Going Nowhere 1 Howling in the Moonlight

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Going Nowhere 1 Howling in the Moonlight Page 6

by Brenda Bryce


  Kyle nodded and gave him the names of the people he had done business with last night. He realized this was strictly procedure, but the need to be with Lannie caused him to be curt. “Any further questions? I need to catch up with Lannie. It isn’t safe out there right now.”

  When he received the sheriff’s nod, he turned and started to leave as well. Walking away, he looked back quickly at the sheriff. Eyes searching, he stared at the man. There was something about him. Something he should know ... Shaking his head, he let the subject drop, for now. There were more important things to deal with at the moment, and after making sure Lannie had made it safely home, he went back to his rental.

  Kyle hit the speed dial on his cell phone as soon as he walked in the door. When the expected voice answered on the other end, he briefly explained the situation.

  “There’s a wild-card in this district. No, I don’t know who it is yet. One kill that I know of -- a human -- female. You don’t want to know what was done to her. Right. No, don’t send him in yet. Inform the hunter of the situation and keep him on call. If there’s another kill, I’ll bring him in then.”

  He listened to the voice on the other end of the line for a moment. “I’ll be in New York for the weekend. Lannie has a showing. Art. I have a feeling I’m going to have to hunt her down again. She’s cagey and may slip my noose. Her agent’s name is Ingrid. Get on it. I’ll be headed out in a few hours. Right.”

  He pushed the disconnect button on the cell and started packing.

  * * * * *

  The flight was eternal and the airport was crowded. Lannie still smiled, though. She had lost Kyle somewhere back in Nowhere. He’d had to go back to his rental place to pack some clothes, and while he was gone, she had tossed some things in a bag and snuck out. Catching the only cab in town to the nearest airport, some twenty miles away, she jumped the first shuttle hop out of the area. A plane change and a short layover in Dallas/Ft. Worth -- the whole world lays over in Dallas/Ft. Worth -- and a short six hours later, she was in New York. Yay!

  “Well, at least I don’t have to worry about picking up any baggage at the claims department.”

  She was tired, hungry, grumpy, and felt grungy to the bone. She wanted a meal, a shower, a bed, and a nap in that order. But first, she had to see Ingrid. So she headed out of the air-conditioned airport and into the sweltering steam bath that was the New York climate.

  She beat an old man to a cab and threw herself into it, calling out a friendly, “Sorry, bud, I got here first,” and gave the cabbie Ingrid’s office address. In no time at all, she was riding in the death-mobile from hell, bogged down in Manhattan’s bumper-to-bumper traffic.

  Lannie closed her eyes and laid her head against the semi-clean backrest of the seat. More relaxed than she had been since she opened her eyes after fainting in the diner, she nearly fell asleep, but the intermittent honking, name-calling, and driving instructions the cabbie was subjecting his fellow drivers to, persisted in jerking her out of her doze.

  “Hey, lady, we’re here,” the cabbie sing-songed in his East Indian-New York accent.

  She paid the cabbie -- which was fairly reasonable compared to the last time she had been in town -- and stepped out onto the crowded sidewalk. Refusing to look at the building, since her vertigo affected her when looking up, she pushed her way into the lobby and headed for the reception desk. Dropping her bag to the floor, she dug out her ID, handed it to the receptionist, and told her that she needed to see Ingrid Sullivan. After letting a friendly security guard go through her bags and telling him she did understand the security precautions, the receptionist told her that she could take the elevator to the eighth floor where Ingrid would be waiting for her. Zipping the zippers of her bags, she thanked them for their assistance and headed for the elevators.

  “Lannie, darling! It’s about time you got here. I’ve been waiting forever.” Ingrid linked Lannie’s arm in hers and practically dragged her down the hall toward her office. “Have you gotten a room yet?”

  “Not yet. You told me to check in with you the minute I got in, and I did. You also didn’t tell me where I was staying. And besides, you have not been waiting forever. You only called me about seven hours ago. I call that speedy service. Even UPS takes overnight.”

  “Right you are, darling, and I have your lodgings covered. So tell me what’s going on in that strangely named town you’re hiding out in.”

