INVITING FIRE (A Sydney Rye Novel, #6) (16 page)

I nodded. "More than a legend. Sounds impossible."

He reached over and took my hand. "You are a woman. One of the finest I've ever known. And it is because of who you are that you've become a legend." He rubbed his fingers along my palm and maintained eye contact. His gaze was hot and hungry. I felt flush. "Come," Lenox said as he stood, pulling me from my chair. He took away my glass of wine and put it on the side table. Then he led me back to his bed.

T
he next day the whole party went on land for a day at the beach. Most of the women were hung over and quickly set about drinking again. They wore bikinis and jewelry while resting on the white-cushioned chaise lounges that fronted the open restaurant with it white tablecloths and tall wine glasses. I felt restless, like everything had gone too smoothly, like I hadn't accomplished enough. Blue and I took a stroll. I walked along the water’s edge, letting the warm waves of the Pacific rush over my feet. Blue ran ahead of me, then turned and sprinted back in my direction, tongue hanging from his head.

When we got back to the restaurant most of the women were seated, ordering their lunch. Just a few couples remained on the chaise lounges, their bodies glistening in the sun. A man came out from the restaurant and walked up to me. I went to step around him but he blocked my path to the bar.

The man was about six feet tall wearing khaki pants and a scoop-necked black T-shirt. He was wearing mirrored aviators, which had slid down his nose in a slick of sweat. He pushed them up when I smiled at him and placed a hand on my hip. "You're coming with me," he said, his accent American.

I leaned toward him placing my hand on his forearm and squeezing lightly with my fingertips. "I think you've got the wrong person." He was looking at my breasts now, his eyes following the trail of a small bead of sweat as it traveled down my chest.

"Pretty sure you are who I'm here for. That your dog?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Blue, who had circled behind him. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. "Juan Carlos would like to speak with you," he said, his smile widening.

I went to walk past him but he reached out and grabbed my arm. Blue growled low and threatening. The man held up a muzzle. "Put it on him." I didn't say anything. "We can do this the hard way..." he said, his grip tightening on my arm.

I looked up at his face. Sweat had beaded in his thick hair and trickled down his forehead, following a fold around the side of his face and continuing down his cheek.

"Don't," I said with a little shake of my head, "threaten me." Blue growled from where he stood on the man's other side. The man turned and looked at Blue, then over at three men who were approaching us from down the beach. He turned back to me and smiled, his mirrored sunglasses reflecting back my face, cast mostly in shadow by the sun over my shoulder. I could feel the hot rays burning my skin. It felt good compared to the growing coldness in my gut as I looked at his smile. Like he didn't think I would win. I wasn't afraid he was right, I was afraid he was going to make me kill him to prove him wrong.

The men closed in on us. Blue faced the one closest to him, hackles raised, but silent, waiting for my command. The newcomers formed a circle around us. "You really want to do this here?" I asked, looking up at the first man. I could see that everyone reflected in his shades was looking at us. The couples lazing about on chaise lounges, the kids playing in the sand. I looked past the man to the bar. Lenox was watching me, his face calm, curious almost. "All right then," I said.

He nodded to his men. All three came forward at once—not total idiots, they weren't going to line up to get knocked down. "Free, quiet," I said to Blue. His tail wagged with anticipation.

There was a guy behind me whom I could see coming in shithead’s glasses. There was one to my right and one to my left. None were holding weapons that I could see. Didn't mean I wouldn't see one. Lord knew they wouldn't see mine.

Blue could take care of the one to my left. I had the other two plus the one holding onto my arm. Big men, about to go down hard, this is what I lived for. I took in a deep breath, feeling the sand under my feet, hearing the waves crashing behind me. Then, dropping low, I wrenched myself free from the first man's hand, twisting my arm against his thumb. I crouched down and picked up a handful of sand with my left hand using my right to slip the razor blade from where it was tucked in the waistband of my bikini. Twisting up I released sand into the guy on my right's face and continued my rotation until my back was to shithead. I kicked out hard behind me, connecting with the man's stomach and sending him falling back against an umbrella.

