Mackenzie August Boxset 2

by Alan Lee

  Ernst glowered at me, like his job was my fault.

  Meg said, “I’m going to bed. This was brutal.”

  Emile remained the longest, watching me with an expression I couldn’t decipher. At last she said, “I entered the auction too. For you. And lost, obviously. Despite bidding a record amount.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “You should be.”

  “A fool and her money.”

  “If I’d won, and Duane found out…”

  She left the sentence unfinished.

  My date for the evening arrived at 12:15am. She was preceded into my bedroom by Ernst and also a Camorra praetorian, hand on his sidearm.

  All three looked at me, curiously. I was lying on the floor, stretching the chain and my legs as far as they could go, trying to get my toes under the food cart.

  “The hell are you doing?” asked Ernst.

  Zee hell.

  “You selfish nitwits didn’t push my food close enough,” I said. “So I’m getting it myself. Obviously. I’m so close.”

  “So that’s what you were shouting about.”

  My date wore a clingy strapless red dress that reached the middle of her calves. Her heels glinted a metallic gold, and her gloves were gold too. Her brown hair fell in curls around a pretty face. If I judged women on their looks, which I would never do, I’d say her face was a little too thin, as though she dieted to the extreme. Maybe forty years old? Forty-five?

  “Here,” she said, a little breathless. “Allow me.”

  She laid her hands on the cart and wheeled it into my circle of freedom, and quickly retreated.

  “See how easy that was, Ernst?” I said.

  The guard said something in Italian. “Lo vuoi immobilizzato?”

  She cleared her throat and spoke in a soft quaver. “No, I don’t think…that won’t be necessary. Mackenzie said he’s here because of a women. He won’t hurt me.”

  Ernst said, “You have one hour. We’ll be in the next room. The door stays open.”

  They left and the girl’s face paled.

  Ahh, alone at last.

  And not the least bit incredibly awkward.

  I got to my feet, chain clinking, and said, “Do you mind? I haven’t eaten yet.”

  “Oh! No, um, please.”

  “What did he ask you?” I said.

  “He asked if I wanted you, ah…immobilized.”

  She stayed near the wall, leaning against it, unsure what to do with her hands.

  I removed the lid from a plate—sausage and cheese.

  “What is it with the Italians and their different types of sausages?”

  Her anxious face relaxed into a smile. “That’s Ciauscolo and Cotechino. I could…feed it to you, no?”

  “Your accent is Italian,” I said and I fed myself. Like all good heroes do.

  “I was born in Rome. This is my second time at the Gabbia Cremisi. My husband, he…he works with the Sicilians, importing…I don’t know how you say it in English. Fake brands?”

  Her English wasn’t bad. She pronounced The as De, and the vowels sounded similar.

  “Counterfeit goods. Does your husband know you’re here?”

  “Yes.” She exhaled a shaky, embarrassed breath. “You’re his gift to me. And his apology.”

  “Good for him. A stiff apology is a second insult.” I finished another sausage and tried the artichoke.

  “I thought you might die in the fight,” she said.

  “Me too, briefly. My ruse nearly backfired.”

  “Because your owner, the man from the Kings, wouldn’t let you live, no? It’s all we talked about at the feste.”

  “Duane is not my owner. In fact, I’m going to kill him soon. But otherwise, you’re correct.”

  She pushed from the wall and dared to scoot an inch closer. About her was an air of delicacy. Way too breakable to be tossed into a room with guys like me. These people were lunatics. “You’re here for punishment. Not for glory?”

  I indicated my food tray. “Cannoli? I can’t eat that much. Or. Let me rephrase. I shouldn’t eat that much. My son said I put on a few pounds.”

  “If…if you like, I will.”

  “Doesn’t matter to me. I’m being friendly. You’re hungry or you’re not,” I said.

  She toed the circle on the carpet.

  “You will…you will not hurt me, no?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Aurora.”

  “Aurora, I will absolutely not hurt you. I didn’t even want to hurt Jorge, the guy in the ring.”