  “Speaking of, you have to get in touch with Sheriff Ross Kendricks and answer all his questions, etcetera, or he’ll toss me in the slammer on trumped-up charges.” Lannie had watched a lot of television and read billions of books, and she’d never thought she would have the privilege of saying those words. But now she had the perfect opportunity, and she wasn’t going to miss out.

  “What? You’re joking aren’t you?”

  “Nope.” She dug around in her purse until she found the card she had gotten from the sheriff and handed it to Ingrid. “I have to let him know how to reach me at all times. There will also be one of New York’s finest invited to the showing, we have to see to it. I’m sure the sheriff will give you a name. I’m to be watched so I don’t go on the lam.” Lannie was having fun. Ingrid had stopped walking and acted shocked, offended, and hurriedly crept up on angry in Lannie’s defense.

  “Well, I’ll just have to call this Sheriff Kendricks and give him a piece of my mind.” She snatched the card from Lannie’s hand and stormed off in the direction of her office. “Oh, before I forget, I booked you a room at the Marriott. Just give them your name; I’m putting the room on my expense account. Don’t argue, darling; the company will get it back from the percentages of the sales we’re going to have this weekend. Phoenix’s work is considered a ‘must buy’ by paranormal enthusiasts already, and you know how many weirdo-freaks there are that simply go ga-ga over that kind of stuff. Simply millions, darling.”

  Without taking a breath, or waiting for an answer, Ingrid told Lannie that she would ring her later and to “get some rest, for goodness’ sakes, darling, you look like hell,” then closed her office door behind her.

  “Sheesh, New York people don’t slow down, do they, darling?” She was laughing as she kidded her agent, but the woman was already beyond hearing.

  Turning back toward the elevators, she rode one down to street level and left the building, finally hailed a cab, and rode to the Marriott Hotel.

  At the concierge desk, she signed the paperwork, got her passkey, and went directly to her room. Before she even looked around, she found the room service menu and ordered a prime rib with the works and a diet cola, to be delivered as soon as possible. Having taken care of her stomach -- at least until the food arrived -- she took care of another of her gripes. A long, hot shower later, she was drying her hair when a knock at the door signaled room service.

  Happily signing the slip, and with a generous tip for the waiter, she dug into the scrumptious meal and enjoyed every morsel. As soon as she was done, she pushed the cart outside the door and put out the “Do Not Disturb” sign. Phoning the operator, she requested that messages be taken. Then she settled into the comfortable bed for a long winter’s nap, or at least several hours of uninterrupted sleep.

  It was morning when she woke. She checked her messages and returned Ingrid’s call. Since she needed formal clothing for the evening, they decided to go together and shop. They met for lunch and hit several upscale shops before Lannie found the right gown. Finding shoes and accessories didn’t take long, and they were soon headed back to her hotel room.

  Lannie wanted to see the setup at the gallery, so they set off once again.

  The theme was Dark Beings, and she wasn’t the only artist being featured. Several were, in fact. There were paintings -- dark and ominous. Statues and sculptures made in all conceivable media. Stone, marble, metal, plastic, and her own clay creatures were backed by dark velvet, and the only bright lighting in the room was pointed directly at the displays, highlighting them. Instruments of destruction wer
e scattered about the building to help set a mood. Axes, knives, swords, guns, whips, branding irons, even a guillotine and a rack were displayed to perfection.

  Her sculptures were presented to their best advantage, and she was pleased. They might be renditions of her nightmares, but she had put heart and soul, not to mention sweat and blood, into each and every one.

  The placards in the alcove all said that the artist was named Phoenix. Kyle was well known in the artistic community in the major cities, and she had feared that if she had used her own name for her sculptures, it would be easier to find her. She had taken Phoenix as her artistic alias when she signed with Ingrid, not only so Kyle wouldn’t find her, but as a way to keep her private life private. Ingrid had been worried over stalkers, so the alias helped forestall that eventuality.

  Well, the first fear was null and void. Since Kyle had already found her, and since she was happy living where she was and wasn’t going to leave it, she figured she would just keep the alias for the showings.

