0.5 One Wilde Night

by Jenn Stark

  As the amulet and I exchanged a meaningful glance, a shuffling to my right betrayed the arrival of another set of feet. A moment later, Nigel crashed to his knees beside me.

  “Oh good,” I muttered. “I was getting lonely.”

  He snorted. “That’s not going to be a problem from here on out, love. There are about a dozen blokes ready for action in the next room. More on the way.”

  Nailed that one, so to speak. “When’d you lose the amulet?”

  “About thirty seconds after you did. The Princesa is nothing if not resourceful. They figured you’d be back, though, which is why they kept me around.”

  Before I could puzzle through that one, Fernanda stalked toward me. With one sharp command, she directed Chief Thug to take off my jacket. I wanted to put up a fight, I really did, but the closer the woman got to me, the worse I felt. She was like Princesa Kryptonite.

  Taking advantage of my passivity, the guard pulled my jacket off me, shoving me hard enough to make me sway as he balled up it and all my supplies, then unceremoniously dumped the whole mess into the fire. I sagged, watching numbly as the pleather curled up and blackened in the flames. The move gave a whole new meaning to the term “burner phone.”

  Then I remembered the card reading from my hotel room. The Tower… meant boom.

  Uh-oh.

  Distracting me from my sudden realization, Fernanda positioned herself in front of me and took my right hand, speaking with urgency.

  “Um, she does know I have no idea what she’s saying, right?”

  Nigel cleared his throat. “That’s why I’m still here—I’m supposed to translate for you. And by the way, she’s preparing you for sacrifice.”

  “I’m not scheduled for sacrifice today.”

  “You’ll have to take that up with the headmistress.”

  Continuing to mutter in Portuguese, Fernanda placed one of her jeweled cuffs on my right wrist, then one on the left. I wasn’t completely unhappy about my new accessories. Those hunks of metal would go for quite a lot on the open market. Assuming I made it out of here with both my wrists intact.

  Fernanda’s sudden, sharp words brought my gaze back to her. Her eyes blazed with intensity, and she barked another command that ended with “Princesa.”

  “She needs to quit doing that.”

  Nigel’s snort was cut off as Fernanda finished her rant with something firm and absolute-sounding. Thug One hauled me up off my toes, and I hung like a ragdoll in his arms. The odd pose let my feet dangle against Nigel’s ass. I twitched my foot twice, and the Brit’s breath hitched. His fingers brushed my ankle and the weight of the knife I’d holstered there vanished. Then the second guard lumbered over and yanked Nigel to his feet. Both of us waited unmoving, locked into cave-troll-fisted grips.

  I eyed the fire nervously as Fernanda began some weird and creepy chant. We didn’t have much time now.

  “How’d you get down here, anyway?” I murmured to Nigel beneath her wails. “Because I have to tell you, the route I used wasn’t exactly handicap accessible.”

  “Door directly behind us, to the left of where you came in.” He tipped his head toward it. “Narrow passageway, but easy to navigate.”

  “Guards?”

  “Every twenty feet or so.”

  “Crap.”

  “I thought you’d like that.”

  “Despeer-se,” Fernanda demanded, waving at my shirt. Obligingly, Thug One let me go.

  My shoulders slumped. “Do not tell me she just ordered me to strip.”

  “You are getting the hang of this, aren’t you.”

  “No,” I said, turning to him. I needed to hurry this along. “Tell them I will not begin the ritual or whatever the hell they’re talking about until I have the amulet around my neck. Tell them it calls to me.”

  “But—”

  “Make something up, Nigel. And make it good. I’m not the only liability here, and that loincloth of yours isn’t going to help you save your ass.”

  Nigel spoke rapidly. His hand gestures were as expressive as his language, and Fernanda’s face turned from mulish to intrigued to finally happy.

  I glared at him. “That was a whole lot more words than was probably necessary, I’m thinking.”

  “You told me to make it good.” He shrugged. “And if we don’t get out of this, I’ll at least get to see you perform acts that defy physics before I die. There’s some satisfaction in that.”

