I shoved past him and called the condo number. It rang twice before he picked up. "Huntington?"
"Yeah."
It wasn't him. "Who is this?"
"You said it, sweetheart. Huntington."
"Steve?"
"I'm looking for Steve. Where is he?"
I almost missed the touch of panic in his voice since my own was mounting. "You don't know?"
"If I knew would I be chatting your ass up?"
"See now, Huntington--Steve would never have said that."
There was a pause and then the voice came back on, smoother and more cultured. "Under normal circumstances I would be more than pleased to discuss the endless trivia in your tiny little world, but unfortunately at the moment, I am in a bit of a hurry. If you could just help me with some information?" Now he sounded like he had a stick up his ass. Definitely more like Steve.
"That's better. No, I don't know where he is. Well," I hesitated again. "I might. If I come up there are you going to shoot me?" Michael was still staring stoically at the wall, but he was memorizing every word.
I didn't like the fact that whoever was in the condo took a long time to consider his answer. "I guess not." He sounded very disappointed in his decision.
"I'm on my way."
Before I could get the elevator, Michael obliged and pressed the button. One of the two cages was always programmed to wait in the lobby. He held the door for me, still without looking directly at me. Just as it closed, he said, "Some lady was here also. This morning. She asked which condo you were in, but we don't give that information out."
I would have shot the kid if I had had a gun. He had this information and he just let me get on the elevator without telling me?
One problem at a time. And I had a feeling the one upstairs was going to be a big one.
Chapter 38
Steve's brother, and he was surely a brother, was waiting in the condo. I expected him to be draped casually on the couch, cleaning his gun or at least caressing it. Instead, he was leaned against the living room wall, wearing tight jeans and a t-shirt that was small enough it rippled when his muscles did. He had a sword on his arm. I couldn't help but stare at it.
Wow. He was probably a couple of years younger than Steve, but it was hard to tell. "Uh, hi. I'm Sedona."
He knew I was nervous. "Mark." His eyes were creamy coffee brown, not blue. He wore his hair combed back just like Huntington, but his was dark brown, wavier and not black. I wondered if Steve had put a temporary sword on his arm or if it had been Mark in Strandfrost.
I looked at his eyes and knew. "Why was he dressed as you at Strandfrost?"
Mark stared at me. "What makes you think it wasn't me?"
I took in the casual smirk and the challenge on his face. No way. I shrugged. "I…don't know. Why would your brother dress like you?"
Mark glanced away, either annoyed or embarrassed. "Could we just get to the point of this conversation? You said you might know where he is?"
I didn't really want to go there. I only knew if I heard from Derrick in this century. "I have to wait for a phone call. Do you know Larry at the car place?"
His stare was filled with cold assurance. "Lady, I got business to take care of. You just tell me what you know about Steve."
I hated being threatened. It reminded me of bullies in high school. I sniffed. "Larry has or uses a cabin somewhere. I think Steve might be there."
His eyes flickered, just before going expressionless. He knew about the cabin.
"You know where this cabin is at?" I couldn't control the sudden hope in my voice.
He stood away from the wall and came over to me. Gently, he brushed one fist under my chin. "Thanks, babe. I'll take it from here."
He was big, at least as big as Steve. I waited until he turned to walk out and then tackled his knees. Steve would never have turned his back on me, but then he already knew how unreliable I could be. Okay, how stupid.
Mark went down like a big polar bear, but he was even faster than Steve. Before I could crawl up and sit on his back, he flipped over, taking me with him and nearly sending me into the bar halfway across the room.
He sat up. "What the hell did you do that for?" He sounded more incredulous than mad.
I stumbled to my feet, winded. "I want to go with you. They have my friend Turbo too."
"Turbo? Who the hell is Turbo? I thought you were worried about Steve?" His eyes narrowed. "He lets you live in his place and you're worried about some guy named Turbo?"
