The Manolo Matrix

by Julie Kenner

  “Down here,” I yelled, tugging him onto 54th Street and down just a bit until we were right in front of the Manolo Blahnik boutique. “In,” I said, not waiting for a response. “There’s a back door,” I said, under my breath. “We need to get back into the employees’ area.”

  I’d discovered the back door when a friend of Brian’s had worked here. She’d indulged my passion for a grand tour, and showed me every nook and cranny. Great stuff. Unfortunately, she’d moved to Los Angeles before I’d been able to hit her up for use of her employee discount.

  The Manolo boutique is very modern, very clean, and very shiny. That early, it was also pretty empty. To say that we—sweating, panting, and more than a little rumpled—were out of place would be a hideous understatement.

  The salesgirl, though, didn’t even blink. She just approached, smiled, and asked if she could help us.

  I was about to ask for the use of the restroom—that was the only ploy I could think of to get us back there—when Devlin stepped forward. He pointed to three different pairs of shoes. “Her size,” he said. “If you could have them wrapped and ready to go by tomorrow.”

  The salesgirl blinked, but didn’t argue. She looked at me.

  “Size eight,” I said.

  “Here.” Devlin opened his wallet and peeled off a huge wad of bills. “Now, if you don’t mind, my ex-wife has a bit of a grudge against my fiancée.” He hooked his arm around my shoulder and hugged. “Maybe we could go out your back door? And if you see her, if you’d not mention that we were here, I’d be very grateful. Very grateful,” he added meaningfully, sliding his wallet back into his pocket.

  “Of course, sir. Right through there, sir.” She pointed to the back door, and away we went. As the employees’ door closed behind us, I heard the electronic ding that announced a new customer entering the store. I had no way of knowing if it was Bird Girl, but I was still certain it was.

  We picked up the pace, emerged onto an alley, then trotted over to Avenue of the Americas. Devlin caught us a cab and, with one final glance around, I climbed inside.

  Bird Girl, thank God, was nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter

  40

  BIRDIE

  I stop, out of breath and sweating, as the Fifth Avenue tourists give me a wide berth, their gazes wary.

  My gun is pressed tight against my thigh, but now I open my backpack and slip it inside. At the moment, I have no more use for it.

  I’ve lost my quarry.

  I’m disappointed by the loss, and furious with myself for yet another failure. But also, curiously, I am excited as well. My foes have a few tricks of their own. And that, I have to admit, ratchets my excitement up a notch.

  Of course, I must once again accept a certain level of fault. I hadn’t expected the little bitch to recognize me. After all, it had been days since I’d seen her, and for just a moment, I regret buying the shoes that she’d so coveted. Nothing sticks in a woman’s mind like another girl’s victory in the shopping arena.

  Also, I must be practical and acknowledge that this is the first assignment I’ve had in which my subject is aware that I’m coming. That shifts the dynamic and, perhaps, I have not adjusted my methods sufficiently.

  But never mind. This game is still young, and I’ll find my quarry easily enough.

  Since the police will surely come to investigate, I move even farther away, crossing over to Madison. I take off my rollerblades and put on the pair of sneakers I’ve tucked into my backpack. Only then do I pull my PDA from my pack and power it on. I open the tracking software and wait for it to load. It does, but there’s no image. No blip. No little ping showing me Devlin’s location.

  My temper spikes. Damn.

  A muscle twitches in my cheek, and I tell myself that I’m not irritated. After all, I like a challenge.

  But as I walk down Madison, my rollerblades in my hand and my gun tucked close in my fanny pack, I have to admit that’s not entirely accurate.

  The truth is I don’t like being inconvenienced.

  I don’t like anything, frankly, that gets in my way of winning.

  Chapter

  41

  JENNIFER

  “S he bugged me,” Devlin said, catching my eye as the cab maneuvered through the busy streets toward Times Square.

  “She bugged me, too,” I said. “But, honestly, I’m tempted to use a little bit harsher language.”

