 dollars; running along the pink sand beaches in your pink shorts and attracting the beautiful women of the island—priceless. The shopkeeper let out a roaring laugh.

Now that you put it that way, I’ll take a pair.

It was the best move that Phillip made. He wasn’t intimidated by the color pink because he knew real men could wear pink. He knew he was all man. Besides, he had heard how the colorful male peacock would display his beautiful colors to attract the female peacocks. So, it was his turn now to do the attracting.

He stood outside the Beach House on Horseshoe Bay Beach setting his computerized watch, which he invented to mark his time and set his distance. He planned to run for five miles along the beach. He went through a series of stretches and poses before he started his run. His run was met with many catcalls from the females as he ran. Some ladies would be with their boyfriends, but they would still turn and take a long, hard look. The ladies started calling him Flamingo. He used his photographic memory to remember each lady so if he saw them at the club later, he could start a good conversation about what they were wearing earlier in the day. He knew that women loved a man who paid attention to their clothes and style of dress.

Even though wearing pink didn’t bother him, he was a little self-conscious about the brace he wore on his left ankle. It caused him to have a slight limp in his walk and run. A road side bomb exploded on his last mission in Afghanistan, tearing some ligaments in his ankle. Surgery would end his ability to run and his career with the Seals. He decided against surgery but had to eventually give up being a Seal because of the daily pain.

Returning from his run, he found his beach chair in the shade as usual even though he placed it in the sun before he started his run. His calculations of the sun’s movement were always accurate. He put on his shades and Panama straw hat settling in his chair to relax. He knew that his morning drink would soon be there.

The Beach House waiter’s name was George Daley. George lived in the Big Apple before he retired and moved back home to Bermuda. They hit it off with each other right away. George was giving him the 411 about Bermuda until his friend Howard arrived. George came over, bringing him his daily tropical fruit juice blend.

Phillip savored his tropical juice blend and watched the ladies as they strolled by. Because of his training he had a habit of surveying the area around him. He watched the little things that were going on and listened to the sounds of his surroundings.

There was a group of guys and girls playing touch football at the beach’s edge. For a brief moment, he thought about joining them but decided to continue to unwind.

Down the coastline he could see three figures heading in his direction. There were two gigantic men with a small woman in the middle. They captured his attention and sparked his imagination so he continued to observe them as they got closer.

The men looked like they weighed about 400 pounds each and could have played for any NFL team, but yet they seemed to be bodyguards for a delicate flower in the center. They were massive, but as they got nearer, he realized that they were Samoans. They were wearing white linen pant suits and had on dark shades. Their long hair was pulled back in a single ponytail. Their hands were enormous and rough looking. Their hands reminded him of his Uncle Tony’s hands. Uncle Tony worked construction all of his life and developed rough hands. Uncle Tony could place a walnut in his hand and crush it. He remembered the time when Uncle Tony caught a catfish with its razor sharp fins in one hand and slapped it with the other, snapping its neck. No one messed with Uncle Tony and he figured no one would bother these guys either.

What were two Samoans doing in the Caribbean, he thought. They are a long ways from their South Pacific home.

He was stationed on Samoa once at Anderson Air Force Base in Pago Pago Harbor. He was a crew member of the USS Cheyenne submarine and engaged in testing and inventing top secret defense weaponry. The USS Cheyenne served as a trials platform for flat-screen, interoperative sonar displays, and Phillip was one of the chief technicians and engineers. He was there for nine months before the USS Cheyenne returned to its home base of Pearl Harbor. They left Pearl Harbor and took part in Operation Iraqi Freedom.

While he was stationed on Samoa, he got a chance to interact with the Samoan people. He could recognize one from a distance. His watchfulness of the men as they moved closer almost made him forget about the main ingredient strolling in the middle.

He observed the rose that was between the two gigantic thorns. He had seen many Samoan women while he was stationed there, but never one as beautiful as her. She was wearing a red two-piece swimsuit. Her body was covered with a red mesh net top which stopped midway on her thighs. She was petite, but her thighs appeared to be smooth and well-toned. She had the most gorgeous pair of legs he had ever seen. They weren’t muscular, but appeared to be soft and well-toned, like her thighs. He let his eyes drift up top and saw her stunning beauty. Her complexion was a lovely, golden shade of brown and she had jet black wavy hair flowing free, stopping at her neckline. A single cream colored mini calla lily—which is found in the Pacific—adorned her hair.