I was really getting tired of everyone thinking Steve and I were an item. "It isn't Steve's condo. It's mine. He traded me the condo for my house. You can go look it up."
That stumped him even more. He stood up slowly, keeping his eyes on me. "What does that have to do with this Turbo guy?"
"Look, Steve and I are not…anything. He gave me the condo to help with a problem at work. I assume you are involved because he came to Strandfrost the first time dressed like you. He hired me to help him. So you have to take me along."
"He hired you?" Mark didn't sound like he believed me.
"Are you going to take me with you or not? If you're not, I'm going to follow you. If you lose me, I'm going to find you," I promised rashly. "I'll call Derrick!"
"Derrick." He looked amused now. "Just how many boyfriends do you have?"
I glared at him. "None! Derrick is a cop."
That, he didn't find funny. "Who are you? You don't look like a cop."
I thought about lying, but he looked pretty street-smart. "I'm not. Will you just take me with you?"
"I can't. I don't have another helmet for the motorcycle." He waved good-bye and opened the door. This time he kept his body turned sideways so that he could see me coming. I walked forward slowly so that I wouldn't startle him and end up getting thrown out the window.
"The Mercedes has four-wheel drive. We could take the motorcycle if we had a trailer."
He paused, but considered. "Why bother?"
"Was your brother grabbed because he looked like you or because he looked like himself?"
Mark turned to face me fully. "Probably me," he admitted softly, not liking that I had brought it up.
"So we take the Mercedes in. Just tourists. If we can figure out a way to take the motorcycle, we'll have it if you need it."
He watched me for a while without saying anything. "What did my brother hire you for exactly?"
I grinned. "My looks." Technically, he had me to look a certain way. I just hadn't looked it at the time, nor very often after that.
"That," he said, inspecting me up and down appreciatively, "I can believe."
I wasn't sure, but I think I should have said "brains." Frowning, I told him, "I'll get the Mercedes. I'm sure Michael would love to help load the bike." Just thinking about the chore made me happier. I hope the bike leaked oil onto Michael's uniform.
Mark didn't wait. He headed downstairs while I scurried into the bedroom and grabbed a knife and my gun. "Probably shoot myself." I didn't want the gun, but I figured I could leave it in the Mercedes.
Racing downstairs, I handed Michael the keys and cooed, "Could you help us load some things in the Mercedes?"
He was startled, but followed me. Mark's motorcycle was already around front. When Michael saw it, his mouth dropped. I barely kept mine closed, but managed an empty smile and clapped my hands together. "Mark is going to teach me to ride."
Mark looked up in surprise.
"Won't this be fun?" I asked. The bike was beautiful. It was custom painted with a sword that matched the one on Mark's arm. Blue and silver lightning glinted off the magnificent blade, giving the sword the illusion of movement even with the bike sitting still.
Michael looked like he might bolt back inside, but Mark stood there with his muscles bulging, not threatening, but not someone you wanted to piss off.
Mark walked over to the doorman. Eloy, the doorman, seemed to know about whatever Mark was saying because he nodded eagerly three times and h
eaded back into the garage. All I heard was the word seventy-two. Michael had no choice but to follow since I was standing there waiting for the Mercedes.
In short order, Michael drove the SUV around and Eloy returned with a small trailer attached to a golf cart. He happily accepted a tip.
Michael handed me the keys, and I offered to back the Mercedes towards the little trailer. "You guys direct me, okay?"
Michael and Eloy looked rather doubtful. What were they worried about? Did they think I was going to run over Steve's brother?
Hmm. Maybe.
Mark didn't even glance my way. He just put his hand out for the keys and waited. I sighed and gave them to him.
We got the bike loaded up and secured. I headed for the driver's side. Mark smiled at me. "I don't think so, sweetheart."
"It's my car."
He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I know where we're going."
I got in the passenger side reluctantly. "Don't mess up this vehicle. It's the nicest one I've ever had."