  “Not annoyed. Bugged. Tagged. Electronically booby-trapped.”

  I sat up. “What? What are you talking about?”

  But Devlin wasn’t answering. Instead, he was emptying his wallet into his lap. He kept the cash and his driver’s license. Then he rolled down his window and tossed the rest into the street.

  “Devlin!”

  “Have you taken the pill?”

  “I…no. Not yet.”

  “It’s nine-thirty. Take the thing. Leave yourself some wiggle room.”

  “You really think I should take it? I don’t even know what’s in it. And I don’t feel bad. What if there’s nothing wrong with me, and this fucks me up?”

  “I don’t think that’s the way the game works. Mel took the antidote, right? And she was fine.”

  “You’re right. I know. I’m just nervous.” Even as I said that, I was remembering Bergdorf’s. The way Bird Girl was always there. The way she seemed to follow me, even taunt me by buying and then tossing my shoes.

  And the way she fell against me.

  “Devlin,” I said, turning so that my right side faced him. “Look at this.”

  He ran his finger over the red mark, about a quarter of an inch square on the back of my arm, just above my elbow. “What is it?”

  “She bumped into me on Sunday. I didn’t think anything of it. Her ring scraped me, though. Do you think—”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “And she timed it. When she met me, she timed it so that the poison would kick in at ten today.”

  “Take the damn pill,” he said.

  And, so help me, I did.

  Chapter

  42

  DEVLIN

  D evlin watched, his breath held tight in his chest, as Jenn closed her eyes, then dry-swallowed the pill. She stayed perfectly still, and Devlin was certain that his heart had stopped beating. He reached out, grabbed her hand. “Jenn! Dammit, Jenn, say something!”

  “Mmmm,” she said. “Cherry-flavored.” And then she opened her eyes and grinned at him, her expression light and full of mischief.

  “Dammit all! I thought—” He reached out and grabbed her, then pulled her close.

  She wrapped her arms around him, too, and he let himself get lost in the moment, this one tiny slice of time where his life felt good. And real. Finally, he pulled back, holding her by the arms so he could get a good look at her. “You’re okay?” he asked. “You’re really okay?”

  “I think so. I suppose the capsule could be some sort of freaky time-release. But I think I’m fine.”

  He couldn’t help it. He grabbed her and pulled her close again.

  “Gee, Devlin. I didn’t know you cared.” Her voice was light, teasing, but there was a question hiding under the levity. A question he felt obligated to answer.

  “I do care,” he said. “I really do.”

  This time, she pulled back on her own. Her green eyes searched his face. Whatever she saw there must have satisfied her, because she nodded curtly. “She almost had a bullet in your head.”

  “I know,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  “You’re a hell of a protector,” he said.

  “I thought you didn’t need one.”

  With that, he couldn’t quite look at her. When she’d burst into his life yesterday, he really did believe he’d be just as well off if he caught an assassin’s bullet. Now, though…

  Well, now things had changed. Somewhere along the way he’d started to come alive again. Jenn may have saved him from a bullet, but she’d also brough
t him back from the dead. He may have started out only wanting to help the girl, but now he wanted to help himself. Now he wanted life. His life, and hers. More, he wanted retribution. Revenge against the s.o.b. who was pulling their chain.

  He didn’t quite know how to tell her all that, though. So instead, he just said simply, “I changed my mind.”

  He was still looking out the window, but he could feel her watching him. She scooted close so that their hips were touching, then took his hand in hers. “Good,” she said. “Uh, Devlin? We’ll go back and get those shoes, right?”

  “Hell yes,” he said. “At those prices, I figure we’d better.”

  “Good.” She sounded so relieved he had to fight back a chuckle.

  “Then again,” he began, teasing her. “It’s not like you picked them out. You probably don’t even like them. Maybe we should just blow it off.”