She was wearing a pair of designer shades, giving the impression of coolness in spite of the high temperature. The two Samoans were sweating from the extreme heat, but not a drop of sweat appeared on her brow. When a sizzling breeze blew across the ocean, striking her in the face, she smiled, shaking her head from side to side. It was as if she was enjoying the heat and it seemed to give her energy. Her steps sprung softly off the pink sand. The sand would occasionally sprinkle her red sandals with its refined crystals as she strolled slowly toward the scorching midday sun.

His eyes flowed down to her breasts and to his surprise, there was nothing hanging out of her bra like with most of the ladies on the beach. She wasn’t advertising her assets, and there wasn’t a tattoo visible on her body. Her body seemed to be flawless. A dark red sheer glove donned her left hand. He remembered seeing tennis star Serena Williams wearing a sheer glove when she was on South Beach. He wondered if the lady in red was making some type of fashion statement or something.

His eyes made their way to her hips, and his right hand began to shake. He could not believe his eyes. Two neatly tied bows graced each side of her hips.

His mind flashed back to his childhood. Bows had always been a problem for him. As a child, he had an incurable yearning to untie bows. Most of his shoes were always slip-ons. If his shoes had laces, his mother tied them in a double tight knot, making it difficult for his little fingers to untie them. He gave his sisters the flux as they prepared to leave for school nicely dressed, only to find that he had untied their hair ribbons.

This tendency continued until his mother cured him in the first grade. He recalled with a pleasant smile how his mother cured him. She didn’t send him to a psychiatrist for help. There was no Dr. Phil to help him; it was Dr. Mom and Dr. Belt who cured him.

He was waiting in the lunch line, when his classmate Lisa’s new dress caught his attention. She had on a flowery dress with a series of three bows tied in the back. He tried not to untie them, but he couldn’t help himself. One by one he untied them. Lisa ran and told their teacher what Phillip had done.

Word got to his mother, who was volunteering in one of the classrooms, and she made her way toward the cafeteria. When he saw her afar off, coming down the hall, she already had the belt out. He knew he was going to get a spanking. His mother didn’t believe in taking out the belt from her purse unless she was going to use it.

She stared at him and nodded her head toward the bathroom. Phillip didn’t look to his teachers or administrators for help because nothing or nobody could save him. He made his way to the bathroom quickly and stood outside waiting for her to get there. She knocked on the door and the boys inside scattered because they knew if they got in the way once the belt started flying, they might get some, too.

His mother gave him his first and last spanking that day. She warned him that if he ever untied a lady’s bow again, he would get a whipping far worse than the one he’d just received.

The old tendencies had resurfaced. He now had this urge to untie the lady in red’s bows on her swimsuit. In his mind, he could still feel the pain from that day in the first grade, but he knew if he got a chance, he would undo both bows. Here he was feeling vulnerable and attracted to a lady he did not know. She wasn’t winking at him, walking unusually sexy or looking at him, for that matter. She didn’t give him a sexy smile or any other signals of desirability, but he was drawn to her like a magnet to an iron statue of the goddess Venus.

The more he tried to ignore the magnetism he was feeling, the stronger his fascination and curiosity for her grew.

He signaled for George to come over.

Who is that fine lady in red?

She is bad news, Boss Man.

Bad news? Surely a woman as charming as her could be only good news in anybody’s book.

No, please believe me, George said, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was close enough to hear him. She is the devil herself. She is wearing red to let you know she is dangerous.

Devil in a red dress, but … hmm, red can represent passion and fire as well, Phillip replied.

Fire is right! George said. She will consume you in her flames.

Phillip chuckled a little. You can’t be serious.

Serious as a heart attack is to a ninety year old man, and that is deadly serious, George said without cracking a smile.

Okay, let’s assume she is a little dangerous. What else do you know about her?

Well, uh … George cleared his throat to release a nervous frog. She is rich. She can buy anything she wants. She is beautiful beyond the human imagination and she is very sexy. They say that she is a seductress. She can make a man do her will. Many men on the island desire her, but none can say they have possessed her.

She sounds like a mystical lady. What’s her name?

George moved in closer and started whispering. No one knows her name. She rarely speaks to anyone. Her communication is through her trained venomous Samoan brothers who stay by her side day and night.

As Phillip’s interest continued to peak, he asked, How often does she come down here?

She only comes around here when we have a heat wave like this. My cousins who works in the Bahamas and in Jamaica said they saw her there when they were going through a heat wave similar to this. She loves the heat, just like a Deathstalker Scorpion. But she is three times as dangerous. The Deathstalker Scorpion causes heart failure, so you better be extra careful because she will break your heart.

Phillip set back in his chair and allowed his mind to drift for a minute. A big smile came across his face.

Hmm. She likes heat: tropical heat. What a combination, tropical heat and passion. I’ll take mine shaken but not stirred.

