by Unknown
“I can’t stay, Ruby.” Blake wore his tuxedo, the collar unbuttoned and revealing the tempting hollow of his throat. His dark eyes smoldered, setting me on fire. He held my face between his hands and studied me as if memorizing my face.
My heart broke. “Why not?”
“It’s a risk to be with you. I shouldn’t even be here, but I can’t resist.” His lips claimed mine. I groaned as he fisted a hand in my hair and pulled my head back to deepen our kiss.
When we took a breath, I said, “But we have right now.” I pressed myself into his sleek body, wanting so much more.
He smiled against my lips. “Yes, but only now.”
One last kiss and he was gone.
It hurt just as much as the first time he’d disappeared.
The scene shifted, depositing me in a seat at the Cirque D’Amour. Lilli stood on-stage, glitter twinkling along her skin. She smiled at me with oxblood lips that matched the burlesque costume she wore. The dark red sheath dress was from her heartbreaker routine where she lit her pasties on fire. A man in the shadows flicked a lighter until a single flame sparked in the dark.
Lilli gestured toward me with an elegant sweep of her hand. “The spotlight is on you, Ruby. There’s no place to hide, so put on a good show.”
She blew me a kiss and began to burn.
An earthquake tore me from sleep. I bounced and lurched with the ground. I fought to open my eyes, which were in no hurry to return to reality. They voted I sink back into sleep, but the violent movement of the world around me would not be denied. I had to wake up.
When I did, I decided my eyes had been right; I should’ve buried myself in my dreams. They were a safer place to be. It wasn’t an earthquake that moved me, but a jet landing on a runway. A private jet with snow white leather seats and blue carpet. I sat in one of the chairs, my neck throbbing from the lack of support while I slept.
Outside the window, a landing strip raced by in a gray blur as the plane’s wheels bumped over the runway. From the dim light, I surmised it was either dawn or dusk. I didn’t know where I was, but I had an idea: Morocco.
“Ah, you’re awake,” said a male voice with a Boston accent.
I startled and turned my head to see a short, bald man sitting across from me. He had the baby blue eyes of Sinatra, but the rest of him didn’t match. His figure had the bloat of a man who drank too much and even his fancy pinkie ring couldn’t class up his sausage fingers. The man looked at me, his gaze placid as a blue sky. He didn’t feel guilty about a thing. I found the thought chilling.
Footsteps sounded behind me and another man came into view. One I knew, but didn’t want to see. Clark. Again. Would I ever get rid of this guy?
“Hello, Ruby.” Clark smiled down at me. He’d showered at some point in the recent past and the smell of aftershave wafted into my nose. His clothes had changed, too. Instead of circus road crew rags, he wore a nice pair of khaki slacks and a green polo shirt. He looked halfway handsome with his hazel eyes and neatly trimmed hair. He was nothing like the guy who’d harassed and stalked me all over the Cirque D’Amour. Weird. Maybe Blake hadn’t been the only one doing magic tricks.
I looked at both men. “What the hell is going on? Who are you?” I tried to move my arms as I spoke, but they’d been tied to the arm rests. When I flexed my feet, I discovered I’d been bound at the ankles as well. Well, wasn’t that just peachy keen? I tested my bonds but found no slack that would allow me to escape. I was stuck.
“Allow me to introduce you.” Clark sat in the seat next to the bald guy. “This is Frankie.”
“And?” I prompted. I remembered everything up until I’d passed out: The police, who weren’t police, looking for Blake. They’d kidnapped me, pumped me full of drugs and put me on plane. The name Frankie was not nearly enough information to explain any of that.
Ignoring my question, Frankie pointed at me with his chin. “Cut her loose, Clark.”
“She’s a fighter, boss.”
“Boss? You work for Frankie?” I frowned at Clark. Had the crew gig been a front of some kind? What was going on?
He smirked at me. “The crew was just a side job, Blake was always my paycheck.” Holding up a finger, he wagged it at me and said, “I tried to warn you away from him that night. You should’ve listened to me.”
