INVITING FIRE (A Sydney Rye Novel, #6) (12 page)

Hours later I walked over to Barry's house, feeling stronger after several strong cups of coffee and a big breakfast of eggs and bacon. When I arrived at his villa the door was open and I heard Moken's cackle. Knocking on the door I called out, "Hello."

"Out here, Sydney," Barry called in his gravelly voice, made that way by years of smoking.

And not just cigarettes, honey,
Barry had told me once with a wink.

I found Moken and Barry smoking on the balcony. Barry was wearing his usual cut-off jean shorts and a tight T-shirt, a scarf wrapped around his shaved head. The man had the legs of Tina Turner and the gut of Homer Simpson. "We came up with something brilliant," he told me, looking over at Moken.

She grinned and nodded, smoke swirling around her.

"Great," I said. "What is it?"

Barry put out his cigarette in the ashtray and waved his hand around his head, chasing away the lingering smoke. "Come," he said. "I'll show you."

Blue and I followed him back inside. His villa was laid out with a central seating area with two couches facing each other. An open kitchen was to our left as we walked in. There were three bedrooms. Two off the kitchen and the largest room on the opposite end of the building. Barry led me into the master suite, which was filled with racks of clothing and two sewing machines. Rolls of fabric leaned against the wall and metal racks held folded clothing.

Barry went over to one of the work stations and picked up a bikini bottom, grinning. Moken had followed us in and stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, also grinning. "Okay," I said, not seeing anything particularly special about the deep gray boy short bottoms.

"Looks like any bikini," Barry said, turning it around so that I could see it from every angle.

"Yup," I said, smiling, feeling like I was at a magic show.

Barry choked up on the shorts, narrowing in on the back tag. "Come," he said, waving me over. I closed the space between us, Blue tilted his nose up to the shorts and sniffed. "Look," Barry said, holding the tag out to me. It was sewn into the bottoms. "Feel it." I reached out and felt that there was something in it.

"A blade," Moken said behind me.

"Yes," Barry said, his voice rising with excitement as he turned the fabric and pushed at the hard edge. A razor blade's slim cutting edge peeked out from behind the tag.

"Cool," I said. "Very cool."

"Yes," Barry said, handing me the shorts and turning toward his racks of clothing. He began to push aside the hangers, which clicked as he searched. I pushed the razor all the way out. Its blunt side was coated with a black texture. It had been dipped into Moken's own creation. She wouldn't tell any of us what it was, but boy did it make handling razor blades easier.

Barry found what he was looking for and turned around with a flourish, holding out a beautiful dark blue kimono, embroidered with small silver stars. He held up one of the wide sleeves. "I'm going to put them in here, too," he said. "Right into the sleeves."

"Great," I said, reaching out to touch the beautiful silk garment. Barry pushed it at me and I caught it from him as he turned to his stacks of clothing on the racks.

"Of course, I've put two into your wet suit."

"What about gloves?" I said. "And climbing shoes."

Barry didn't turn around as he answered. "I know, I know. I have them here. Pure black, just like your heart, honey." He laughed as he reached up onto his tiptoes to grab at a shoe box on the top of the shelving unit, his fabulous calves coming into sharp relief.

"Don't forget," he said. "We also have to dress you for a cruise." He turned around, his eyes wide with excitement.

I just laughed.

########

M
oken zipped up the wet suit for me. It was black and shiny, just like the side of the ship I'd be climbing. I pulled the hood up over my hair, pushing stray strands into it. Barry smiled at me, a hand resting on his hip. He bounced on one foot, shaking his hip as he thought. "It works," he said with a shrug. I turned to the mirror and looked at myself. I stood in front of Barry, Moken to my side, a sea of clothing and fabric our backdrop. My face was framed by the black hood, an oval of pale skin in a suit of night.

The gloves came over the suit at my wrists, up to the forearm, but they lay flat and close, barely noticeable as a separate component. At my ankles the pants hooked around the base of my shoes, leaving a half moon of flesh exposed. I'd refused to let Barry put socks on me. I needed to feel this climb and I couldn't do that with an extra layer over my feet.