  His spiel had the desired effect, in any event. Fernanda walked up to me, all smiles, and reached past me for the amulet. The moment she touched it, we both winced. The burn on my left breast blazed at the affront of another woman touching the stone this close to me. Grimacing, Fernanda held up the amulet as Thug One forced me to my knees. Again. Canting my head to the left, I saw the calves of another three guards stationed inside the room to the back. Also in there, surrounded by rocks, was the ceremonial bed. And, now that I could see more clearly, at least a dozen men. All of them bound. And naked.

  And pretty happy.

  After another hard shove from Thug One, I commenced despeer-ing, which was no easy trick since I was kneeling. I handed over my clothes to Fernanda, and she took them from me with her free hand, throwing them promptly into the fire. They joined my pleather jacket, which was now smoking industriously.

  Stripped of everything but my jeweled cuffs and my charming disposition, I was apparently deemed ready. Fernanda bowed, then lifted the amulet to place it over my head. When it touched my chest, an electrical reaction shot through me. For the record, electrical jolts hurt.

  “Ah… Not to put too fine a point on it, but is your skin smoking?” Nigel murmured.

  “Princesa!” I stood abruptly, then twisted toward Nigel. “There must be more. You had dozens more men than this night, prepared to do your bidding. I must have more.”

  Nigel lifted a brow, then gamely translated, his eyes going wide as the amulet began to give off shivery little sparks that were going to be really hard to explain to my dermatologist.

  Fernanda blinked, confused. “More!” I stalked past her into the bridal suite, where the men stood at, er, attention. I dismissed them with a wave of my hand. “You.” I pointed to the two guards flanking the bedchamber. “Inside.”

  Nigel caught on, and Fernanda did as well, her smile suddenly knowing as she spoke.

  “How many?” Nigel translated her next question.

  I swiveled around. “All of them.” I moved to the guards blocking the way out, grinning as if I’d been let loose on an all-you-can-eat buffet. “As many as you can spare. The power is strong within me. The men will be prepared for your rites. Bring them.”

  Fernanda clapped her hands, and two of the guards took off up the passageway. I pushed Nigel against the wall, praying that he’d cut his hand ties. I refused to speculate on where he’d hidden the knife. “You, I want to take last.”

  “I look forward to it.” He winked, then spoke again to the Princesa. She folded her arms, clearly well pleased.

  The men were in the room in the next few minutes. I crowded them into the bridal chamber, spreading my arms wide.

  The telltale smell of sulfur lit the air as the crackling fire ate its way to the live fuses in my jacket lining.

  Finally.

  I turned and raced for the door. Ever Mr. Chivalry, Nigel surged for the Princesa, shoving her out of the way as the dynamite exploded from the center of the fire.

  I kept running.

  The explosion shot straight up into the chamber and connected with the heavy rock ceiling, immediately sending down an avalanche of rocks. It wasn’t enough to trap anyone for good, but it was enough to get me a quarter of the way up the tunnel, Nigel on my heels.

  “Fernanda?”

  “She’ll survive. Four guards remain up at the top.”

  “Got it.” But as my brain was scrambling for solutions, the mountain served us yet again. A billowing rush of overheated smoke came boiling up behind us in the narrow tunnel, seeking a
ll the fresh air. The force of it catapulted us forward into the guards at the top of the stairs. I pointed back down the passage and screamed, “Princesa!”

  “Socorro,” Nigel muttered.

  Didn’t know what it meant, didn’t care. “Socorro, Socorro!”

  The men bounded down after their princess. The smoke was already clearing—I had dynamite sticks, not C-4—but they’d served their purpose. Nigel and I careened out of the cave and down the mountain into a full-fledged jungle. We were nowhere near the mansion, which meant I was nowhere near my pack. Which meant I was nowhere near my clothes.

  “You do end up in the most interesting of positions.”

  “A little help here!” I wasn’t proud. I had the amulet around my neck, and it bounced in frantic counterpoint to my mad dash through the trees.

