Tony whipped off his glasses, tossed them aside and hurled his fist into Irving’s face. The restaurant owner stumbled backward, clutched at a food prep table to break his fall, missed and grabbed at the edge of the hot grill instead. With a howl, he slid to the floor. “You motherfucker! Get outta here! And don’t neither one of you ever set foot in here again!”
Tony scooped his glasses out of the sink where they’d landed and bolted for the back door. He was dimly aware of Charlotte’s footsteps echoing in the alley behind him.
He slowed after he put a few buildings between himself and Irving’s Place. The clickety-clack of Charlotte’s heels pounded the gravel until she caught up with him. “Tony! Wait!”
She caught his elbow. “Where are you going?” He stopped and turned. A tiny crease formed between her eyebrows.
He surveyed the alley. He’d run in the opposite direction of Charlotte’s house. “Away.” Away from Irving. Away from the threat of Theodore Pippin.
And away from Charlotte.
Her shoulders shrank backward. “Please... at least come back for your things.”
He hesitated. If he went with her, would he be able to leave? The temptation to pick up where he’d left off the night before might grow too great, despite the possibility of another visit from Pippin. “No. It’s better this way. I’ve run off your boyfriend. Got you fired from your job. Fucked up your whole life. I can get new things.” At his own reminder that he had money, he dug out his wallet and pulled out most of his cash. “Here, it’s the least I can do for all the trouble I’ve caused... God, I’m so sorry...” He pressed a wad of tens into her hand and closed her fingers around it. He couldn’t look at her stunned face. He swallowed hard as he turned away, then allowed himself one last glimpse.
She stared after him, her body rigid. “Tony...”
“Good—” He turned and walked toward Main Street, unable to force the rest of the word through his thick throat.
Tony paced across his room at the Gibbons, the only downtown hotel he was aware of that still existed as such in his time, although it had a different name. He threw open the window and gazed over the parking lot, already darkened by the lengthening shadows of the buildings that surrounded it on three sides.
He’d blundered around for hours after he left Charlotte, then took in a movie, something about a lion tamer. He sat through it twice—not because it was good, but because it had enough action to take the edge of his mind off Charlotte.
He paced to the door, then back to the window again. What was he thinking? He was a man who led through knowledge and order. A man who rearranged the magazines on people’s coffee tables. Not the kind of guy who threw a punch without thinking. Or at all, for that matter.
Never mind that it had felt damn good.
Through Charlotte, he’d discovered his heart wasn’t dead, and he could still feel excitement, anticipation and wonder. She was the first woman he’d found remotely interesting since Dora’s defection.
The woman who had the answer he needed but wouldn’t give it to him. Hopelessness settled over him like a new fallen snow. In his quest for knowledge, he’d failed. Was the one thing he wanted—his daughter’s life—too much to ask?
He sat and took off his shoes. If he got extra sleep, maybe the mental energy he needed to bring on the pull would build sooner.
He peered around the room. Bed, dresser, nightstand. Not much different than any of those he’d stayed in on his many travels, other than the absence of a TV and phone. And quiet. At his request, the desk clerk had given him a luxury room with a private bath on the sixth floor. There were no other guests in the wing.
It would be an adequate place to live—exist—until the pull returned him to the twenty-first century. Hopefully, the room would be unoccupied in his time. After he warped, he’d check into the modern-day hotel, then crash.
He wandered back toward the door when someone knocked.
“Yes?” What the hell did someone want this late?
“Room service,” a man in the hallway called.
“I didn’t order anything.” Tony hoped the intruder heard the irritation in his response.
“It says Room 639 right here on the order... Open faced beef sandwich with mashed potatoes, green beans, apple pie...”
Hmmm, that sounded good. Tony hadn’t eaten since breakfast, hadn’t been hungry, but eating might also speed the renewal of his mental energy. Better take them up on it, even if he didn’t order the dinner. He yanked the door open.
The black man in the hallway wore a white server’s uniform, but his hands were empty. Tony glanced down the hall in both directions. Where was the cart? “Where’s the food?”