Blue lunged at the one approaching on the left and the man stumbled back. Blue kept going, teeth snapping at the air. He was trying to make the guy draw out his weapon so that he knew what he was dealing with. Blue wasn't the only one using that tactic. The guy in front of me went to punch me but I sidestepped right, twisting my body and slashing out at his arm as it flew by me, sending a spray of blood through the air. He whipped it back, bringing his arms up into a fighting stance, suddenly realizing what he was dealing with.

His friend with the face full of sand slowed, too. Blue was still snapping behind me pushing his guy back to the shoreline. I put my hands up, matching their stance. Stealing a glance to check on their boss I saw him panting on the ground holding his gut, his expression pained.

The two men I was facing were both Hispanic, the one I'd cut was younger and taller but both looked serious as fuck. I didn't think I could let them land one blow or I might be done. I backed away. "You can let me leave and I won't scar either one of you," I said. They didn't even flinch.

I felt commotion by the bar and looked up to see more men coming through the restaurant and out to the beach. Lenox followed them. The boss man got back to his feet and pulled a gun. His glasses had stayed on. "Let's go," he said, his voice rough. I whistled for Blue. He turned on his hindquarters and bolted back to me, leaving deep divots in the sand. Slipping the razor back into my waistband, I smiled.

"What's the problem?" Lenox asked. "This woman is my guest."

"It's okay," I said to Lenox, changing tactics. Somehow these men knew to come here and find me. They knew about Blue. I decided I wanted to find out how.

The man I'd kicked stepped forward to take my arm, the gun low and close to his stomach. "I just need to grab my kimono," I said, letting him lead me over to my chaise lounge where I'd left the silk gown. I picked it up and folded it over my hand, pulling one of the blades out.

The man I'd cut came up close to the one holding me. He whispered in the boss's ear. I held up the first blade. "Here you go," I said.

They both smiled and the younger one took it from me.

T
he spray came over the side of the small boat, warm and frothing. I faced forward letting the wind push my short hair around, whipping it at my ears. The scars on my face tingled in the wind. Juan Carlos's yacht seemed to approach us rather than the other way around as the launch fought through the chop.

Blue was next to me, the muzzle on his snout making it clear these guys were looking for us. I looked back at the other passengers. There was Lenox, looking relaxed, his chin tilted slightly toward the sun. Under the Bimini the boss was at the helm in the center console, his aviator shades reflecting the scene before him in bright blues and oranges. My own figure was elongated, all shining limbs and fluttering hair. Blue looked like his coat was made of rainbows.

The other men sat in a row behind him, shoulder to shoulder, the one to the left looking just a little bit uneasy. The guy to the right, nudged the one in the middle and said something. He nodded and the guy rose, holding onto the rail to steady himself as he made his way toward me. Stopping at the helm he grabbed something from the shelving. A roll of duct tape I saw when he stood up again. Everywhere you go, I thought, they always bring out the duct tape.

First he bound Lenox. His thick arms behind him, wrists together, forcing him to sit sideways on the bench. The guard came for me next. I offered my wrists, holding them up so the man wouldn't even have to stoop down. But he smiled at me and shook his head. It was practically square and his dark hair fell from its center in a Frankenstein fashion. "Behind you," he said.

I stood, a wave hitting us then, so that I fell against the man, letting my kimono drop open and allowing his forearm to brush against my hip. He smiled larger and I saw a gold tooth as I gazed up at him and my forearm brushed a gun on his side. I regained my balance, using his shoulders to steady myself. He just stared down at me.

It would have taken me less than ten seconds to send him overboard, his gun staying in my hand, but instead I turned around, offering him my wrists to bind. After all, how would I find out any answers if I didn't get to ask any questions? It's always good to give your enemy a chance to underestimate you. Besides, I was really trying not to kill anyone this time.

W
hen we got to the ship they took Lenox and me into separate rooms, keeping Blue with me. A new man, one carrying a semi-automatic machine gun and wearing a blue windbreaker, showed me to the dirty room they expected to scare me. We were in the bowels of the ship and I could hear the hum and click of machinery. Seemed like a dumb place to shoot off guns but I'm no yacht expert.