The only thing that disrupted my silhouette were the guns strapped to my thighs. Spray-painted matte black they were not small pieces. You can only make a tranquilizer so petite. Each gun held two darts.
An incentive for excellent marksmanship,
Merl remarked. He wasn't the one who might have to take aim with gloves on. But he wouldn't let me take a real gun. One that fired bullets, the kind that could kill people.

I turned to my side, looking at the small pack on my back, covered in the same material as the wet suit. It was a hard case, with padding inside that held my equipment in place.

"Practice now," Moken said.

I dropped the bag over one shoulder and lowered to my knees, resting it on the ground. A second later I’d opened the clasp, the latch large and easy to maneuver even with the dulled senses of my gloved fingers. I inhaled as I grasped the suction cups and stood again, exhaling as I suctioned them onto the mirror simultaneously. I swung the lid closed and it locked back into place automatically. Swinging the pack onto my back I turned back to the suction cups.

"Good," Moken said smiling. "Now let's see you do it on the Jet Ski."

I laughed. "Merl actually made me practice on a raft in the pool so don't joke, he might just fly one in."

Barry and Moken laughed. "I want to see you use the blade," Barry said.

I turned to him. "I am in so much shit if this is the thing that saves me. I'm not even supposed to see another person let alone get close enough to cut them."

"Come on," Moken encouraged. She'd showed me how to pull the small razorblades from within the cuffs of the wet suit. Hidden under my wrist the small squares of blade were hardly noticeable. Barry had sewn in plastic on the inside of the suit to protect me from the sharp edges. I loved feeling them there. A little bit of extra security.

"Fine," I agreed, smiling.

I pulled off the first glove, the material reluctant to leave my skin. And then the second, tucking them into the belt at my waist. Extending my fingers I slid my hands across each other and up my wrists, reaching forward with my pointer and middle digits until I felt the rough ends of the blades. I gripped them both simultaneously, pushing the pads of my middle fingers against the nails of my pointers, catching the blades between the two. Careful to keep the blades flat as I removed them from their sheaths. Once they'd cleared the material I moved my hands apart. Then bringing my middle fingers to the side, rotating the blades with them. I pressed my thumbs up to meet the middle fingers and finished the blades’ rotation, securing each one between my thumbs and the sides of my pointer finger. The rough grip pressed into my flesh. I checked the mirror. My elbows bent, arms shoulder-width apart, blades glinting. Yup.

Barry clapped.

I replaced the blades and bowed to Barry. "Thank you," I said.

He laughed so hard he started coughing. He waved us off. "I'm fine," he wheezed. "Now let's try on some dresses."

T
he morning of my departure brought storms. I woke from the clap of thunder, choking, feeling phantom fingers on my throat. I heard a voice whisper that I was being betrayed.

Mid-day arrived in a blaze of sunshine. Barry hugged me goodbye when he gave me my suitcase. "You come back now, you hear me," he said, holding onto my shoulders and looking into my face. His eyelashes were dusted in purple and his lips shone with gloss.

"Of course," I said, smiling. "You'd be surprised how hard I am to kill."

Barry pursed his lips. "Impossible," he announced before enveloping me in another hug.

"Come on," Daniela said from the doorway. "This weather isn't going to last forever and we have a schedule."

I picked up my suitcase. It looked like money, brown leather with copper zippers. Barry had dressed me in a white structured dress that hugged my curves and had wings at the waist, accentuating my hips. Of course, I needed a big white sun hat. The red leather heels matched my handbag. Barry's idea of what a woman of means and appetite would wear. The dress was tailored and if there is one thing that makes you look like money, it's clothing made to fit.

Daniela and I followed the paths through the compound to the helicopter pad. Blue stayed close to me. He had done so for the last couple of days, sensing that change was coming. The suitcase confirmed his suspicions. We passed through a high gate overrun with vines. On the other side was a cement pad with a big H on it, the paint having faded to a pale yellow in the sun.

The helicopter sat still in the bright light. It was black with silver accents. With its blades settled toward the ground, it seemed hunkered down. At rest. I mentally prepared myself for the flight ahead, steeling myself against the fear that lingered there. I didn't want to crash and burn.