"My brother buy it for you?" He asked the question politely, but it was obvious he knew the answer.
I sulked. "It's not what you think."
I caught him grinning and protested again, "It's not."
"Hey, I believe you," he laughed. "My brother never had to buy his women."
He still thought I was Steve's woman. That made me mad enough to leave Steve in the clutches of whoever had caught him. If it hadn't been for Turbo I might have left Steve to rot.
Mark took highway ninety-one out of town. We traveled for almost an hour before he turned off onto a dirt road. We didn't need the four-wheel drive right away, but the sports vehicle was built so that it was available at all times. I hoped the automatic feature worked. I had never tried it.
The forest was full of a mix of deep greens and lingering summer heat. I wished I had had a chance to get snacks. My stomach growled. Thankfully, Mark couldn't hear it over the noise the tires were making.
"How far is it?" I asked.
"Another forty minutes or so."
"How do you know where it is?"
He shifted for an incline. "I followed someone out here once."
"How did you get involved with those people that broke into Strandfrost?" Mark didn't seem like a bad guy, not bad enough to be with the group that had attacked Allen's wife.
Mark didn't answer. A little while later, he pulled the Mercedes into the trees. "Can you walk for a mile or so?"
I nodded. I was feeling less friendly and a lot more nervous. There was little enough traffic on the highway. Out here, there would be an occasional hunter later in the year, but now, there didn't even appear to be vacationers.
"What are we going to do?"
His eyes laughed at me. "You mean you don't have it all figured out?"
I glared at his back while he unloaded the bike and pushed it into the woods. He detached the trailer and hid that also. I wasn't much help, but I scouted around and took a potty break. By the time I got back, he had arranged a gun, knife, flashlight and binoculars on his belt pack. He handed me a jacket from the back of his motorcycle.
"Good heavens." It was a bulletproof vest. I stared at him and wondered if he was a cop. He couldn't be. Could he?
He said, "I'll need it back if I have to ride in there. The jacket will make it obvious that it's me."
That was probably true. It had a blue and silver sword stitched across the back of the black leather. The sleeve had a faded sword painted on it that matched the one on his arm. "Okay." If he was going to be on the bike, where was I?
He headed up the hill. I followed. I could do downhill all day, but my lungs didn't like uphill stretches. I walked quietly enough, but my breathing was loud enough to scare off the wildlife.
Mark stopped frequently to let me rest. Each time, he got more impatient. We were running out of time, and I knew it. Dusk was maybe a half hour away in the heavily treed area even though it was only about six-thirty. It was going to get very dark in these woods.
About halfway up the second hill, I could see a cabin. Whoever had built it hadn't cleared many trees. I might not have noticed it if not for the chimney sticking out around a couple of trees.
"Looks like someone is home," Mark said softly. He used the pair of binoculars that he had taken from his bike. After he handed them to me, I could just see the tail of a white pickup truck. Dying light glinted off something else. It might have been the bumper of another vehicle or maybe a snow shovel that someone had left outside.
"Would they take Turbo and Steve there?"
"Possibly. They got a little too nervous about me trying to deal myself in."
"Oh." His hand was out, so I handed him the binoculars. "Where--"
He cut me off by putting his hand over my mouth. "There are probably at least three of them," he whispered softly in my ear. "Let's not assume they are all sitting there peacefully in the cabin."
Sure, whatever. I swallowed nervously, chills going across my arms and all the way up my back. When he let go of my mouth I murmured, "Do you think Steve and Turbo are inside?"
He continued to scan with the binoculars. "There's a cellar for storing deer. It's off to the right side of the cabin. It's usually covered in pine needles."
Apparently he had scouted the area well. "You think they are in there?"
"Likely. It's far enough from the cabin that if I distract them, you might be able to get the door open and get them out."
I didn't like the sound of that plan. "I don't think that is a very good idea."
He stopped looking through the binoculars and looked at me. "Why not?"
