Authors: Linda Grimes
“What are you doing?” I asked Billy after James left.
“Following orders.” I could hear the grin in his voice.
His shirt floated up, swayed in the air for a few seconds, and dropped to floor. Shoes and socks were next, followed by pants. The metal button undid itself as I stared. The zipper descended, slowly.
Very
slowly. It was a strangely erotic sight.
“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” I said, mesmerized in spite of myself. Who knew
not
seeing nakedness could be titillating?
The zipper was all the way down, the top of his boxer briefs showing. I could see the outline of what was beneath.
Uh-oh. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea…”
The pants dropped, underwear with them, and slid across the floor, kicked aside.
“Billy? Where are you? Say something, damn it!”
I felt his breath on the back of my neck. “I’m right here.”
I spun around and grasped his arms. “We are in my brother’s lab!”
“With over an hour to kill.” He pulled me closer, and I felt warm lips on my neck. If I closed my eyes, it didn’t feel weird at all.
“But”—I made a tiny sound in my throat—“what if he comes back? What if he forgot something? He’s always forgetting things.”
He let me go and stepped away. I was surprised at how disappointed I felt. I mean, I’d never been made love to by an invisible man before. Then I saw the clothing rise up from the floor and float over to the supply closet, where they fell to the floor.
“Coming, cuz?” Billy’s disembodied voice called out.
“What about my claustrophobia?” I said. Even the promise of mind-blowing sex with an invisible Billy couldn’t quite squelch my anxiety.
A few seconds later I felt lips near my ear. “We’ll leave the door open if you want,” he said, and tugged on my hand.
“But—”
“We can close it if we hear James.”
When I didn’t follow him, he picked me up, kissing me deeply as he walked across the room. As good as his word, he left the door open a crack. I still didn’t like the walls so close around me, but the sight of my shirt unbuttoning itself distracted me. Ditto my bra unhooking itself. I kicked off my own shoes. Invisible hands rid me of my jeans and underwear.
I reached out to Billy, trying to keep track of where he was by sense of touch. He took my hands and said, “Uh-uh. I want you to hold on to this shelf”—he lifted my arms over my head and laced my fingers through the thick wire rack of lab supplies—“and, whatever you do, don’t let go.”
“Okay,” I said.
This could be interesting,
I thought, and waited.
And waited. “Billy? Are you still there?” I said, starting to feel a little ridiculous.
Just as I was about to let go of the shelf, I felt a wet heat below my left collar bone. I jutted forward reflexively. And then it was gone. Another pause. My right thigh was next, a kiss, and a swipe of his tongue. Then it too was gone.
More kisses followed, randomly, on my arms, my calves, my neck, my stomach. I never knew where the next one would be, having no visual clues whatsoever. When his tongue dipped into my belly button, I giggled and nearly let go of the shelf.
“Ah-ah-ah,” he said. “I told you to hold on.”
His tongue swept over the tip of of my right breast. I bit my bottom lip. He did the same to the left. That one disappeared briefly when his lips sealed around it—apparently, anything completely inside Billy became a part of him, and was equally camouflaged. I bit my lip harder, but couldn’t keep the moan from escaping.
His mouth abandoned my breast and left a long, wet trail downward. I closed my eyes, concentrating fully on staying upright. I clutched the shelf more tightly, grateful it was bolted onto the wall, because I was pretty sure it was holding all of my weight.
“Billy … I can’t … I need—” My voice was ragged.
He was standing in an instant, pressed fully against me. I could feel his foot between mine, pushing my legs apart. “Hold on to me,” he whispered, his own voice pretty damn raggedy, too. I let go of the shelf and gripped his shoulders, almost laughing when I saw my arms extended over the nothingness in front of me.
Hands grasped my butt and lifted me. I wrapped my legs around hard-muscled thighs, and gasped as he entered me. When he started raising and lowering me, my first thought was,
Damn, he’s strong.
My second thought was, if anybody were secretly filming us, it would be the weirdest sex tape ever.
And then I couldn’t seem to think anymore at all.
When my senses returned, I was on the floor, stretched out atop an invisible Billy mattress. He was lying on the cold tile floor, sparing me the chill.