  Lannie was back at the gallery the next evening, speaking with a well-dressed, tall, thin man who reminded her a bit of Lurch from The Addams Family. Kind of spooky, but the gallery owner assured her that he was a serious collector. Apparently he collected the macabre, and as such, he loved and coveted several pieces of her work. She was all for that.

  A disturbance at the front door caught her attention, and when she looked around the man she was speaking with, she noticed several dark-suited, dark-haired men entering. Curious murmurs from everyone around the room could be heard, and she wondered if it was maybe someone notorious coming to visit. In New York, you never know who might show up, and a Mafia don was the only one she could think of who could cause such a commotion. Okay, maybe if it were Mel Gibson or Jamie Fox, perhaps even Ben Affleck -- but how realistic was that?

  Being short had its disadvantages. She couldn’t see over anyone’s heads, and just as she was contemplating asking Lurch to give her a boost, the crowd parted.

  Lannie sucked in a deep breath through her teeth. “Damn!”

  She really wished it had been a Mafia boss who had strolled through the door of the gallery as if he owned the world. Even gangsters carrying Tommy guns wouldn’t have caused such turmoil to her system. Her stomach jumped, her hands balled into fists, sweat ran down the chilled center of her back.

  “How in the world did he find me? And so quickly, too?” She’d muttered it aloud, catching “Lurch’s” attention.

  “You aren’t talking about Mr. Sylia, are you? He’s a highly respected, very wealthy man. As an admirer of your work, I can only encourage you to enlist his patronage. It would do wonders for your career.”

  Lannie ignored the helpful advice. Since it didn’t seem that Lurch was going to be of assistance in her keep-away-from-Kyle endeavors, she wandered away from him, looking for Ingrid. She wasn’t consciously looking for a bodyguard, but only the foolish or uninformed set themselves up to be verbally thrashed by the master, Ingrid. She didn’t think even Kyle was up to going rounds with Ingrid. And while it would be entertaining to watch, she would rather just avoid any situations.

  Locating Ingrid and sidling up to her, she didn’t realize she was cursing under her breath until Ingrid called her on it.

  “Darling, I know I told you that patrons love idiosyncrasies in their artists, but Tourette’s syndrome is not normally one they go for. What has your knickers in a twist?”

  “Kyle’s here.”

  “Kyle who? You don’t mean that Kyle, do you? Your ex? He sure is popping up everywhere you are anymore, isn’t he?” She tapped her fingernail on her chin and looked around curiously.

  “Yup, he’s over there.” Lannie pointed toward the group of men.

  “Exactly which one is he?”

  When Lannie pointed him out, Ingrid gave her a wicked smile. “Don’t you worry about a thing, I’ll handle this.” And with those sage words and a small wave, she headed directly for Kyle and his entourage.

  Lannie stood there and shook her head. She wasn’t sure who would win in a showdown between the two, but she wasn’t anxious to witness the fireworks. Sighing, she turned and headed into the fray anyway.

  Ingrid was sternly lecturing one of the men who had accompanied Kyle on the benefits of letting her speak to Kyle. Ingrid didn’t see Lannie pass them by, but Lannie caught the subtle movement the man who was being chastised, made in her direction. He breathed deeply, then froze and let her continue toward her nemesis. It struck her as strange, but no more than anything else going on in her life.

  Kyle watched her as she approached. She stopped in front of him and looked into his eyes.

  She glared at him for a moment, then he broke the silence. “Your eyes are dilated as if you’ve had too much to drink, but I can’t smell any alcohol on your breath. What’s wrong?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I told you that I’m where you are. You’re here, naturally, so am I.” This was stated so casually, it caused her anger to escalate even more.

  “You know what? Fine, stick around. Buy some of my stuff. I could use the money. But stay away from me. I’m not for sale.”

  “Please calm down, Lannie. You’re very angry, and it’s having the unfortunate effect of turning me on. I’m trying to win you back, damn it, not alienate you further.”

