Driven Read Online Free PDF

flapping and snapping. He was about to band the creature’s lively claws when a stirring sensation swirled through
     his head, as if a swarm of bees were using his brain for their hive. His gaze shifted from the lobster toward the sunlight
     sparkling on the nearby wave tops. The dancing light quickly fell into a hypnotic rhythm with the slow rocking action of the
     boat; he could no longer look away or even blink. The rolling of the waves appeared to slow. The sound of water lapping up
     against the side of the boat faded into a low hiss as the natural, conscious world in which he lived once again faded into
     a vision from the unknown.
    In the vision Krogan saw a young woman—a waitress—scribbling orders on a pad as she stood at a table where four businessmen
     were seated, one of them pointing at the open menu in his hand. The waitress was shapely, dressed in khaki shorts, a white
     button-down shirt, and tan canvas boots with matching socks. She looked more like she was dressed for a safari than to wait
     tables. Her brown hair was pulled back in a French braid, revealing a gold,five-point star earring the size of a quarter. Krogan felt a desire to meet her—a hunger.
    As he stared at the vision of the woman, Krogan heard a loud horn blast, then another. The vision began to break up. He blinked
     as the air cleared and the sunlit water reappeared. Overpowering the low rumble of his boat came another blast. He shook his
     head clear and turned in the direction of the intruder.
    That same feeble sailboat had not sufficiently altered its course and was approaching rapidly. The man in the sailboat was
     having a terrible time handling his craft. Krogan was familiar with this particular forty-one-foot Morgan, having seen it
     many times in one of the slips behind the bulkhead in the harbor. An experienced sailor could have handled the boat by himself,
     but this guy was nothing but a rookie. Krogan despised him for that. His repulsion mounted as the man desperately ran back
     and forth trying to compensate for his inadequate skills. The fool had obviously miscalculated the wind and his angle of tack,
     and though he would probably miss hitting the stern of Krogan’s boat, he would be dangerously close. Dangerous for the man,
     that was…
    Krogan could care less about an accident. In fact, he enjoyed the thought and considered making it a reality. His boat was
     much stronger and heavier than the sailboat. He could motor out far enough for his powerful engine to get him to full speed
     and then ram the other craft dead center. He’d cut that wind-sucker in half like an ax through a watermelon, and hopefully
     the rookie with it.
    The Morgan drew closer, entering Krogan’s space. He could see now that the man was not alone. A young woman in a bathing suit
     designed for maximum sun absorption and minimum imagination stood up to see how close they were coming. She had the kind of
     looks most men would desire, but Krogan was unimpressed; if she was entertained by such an idiot as this inept sailor, then
     she deserved to share in whatever calamity befell him.
    “Sorry,” the man yelled in a clumsy attempt at camaraderie as the massive sails of his boat blocked Krogan’s sun and they
     passed within fifty feet of
Shadahd
’s stern. The sexy passenger smiled and mouthed the same feeble apology.
    Krogan wished he could reach out, pull the fool overboard by the throat, and drown him. But no—he would bide his time. For
     now, he would simply send his enemies a message. He stared them both in the eye, raised the three-pound lobster, and in a
     single movement ripped it in half with his bare hands as if it were a prophetic voodoo doll reflecting their own destiny.
     Without the least expression he crushed the tail in his hand, squeezing the raw meat into his mouth while the claws on the
     other half of the animal continued to twitch and snap in phantom reaction.
    The inept sailor’s eyes widened in surprise and his