  She shifted on the seat to face him dead-on. “Watch your mouth! They’re Manolos, Devlin. Of course I like them.”

  “All of them.”

  “Every single glorious pair.”

  “That is such a girl thing.”

  “Well, I am a girl.”

  He took his time looking her over, enjoying the way her cheeks flushed as he did. “Yeah,” he finally said. “I’d noticed.”

  If she had a clever or flirty response, though, he didn’t get to hear it because they’d reached Times Square.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  “Empire State Building,” Devlin said.

  “Come on, buddy! You just told me to drag you here.”

  “What are you complaining for? I’m the one paying.”

  “Shit,” the driver mumbled, but he kept on driving.

  “Where are we going?” Jenn asked.

  “Right now, we’re just moving. We need to think. And if we move, she can’t find us.”

  “What did you mean when you said she bugged you?”

  “She must have put something on me. In my wallet, maybe. Or my shoes. Probably not my clothes, because how would she know what I’d wear?”

  “What are you talking about?” Jenn asked. “And how? How on earth would she get to your stuff to leave a bug, anyway?”

  He didn’t answer. Couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. Not wanting to admit the truth. Not to himself and especially not to Jenn.

  “Devlin?” she prodded.

  When he finally answered, his voice was thick with self-loathing. “Because a few nights before I met you, I picked her up at a bar. And I slept with her.”

  Chapter

  43

  JENNIFER

  “Y ou slept with her,” I repeated, letting the statement roll around on my tongue. “You slept with the woman who is now trying to kill us?”

  “Looks that way, yeah.”

  “Well, fuck.” What was I supposed to do with that information? I wasn’t entirely sure. Rationally, I could see how he might pick up some gal in a bar and screw her. Not politically correct, but everyone has their moments. I mean, the guy had been depressed, right? I once went home with a guy I met in a bar after I flubbed my first New York audition. Not something I’m proud of, but it happened.

  So maybe I understood. But understanding didn’t matter. I was pissed. More, I think I was jealous. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because I’m an idiot, that’s why.” He ran a hand through his hair, and I caught a glimpse of how distraught he was. This was a man used to keeping his emotions under control. He’d been knocked off-kilter—hard. Oddly, that made me feel better.

  “Devlin…” I reached out, took his hand in mine, and for just an instant I held on. Then he snatched his hand back.

  “Don’t. Okay? Just don’t.”

  Well, hell. I leaned forward and tapped the Plexiglas divider. “Pull up there, will you?”

  The driver did, and as Devlin gaped, I grabbed his phone, then tossed it into the nearest trash can. Then I went into the store and bought one of those pay-as-you-go cell phones. When I got back in the car, Devlin was staring at me, the tiniest hint of a smile playing around his mouth. “You handling me?”

  “More or less. That’s my job, right?”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what? For the cell phone?”

  “For saving my ass back there. If you hadn’t seen her when you did, I’d be dead meat.”

  “You two still heading for the Empire State?”

  I shook my head. “You know what? We’ll get out here.” I tugged on Devlin’s sleeve. “Come on. I’m sick of riding around. Let’s find a Starbucks and regroup.”

  Because this is New York, it took all of about three point seven seconds to find one of the coffee shops. I swear, the things multiply faster than bunnies. We went in, ordered, and then grabbed a table near the window, but off to the side. A view, but sheltered from the prying eyes of passersby.

  “So what do we do now?” I asked, once we were both sipping our drinks (mine a latte, his a Frappuccino).

  “Interpret the next clue,” he said. “Play the game.” He nodded at the cell phone I’d left on the table. “And call Brian again and give him the number so he can find us.”

  He didn’t say the rest, but I heard it anyway: If he’s still alive.

  I decided not to think about that. “You think she’s still interested in him?”

  “I think it’s not worth the risk.”

  “Right,” I said, then voiced the question that had been on my mind ever since we found the pill. “And you?”

  He didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. “I already told you. I’m not giving in to the little bitch,” he said. Then he smiled. “And I’ve got you to help me out.”

