The desk staff attended to us in a professional manner, alert and bright-eyed despite the hour. Then a bellboy whisked Hunter and Tri-Tri off to a distant tower room, no doubt with private gargoyles to guard against evil spirits. Sure, but who’ll protect the spirits from them?
I ended up in a tidy room on the sixth floor with a stunning view of the river and the lower city that lay at the bottom of the steep cliffs. Better yet, a luxuriously appointed canopied bed, big enough for serious acrobatics, waited for me. I worked to ignore the images of the gymnastics in which Hunter and Tri-Tri were, doubtless, engaged. Instead, I scrubbed my face, stripped, and wrapped myself in the plush hotel robe. I spotted a computer and, with the best intentions, logged on to my e-mail account. I saw a post from Lilly but couldn’t bring myself to deal with it. I clicked on an icon and walked away as the printer whirred to life. Bone-deep weariness washed over me, and I threw off my robe and crawled into bed.
As a rule, I sleep naked; nightclothes make me feel claustrophobic. I’d only been able to sleep in my clothes the previous night because of my incredible exhaustion. Of course, if not for that damn bull, I might have ended up naked after all.
“And that would’ve been a bad thing?” said the voice behind me.
I turned. “Zach! What are you doing here? Oh, I’m dreaming again, aren’t I?”
“Girl, I hope so. This is too weird for me otherwise.”
I looked around. We were on Tri-Tri’s plane. But now there was a set of jail bars segmenting me from the back of the plane. On the other side was a giant canopy bed upon which Hunter and Tri-Tri romped, in the midst of full-out, dynamic sex. The whole damn bed thumped.
“Oh, that’s just rude!” I ground my teeth and gripped the bars.
George, the parakeet, landed on my shoulder. “ ‘Pretty little cajun queen.’ Awk.”
“Hello, little one. Aren’t you pretty? Hey, you never did the ‘awk’ thing before.”
In a high-pitched tone, he replied, “It is part of the standard bird repertoire, after all. To be sure, I never would have demeaned myself to utter such a cliché in reality. But it appears you see no harm in including it in this dream sequence cum analytic foray.” He cocked his white head to one side, round black eyes reproachful. “It’s really rather speciesist of you, don’t you think?”
I blinked. “Oh. I’m, um, sorry?” I looked from the bird to Zach.
Shrugging, my bull-riding buddy said, “As long as you don’t have Fido saying moo.”
George clicked his tongue, although I’m not sure how. “That would be silly.” He shook his feathered head and turned back to me. “Humans. Anyway, back to my part.” Wriggling his shoulders, he brought himself to full height and squawked out in proper bird voice, “ ‘Pretty little cajun queen.’ ” He stared at me intently, adding, “But then you always had a bad memory for lyrics, didn’t you?” Shaking his teal wings, he flew out the open door into the stark blue sky.
“Wait!” I reached out for him.
A male voice said, “It’s too late. She flew away three years ago.”
I turned, expecting to find Zach, but Chris stood there instead. His exotically beautiful eyes transfixed me; their gaze lay as gently on my face as a caress. Dream rendering of a years-old video or not, I felt the reassuring charisma of his presence. He smiled, and I felt compelled to smile back.
“George’s a male bird,” I said, without thinking. “You said she flew away.”
Putting a hand on my shoulder, he nodded at the door and said, “I’ve missed her.” Then he stepped out the door into the sky and disappeared.
I gasped, inexplicably dismayed by the departure of a person I’d never even met.
Zach came up behind me again, putting his arms on my shoulder and kissing the top of my head. “You have to wonder where he went.”
“Out the door, after the bird,” I said absently.
“Silly girl,” he chuckled into my ear. “I meant, where’s he been since she died?”
“Why is he coming into the picture now?” I added thoughtfully. “And why am I so sad?”
“Maybe this will help cheer you up.” Zach wrapped his arms around me from behind and ran them over the top of the hospital shift I’d once again donned. He nuzzled my neck.
The warmth of him soaked through the thin cloth, a comforting feeling that quickly gave way to more. “Um, yeah, that, um, that,” I said, leaning back into him. “I like that.”
“She thought you would.” He freed a hand and pointed to the figure by Hunter’s bed.