“My apologies, Mr. Solomon, but I need to talk to you—”
Tony glowered at the man. “Who are you and what do you want?” Something about him struck Tony as familiar.
“My name is Theodore Pippin.”
Fear shot an icy tentacle down Tony’s throat. He couldn’t move. Moisture trickled down his back beneath his undershirt. God, how could he be so stupid? Charlotte and his failure had clouded his mind so much he’d forgotten all about the Saturn Society’s threat.
His stupor snapped. He shoved the door, but he man blocked it with his foot. “I’m with an organization called the Saturn Society... perhaps you’ve heard of us?”
“Yeah, and I’m not interested.” Tony leaned against the door, trying to dislodge Pippin’s foot. “Get out—”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Mr. Solomon. Now if I could come in, we could discuss this like gentlemen...”
“There’s nothing to discuss.” Not with the man who’d been lauded for subduing more time-criminals than any other Society member in known history. Tony leaned harder against the door, but Pippin’s foot held. “Get out of here, or I’ll—” Somewhere outside, a woman shouted. He glanced at the window. Big mistake. Pippin took the opportunity to wedge himself through the door.
In Theodore’s car, Charlotte panted, her throat raw from screaming. Couldn’t the hotel worker emptying the trash hear her? She struggled against the ropes Theodore had used to tie her down, her sweat-dampened legs squeaking against the beige, leather seat. Theodore didn’t trust her, he’d said. Couldn’t leave her home and risk her getting a warning to the Enemy before he could apprehend him. She shouldn’t have been surprised Theodore’s patience had run out.
She screamed again, but hope splintered and lodged in her throat as the hotel worker disappeared back inside the service door.
The parking lot was deserted, the post office next door having closed hours ago. Buildings hemmed in the lot on all sides. Theodore had parked far from the entry, concealing the maroon Packard from anyone who might walk past. Most of the hotel’s guests were likely in for the night—what few there were, as less than a dozen windows were lit.
She had to get out. For her own sake, if not Tony’s. She might be able to convince Theodore her intentions had been honorable, but as soon as he’d phoned the hotels and located Tony at the Gibbons, he’d rung Dr. Caruthers, who was now on his way from Cleveland to help Theodore administer the Treatment. There was no telling what punishment he’d mete out to a Society member who’d harbored an Enemy. She struggled harder, but the rope didn’t loosen.
Her shoulders slumped. There was no way she’d extricate herself. Unable to worry her quarter, Charlotte’s fingers twiddled within her bonds. The more she struggled against Theodore’s sailors’ knots, the more they tightened.
Tony backed away as Pippin strode into the room. “It’s late,” Pippin growled. “Get your shoes—”
“Get out.” Tony tried to edge around him to the door.
“We’re going to the Society House,” Pippin said. “We’ll begin your instruction right—”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Tony sidled farther to the right, keeping his eyes on Pippin. The “instruction” Pippin referred to was likely the surgery and medication Everly had told him about, that would turn hi
m into a zombie like that Fred guy.
Pippin advanced toward him, sidestepping to place himself in Tony’s path. “You must come with me. We can’t have untrained folk traveling all over history—the implications are enormous, should you interact too deeply, leave something behind—”
“Get out!” Small chance anyone would hear. Tony gathered a deep breath for another shout, but Pippin leapt forward and whipped a knife from a sheath in his sleeve.
Tony froze. A vision of the ancient Mayan priest and his stone blade superimposed itself on Pippin’s image. The Society man’s voice was stern. “That’s not an option, Mr. Solomon. You’re wanted by the Saturn Society. You can come with me peacefully, or—”
“No!” Tony lunged at Pippin in an effort to disarm him, but the other man was faster and grabbed Tony’s arm in an unyielding grip, then slammed him against the wall, pinning him with his body. Tony twisted beneath him. “Help! Someone, help!” he shouted, even though the wing was deserted. There was little chance of rescue.
Pippin held firm. He spoke quietly as he drew the knife back. “You leave me no choice...”
