Detour Paris: Complete Series (Detour Paris Series Book 4)

by Dancer, Jack

  My pocket starts vibrating, and I'm thinking she's getting fresh when I pull out my cell. It's Dick. "Sorry. I have to take this.” I pull her into me with one arm and staring at the ceiling, put the phone to my ear, "Yes, Dick.”

  “Tucker, I'm sorry for calling so late, but I think you want to know this,” Dick says.

  “Can you speak up, Dick? It's very noisy right now.”

  “What's that noise?” Dick yells.

  “Know what, Dick? What should I know?”

  “Julia Libica,” he yells.

  “Who?”

  “Your date tonight,” he screams as bullets ricochet off the windows like ninety-mile-an-hour fastballs. "Nanette. She is Julia Libica. Her mother is Doctor Drusilla Libica.”

  “Holy shit! You sure?”

  “Yes, it is a fact. I should take it you survived your date with her tonight?”

  “That's yet to be seen.”

  “You mean she is still with you, there at the apartment?”

  “Yes. Wait, how do you know where we are?”

  “The Mini, Tucker. How many times do I have to tell you I have a GPS tracker on the Mini.”

  “Oh, yeah, forgot.”

  “Tucker, be careful. I'll have men over there in minutes.”

  “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “Come armed, we're under siege here.”

  “What are you talking about? Is that all the noise?”

  “Yes. A car followed us from the club tonight and started shooting. We barely made it to the apartment, and they're outside shooting at us now. I expect they'll be trying to break down the door any minute.”

  “Don't worry the apartment's impenetrable. Just stay down and watch your back with that woman. Listen to me, Tucker. There are handcuffs in the bedside table. For your own protection, handcuff her to the bed, but check her for weapons first. Someone will be there shortly. Even if you hear the police, do not open the door. I will let myself in. Just don't shoot. Okay? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes. Okay.” I press END, and Nanette pulls out of my grasp. Her face is etched in fear. It's hard to imagine right now that this beautiful, frightened creature is the daughter of the evil incarnate.

  Blam, blam, blam slams at the front door of the apartment like a sledgehammer.

  “Go into the bedroom, over there,” I point. "They can't get in.” She scurries on all fours, and I tip toe up to the front door and peer out the peephole. Two men are holding a battering ram between them, looking at each other with bewildered expressions. I press the button Madame Bovarie showed me sprays a noxious gas, and it does. Hits both of 'em square in the face. You'd have thought a skunk lifted its tail and let loose the way those two dropped the battering ram in favor of tearing at their faces only to drop the ram on their feet, then tripping over each other down the short set of stairs to the front door. It was really Keystone Cops.

  When I hear the yip, yip yipping of police sirens sounding, in the distance, I turn for the bedroom where Nanette's sitting tight, cross-legged on the bed. I don't say anything, just walk over to the side the table, open the drawer, and take out the handcuffs.

  “What are those for?” she asks and before she can take another breath, I pushed her down and straddling her, snap one wrist, and through the brass headboard snap the other.

  “What're you doing?” she yells.

  “What does it look like?” My God what a body, I'm thinking as I'm anchoring her legs to the footboard with two more pairs of cuffs.

  “This is hardly the time to start playing bondage don't you think, Tucker?”

  “No, I think it's the perfect time, just calm down. These guys are not going to get in, don't worry. Someone's on their way to chase 'em off. They'll be here in a few minutes.”

  “Who?”

  “Friends of mine.”

  “Why are you doing this, Tucker,” she pleads with a helpless expression that's actually pulling at my heart, stupid, gullible me.

  “Because you're Julia Libica, and you had three people kidnapped so you could hold me up for two million euros. You've caused at least one person to die and another to be disfigured for life, and you wouldn't hesitate to kill me too if you had the chance, that's why. She's stunned and goes quiet. "So, tell me, what's it feel like being on the other end? Is this the first time for you to be a submissive?”

  “Fuck you, Tucker.”

  “No, fuck you, Julia, and just maybe I will.”

  “Oh, would you, Tucker? Please. Would you tear my clothes off? I'd really like it if you did. At least, if I'm going to be your submissive, treat me like one. C'mon, Tucker, fuck me,” she screams, and something inside me snaps, and I start tearing her dress open until she's laying there in front of me in nothing but a black thong. I'm so pumped with adrenalin I can barely pause to admire her body. My mouth drops to her breasts, and I maul them, sucking, and pulling at her nipples like a starving man. Her whole-body buckles.

  “Stop!” she screams, and I come off and try to rip my own shirt off, but it doesn't cooperate. Damn Kevlar, I remember. I unbutton the cuffs and pull the shirt over my head, then drop my trousers around my ankles. I step out, and in my rush, forget my shoes are still on and trip myself back onto the bed and on top of Julia.

  “Ugh,” she let's out, "Goddammit, Tucker.”

  I reach down and pull my shoes off; one leg at a time, stand up and pull my underwear down. I see the belt in my trousers and yank it back through the loops then slap it hard onto the bed only inches from her. She flinches and the terror momentarily crossing her face turns to hatred, and she screams,” Go ahead, Tucker, whip me. Show me what kind of man you are. Fuck me, eat me, make me scream!”