  She looked at him, shocked. “I don’t believe you just said that.” She ignored the gratified tingling that shot through her body at the thought of being able to excite him in the middle of yelling at him. She turned forcefully away and returned to the side of her agent, who was still trying to get past Kyle’s man. Heads held high, the two women headed for the other side of the room.

  Lannie looked back, making sure that he stayed on his side of the gallery. She noticed that the men who had accompanied Kyle into the gallery were now surrounding him, and one was talking to him quietly, but still portraying an air of urgency. Soon, Kyle was being escorted to the back area where the offices were. When he passed out of sight with his entourage, she wondered what was up, especially since two of his men had broken off from the rest and now stood slightly behind her. Before she could ask, a movement by the entrance caught her attention.

  Surprise then fury zipped through her system. Lannie saw Pete waltz in through a red haze and only realized she’d moved in his direction when she bumped into someone. One thought and only one thought filled her mind. Hate.

  He headed toward a section of the gallery that had been walled to showcase several special pieces. It was empty except for him, and she moved in that direction, intent on confronting him. Pushing her way through the crowd after informing the goons that if they followed her they were dog meat, she stopped directly in front of Pete. He smiled silkily down into her face.

  “Ahh, Lannie. I’ve found you at last. You were a naughty girl disappearing like that before I could claim you.” He reached out a hand to touch her.

  She flinched away from his hand and growled low in her throat. “Claim me? You wanted to claim me, that’s why you lied to Kyle?” Maybe she had acted rashly when she told Kyle’s men to stay outside the room. She was definitely having second thoughts about that, but was too angry to do anything but confront Pete. “I know you were the one who started the rumors. It could only have been you.”

  “But of course. He thought to have you for himself, but I couldn’t allow that, now could I? I thought to claim you the moment you came back to town, but you disappeared.” He started to lower his head toward her and inhaled. “Damned women and their perfumes. I can’t smell your delectable self through the haze of scents. Our olfactory senses are so sensitive, you know.”

  “Get out.” Lannie was barely holding on to her temper. Her skin felt tight and her breathing was rapid.

  “I don’t think so. I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to separate you two. I found you first, and now I want my reward. You. Once I have you, he won’t be able to touch you. I should have taken you the last time I saw you. Probabl
y would have, but you wouldn’t open the damned door, would you?” He stopped and took a deep breath through his mouth. “Now, come along quietly, and we’ll find a lovely spot to consummate our friendship, shall we?” He reached for her again.

  She dodged and glanced around quickly. Fine time for the goons to disappear. Right when she could have used their help. “Wait just a cotton-pickin’ minute. You’re saying that you lied to Kyle about us so he would dump me and you could have me? That’s ridiculous. Why would you want me?”

  “I don’t really, my dear. I just want to make it impossible for him to have you. Mating and offspring are a necessity for the alpha, and if he doesn’t have you, he can’t continue on as the pack alpha. I’ll be able to step neatly into the position. Come along now, and be a good girl.”

  He grabbed her arm with strong, hurting fingers and started to pull her toward the back exit.

  Lannie struggled against his grip, but couldn’t break free. This guy is nuts. If he takes me out of the building ... Too scared and angry to scream, she started to take short, quick breaths. Where are you, Kyle? Her vision started to tunnel as if she were fainting. She couldn’t faint now, that would be a horrendous mistake.

  Prickling along the skin of her arm caught her attention. She could see the surface of her skin rippling. Her eyes widened at the anomaly, and she stopped fighting him so abruptly that even Pete noticed. He turned to her in exasperation and caught his breath.

  She watched in fright as light-colored hair sprouted from her arm. When Pete let her go, she pulled her arm close and stared at it, horrified.

  Busily watching her hand contort into -- oh, God! -- a dog’s paw. She cried out, but it sounded like a howl. Scared, she looked for help from the only person around. Pete was staring behind her, though, and didn’t see her pleas.

  Lannie couldn’t fight the contractions in her abdomen and her back, and she fell to the floor. She could feel every bone and muscle transforming, changing. Into what, she didn’t know and didn’t care at this point. She tried to drag herself away from the feeling. It wasn’t painful, just confusing and frightening.

 

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