"I assume the door is locked," I hedged. "What if…" What if Turbo and Huntington weren't alive? Was I expected to casually walk up, check and then walk away?
"So?"
"So," I said generously, "I'll distract them. You open the door."
He watched me for a while. "Did you leave your gun in the car?"
I shook my head. I had wanted to really, really badly, but I had this awful feeling that if I got shot and my own gun was sitting in the car, my family would never forgive me. Maybe Huntington would need a gun. I could always give it to him if he was still alive. He acted like he could shoot someone without any guilt.
"We'll try for the door together," he decided.
If Mark hadn't been to the cabin before we wouldn't have found the cellar door unless we tripped over the wood bin that had been put on top of it. Whatever was in the storage cellar wasn't going to come out without help. The whole setup was very worrisome.
It was getting colder now that the sun was gone. What if the people inside the cabin decided to start a fire and needed wood from the bin?
Mark installed me behind a tree and told me to stay put. He circled around towards the cabin.
He came back in a hurry. "There's only two of them."
"You're sure there should be three?"
He made a circling motion with his hand, indicating someone was probably wandering around looking for anyone that might happen along.
"We can't get that wood off without making some noise," I pointed out.
"Do you know how to drive a motorcycle?" he asked.
"No."
"Can you get the wood off?"
I probably could. One or two pieces at a time. "What if they heard us drive up?" My brain was in overdrive worrying about all the possibilities. A shot out here would just be an illegal hunter and probably ignored if anyone heard it. Then they could throw us down into the cellar with Turbo and Huntington.
I thought I heard something. It was still off in the distance, but it sounded like a motor to me. "What is that?"
He cocked his head. "Dunno, but time is running out. Let's get to the door."
We moved logs. Mostly I moved the logs, and he kept watch. Whenever I got too loud, we would stop, and he would check the cabin again. I didn't hear the motor anymore. The bin was almost empty when he came back and dragged me behind the tree. "They are out
side. Arguing."
I could hear voices, but not distinguish words. To my surprise, there was a woman's voice in the mix. Maybe someone other than Marilyn had to come clean the place and take care of the men.
I looked back at the bin, but knew I couldn't lift it off that door, even if I wanted to. With a gulp, I pulled my gun out. "I'll watch. If they are arguing, maybe you can slide the bin off."
Before he could disagree, we heard the truck start up. Mark moved quickly, using the noise from the truck as cover. He dragged the bin away from the trap door and then ran back under cover.
No one came rushing from inside the cellar. There was a latch on the door, but I could see from where I was that it wasn't locked.
I swallowed. Mark rested next to me, breathing hard. The sound of the truck died off into the distance. It would be normal for whoever was left behind to come and check the cellar, at least if the occupants didn't already have bullet holes through their foreheads.
"If someone comes through that path, shoot them," Mark instructed.
Ohboy. Would I? Or would I just stand there frozen and let them take shots at Mark?
Mark turned to go back to the cellar door, but as he did I swear I saw it gap up just slightly. I tugged on his sleeve. Maybe it was wishful thinking. If Turbo and Huntington were in there, why hadn't they jumped out already?
Mark ignored my tugging and slithered back towards the door, almost crawling.
I had a nasty little suspicion growing in the back of my mind. What if…they were alive? "Sstt. Mark," I whispered. If Turbo was alive, he had been trapped in a cellar with his own means for several hours. Turbo was first and foremost an engineer, an inventor by trade and a good one.
I had an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. Mark was almost to the door. I heard a funny creaking just about the time I started out of the trees.
Mark spun towards me, but he didn't move back my way. He must have heard the creaking noise and maybe it did come from my direction. I thought not.
I hit him at a full run.
Chapter 39
Mark grunted and rolled, dragging me under him, using the momentum from my flying leap. The door hit the side of my leg and bounced back. From under Mark, I couldn't see a thing.
1 Executive Lunch Page 23