Damn it! The Evil Dream Pixie! That bitch! There she stood, face in the shadow, scribbling on her stupid notepad. All the answers there, and she wasn’t sharing a one of them.
“Can’t I catch a break? You get out of there!” I yelled between the bars.
Zach pulled my hips against his. His hardness pushed against me. Okay, maybe she’s not my first priority right now. I closed my eyes and leaned back into him.
“ ‘Candygram for Mongo,’ ” a familiar voice said.
I opened my eyes. What the heck?
“ ‘Candygram for Mongo.’ ”
Zach had worked his hands under my shift and made slow circles over my breasts.
“Who the hell was that?” I said.
“Cleavon Little.” Zach murmured. He traced the tendons of my neck with his tongue.
“The guy from Blazing Saddles?”
Zach pulled back and began to strip off his shirt. “Uh-huh, from the scene where he’s trying to deliver a bomb to the bad guy. Only he’s not that bad a guy. Just misunderstood. Should I take off my pants first or should you?”
I blinked, both perplexed and fixated on his tanned chiseled six-pack. “Um. Uh. What’s Cleavon Little doing in my dream?”
“ ‘Candygram for Mongo,’ ” the voice said again.
“Yeah, I got that,” I said to the air. “You can stop now. It’s starting to annoy me.”
Zach wrapped his arms around me and parted my legs with one of his own. His hands dropped down to the small of my back, and he pressed me closer. Over his shoulder, I spotted Fido munching on a huge pile of hay from on top of the instrument panel.
“Does he know how to fly this?” I said as I unbuckled Zach’s belt.
“Yes, but he doesn’t have a license; he couldn’t pass the test.” He kissed my collarbone.
“Well, that’s just ridiculous.”
“You try holding a pencil with nothing but hooves.” He feathered kisses up my neck. I groaned as my muscles started to twinge.
Yeah, those muscles.
“Pencils are very important,” Zach said into my hair. “You thought about them at the jail today because the bars looked like pencil lead. She noticed them too,” he said, nodding at the Pixie, still scribbling on her stupid pad, as Tri-Tri got to her knees and turned to Hunter, doggy style. He rose up and grabbed her hips from behind. The Tasmanian Devil on his ass applauded.
“Oh, hi Jolene,” Zach said as a woman walked up to the bed. I wriggled around to face them as he waved to her.
She waved back and crawled onto the canopy bed. Hunter let go of Tri-Tri and took Jolene into his arms. Tri-Tri turned onto her back and smiled, clearly enjoying the addition.
“But that’s your girlfriend!”
“Ex,” Zach answered. He drew me back into his embrace and kissed me, his tongue softly probing my lips. My body quivered. When he pulled back, my knees almost buckled.
“But that’s not important,” he said. “It’s what’s in the pencil that’s important.”
“Huh? What?” I swayed, and he pulled me closer. Oh God, this feels so good!
“ ‘Candygram for Mongo,’ ” Cleavon said.
“Shut up already!” I yelled over my shoulder, then turned back to watch Zach step out of his jeans. “You mean graphite?” I said, admiring the bulge beneath his red silk boxers.
Zach scowled, pointing to the boxers. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in these girly things.”
I
grabbed his upper arms and pulled him to me, arching my back to press my chest against his. “Yeah, well, this is my dream. Deal with it. What about the graphite?”
He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, kissing my throat. “It’s a form of carbon.”
“Mmm. I know that, but how did you? Oh, that’s so nice!”
He stood back and pointed to his own chest. “I’m Dream Zach, remember? It’s not really me. You know it, so I know it.” Gripping my arms, he kissed me passionately.
I moaned with delight; I was feeling really neat spasms by the time we broke away from the kiss. “And sometimes they’re made of charcoal, too.”
He ripped open my shirt and kissed my bare breast. “Now you’re thinking.” He caught my face in his hands and made me look at him. “And what was on the floor of the car today?”
“Gum?” I said and tried to pull him closer.
He pressed my cheeks to hold me still. “What did it remind you of?”
I struggled to think. “I don’t know. It was sticky, thick, and yellowed. Like, like resin?”
“You got it on your hands when you handled the file folder.”