  “Keep heading down. When you reach a street, a car will be waiting.”

  “With clothes?”

  “What?” demanded Nigel behind me, not at all winded. Blasted Brits and their training.

  “With clothes, Miss Wilde. It will forever be my pleasure to dress you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sunrise always came too early the first morning after Carnival.

  Hunched in my chair, I studied the menu at the Sofitel Copacabana Hotel like it contained the mysteries of the universe. I had a table facing the ocean. There were already a few couples slumped over tables around me, as bleary-eyed as I was, as if we’d all gone through the apocalypse together.

  My client had seemed surprised I’d texted him. He’d seemed less surprised that my price had gone up.

  Way up.

  Nevertheless, agreeing to meet me here was a bonus I appreciated. It was the most public spot imaginable in Nuva Sol, and it afforded a straight drop down onto a nicely landscaped lawn. If I had to make a run for it, I could. It would hurt, but I could do it.

  It was the little things one really appreciated in a breakfast spot.

  I nudged the small wrapped gift box I’d laid on the table in front of me, in plain view of the world.

  Carl Fellowes was no more nervous than any of my clients, but they all had that in common. They wanted to see the merchandise before they stepped into the open.

  I was on my fourth cup of coffee in ten minutes when a disturbance at the hostess stand door caught my attention. I readjusted the supple leather Versace jacket that was so far out of my league, it was in another stratosphere, then slid my hands down jeans that were of a brand I’d never heard of, Earnest Sewn. They sure felt like they’d been sewn in earnest—they fit me better than my own skin.

  The Magician hadn’t been kidding when he’d told me he’d send clothes.

  The mad dash through the jungle had ended up with us on a narrow access road to the top of the mountain. Down had seemed like the best direction, and it wasn’t five minutes later that a black SUV had cruised along, its lights on low, its illuminated license plate reading MGK MN.

  I’d rolled my eyes but declared the vehicle safe. Nigel and I had clambered inside. The back of the SUV had been set up more like a limo, the Magician apparently taking pride in his transportation. After the vehicle had navigated a tight turnaround, we’d hurtled down the mountain. Nigel and I had struggled into leggings and tech tops, then I’d discovered a second duffel for my own use. With its own set of weaponry.

  Including a loaded tranq gun.

  I’d shot Nigel twice for good measure. He’d stared at me, dumbfounded, and had dared to ask why. He’d passed out before I could explain the finer points of my reasoning, but I’d send him a text later. With that amount of drugs in his system, he wouldn’t be caring about anything for the next twenty-four hours or so.

  More than enough time to get me out of Rio.

  And with any luck, I would soon have a couple of additional fistfuls of money to show for my trouble.

  “Ms. Wilde?”

  As if on cue, Carl Fellowes made his way toward me, all smiles. It really was too bad that he was so hung up on needing the amulet to give him some mojo. He was handsome enough on his own. Probably in his late sixties, true, but virile and sharp eyed, his smile enough to turn heads of women generations younger than him. He aimed that engaging smile at me as he took the seat opposite mine.

  “You had quite the adventure, it would seem.”

  “It was a busy night.”

  He accepted a delicate demitasse of espresso and sipped it, clearly savoring the warmth. I clasped my hands around my own giant-tasse of blessed java. This morning, there was no indulgence in the world I was going to deny myself.

  “I had a chance to review your report on my drive over.” He nodded, still not going for the box. “You didn’t learn from the British hunter how he came to be part of the search.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. He got a bit tuckered out.”

  Carl shrugged amiably. “I can tell you, if you’d like.”

  I steadied my hand on my coffee, as if I hadn’t just consumed my body weight in caffeine. “You know?”

  “When you get to be my age, there is more at stake than the thrill of acquisition, even for a prize as special as this. There are four such Icamiaban amulets that belong to Amazon death cults. You were lucky to escape alive with this one. You and Mr. Friedman.”

  “There was also Miss Russia.”

  “Ah, yes. Her name is actually Camilla Asker. She came quite highly recommended, I assure you. Not as well recommended as you did, of course.”