“That was…” I swallowed, trying to slow my heartbeat.
“Yeah, it was,” Billy’s voice agreed. I could feel his heart pounding in sync with my own.
“You know what?” I said. “I think you may have discovered the cure for claustrophobia.”
Back in Vegas, several three-ounce bottles of James’s magic potion (disguised as mouthwash) secreted in our carry-ons, Billy and I rented the biggest available car with tinted rear windows.
The tinted windows would be important when it came time to drink up and disappear. Much as I hated to hand over the reins, I was forced to admit that it made more sense for Billy to be the designated burglar. Not only did he have (as he took great pains to explain to me) vastly more experience than I did in the field, but we also already knew the formula worked on him.
He hadn’t had much in the way of side effects from his test drive of the potion. He’d been a little weak and woozy as his primary aura reemerged, the same way James had been when he’d initially tested the substance on himself, but Billy had recovered more quickly. James thought that was probably due to the adaptor metabolism being faster than a nonadaptor’s. He’d also dutifully warned us that repeated usage may result in a different outcome. Billy had shrugged it off, of course. He’d weighed the risks, decided the odds were in his favor, and didn’t dwell on the negative possibilities. In other words, exactly how he approached life in general.
My job was to distract the guards at the front of the house for the thirty or so seconds Billy figured he’d need to get in the front door. He’d found out, through some contacts of dubious character at the home security company monitoring Gunn’s alarm system, what kind of lock he’d be dealing with, and was happy to learn it wasn’t top of the line. Guess Gunn figured his guards were enough of a deterrent to any would-be infiltrators.
Once Billy was in, I was to wait forty-five minutes, then distract the guards again, so he could get out. It didn’t seem like enough time to thoroughly search such a large house, but Billy assured me he was up to the task. He’d learned to be fast and methodical when riffling through other people’s belongings.
“This time it’ll be a piece of cake, because I won’t have to worry about being seen,” Billy said as I drove us to Gunn’s exclusive neighborhood. His eyes were shining, excitement buzzing off him.
“But what if Jack is in his office?” I said.
“It wouldn’t be any fun if there were no risk involved,” Billy said.
“Just going in is risky enough. What if you start to reappear before you find it?” Back at James’s lab, it had taken a little over an hour for Billy’s primary aura to return, but who knew for sure whether the results would prove consistent?
He gave my hair a tug. “It’ll be okay, cuz.”
I took a deep breath. “All right, then,” I said, unable to think of another reason to stall. “Let’s get this thing over with.”
“Bottoms up,” Billy said, lifting the bottle, his dimples betraying exactly how much fun he was having.
* * *
Once Billy was naked (i.e., invisible), I opened the back door and let him out. I’d parked down the road, between two other gated estates, so no one would know exactly which house the car was visiting. Billy would scale the fence (tall, but not impossibly so) and make his way to the front door while I gathered together my supplies: a small, fluffy dog, a long leash, and a cane.
We’d thought long and hard about what I could do that would pull the guards away from their posts without making them call the police for backup, and had finally decided to go with appealing to their humanitarian instincts. The sidewalk in front of the fence was visible, barely, from the front of the house. What strong man would be able to resist running to the aid of a poor little old lady who’d taken a fall while walking her dog?
Or, if they were not inclined to be helpful for humanitarianism’s sake, fear of a lawsuit might be enough to motivate them.
Toddling along with my cane, projecting the aura of one of my favorite great-aunts, I used a doggy treat to coax Mr. Snuggles (a Pomeranian pup borrowed from a showgirl friend of Billy’s) into circling my legs a few times with the leash. As I “fell,” I let loose a piercing scream and tossed the treat through the fence. Mr. Snuggles dove after it, yapping his tiny head off.
“Help!” I shrieked at the top of my lungs. And then, yes, I said it: “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”
All three guards came running. One picked up Mr. Snuggles and unhooked his leash while another started unwinding it from around my legs.
“Are you all right, ma’am?”
“I don’t know what happened. Mr. Snuggles”—I saw no reason to change his name—“has never done anything like that before.”