“Gum?”
He stared hard into my eyes. “No, the resin. And why is it important?”
I searched my memory. Resin and charcoal. Charcoal soot. Why is that familiar?
Zach looked over my head. “Oh, look. Here’s Fancy.”
I turned. Fancy had a smiling Hunter on his back. Tri-Tri and Jolene laughed.
Frustration and envy forced out a groan of exasperation. “That’s it! I’ve had enough of everyone but me having sex with that man. Stop it, or I will turn this plane around, right now!”
“ ‘Candygram for Mongo.’ ”
“Shut the hell up!”
Zach grabbed me hard by the arms again. “Madison, listen to me! The Candygram is important, the bomb is important. Timing is everything! Remember, soot and resin. And shining, silvery snow. Remember the smell at the office.”
I shifted my weight, my hormones raging, my thoughts racing, stuck between my body’s urge to break free and run my tongue down the front of his chest, and my mind’s incessant, annoying, stentorian commands to pay some goddamn attention to what’s being said. I couldn’t keep the whining out of my voice as I said, “What are you talking about? What smell?”
Something pounded in the distance. “ ‘Candygram for Mongo,’ ” the voice said above the growing sound. “ ‘Candy-gram for Mongo.’ ”
“Enough!” I slammed my hand into the jail bars, and they fell into a pile of soot. The pounding grew closer and more violent. I looked around; I was alone. The plane shook with the pounding. Louder and louder, closer and closer. I put my hands over my ears and fell to my knees like a child trying to block out the shuddering closet door, knowing there was nothing to stop the raging monster inside from getting me now, hearing the door slam open and then—
The plane disintegrated around me, dissolving into silver snow. And I was falling.
My eyes snapped open. My hotel room door shook. Jumping out of bed, I stumbled toward the pounding, managing to wrestle my nakedness into the robe just before I opened the door. Hunter pushed past me. I yanked the belt of my robe into a knot and tried to steady my adrenaline-wracked body. “What the hell?”
“What’s wrong, Angel? Did I scare you?”
“Um, no. I was dreaming.”
He smiled. “And what’d you dream about? Me?”
I pulled my robe to my throat, instantly awake. “Not everything’s about you!” I stalked away from him. Am I that obvious?
He looked me up and down. “You look like crap.”
To be fair, I felt like crap. Of course, he looked wonderful: fresh, pressed, and thoroughly composed. He wore a meticulously tailored blue suit that enhanced the lines of his physique. His shirt, a buttery silk, complimented the slim yellow diagonals across his navy satin tie. God, I wish I had his tailor. And that he wasn’t such a jerk. But he’s a good-looking, great-smelling, broad-shouldered jerk and—no!You are not going there!
I grabbed my duffle bag off the dresser. “What time is it?” I snatched at my clothing and pulled out a pair of lavender lace panties, then shoved them back inside as he saw them.
Hunter gave a half-smile and sat on the bed. “Six o’clock.”
“In the morning? Are you nuts? I just got to sleep! Who the hell gets up at six o’clock?”
“I didn’t get any sleep, if you know what I mean.”
I glared at him. I knew exactly what he meant. “And where’s the Princess Tribeca?”
“Sleeping. You can’t blame her, really.”
“More likely it’s constitutionally impossible for her to get up before noon.”
“Keep talking, Angel. Jealousy becomes you.”
“Puh-leese. Look, just order me something to eat while I change, okay?”
“Order it yourself.”
“Come on. It can be here by the time I finish my shower.”
“Eat later, move now. I’ve got better things to do than be with you.”
“Ditto, Max. Trust me, I’ll move at lightning speed.”
I started toward the shower, then noticed the papers still sitting in the printer: Lilly’s e-mail. My pulse sped up, fearing I’d be caught spying on him, not something he’d take well. So as Hunter fussed with the TV remote, I grabbed the papers and stuffed them in my bag and then hefted the duffle onto my bad shoulder. The pain prodded hard, clearly not through with me yet.
“Still whining about your little boo-boo?” Hunter said as he clicked on the tube.
“Sod off, old man.” I slammed the bathroom door. As the sound of the television drifted through, I showered and brushed my teeth vigorously, trying to convince myself that I was simply anxious to get on with the chase. But the truth was that Hunter being so close while I was naked excited me, and I really didn’t want to deal with that right now.