She is dangerous! Are you listening to anything I’ve been telling you? What is this ‘shaken but not stirred’ stuff? Do you think you are James Bond or somebody? Well, if you are not going to listen to me remember this one thing about passion. Passion is infectious; once you have a little dab, you’ll always want more.

What’s wrong with more? Phillip asked.

You must be crazy, Boss Man! You’ve worked with computers too long and the motherboard of your brain must be fried. She is too hot for anyone to handle!

I sure would like to fine out, Phillip said.

Too much sun must have driven you mad. Have you paid attention to her twin bodyguards, Samasoni and Samuela? Samasoni is the biggest and most treacherous one. He can disappear and then show up out of the blue.

Phillip realized that a clash with these twin Samoan brothers could be twice as deadly, but he wanted to know more about this sexy seductress.

George went on to tell him about an encounter one of his friends had with the brothers. His friend saw the beautiful red rose without her two thorns and thought that it was a good time to make a move on her. On a dare from his friends, he snuck behind her and pinched her on the behind. He won the bet from his friends, but lost something much more valuable.

Samasoni seemed to appear out of thin air, grabbing him and breaking his arm. He placed the friend in a body lock, cracking seven of his ribs as he threw him out of the club. His friend had to wear a chest cast for six months.

Those guys are dangerous and suspected in several murders on the islands they frequent. No one can prove they committed the crimes because everyone is afraid to talk.

I can understand that, George. Samasoni does remind me of Samson. He looks strong and mighty … I wonder if I cut off his hair if he would lose his strength, Phillip joked.

Don’t be joking and laughing! These guys and that lady are treacherous!

All jokes aside, George, tell me more about these murders. I’m into that type of stuff.

They are called the Bone-Crusher Murders because in each case, some of the victim’s bones are crushed. On Puerto Rico, one guy was found with his skull crushed by one large hand. The authorities say that all the evidence point to the Samoans, but …

But no one has real proof, Phillip said, interrupting George.

Proof or no proof, they’re the ones committing these murders and your girl there that you are admiring is mixed up in it. You keep an eye on them and you’ll believe like the rest of us.

As George was talking, Phillip noticed something that he couldn’t believe happening before his very eyes. The group of young people who were playing football threw a long pass to one of the players. The pass placed the receiver and the ball on a collision course with the trio as they approached the reserved table for them to sit.

Samasoni took off running like a pulling guard trying to protect his quarterback on a quarterback sneak. He hit the young man going for the ball with his shoulder, knocking him into some tourists sitting at a table. Drinks and people were flying everywhere. The other Samoan caught the football in one hand and crushed it with a loud pop.

Phillip was about to spring to his feet to help protect the young man, who was now lying in the sand knocked out cold, but George stopped him by holding him down in his seat.

No … you don’t want to get involved in that. You see how he crushed the football! It could have been somebody’s skull. They are the Bone-Crusher Murderers.

What happened next surprised both Phillip and George. The lady in red took off her shades and stared at the two Samoans as if she had a mesmerizing control over them. Samasoni picked the young man up and sprinkled some water in his face to wake him up. Samuela took out a roll of hundred dollar bills, paid for the football and purchased a round of drinks for everybody.

She then turned and gazed directly into Phillip’s eyes. To his surprise, her eyes were a pale green. His mind raced back to his childhood again.

During his childhood his mother made him help a senior war veteran who lived in the projects next to them. Mr. Harold, as Phillip called him, was his daily work assignment. He stopped by in the morning before he went to school to see what he could do to help Mr. Harold. He took out the trash, washed walls and went to the store as needed. His mother told him that he could not take any money from Mr. Harold. It was to be his community service. She reminded him that the Bible said, I placed the young man together with the old man; the young man for his strength and the old man for his wisdom.

Phillip was to learn how to be a man from Mr. Harold because he never knew his father. He hated going to Mr. Harold’s house because he was old and always played the same song over and over, Green-Eyed Lady. The words came back to him instantly. Green-eyed lady, lovely lady, ocean lady; Strolling slowly towards the sun: Soothing every raging wave that comes: Green-eyed lady, lovely lady, passion’s lady Dressed in love, she lives for life to be; Setting suns and lonely lovers free.

One day, he got up enough nerve to ask Mr. Harold why he played the song so much.

Boy, let me tell ya. I met this here green-eyed lady while I was stationed in the Philippines. I was on one of the remote islands when I saw her walking down the coastline. She was fine as frog hair!

Frog hair? Phillip asked. I’ve never seen hair on a frog.

"That’s how fine it is and