  She scooted a little closer. Tentatively took a cannoli. Held it gingerly in her hands.

  She’d paid a lot of money for this?

  She said, “And your name is Mackenzie. Mackenzie the American King.”

  “Well…that’s a bit much. But yes. Mackenzie the American King, you can call me that.”

  Might teach that nickname to Manny, my roommate.

  She said, “Tonight you fought so well. So big and strong and fast. Everyone says so. You are here because of a woman, no? Tell me about her.”

  I said, “Ronnie. She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies.”

  “I do not understand, Mackenzie.”

  “She’s cute.”

  “You miss her,” she said.

  “Very much.”

  “Tonight,” she said and she replaced the cannoli. “You can have me instead, Mackenzie. To forget.”

  “Aurora,” I said.

  “The wives tell two stories. One, that you are gentle and compassionate. The other, a wild and dangerous animal.”

  “In bed?”

  “Sì.”

  “Don’t trust your sources,” I said. “I never dated a mobster’s wife.”

  “Maybe the woman, Ronnie, she tells stories.”

  “We haven’t.”

  Her brown eyes widened. “You and she…have not?”

  “No, but don’t spread that around. It’ll hurt my reputation. I prefer wild and dangerous to abstinent.”

  She was trying to be seductive but the hand-wringing ruined it. “I think you will be both, Mackenzie. Can I come to…your bed?”

  I was on the verge of telling her ‘No thanks, this is the weirdest’ when Gennaro walked in again, pushing yet another cart.

  Not having a closed door was less than ideal for Aurora’s purposes.

  Gennaro rolled the cart to the line and gave me another thumbs up. “Un regalo dal Teatro.”

  “Oh!” cried Aurora. “Champagne!”

  “What’d he say?”

  “He says it’s a gift from the hotel. A drink is exactly what we need, Mackenzie.”

  Gennaro nodded towards the bottle and winked and left.

  A wink? Curious.

  “And it’s Salon Blanc de Blancs Le Mesnil-sur-Oger. The best for us, Mackenzie, no?” She took the large bottle from the silver bucket of ice and used a little towel to wipe it down. “You rest. I will pour us drinks. We will be happier.”

  She pronounced it hap-peer.

  I rubbed my forehead. This felt so goofy. Would I owe her a refund?

  She peeled off the foil and untwisted the wire cap.

  Pop!

  She laughed, high and throaty, and let the foam spill over her hand.

  “Aurora,” I said.

  “Yes Mackenzie?”

  She tipped the bottle up to fill a crystal flute. Underneath the bottom of the bottle, something silver flashed.

  Zounds. A clue.

  “Um,” I said.

  She filled the second flute, tipping the bottle slightly further and giving me a better view. Stuck to the underside of the champagne bottle was a universal handcuff key.

  I’ll be darned. Someone was sending me a gift.

  Gennaro? Someone working with the boy?

  She handed me a flute and we clinked.

  “Saluti, Mackenzie!” She tipped hers back and drained it. She covered her mouth and grinned. “Scusami!
”

  I raised my glass and smiled, thinking about the key.

  “I need another, no?” she said.

  “Bring the bottle. I’ve never had Italian champagne before.”

  “Whatever you wish, American King.”

  She wheeled the cart to the bed and poured herself another.

  My brain, well-oiled machine that it was, spun. A handcuff key. What to do, what to do. Remove cuffs and then…subdue Aurora? I needed to incapacitate Ernst and get that damned triggering device. The handcuff key wouldn’t work on the black wrist band.

  I lifted the bottle awkwardly with the handcuffs. Held it by the base. Pretended to scrutinize the label and surreptitiously scrapped the bottom until the key fell into my palm.

  Smoother than Ethan Hunt, in my unbiased opinion.

  “Don’t you like it?” she asked.

  I set the bottle down, picked up my flute, and drank half. Grinned.

  Disgusting. Like every other drop of champagne ever fermented.

  “Delicious. Must be expensive.”