I rolled my eyes, but didn’t say anything. Clark had revised history to the point where it was unrecognizable. He’d been trying to get into my pants, not save me from anything.
“Clark, I’m waiting. Cut the rope already.” Frankie sounded bored.
“You sure?” Clark looked askance at Frankie. “She fought us like a rabid cat when we went to pick her up.”
Frankie gave me a pointed look. “She’s a lady. She’ll act like one, right, Ruby?”
“Yeah, sure, Frankie.” I smiled sweetly at him and pictured ramming my heel into his crotch. If Frankie was smart, he wouldn’t give me a clear shot.
Clark pulled out a knife and sawed through the rope holding me down. Once free, I massaged my wrists.
“Thanks for nothing,” I said, glaring at him. At least he hadn’t copped a feel this time.
Apparently, Clark didn’t care for my tone. He raised his hand as if to hit me, a thunderous look on his face, but Frankie called him off.
“Sit down, Clark. We got business to conduct before we reach our gate.”
Clark slumped into his seat with a sullen frown.
I stretched my arms overhead, releasing all the knots in my back from being trussed up in one position so long. “So is anyone going to tell me what is going on? Where am I?”
“Right where Blake wants you. That plane ticket he sent was a lucky break for us.” Frankie watched me stretch with open interest, his gaze lingering on my chest as I arched my back. “Morocco. Casablanca to be precise.”
I abruptly crossed my arms. “You’re kidding me, right?” Of course, I had suspected as much, but hearing it out loud hit me hard and cold as ice. And what did this guy mean by lucky break? What the hell was going on?
“No. I don’t joke. It confuses things and I don’t want any misunderstandings.” He cleared his throat. “I brought you here because I need your help.”
I glared at him. “You always ask for help by drugging and kidnapping people?”
“If that’s what it takes. In my business, we aren’t shy about incentives.” Frankie’s eyes met mine, remorseless as a python that had swallowed a baby.
Business? What business? Ah crap, was this guy like a mobster or something? My stomach sank at the thought. I looked at Frankie again. The gold bling, the accent, the thick chest hair that even his shirt couldn’t contain. He looked Italian and he acted like a mob boss.
Well, shit. Did I have all the luck or what?
Frankie kept talking, “Listen, your boyfriend, Blake is a problem and he needs an incentive, which is where you come in.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” I wasn’t sure how I even felt about him just then, either. Had he known they were coming and run anyway? I hoped not.
Frankie shrugged. “Semantics. The point is, the guy has the hots for you and I need you to make sure he shows up somewhere.”
“You think he’ll listen to me?” I gave him a skeptical look.
“Sweetheart, there are legions of men who would follow anywhere your tits led them.” He outlined an hourglass with his hands. “God spared no curve when he made you.” He leered at me then and Clark joined him.
Ew. I hugged myself tighter and refused to meet their eyes. “I barely know the guy.”
“That’s even better.” Frankie smiled, pleased with himself. “It means he’ll still be interested. You’re forgetting he asked you to come to Morocco. He wants you and he’ll go where you say. Trust me, I’m a guy. I know how these things work.”
“Uh-huh,” I said sarcastically. “Why don’t you just ask him yourself?”
“That’s the problem. You see, I already did.” Frankie shook his head. “He said no and
he’s been too slick for me to arrange a face-to-face meeting. That’s where you come in.” He pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to me. “Here’s the address. He needs to be there at midnight four days from now. You tell him to go, he’ll go.”
I took the card and looked at it. The address was French. Rue Chateau something. “What if he turns me down?”
“You’ll make sure he won’t.” His eyes went cold as a shark’s. “By any means necessary. Remember, he wants you. Use that to our advantage.”
I swallowed. “This is crazy. You’re crazy.” I felt like Alice, but instead of Wonderland, I’d crossed into Mobster hell.
Frankie ignored my outburst. “Here’s a phone. We’ll be in touch.”
At Frankie’s nod, Clark handed me a slim iphone. I looked at it, idly noticing it was the latest model. No expense had been spared to coerce me. “Why do you need Blake to be there?”
"Let’s just say he owes me."