  “Lucky you.”

  He reached out, took a strand of my hair, and curled it around his finger. I swear, I almost melted. “Don’t discount yourself.”

  “You would have seen the girl,” I said.

  “Maybe. But that’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh.” I felt my cheeks flush, and I looked down, finding sudden fascination with the lid on my latte. If my guess was right, he’d tried to self-medicate by sleeping with our assassin. But it hadn’t worked. I mean, he’d been a wreck when I’d found him in his dark apartment. So was he saying that I had helped? And if he was saying that, then what did that mean? For me? Or, I guess, for us?

  “Jenn?”

  “Sorry.” I forced myself to get it together. “I’m, uh, just a little distracted. You know. My life is safe and all that. Except it’s not really vacation time, is it?”

  “Nope. She’s after us. And if we don’t stay on top of the clues and solve this game before she catches us, I’m going to be one very unhappy camper.”

  “So why’d you sleep with her?” I blurted out the question before I could stop it, managing to completely mortify myself in the process. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t be jealous. But I did, and I was. So there.

  From Devlin’s expression, I think he knew how I felt. More, I think he kind of liked it. Well, yay for him, but that didn’t change the fact that I felt like a twit. “Devlin,” I said. “Maybe it’s important. She was obviously using you.”

  “She was using me.” He ran his palms over his face. “But I guess that was fair since I was using her.”

  I squinted at him. “To forget.”

  “To forget,” he acknowledged. He turned to look at me, and I swear his eyes burned right through me. “Kind of like what you wanted. Only it didn’t help. Doesn’t help. All it did was leave me more hollow.” He bit out a snort of derisive laughter. “Not to mention marked for death.”

  “There’s a lesson in there about one-night stands,” I quipped.

  “No shit,” he said, then shrugged. “It’s not important. All that matters now is the outcome. I’ve ditched my wallet and I’m not carrying my phone. Whatever she planted on me to track is most likely gone.”

  “We should get you new clothes, too,” I said. “New shoes. Nothing as fancy as Manolos…”
>
  “Next place we pass,” he said. “So long as they fit, I’ll be fine.”

  “Men.”

  “I could scour the town for the perfect running shoe, but right now, we need to focus on figuring out the next clue.”

  That raised an interesting little dilemma. “What next clue?”

  “I don’t have any idea.”

  But I did. All of a sudden, I knew exactly what the clue was.

  Worse, I knew that it was gone.

  Chapter

  44

  JENNIFER

  “I had it,” I said. “It was right in my hand with the pill. In all the commotion, I must have dropped it.”

  We were back near General Sherman, hunched over as we scoured the ground. We’d been at it for over fifteen minutes, and my eyes were about to fall out.

  “We’ll find it,” Devlin said. “And it’s not your fault.”

  “Of course it’s my fault.” I stood up, straightening and rubbing my back. Nothing. Not even shards of glass from where it had gotten run over by a carriage wheel. The thing was simply gone.

  “Somebody probably picked it up,” I said. “Some tourist is putting back shots of tequila with it right this very second.”

  Devlin straightened too, and looked around the crowd. “You might be right, and we probably shouldn’t stay here any longer in any case. Who knows when our friend will be back.”

  “She’s your friend,” I said, with a devious tone.

  He grinned at me, but this time it was real, with none of the self-loathing I’d seen earlier. “Not hardly.” He held out a hand. “Come on.”

  “Where?”

  “I’ve got an idea,” he said.

  We walked past the row of horses and carriages to the street, and Devlin stepped off the curb, arm stretched out to hail a cab. I looked wistfully back at the carriages. We’d thoroughly scoured Bishop’s carriage again—Sean, thankfully, hadn’t held our little stunt against us. Especially after we’d handed him a load of cash to repair the bullet hole. We hadn’t found the glass, though, and I could only stand there wishing we could do it all over again.