"I'll leave you handcuffed to that chair. Forever!" Darla marched closer. "Sit down!"
Fancy complied, watching the other woman closely. She didn't know much about handcuffs, but from what she saw on television, it took two hands to apply them. Of course, the raving maniac could just order her to put them on or shoot her. She would refuse, and they would be back at the same place in the ongoing argument as they stood right now.
Sure enough, Darla spun around to grab the handcuffs. For a second, her attention diverted. It was enough.
Fancy launched herself at the woman, grabbed her wrist in a vise grip, and shoved her arm upward. Self-preservation and rage surged, merged, and exploded inside her like a long dormant volcano erupting for the first time in centuries, adding power to charge her assaulter.
Bang!
The deafening sound surged adrenaline into her system, giving her the strength to struggle with the slightly heavier and larger boned woman. Shoving the redhead against the wall, she slammed her forearm into the woman's throat, still holding onto the gun hand tightly. Years of pent-up anger fed the fire, pumping in fresh waves of single-minded determination. Self-defense lessons flashed through her mind. Don't let go of the arm, and disable the opponent by hitting him in places that will send him to the ground. Although this him happened to be a her, giving Fancy one less body area to aim for.
Darla yelled, sinking her teeth into Fancy's arm, her legs lashed out, landing several blows to Fancy's shins and one glancing blow to her knee. Sharp nails clawed at Fancy's arms, wrist, and hand in a desperate bid for freedom.
Yanking her arm back, Fancy half turned, earning her release from those vicious teeth.
"You bitch."
"Better than the psycho you are." Fancy snarled between clenched teeth as she absorbed a punch to the gut from the other woman.
A thunder of footfalls raced to the room, shouts and screams following.
Fed up, Fancy gathered her energy. Taking a chance, she removed one hand from the woman's wrist and slammed it into her windpipe.
Darla crumbled to the floor, clutching her throat, with loud wheezing and choking sounds.
Knocking the gun away, Fancy spun around and kicked the prone woman in the kidneys. "That's for traumatizing a good guy." She repeated the action. "That's for scaring the pee out of me."
A flood of people scurried into the room. Out of the corner of her eye, Fancy saw Mitch stomp on Darla's wrist and kick the gun aside before yanking his pants on, zipping them quickly before reaching for his discarded shirt. A severe frown covered his face, a sure sign of leashed fury.
Fancy lashed out once more. "And that's for being a selfish nutcase."
A security officer pushed through the crowd. "Out of the way!" He stopped at Fancy's side. "What's going on here?"
Fancy panted from the physical exertion. "She tied up Mitch and threatened to kill me." Waving her hand, she continued. "The gun slid under the bed."
"Why?" an older lady with blue hair asked.
"She was obsessed with him. A true stalker." Fancy met Mitch's gaze, relieved he seemed to be okay. Physically. Poor guy. Emotionally, he had to be a bit rattled. She kicked at Darla once more for good measure, knowing Mitch wanted to but wouldn't.
"He's mine, I tell you. Mine!" Darla weakly protested.
"The bottle contains bitter almonds. She said she left a pitcher of toxic water in Fancy's room, would make sure she drank some if I didn't cooperate." Mitch's voice sounded steady despite his ordeal. The tone helped soothe Fancy's already frayed nerves.
A collective gasp carried across the room. People turned to stare at the items on the table, then back to the woman madder than a wet hen.
Ignoring the handcuffs waiting on the dresser, an older guy yanked a pair from his back pocket and slapped them on Darla, before dragging her stumbling to her feet.
Fancy stared in stunned silence. Darla was going to kill her?
No sooner had that small revelation hit than she watched as the man who had looked at her like common trash for an entire day of Genome Project presentations now took the bull by the horns and cuffed the deranged woman.
When did I enter the Twilight Zone?
As if reading her mind, the guy pulled out his wallet. "Jones. FBI. We've been tracking this one for a while."