I frowned. “That’s it? You’re not going to tell me what’s going on?”
Frankie shook his head and waved a hand, the diamond in his pinkie ring gleaming. "Curiosity kills more than cats, sweetheart. Careful you don’t ask questions with answers that are bad for your health.”
"What am I supposed to say to him?” I turned my hand palm up, feeling helpless. Everything seemed so nebulous. I couldn’t fully grasp what I was supposed to do or why.
He stabbed the air with a meaty finger. “You say and do whatever it takes to get him to that address. Or...” He trailed off, his baby blues narrowed at me with an implicit threat.
“Or what?” I prompted, boldly meeting his eyes. I might be afraid, but damned if I would show it.
“Blake’s got one chance to make things right or," he made a gun with his finger and thumb, "we'll take matters into our own hands."
I gulped, under no illusion that a gun wouldn’t just as easily be turned on me. Shit. Frankie played for keeps. How had Blake gotten mixed up with this guy?
The plane slowed to a stop and a flight attendant appeared from the cockpit. A bottle blonde, she wore a tight skirt and even tighter blouse, unbuttoned to reveal her cleavage. She also didn’t seem bothered or surprised by my presence. Like her boss always kidnapped people and flew them around. Just another day working for a mob boss, I guess.
Her spiked heels thudding in the thick carpet, she sashayed over to where we sat and announced, “We’re almost ready to deplane, Mr. Abruzzo.” She bent over slightly, giving Frankie a view straight down her shirt.
He smiled.
She smiled.
Clark looked jealous.
I made a gagging noise that no one seemed to notice.
“Perfect.” Frankie winked at the attendant and twisted in his seat to watch her walk back to the cockpit. Even Clark joined in and I couldn’t help but watch myself. The woman did have a nice ass even if she was depraved enough to aid and abet her boss’ various crimes.
When Frankie was finally done leering, he turned back to me. Touching his eye and then pointing at me, he said, “We’ll be watching you, Ruby. Don’t try anything funny.”
“Don’t go to the police either, not unless you want to end up in jail,” Clark added.
I snorted, unimpressed by the threat. “You’d be the ones in jail, not me.” Actually, going to the police wasn’t a bad idea. Or...a thought struck me, what about the US Embassy? They would take me in, right? Maybe I could find a way out of this. But what about Blake? If I cut and run that left him hanging. Could I leave him to die?
“Don’t be so sure about that.” Clark waved his passport at me. “You’re missing one of these, which means you’ll be entering the country illegally. That carries a fine and time in the local clink. And this is a Muslim country. You don’t want to be accused of a crime here.”
Frankie nodded. “They don’t listen to women here. Especially women who break the law. They’d lock you up so you couldn’t run from a bullet.” He stared at me for a long moment, letting that last threat sink in.
I shivered, suitably impressed now. “Point taken.” I would skip the police then and go for the Embassy. As for Blake, well, I would figure something out.
He thrust a wad of bills at me. “Good. Here’s some cash for your expenses.” Frankie gestured to Clark. “Get her purse, will you?”
Clark went to a small closet at the front of the plane and returned with my purse, handing it over to me. I dropped the thick roll of money and the phone into my purse and slung the bag over my shoulder, going through the motions on autopilot. I was dizzy with the surreal turn of events.
It had all started so innocently: The Cirque D’Amour was just supposed to be a job. All I had to do was sew, right? Yet somehow I’d taken on so much more. Who knew working as a seamstress could be so dangerous or go down such dark rabbit holes?
I sighed and rubbed my temples. When I’d visited Lilli in the hospital, just before I’d been kidnapped, she told me she thought Blake was worth the trouble. I wondered what she would say now.
Thinking of her made me realize she was back in the States waiting for me to pick her up and start our road trip to California. Would she even know I was gone? Would anyone think to look for me? My mom and I barely stayed in touch. I had no other relatives. Lilli was pretty much my only friend. From a distance, my life appeared bleak and empty.
I looked at Frankie, grimacing at the sight of his squat frame and shifty eyes that could emit innocence like he’d retrofitted a switch to turn it on and off at will. He was my only way back home. The thought did not reassure me.