  I slid him a glance. “You hired her too?”

  It had happened before. Clients often wanted a fail-safe to ensure that the MacGuffin they were paying so much to acquire was actually acquired, one way or another. The practice generally served to piss me off, so to my relief, Carl shook his head.

  “I did not, nor the other one, Nigel.” He chuckled with that air of self-deprecation that the rich learned to affect in the cradle. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid my actions are watched somewhat closely by my compatriots, and when they determined my interest in the amulet, they decided to get into the game as well.”

  “So your buddies hired Nigel and what’s her name, Camilla, to follow me.”

  “It appears so. It also appears you’ve quite elevated yourself on the radar with this job.”

  He intended it as a compliment, but I couldn’t stop the chill that ran up my spine. “Bully for me.” I took another drag on my coffee. “You know, that amulet might have a bad reaction to your um, skin. Watch out for that.”

  “But of course. You must have read the same articles I have.” He waved off my words. “Fear not. I’d never put it against the skin. The old books say a silk bag is the best container for it, and that seems like a good place to start.” He smiled at me warmly. “I’m glad you are so thorough with your research.”

  “I try.” I slanted a glance at the box. “You think it’ll meet your needs?” Not a question I usually asked, but I felt off-center, unwilling to let the amulet vanish without knowing more about how it would be used. Because Carl didn’t look like he needed it, it had to be said.

  “Oh yes.” He lifted the lid of the box to see the jadestone frog inside, nestled on its coiled leather cord. “It will go in my private collection, or perhaps more accurately stated, into my wife’s.”

  His wife’s? The frog’s scar burned my chest just at the thought of another woman.

  “She’s, ah, going to love it, I’m sure.”

  “I know she is.” His expression, for once, seemed slightly worn. “I met her about five years ago—here in Rio, as it happened. She too was a Carnival Princesa. She too was a member of an underground society, until she was usurped by a younger, more beautiful leader.”

  Whoa. Hadn’t seen that one coming. “Fernanda?”

  He didn’t answer directly, instead continuing on with his reminiscences. “She did not go willingly, but could not stay in the city once power had shifted. I came along and—well. There is an advantage to my position in society.” Again with the self-deprecating s
mile. “But separating her from the power of her ancient beliefs has taken its toll on her heart. It’s my hope that this small gift will return a light to her eyes that has been gone for too long.”

  “Yeah… I’m sure it will.” I thought about everything I had experienced while the amulet had been around my neck. The power that had coursed through me, and the physical ache that had nothing to do with my chicken-fried skin. “It might return more than that to her, though. If you haven’t had your heart checked out recently, now would be a good time.”

  Mischief twinkled in Carl’s blue eyes along with obvious affection, which made sense. He’d just dropped eighty large to buy a stone frog for the woman, so it was reasonable that he liked her. “I’d thought of that as well. I guess we will see.” He nodded at the waitress. “Please order anything you would like. I’ve arranged to cover the check, and I’ve also arranged for the remainder of your fee to be wired to your account. My congratulations on your successful endeavor. In addition, not that you haven’t defended yourself admirably, but I’ve asked my compatriots to please call back anyone they had sent to recover the amulet and to trouble you no further.”

  “Um, thanks.” I thought of Nigel. We’d dropped him off at a hotel off the main drag of Rio. The Magician’s crisply suited chauffeur had easily carried him into the hotel, then returned a few minutes later, quietly informing me that “Mr. Friedman” would be taken care of most excellently, and that I needed no longer to worry about him.

  Speaking of no longer worrying, there was one more loose end to tie up. “What about Will Donovan? Was he part of your friend’s little competition?”

  And had he survived?

  I don’t know why I cared, but I did.

  Carl shook his head, however. “That was also the work of one of my circle. I was shocked when I read that in your report. It hadn’t occurred to me that an associate of mine would commandeer a civilian in his cause, but the fellow appeared to be expertly chosen. He also helped my friend nearly pull off a coup too. It’s the closest he’s ever gotten to doing so.”