Daniela took my bag and, opening the back door, placed it on the far seat. Blue jumped up and took the other seat. Walking behind them, I kept my head low even though the blades were still. My heels made me taller and I felt slightly unsteady as I crossed the hot pavement, my left hand holding my hat in place. Daniela was already in the pilot’s seat by the time I got my door open. She was flicking switches and looking at her instruments. I had to hike up my dress to climb up into the helicopter.

When I was strapped in and settled, with my skirt pulled back down my thighs, I took off the hat and flung it on top of my suitcase. Blue lounged in his seat, sitting up but resting against the back of the chair, his body toward the window so that his blue eye faced me. The iris was surrounded by white, then caramel, and finally a ring of black fur.

I secured padded ear phones over my head and angled the microphone so that it was in front of my mouth. "Don't forget," Daniela said. She was holding out a black eye mask with extra padding at the bottom so that when I slipped it over my head I was in total darkness. I'd never be able to lead anyone back here because I didn't know where it was. The blades began to rotate, building up speed, the sound rising but muffled by the headphones. "Here we go," Daniela said. I felt the lift, the shifting of weight as we took off. Breathing steadily I relaxed my muscles and cleared my mind.

A
n hour and a half later Daniela told me to take off my blindfold, her voice coming through the headphones, underneath the sound of the rotators ricocheting through the air. I blinked against the light, holding up a hand to shield myself from the sun. It hovered about forty degrees off the horizon. White clouds shadowed in gray were moving toward it, seeming to come from both sides.

"We're almost there," Daniela said. Her aviator shades reflected the scene in front of her, giving it a blue veneer, as if the whole world had been dipped into oil the color of Slurpees. "You need to see this," she said.

I looked down at the landscape we were passing over. Pastures, dirt roads, SUVs coated in dust, plumes of brown spraying behind them. White cows with gray accents, a bit like the clouds, munched on long, bright green grass that swayed away from the wind we pushed around.

Then we were over the coast and Daniela turned us north, so that the sun shone from beyond her, lighting up her hair like a halo and making her skin glow.

The shoreline was scalloped, the beaches scoops of sand cut between rocky outcroppings. Waves rolled in across the Pacific, arching up as they passed between the sentinels. The rocks broke the waves’ steady progression, causing the smooth lines to turn white and frothy before crashing against the sand, rushing up the beach, reaching every little tendril forward, pushing every bubble as far as it would go, before gravity pulled it all back.

There were buildings in the shade of the palm trees that lined the beach, a road behind them running straight up the coast. "This is where you'll come tomorrow," Daniela said. I looked down at the town. It was a stripe of buildings, mostly low and hidden under trees, just their roofs peeking through here and there, catching a bit of the sinking sun.

I nodded. The town was a stop on the cruise. Our boat would be heading north to south. We’d dine at a secluded cove along the coast and then continue to here, where we'd enjoy some time at a beach club and luxury spa. It was all a part of a sybaritic weekend getaway. Nothing wrong with it.

The town disappeared behind us as we approached a peninsula, waves crashing onto its tip in spectacular sprays, like long-haired sirens rising from the sea, arching back, and splashing down. The display was violent but beautiful, dangerous but alluring.

On the other side was a protected cove. "There's
Goldilocks
," Daniela said. In the shade provided by the high cliffs the yacht floated on still water. The silver and black markings made it look almost like a shark. It looked big from the air—and tall. As we passed over it I turned to stare back.

We flew over another beach, this one was less developed. The road seeming to peter out and the houses stopped as we passed over another peninsula. "This is where Lenox's boat will be tonight." I looked down at another protected cove, the emerald water shimmering up at me.

We travelled north for another fifteen minutes before reaching a protected bay where Lenox's boat
Satisfaction
was anchored. I'd seen the picture but even without it I could have picked it out as belonging to Lenox Gold. Two rounded ends, a high bow and stern, shiny mahogany and brass fixtures, white spotless decks. Well-built, seaworthy and elegant.

We flew over it, close enough that I could see a man mopping the deck. His muscular frame was clothed in white thigh-length shorts, a sailor's shirt and cap. As we passed over he raised an arm, showing off some serious guns, and waved at us.