“So what happens when I bring you Blake?” I asked, my voice terse.
“We’ll fly you back home. First class,” Frankie said. His answer was so pat and neat and brimming with over-the-top sincerity that I doubted he meant it.
“And Blake? Are you going to kill him?”
Both men just looked at me with blank expressions on their faces. My stomach churned until acid burned my throat. When I’d slept with Blake it was because I’d wanted to fall in love. Instead, I’d somehow ended up in the middle of a dangerous game I didn’t want to play.
Finally, with a cheerfulness that came off as creepy, Frankie said, “On the contrary, we’re giving him a chance to save his life.”
“All clear to deplane, Mr. Abruzzo,” came the flight attendant’s voice.
“All right, it’s show time.” Clark gave a little bow and swept his arm toward the now open jet door. “Ladies first.”
Chapter Eight
I stepped off the plane and inhaled the surprisingly cool air. I’d expected Morocco to be as hot as a blasting furnace, but it was actually mild, like a cool Spring day back home in New York. The men followed me off the plane and herded me along. At Customs, Frankie passed around more wads of cash and no one blinked twice at my lack of credentials.
I looked at the officials with wide, pleading eyes, but they only saw the money. No one noticed the way Clark and Frankie hustled me along, each man grabbing one of my arms to control my movements.
Once I started to say something, but before I could form any words Frankie’s hand pinched my elbow so hard, I yelped.
“Don’t get creative, that’s a good way to get hurt.” He gave me a little shake. “Besides, no matter where you go, I have friends you don’t want to meet. Cross me and you’ll be looking over your shoulder the rest of your very short life. Understood?”
I straightened and nodded. “Understood.”
Outside of Customs, they let me go. “This is where we part ways, sweetheart. Blake’s here somewhere waiting for you and it wouldn’t do for us to be seen together.” Frankie did that thing where he pointed to his eye and then at me again. “Don’t forget, we’re watching you. Be a good girl.”
I glared at both of them as they melted into the bustling crowd that packed the airport. Even with them out of sight, I still felt twitchy between my shoulder blades. Struggling to keep my composure, I turned my attention to my surro
undings.
The airport’s modern architecture had a series of skylights and light from the rising sun poured in, forming a natural spotlight on the wide diversity of people around me. There were tourists from Europe and the US, along with Africans and Asians. I stood alone in the crowd swirling around me, utterly lost.
I wanted to cry. To sink to my knees and beg for help. Instead I found my way to an airport café and collapsed into a chair with some coffee and water. The cashier had taken the US money I’d offered with such open pleasure, I wondered--but didn’t care--if I’d overpaid.
Pulling out the cell phone Frankie had given me, I debated who to call. Lilli seemed to be the obvious choice, but when I dialed her number, I got an error message in a language I didn’t understand. Shaking my head, I hung up and tried again, and then again, but none of my calls went through.
Frustrated, I set the phone on the cafe table and sipped my coffee. Its strong bitterness simmered in my stomach, reminding me I hadn’t eaten in a long time. Just as I contemplated buying one of the pastries in the cafe’s display case, the phone gave a little beep, announcing the receipt of a text message. I frowned as I read it.
Local calls only, sweetheart.
I scanned the airport trying to spot Frankie and Clark, but only saw strangers in a strange land. Wherever their perch was, it was well hidden from me.
With a sigh, I finished my coffee and chugged the water, hoping that, between the caffeine and the hydration, I would begin feeling human again. A lingering drug fog clouded my mind, making my thoughts sluggish. My body was stiff and slow. I needed sleep more than anything, but, until a bed presented itself, I would rely on caffeine to see me through.
“Ruby,” said a deep voice I’d last heard in my dreams.
“Blake.” I tipped my head back to see him standing there with a happy smile on his face. He wore a white button down shirt and beige slacks made of pressed linen. Sunglasses hid his eyes and his dark hair curled around his face. He was handsome as ever, the same man I’d spent months mooning over while we toured with the Cirque D’Amour. However, I now found myself of two minds when it came to the magician Blake Cannon.