SHEPHERD WRITING SERVICES

Gloria Shepherd

Award-Winning Screenwriter, Columnist, Author

EXCERPTS

Memorable Moments from The Compound

As Ken spoke, he began to rock her back and forth. There was something strong yet very gentle about him at the same time. She couldn’t believe she could feel this close to someone, so soon. She was fundamentally distrustful of most human beings. Ken, though, was definitely not like anyone she had ever met. She could tell, with him she could close her eyes, lean backwards off a cliff, and he would be there to save her.

Ignoring his threat, she snapped the Beretta from his hand and automatically retracted the slide. She then placed it in her purse’s front compartment, swung the purse over her shoulder, and glared back at him. Russell was something of an enigma to her. At times, he could be so caring and gentle. His long, curly brown hair and strong good looks were very appealing. But at times like this, like when she first met him, he acted like nothing more than a common, hired mercenary.

After she left, Russell turned to him—he had not been amused by her blatant defiance. “I hope you realize, Ken, you’re going to have your hands full, keeping track of her. But…I guess that’s what you want, and she looks ready to confront us with both barrels. Have you changed your mind about her yet?”

“Nope, not yet. She’s behaving exactly the way I’ve been expecting. Claybourne told me Anatoly Volakov is coming to the party tonight. If she is going to make her connection, this should be her chance to come out.”

Both he and Russell personally knew and respected Soviet President Anatoly Volakov. They thought him to be the sternest opponent with whom the U.S. currently had to contend.

“Think of it,” Russell exclaimed, “Carly and President Volakov in the same room. Won’t that be a real kick in the ass if they should meet!”

“Ken, what the fuck is that red-headed woman of yours doing?” Secretary Claybourne shouted. “She is totally out of control, talking to President Volakov’s nephew without security clearance. What are you going to do about it?”

His face reddened. He had never, ever, been called out in front of his men in such a demeaning manner. “Don’t worry. I will take care of it,” he mumbled.

Fate was going against him with a vengeance, however. As he attempted to approach Carly and take her away from the general, President Volakov entered the room and headed for his nephew’s side. He watched helplessly as introductions were made between her and the President. He felt ill, embarrassed, and jealous.

Losing all control was a new experience for him. All the years he had spent studying, working, fighting, stroking whomever needed to be stroked, advancing inch by inch to the top, despite odds to the contrary—the rewards from all those years seemed to be slipping away from him, and he could think of nothing for the present to stop it from happening. He had a monstrous feeling that losing control was only the beginning of many unwelcome experiences he would be dealing with, as long as she remained in his life.

“What are you telling me, Ken? Anatoly wants her to be his guest tomorrow! What does he think we are doing, running a god-damned pimp service?” Claybourne sputtered with rage.


When they entered the suite, he shoved her into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him. This was one time she was not looking forward to being alone with him. She trembled with fear.

“Sit here!” He pushed her down on the sofa. His shove was so hard, she nearly did a backwards flip over the sofa and had to grab onto the cushions to keep from falling over.

She was stunned and had to stifle a scream. He removed his tuxedo jacket, revealing his shoulder holster. She imagined it was his way of reminding her who was in charge. She wondered whether she was about to be beaten with the gun’s butt or quietly shot to death.

For what seemed like an eternity, he stood above her looking down, not saying a word.
She weighed her options as to how to respond to his aggression, and decided the best way to handle the situation was not to react at all. “Do you mind if I have another drink?” she asked. If she were about to be beaten, or worse, she preferred being as numb as possible.

 

HOME  NOVELS BIOGRAPHY CHILDREN'S BOOK THE BLUE LIZARD MOVIE GHOSTWRITING PRESS CONTACT PURCHASE