CHARLOTTE STRUGGLED AGAINST THE CORDS binding her to the car seat. The ropes chafed her wrists. She scanned the hotel looming over the parking lot. Was one of those lit windows Tony’s room? Please, let him get away... She screamed again. Though it was doubtful, maybe someone would hear through one of the open windows.
Pippin brought the blade down, but Tony jerked aside. The knife drew a shallow gash down Tony’s side instead of the deeper cut the other man had obviously intended. Pain lanced along the thin trail and made Tony stumble forward.
“I’m warning you.” Pippin brandished the knife. Its polished silver surface gleamed in the light from the bedside lamp. “Come peacefully, or...” He and Tony circled, dancing around each other like a pair of boxers.
He leaped toward Tony, but Tony anticipated the move and jumped away. Pippin crashed to the floor. He rolled sideways and sprang to his feet before Tony reached him.
Pippin backed away, holding the knife out. “Please, consider my—”
“I have considered,” Tony said through clenched teeth. “And I’m not interested!” He lunged for Pippin again, reaching for the hand holding the knife. Pippin jerked it out of his reach.
Across the parking lot, a door slammed. The worker Charlotte had seen earlier was back, with another man. “Help!” Please, let them come over! “Please help me!”
Tony and Pippin faced off, each poised for the other to make the next move. Outside, another scream came from the parking lot. The woman sounded almost like... Charlotte? Both Tony and Pippin turned toward the window for a split second, but Tony recovered first. He slammed into the other man, jarring the knife out of Pippin’s hand. It clattered to the floor, skidding until it landed at Tony’s feet.
Tony snatched it up and pointed it at Pippin. Keeping himself between Pippin and the door, he took a step closer, brandishing the knife. See how you like being on the other end of it, buddy. “Now what’re you going to do—”
Pippin bolted into the bathroom, and slammed the door behind him. “Go ahead and hide,” Tony snarled as the lock clicked. “You can’t stay in there forever.”
His knees weak, he sank onto the bed, gripping the knife in both hands, afraid to blink lest Pippin emerge.
He turned the weapon over. PIPPIN 1905 was etched in the polished silver blade, below a hilt that bore a relief of the planet Saturn with three stars. What the hell was he doing, holding a man at knifepoint? He, Tony Solomon, whose worst infraction of the law in his whole life was three speeding tickets?
Vertigo engulfed him. He dropped the knife and clutched the bed. Was he warping?
As quickly as it struck, the dizziness passed. He glanced at his side. His shirt gapped in a neat slash, and a red line ran down his side beneath his arm to the waistband of his slacks.
Damn! He hadn’t warped. But then why the dizzy—
A light knock came from the door. “Tony?” a woman called.
Charlotte! His head snapped up. Trembling, feminine fingers curled around the edge of the still-ajar door and she slipped in, her eyes wide.
Lightness burst through him. He jumped off the bed and ran to her. She tumbled into his arms, pulled herself against him, and buried her face in his shirt. “Thank heavens you’re all right!” Without thinking, Tony pulled her close, her breath warm against his chest. “I was so afraid Theodore—”
Tony pushed her away as the lightness inside him turned to lead. What had she done? Had she led Pippin to him?
She couldn’t have. “He’s in the bathroom,” Tony said. “How did—”
“But he jumped...” Perplexity twisted her features. Tony looked from Charlotte to the bathroom door, then back at her. “Didn’t you feel it?” she asked.
“Feel what?” What was she talking about? Then it hit him. The dizzy spell right before she walked in. It was Pippin who’d warped. Tony pounded on the bathroom door. “Hey!”
“He’s gone, Tony.”
He rattled the doorknob and studied the lock. A simple one. He snatched a credit card from his wallet, slid it down the door jamb, and yanked the door open.
The bathroom was empty.
“Holy shit.” He gaped into the vacant room, leaning on the door frame—
Charlotte gasped. “Tony, you’re hurt!”