He pushed me into a small room and I pretended to stumble. He grabbed me by the hair and yanked me back, the tension bringing tears to my eyes. "On your knees," he said. I did as he asked. Keeping my thumb on the top ridge of the razor. My pointer and middle fingers ready to take aim. The gun was still held to his chest though. As long as it didn't go near my or Blue's heads I'd let him keep his artery intact.

He stepped away from me. "Turn around," he said. I shuffled on my knees to face him. The floor was grimy and I felt small beads of metal and glass under my knees mixing with the sand and sunscreen already there. The room was painted yellow, made of great riveted pieces of metal, thick pipes running along its walls. A caged fluorescent bulb lit the space.

"You see that?" the man with the semi-automatic gun asked me, pointing to the floor. There was a drain near my knee. "That's for the blood," he said.

"Smart," I said.

Blue, who'd stood by waiting for a sign, let out a low growl now, signaling that more people were coming. A moment later the door—an oval ship's door, with a wheel at its center—opened. Two more men came in. They were both young, scowling and looking tough. One went at Blue with a leash. Blue looked at me and I gave him a small nod, removing the razor from its hiding place. The one with the machine gun turned to me. "You're going to tell us everything we need to know," he said.

I heaved a frightened sounding sigh, letting it shudder out of me. "Please don't hurt my dog," I said, and waited for him to come closer. "Isn't there any way I can convince you?"

I worked the blade up through the tape, the sound of the tearing seemed loud to me but nothing crossed any of the men's faces. The guy had the leash on Blue and yanked him forward. Blue followed easily so that the man fell back a little, surprised by the give. When he recovered he looked over at me. "We are going to kill him if you don't talk."

"Give me five minutes with her," the machine gun man said, waving the other guy off.

The two men laughed but the one holding Blue looked a little nervous. They'd been told not to underestimate me but they just could not help themselves. "What do you want to know?" I asked. "I'll tell you."

"Go on," the machine gun man said, his eyes getting heavy.

They got Blue out the door, closed it again, the whirl of the latch and it was just the two of us. He took another step toward me. I heard yelling, Blue's nails scratching on the metal floor. One more step, I willed. The man in front of me raised his foot. I set my shoulders, got my toes under me.

A gunshot rang in the hall. I listened for the sound of Blue's nails. A whine? The man in front of me paused. Another shot. I watched as the man turned to the door. Wasn't close enough, I reminded myself, breathing slowly, concentrating on the task at hand. No sound of Blue. Then the door was open, the man began to raise his machine gun but instead the side of his head exploded. He fell sideways, his body trying to follow the path of the bullet but crumpling instead. Mist from the wound settled on my exposed skin.

Robert Maxim stood in the doorway, one foot in, a black pistol smoking in his outstretched arm. Blue bounded past him into the room. Maxim followed.

He stood over me. My vision was blurred by the droplets of blood that clung to my lashes. This can't be real, I thought.

"You said you were leading," Robert said. "I figured that meant you wanted me to follow," he finished. I heard footsteps running. Robert turned, stepped out into the hall and fired three times. The bodies clanged when they hit the ground. "Stand up," he said to me.

Blue came to my side and pushed at me with his still-muzzled snout. Keeping the blade between my fingers I rose to my feet. Bobby crossed the room and reached out, wrapping his arm around my waist. I could not tell if it was real.

He kissed me on the forehead. I didn't move, hardly breathed. Was this my dream, come back to me during the day? "Say my name," I whispered.

"Which one?" Robert asked, his eyes smiling. The smell of blood overwhelmed the heavy scent of diesel in the small room. He was wearing a suit, and there were droplets of blood on his white shirt. Robert Maxim's eyes were intense, hair just a little out of place. I looked up at him and wanted those cruel lips to crash down on me. To hurt me. Blue let out a low growl of warning and I steadied the blade in my hand.

Maxim reached into his interior pocket, keeping his gun arm around my waist, holding me close to him. I kept my hands behind my back, keeping up the impression that I was bound. But there was nothing to stop me from slicing him open, running the blade right up his thigh. Robert pulled out a thin envelope. "I addressed the invitation to Sydney Rye," he said, holding it for me to see my name scrawled across its front. "I thought to leave it on your sleeping body but," he smiled, "I thought you would appreciate this delivery."