I toweled off, smoothed on some of the lavender-scented body lotion from the hotel gift basket, and pulled on my underwear and jeans. After finger-drying my hair, I spread out the printout of Lilly’s e-mail on the counter
“Hey!” Hunter yelled through the door.
I jumped and actually squeaked. “What?”
“Let’s go! I promised Tri we’d get out of here as soon as possible.”
My heart plopped back into my chest. “All right, all right.” I cracked the door so Hunter could hear me. “How’s Jake? I keep calling, but the hospital won’t talk to me because I’m not a cop or a relative. But I’m sure you managed to get around that.”
The TV clicked off. “No change,” Hunter’s voice echoed somberly. My eyes flew over the three-page printout. The first was a copy of a rental agreement for an apartment in Chicago. Not in the best neighborhood but far from the worst. My pulse stalled. The tenant was listed as Adalida Thibodaux—co-signed by Maxwell Hunter!
I scanned the lease: the rental dates corresponded to the summer that Adalida had been in Chicago. There were other papers too: photocopies of five checks made out to Adalida from Hunter. Most for a few thousand each, but the last was for fifty thousand. Holy crap! Hunter had gotten Adalida an apartment and had been giving her money, a lot of money. And gee wilikers, Batman, why would a wealthy older man be paying the bills of a pretty young girl?
I felt a surge of outrage on Jake’s behalf and at the same time the thrill that I might have found something significant. Tapping my fingers against the marble countertop, I thought it over, trying to get some emotional distance and think clearly. What if Jake had just found out? Maybe he threatened to ruin Hunter’s business. But in today’s world, a rich older man with a young girlfriend was practically expected. Besides, Jake really was more the type to beat the shit out of someone than blackmail him.
I huffed out a breath. Now what? I slipped a light coat of pink gloss over my lips, then stuck the tube in my pocket. My tummy rumbled, and I shushed at it. Grabbing my cami from the hook on the door, I called ou
t, “I may have a lot to learn, but I beat you to Fancy, didn’t I? And I found Tina before you did.”
“Beginner’s luck.” He stepped toward the door, and I darted behind it, pulling the cami on over my bra. Apparently oblivious, he went on. “Angel, you’ve got too much to learn, too little patience, and nobody to show you the way.” The resonance of his voice slipped through the crack in the door. My heart pounded with competing emotions: anger, embarrassment, and that special thrill borne of being partially unclothed in the vicinity of another. Especially if one has recently seen a tattoo of a cartoon Tasmanian Devil on the gorgeous, tight ass of the other.
“Face it,” Hunter said, as I fumbled my arms into my pink oxford. “You haven’t got a chance in hell. And the sooner you admit that, the better off we’ll all be.” I stepped out of the bathroom and into the warmth of Hunter’s appreciative glance. “Better,” he said. “Now I won’t be embarrassed to be seen with you.” The warmth disappeared.
He rolled the barrel of a thirty-eight snub-nose revolver in his hand, checking the bullets.
I nodded at the gun. “Isn’t that a little petite for you?”
He shot me a “don’t be a smart ass” look and shoved the gun into a shoulder holster. “This was all I could get on short notice. I couldn’t carry mine legally across the border.”
“And that stopped you?”
“Look, if I choose to break the law, I’m willing to take the heat. But if I transport on Tri’s plane, it implicates her.” He cocked his head to one side. “Oh, I’m sorry. You look disappointed. Does my taking responsibility for my own actions disturb you?”
I scowled self-consciously. Actually it did. Unremitting jerks didn’t act responsibly, damn it. I grabbed Nestor’s cell phone, turned it on, and clipped it to the waistband of my jeans, then threw my dirty clothes and toiletries in the knapsack. “You know what I find odd? Voltaire’s letting you in so intimately on this case. You might have been a cop at one time, but you’re a civilian now. Why shouldn’t I find that suspicious?”
He took my bag out of my hand and strode out the door to the elevator. “Why should you? Budgets are tight all around. He can’t afford the extra people, and I’m not charging.”
The Last Best Lie Page 20