  She said, “Yes. Just like you.” She finished her second flute and turned, her back to me. Gathered her long brown hair with both hands and said, “Mackenzie, my American King. Please help with my zipper, no?”

  Zip-peer, noh?

  I glanced at the two security cameras in the corners.

  “Sit on my lap,” I said.

  She scooted backwards.

  Using the thumb and forefinger of my right hand, I pinched the key and slipped it into my left handcuff and twisted. The lock popped free.

  She lowered onto my lap, still holding her hair up.

  I raised my arms to accommodate her, the chain clinking on her dress. As best I could, I acted in a nonchalant manner for the sake of the cameras. I transferred the key to my left hand and released the right cuff.

  Free.

  I lowered the shackles onto the bed in such a way that it looked as though I still wore them, and wrapped my arms around her waist. She shivered and made a giggling noise.

  “Mackenzie! My dress, please?”

  I squeezed her, which she enjoyed, and I got my lips next to her ear.

  “Aurora.”

  She returned the whisper. “Yes?”

  “I find you coquettish and alluring.”

  “Is…does that…that is good?”

  “Means you’re pretty.”

  She shivered again. “Grazie, Mackenzie.”

  My voice was low. “Any man would be lucky to have you.”

  “But I give myself to you, Mackenzie. Not to any man.”

  I twisted enough to reach past her to the cart. Picked up the champagne. Refilled her flute and mine, emptying the heavy bottle.

  “Unfortunately, Aurora, I have to go.”

  “Go?”

  “Yes.”

  “You…you are leaving?”

  “I am,” I whispered. “I’m already free. Don’t take it personally. I could kill you now. But I won’t, because I think you’re great. And you shouldn’t take this as a rejection.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m going into the next room to try and kill the guards. I probably will, because I’m great. If successful, I will remove the band on my wrist.”

  “And,” she said, her voice shaking. “Then sex?”

  “Then I’m going to kill everyone else too. Everyone but you.”

  “But…why?”

  “Be rude to kill you, after all the money you bid,” I said. “Plus I like your hair.”

  “No, I meant, why try to escape? You cannot. Teatro di Montagna, it is like a castle. Instead, Mackenzie, lie with me and win the Gabbia Cremisi. It is safer that way. The hallways are guarded.”

  “I have to try.”

  “Even though you know it is impossible?”

  Em-poss-seeble?

  “Even so,” I said. “If I don’t try, I lose part of myself. Resisting helps me maintain autonomy, even if it fails. That’s odd, I know, but trust me—I’m smarter than I look.”

  She turned her head far enough so that her lips brushed my skin. “But I want to tell the other wives. I want the glory of sex with a champion. It was a gift to me, Mackenzie. An expensive one.”

  “A bargain, really.”

  “Please.”

  “Tell the wives I think you’re beautiful.”

  “Mackenzie.” She pouted.

  “And that we had a nice time. And that we fell in love and you helped me escape,” I said, blubbering whatever ridiculous thing came to mind.

  “Oh?”

  “I was so enamored, my strength grew and I broke the chains so we could be together.”

  “Or instead,” she whispered. “We could have sex, no?”

  “I wish, Aurora. But I have to go.”

  “You wish?”

  “Tell them the story.”

  “Oh fine, Mackenzie. This story will make my husband just as jealous.”

  I nodded solemnly. “That’s what matters.”

  She didn’t seem in a hurry to get off my lap so I scooted from underneath. Raised my flute of champagne and drained it.

  So gross. Champagne drinkers are idiots.

  She clapped her hands and blurted, “Oh, you are free! But how did you take off the…the…?” She made a motion like locking her wrists.

  I held my forefinger to my lips. She copied the motion and shot me a thumbs up.

  Had to move quick, in case the camera watchers were diligent.

  I peeked around the door.

  My chef was gone. Aurora’s escort was reclining in a leather chair, feet up, ankles crossed, reading a novel, facing the outer door. Ernst laid prone on the couch, napping. Poor guy must be fatigued from watching me nearly perish.