“Joe, call an ambulance—”
“No!” I said, looking past them. I saw the front door open enough for a person to slip through, and then close again. “I’m fine, really I am.” I got to my feet with impressive agility for such an old lady, and walked a few steps. “See? Perfectly all right.”
“If you’re sure…” the guard who’d been at the door said.
“Oh, quite. If you’ll hand me my precious Mr. Snuggles, we’ll be on our way. So sorry to disturb you. I feel awful about keeping you from your work.”
Yeah, right. Big fat lie. Surely God would make allowances.
The men, evidently realizing they’d left the whole front of the house unprotected, let me go on my way, one of them gently admonishing me to keep the leash shorter in the future. After I was certain they were back at their posts, I slipped into the car, hunched down so I couldn’t be seen, and dropped Aunt Audrey’s aura. When I saw her at Christmas, I’d have to be sure to tell her about her adventure.
Precisely forty-five minutes later (most of which I spent playing solitaire on my phone), I moved the car directly in front of Gunn’s house. Leaving the engine running and the back door open, I trotted to the farthest edge of the estate and threw a flash-bang grenade as far as I could with the athlete’s aura I had obtained from Billy. All the guards went running toward the explosion. I hied my ass to the car and waited.
I heard an
oomph
as Billy hit the backseat.
“You in?” I said.
“Go!”
I stomped on the accelerator as the door slammed. Once we were off the street Billy told me to slow down, that I’d attract more attention by speeding. The adrenaline coursing through me made it difficult, but I managed to ease my foot off the pedal.
“So,” I said. “Couldn’t find it?”
“Oh, I found it, all right,” he said.
“Really? I didn’t notice anything floating through the air before you got to the car. Where is it?”
“Trust me, cuz, you don’t want to know.”
Yikes.
* * *
Billy was visible once more when he emerged from our hotel bathroom after his shower. He had a short cylindrical tube and a look of relief on his face.
“Don’t worry. I washed it thoroughly,” he said.
“Ew. Did you know you’d have to do that?” I asked, now supremely grateful he’d insisted on handling that aspect of the job.
“A floating flash drive might make somebody nervous,” he said.
“Couldn’t you have carried it in your mouth?”
The look he gave me was priceless. “Damn. Never occurred to me.” He shrugged it off. “Just as well. What with the running and hopping fences, I might have choked on it, anyway.”
“So, where’d you find the tube?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Took it in with me. ‘Always prepared,’ that’s my motto.” He unscrewed the top and poured the small flash drive onto the table. “Okay, let’s take a look at this thing and see what our bad boy has been up to.”
I plugged the drive into a USB port on my laptop and started clicking. We read rapidly, sitting side-by-side on the bed, stopping a few times to give each other we-did-
not
-just-see-that looks.
“Whoa,” I said when we were done. “Jack sure gets around.”
“That he does,” Billy said. I wasn’t sure I liked how impressed he sounded. When he saw my eyes roll, he added, “What? You have to admire his stamina, if not his dimensions. And Angelica’s foresight. Including those video clips was genius—words might fade in Hollywood, but, oh, how images linger.”
“No shit,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “If Jack thought Angelica would make these public…”
Billy nodded. “The trouble is, the same could be said for Lily-Ann. We know for a fact that
she
knew about this file. And all we have is her word that Jack knew about it. I can’t see where this is going to help her at all, no matter how innocent your gut thinks she is.”
My cell phone buzzed. “Crap. It’s Nigel. I have to tell him.”
I explained that our efforts hadn’t been exactly helpful to his client, but told him not to worry, we were hatching another plan. “I can’t get more specific on the phone, but … tell you what, we’re headed back to L.A. We’ll talk then.”
“I hope your new plan is speedy,” Nigel said, “because someone—maybe Gunn, maybe the Conrads—is putting a lot of pressure on the court to revoke Lily’s bond, claiming she’s unstable and an extreme flight risk.”
“But why? They know she couldn’t have been the shooter at the funeral—shouldn’t that help her cause?” I said.
“I’m afraid not. They’re now speculating that she’s working in collusion with someone. The district attorney would like to see her behind bars in order to cut off any unsupervised contact with her supposed confederates.”