“What? Oh, that.” The gash on his side. The blood had already begun to congeal. “Just a little scratch. No big deal.” He stepped into the bathroom and yanked his shirt up. The action pulled at the cut and brought a fresh burst of pain. Tony sucked in a breath through his teeth.
Charlotte rushed in. “Here, let me...” She turned on the water, grabbed a washcloth and wet it. Tony clenched his jaw as she dabbed at the cut until it was clean. “This doesn’t look so little to me. We ought to call for first aid but there’s no time... I’ll wrap it the best I can, then we’ll go—”
“Go where?”
She squeezed the washcloth under the tap. The water came out brownish-pink. “We have to hurry, the hotel staff’s calling the cops—”
“What?” What had she done?
“Theodore. For tying me up in the car and stealing a waiter’s uniform. We have to leave before they get here, they’ll delay us, and Caruthers—”
Tony braced his hands on his hips. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until I get some answers. Starting with Theodore Pippin. What is he to you?”
She dropped the washcloth into the sink, the water still running. “Tony... I was nine years old when I started to jump in time. I was scared to death. I had no idea what was happening or how to stop it. Then Theodore came and taught me how to control it. He gave me my life back. Please understand, I owe him so much...” She squeezed the water out of the washcloth once more, gripping it tightly. “Almost as much as I owe you,” she whispered. “I’d never hurt you, Tony. Ever.” She sniffled, then reached over the sink and shut off the water. “I— I didn’t tell him where you were, he found out on his own, guessed you’d gone to a hotel. Please, believe me.” She held onto the sink. Her lower lip twitched.
Tony’s heart squeezed. He wanted to believe she had nothing to do with Pippin’s attack. He wanted to take her into his arms again, tell her it was all right, smooth the worry lines from her face. But he needed more answers first. “Then why did you let me stay with you? When you knew he’d come after me? Why didn’t you tell me to leave town?”
The water in the sink gurgled as the last of it went down the drain.
She started to fiddle with her necklace, but stopped short. Her lips parted, and the tip of her tongue poked between her teeth.
Tony walked to the hotel room door, pushed it shut and latched it, then came back and gently took hold of her arm. He led her to the bed, then lightly pressed her shoulder until she sat perched on its edge. Her voice hitched. “You... you should do something about that cut.”
“It can wait.” He lowered himself into the chair op
posite her. “Now, tell me—”
“You’re in the Black Book.” Her words came fast. “It was just a matter of time before Theodore found you. If not him, someone else—”
“What’s the Black Book?”
“A Society publication. The Enemies of Time. They’re from here and now, and from the future. From the past, too, even though everyone knows you can’t jump ahead in time. They’ve all done something, or will do something, to upset the balance, manipulate time to serve—”
“To serve their own ends.” He pushed himself out of the chair, paced to the window, kept his back to her.
“Theodore’s made it his life’s mission to stop them. It’s his passion, a personal crusade. And you’re...” She fingered her collar. “I don’t know why you’re in the Black Book, but Theodore will do whatever it takes to capture you and make sure you can never do it again.”
He turned to Charlotte, his face hardening. “How did he know I was here? In 1933?”
“He felt you jump. Like you did when he jumped. Theodore’s so intent on finding Enemies of Time, whenever he feels someone jump, he seeks them out. To offer hospitality, since that’s the Society’s mission, but if... if it’s someone from the Book, then... take care of them.”
The flyers on the wall in the fifties. They must’ve been from the Black Book.
“What did you do?” Charlotte spoke barely above a whisper.
“Nothing!” His head whipped around to face her. “I’ve done nothing.” Yet. Did his place in the book—and on that wall in 1954—mean he would achieve his goal and prevent Bethany’s death, but at the cost of making himself a wanted man?
“I- I never believed you belonged in the book.” She examined the floral print of her dress and smoothed her skirt. “It must be something you’ve yet to do.” She gave the skirt a final brush and met his eyes. “Something I thought I could prevent, if I kept you with me. I thought I could save you...” She pushed herself up from the bed with care, as if the act pained her.
Time's Enemy: A Romantic Time Travel Adventure (Saturn Society Book 1) Page 22