  Neither had anything to worry about. Their prisoner wore shackles, right?

  Mackenzie August, never to be underestimated.

  I leapt into the room and threw the heavy champagne bottle like a tomahawk, the perfect projectile to shatter against the guard’s skull and render him insensate.

  Except I missed. The bottle connected with his stomach, rendering him merely astonished.

  Damn it. Looks so easy in Last of the Mohicans.

  He made a “Huuuuuhg,” sound.

  I landed on him, feet first. We toppled the chair over backwards and my bare foot crushed his throat closed.

  He gasped and groaned and fumbled for his pistol.

  Ernst stirred.

  I retrieved the fallen champagne bottle and hit Ernst in the head. A solid connection, which sent painful frissons up my arm. The glass didn’t break but Ernst’s head nearly did.

  The guard successfully yanked his pistol free. Crouching on his chest and throat, I took the pistol barrel in one hand and hit him in the nose with the other until he released.

  I removed my foot from his neck. He curled into a ball, hacking and holding his nose. I cocked the gun.

  “Oh Mackenzie,” squeaked Aurora. “That was magnifico!”

  “Thanks. I went for a jog last week, so that helped.”

  “Kill them, kill them!” She hopped and clapped her hands again. “You said you would.”

  “Yeah but…look at them.” Ernst moved not. The guard coughed and crimson burst from his nose and he whimpered. “They’re pathetic.”

  “So?”

  “So I have a heart of gold,” I said. “Aurora, did you order the champagne?”

  “I did not. A gift from the hotel.”

  “Was there a note?”

  “No, my American King.”

  Who could the saboteur be?

  I went to Ernst and rifled his pockets for a phone. Found it. Used his thumb to unlock the screen. He moaned.

  “Oh nuts,” I said.

  “What? Tell me!” Aurora hurried over on short steps.

  “My wrist band is controlled by his phone. But he has a zillion apps.” I scrolled through. A lesser man would be thumbing the screen frantically. “Who needs this many apps? Freaking mill
ennials. Check his pockets for a set of keys. Might be a remote on the chain.”

  “But Mackenzie, maybe we have sex first.”

  “I’m honored by your aspirations, Aurora, but focus.”

  I kept thumbing through apps and folders on screen. Most were in German. Argh.

  Aurora daintily stuck her hand into a pants pocket.

  “This is the most exciting thing in my life.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Okay, this is it. This one says Mackenzie.”

  The app opened. There were four buttons and an adjustment slider. Probably controlled the dosage? One of the buttons was large and green.

  Not that one, I bet.

  “Mackenzie,” she said.

  “I’m going to try one. I’ve got a one-in-three chance, because I can’t make sense of the symbols.”

  “Mackenzie?” She tapped my shoulder.

  “If this doesn’t work, it might knock me out. In which case you’ve been great and I appreciate your help.”

  “Yes, Mackenzie, but you are in trouble.”

  “Yes Mackenzie,” said a new voice. A sultry feminine and French timbre. “You are in trouble.”

  Emile. She stood at the open door leading to the hallway. Her eyes were arched and narrow, her mouth a tight angry smile. In her hands she held one of the triggers.

  “Oh shit,” I said. “Pardon my French.”

  I pressed a button on Ernst’s iPhone. Nothing happened—I guessed wrong.

  Emile made a tsk’ing sound.

  I leapt at her but I was across the room. Too far.

  Aurora released a scream.

  My wrist beeped. Pressure from the band.

  Emile smirked. I reached her and grabbed her by the throat, my other hand going around her wrist. I forced her backwards into the hallway.

  “You will kill me?” she asked calmly.

  “No.” My fingers squeezed her windpipe, not enough for damage. “But I’ll fantasize about it.”

  “You could do it. You are strong and I am not.”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  “Too bad you are my slave, American.”

  Everything was going heavy.

  She tilted her head forward to kiss me on the mouth.

  “I own you,” she said softly. “You may not leave yet.”