Huh?
"But, you're a researcher…" The words tumbled out of her mouth.
He shot her a quick grin. "All a cover, lady." Pulling Darla to the side, he looked at Mitch. "You okay, buddy?"
Mitch blew out a breath and rubbed at his wrists. "Yeah. I contacted you a couple days ago. Thought you'd already picked her up."
The FBI agent shook his head. "She flew the coop right after your call. I figured the whole mission might be blown but decided to take a chance and hang around just in case."
"Glad you did, but it might have been nice to have some warning." Mitch glared at Jones. "Don't come knocking on my door asking for favors anytime soon." His gaze trailed from the older man to Fancy.
Jones chuckled, winked at Fancy, then pushed his arrestee out of the room.
The lingering effects of adrenaline hit her hard. Her hands began to tremble, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't slow the frantic pounding of her heart or draw in enough air.
Afraid of falling apart in front of Mitch and a dozen witnesses, she decided to bolt. "If you'll excuse me…" Fancy quickly departed the scene, hurrying to her room. Stopping just outside the door, she glanced down at the scratch marks and an angry bite on her forearm. The idiot probably gave her rabies. With an irritated sigh, she hurried inside, gathered her purse, then headed for the elevators and the walk-in clinic next door to the hotel, which she spied days ago. Human mouths were loaded with a variety of nasty bacteria, each capable of skin, tissue, and bone infections. Peroxide, a thorough cleaning, and an antibiotic ointment never hurt anyone.
With that thought, she punched the lobby button on the elevator.
Thirty minutes later, she emerged from the small clinic, the adrenaline mostly worked out of her system, replaced by fatigue and soreness. The muscles of her shoulders ached as did the handful of bruises to her legs. The bite wound stung the most, especially after the medic scrubbed it with a bristled brush. If she would have known that particular painful task lay in her future, she would have skipped the professional help, heading straight for the gift shop or nearby convenience store for her own supplies.
Just as she re-entered the lobby of the hotel, a loud crack of lightning flashed brilliant light through the windows, followed by rumbling thunder, enough to rattle the whole building. Both signaled a quickly arriving storm. The deep blue skies for as far as she could see promised the storm would last for a while. While the angry heavens suited her mood at the moment, Fancy grumbled in annoyance.
Now what am I going to do?
Her plane was scheduled to leave at promptly nine am the next morning, meaning she had approximately sixteen hours left of vacation to spend as she chose, albeit stuck in the hotel. The quarterly meeting wrapped up the day before, eliminating the possibility of attending a few more presentations and increasing her knowledge. She could hang out in her room, take a nap, head to the workout room for a run. None of the suggestions garnered more than a lukewarm response.
A brilliant white banner caught her attention. The romance novel convention. According to the dates listed, the annual rendezvous lasted one more day. Maybe not her top choice, but considering the nasty weather and lack of other options, she chose the way of least resistance.
Chapter 20
Fancy plopped down on an empty seat, worn out and emotionally drained. Nothing like a mentally unhinged person to ruin the last day of her vacation.
"Here, have a penis pacifier." Molly stood before her, holding out a bright green sucker. "It makes the whole world all better."
"I thought that was chocolate?" Fancy answered wearily.
Molly quickly switched out the treats. "Chocolate flavored."
"That works."
When in Rome…
Without a second thought, she removed the wrapping and stuck the candy in her mouth. "When did the world turn on its end?" she muttered.
"Sweetie, the world has been one big loony bin for a while. Hadn't you noticed?" Molly sat down beside her.
"Not really."
"Where have you been holing up to not see the rampant craziness?"
"A research lab."
Molly nodded. "Seems to me you should get out more often."
"Why?"
The middle-aged woman grinned at her. "Because there's some wondrous things you're missing."
Fancy arched an eyebrow. "Such as?"
"Such as a gorgeous man with eyes only for you." She tilted her head to the side.
Glancing in the direction Molly indicated, Fancy found Mitch leaning against a wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest. A black oxford shirt hugged his upper body, showing off muscles and a nice build. Painted on matching jeans clung to thighs and the part of his rear she could see. The sparks in his deep blue eyes could only be described as steamy.
Where was that photographer? If she snapped a picture right then, cover artists would vie tooth and nail to purchase the photo for upcoming releases, knowing the cover art would entice more than one woman to shell out the cash for the book.
She sucked in a deep breath. "I don't know. I'm not even sure he likes me."
"With a look like that? That's a look of wanting, longing, and red hot desire. It gets any hotter, and he'll melt my suckers into a sticky mess."
"He's turned my life into a runaway roller coaster."
Molly laughed. "Girl, don't you know that's the best kind?"
Fancy shot her a bewildered look. "I'm not looking for fast and furious. If anything, I want long-term, not a romance in Casablanca, otherwise known as the Central Hotel in downtown Seattle."
The other woman patted her hand. "People like roller coasters. They provide thrills, excitement, a hint of danger, and the unknown. You buckle yourself in and enjoy the ride for what it offers. Ups, downs, all out pedal to the metal speed, even the slow lazy beginning and end."
Fancy sighed.
"If you don't give it a whirl, you'll never know."
"How do you know?"
"This isn't my first rodeo." Molly grinned. "Or my first romance book convention. I've seen more than you can imagine. And what I see now is too good to pass up." She nudged Fancy in the back. "Go on."
With a quiet nod, Fancy turned back to Mitch, noting his patient stance and come-hither look.
Molly's right. You never know until you try.
Reciting the motto to herself, she walked slowly over, chewing her bottom lip in nervousness, her penis pacifier clutched in her hand.
* * * *
"Hi." The soft word trickled from her lips.
"Hi." He studied her face closely, finding tiredness, uncertainty, and a spark of hope in her big hazel eyes. "You okay?" Nodding toward her gauze-wrapped arm, he waited patiently for her to answer.
She lifted the wounded appendage, glancing down. "Yeah. Just a bite wound. I'll live." Her head tilted as her gaze raked his body. "How about you?"
"I'm fine." He searched her face for a long moment. "I'm sorry." He offered up the apology not just for her injury but for a few other happenings over the past few days.
"Not your fault." She shrugged, lifting her chin to meet his gaze.
His heart tugged with the expression on her face. All because of him. What did you say to a woman who stormed into the midst of danger and fought to rescue him? His damsel in distress turned determined tigress when the future appeared pretty bleak.
"Do you have plans for this evening?"
Fancy shook her head. "No. I've got a nine am flight in the morning, though."
Glancing around, he made a hasty decision. "Come to the party with me."
She blinked up at him. "We tried that once. It didn't work out well." Her flat tone told him she still stung from the minor disaster of Old West night.
Taking a chance, he wrapped her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips for a butterfly kiss. "I know. My screw-up. Let me make it up to you tonight. Please?"
A long moment of silence followed, broken only by the sounds of convention attendees murmuring in the background. He held his breath, praying she would agree. Because, one way or another, Fancy was going to be the belle of the ball that evening, even if he had to toss her over his shoulder and carry her to the auditorium. He owed her that much.
"Okay."
He released a large sigh of relief as a wide smile grew across his face. "You won't regret it."
Her lips twitched. "Don't make promises you can't keep."
Wrapping both arms around her middle, he drew her flush against his body. Leaning a bit, he lowered his face to hers. "Consider it written in stone." With those words, he meshed his lips over hers, gently learning and coaxing.
She responded hesitantly at first, then with more gusto, tilting her head and parting her lips on a sexy gasp. Taking advantage, he flicked his tongue over her lips before darting in for a deeper taste. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, short nails digging in when he took a more aggressive line, cupping the back of her head while searching the recesses of her mouth and flicking over her tongue in an open invitation for further exploration.