  I grab her knees and spread ‘em wide, then suddenly, like something whispering in my ear, that's my man taking his due.

  Monica?

  I stop, and look down at Nanette, and it's like a trap, wide open, just waiting for me to jump in. A Venus Fly Trap! A stab of fear runs through me like a hot poker. Flashes of Monica and Pau hanging from the ceiling of the Pleasure Room and James' crumpled body, and Paulo crashing through the train compartment door and the tattooed faces of the IndyCat boys and Nanette's swollen face and Lisa standing in the bathroom holding her dick, Monica tied to a chair with a ball gag in her mouth and Pau's frightened face tearing her shirt open, then Drusilla laughing like a hideous witch, laughing and laughing - all of it comes rushing across my brain like a movie film gone haywire.

  HOLY SHIT! WHAT AM I DOING!?

  I come off the bed like a shot and stare down at Nanette trussed like a deer awaiting the butcher, and I can't believe I've done this.

  I reach down and pick my trousers from the floor and step one leg in.

  "What're you doing?" says Nanette dumbfounded at the sudden turn.

  "I'm not doing you, that's what."

  Blam, blam, blam at the front door jabs us like the poke of a nightstick. The deadbolt strikes and I start pulling the Kevlar shirt back over my head, tucking it in and putting my shoes back on. Running my fingers through my hair in a quick effort to tame it, I bolt out the bedroom closing the door behind me and walk into the foyer and into," Dick?”

  “Yes, Tucker. It's me. Is everything okay?”

  “Fine, I'm fine. Thanks for coming. Did you run into those guys outside?”

  “Yes, one got away, but we managed to get three of them.”

  “What about the cops? I heard sirens.”

  “No problem. We intercepted them and gave them one of the three we'd captured so they'd have a prize to take back to the station for their troubles.”

  “Really? Jesus, you are connected.”

  “It's good to have friends in high places.”

  The doorbell to Madame Bovarie rings and Dick walks over and opens the door. "Come in Madame,” he says.

  “Oh, my God, Señor Dick. Is everything okay? There was such gunfire I haven't heard in the barrio in ages.”

  “It is okay Madame. It is over. The intruders,
they are gone, and they will not be returning . . . at least not tonight. I think they have had enough for this evening . . . morning I should say.”

  She turns to me, "And, Señor Tucker; you are all right?”

  “Yes, Madame. I'm fine.”

  “What happened?” she asks.

  “We were driving back from dancing tonight, and a car came up and started shooting . . . and I give her the story.”

  “Who were these men?” she asks and Dick answers, "They are criminals. We know who they are.” Madame took that as her cue not to ask any further. She just nodded her head in understanding.

  She looks at me and asks meekly, "You have a friend here, is she okay, or do I need to do anything? For either of you, what can I do?”

  Dick throws Madame a deadly serious look and whispers, "He has Julia Libica with him,” as if she should know who Julia Libica is. Madame shrugs not recognizing the name. "The Raven's daughter. The Terra Lliure II Raven?” Dick tries again.

  Madame's hand shoots up covering her mouth, "Oh, el meu Déu,” she says.

  “Yes, woman. This is her daughter,” Dick says.

  “Oh, el meu Déu,” she mumbles again from behind her hand.

  “Where do you have her, Tucker?” Dick asks.

  “Handcuffed to the bed,” I say.

  "Handcuffed to the bed! Oh, el meu Déu,” Madame repeats, horrified.

  “I want to see her,” Dick says.

  I reach out to his arm. "Not a good idea just yet.”

  “And why not?” he protests.

  “She's not presentable. It would be a terrible embarrassment for her if you were to see her as she is at the moment.”

  “What have you done to her? Have you hurt her, Tucker?”

  “No, of course not. I just got a little carried away,” I try to explain without having to explain, exactly.

  “Oh, I see. So, you've been giving her the old (he pumps his fist) in and out?” he says.

  I look at him and Madame sheepishly. "Actually . . ."

  “And you've been doing this while bullets are flying all around you?” he says. "My God man. You are an animal and a cabró boig (crazy bastard). I've never heard of any man fucking under fire. You have the cojones of steel my friend. If ever I have to be in the trenches, I want it to be with you . . . well, (he pauses to consider, rubbing his chin thoughtfully) maybe not,” then lets go a belly laugh.

  Madame steps up gushing admiration and says, "Señor Tucker, you are a god and a fearless one.”

  "I'm not . . . really," I try again.

  “A cabró boig,” Dick laughs out.

  “Get outta here you two,” I say grinning and blushing.

  "I know plenty of men who cannot stay away from the cony, but you my friend; you will snatch it from the death of certain jaws - bullets flying overhead, a vicious killer lying beneath you. Señor, you are what machismo legend is made of,” Dick guffaws out another belly laugh.

  "Señor Blue,” Madame says. "Just so you know, if my girls hear of this, you will not be safe. They will all want to take a piece of you for themselves. They will tear you apart."

  "Holy shit,” I give up, "then you gotta promise me you won't say a word."

  "And if I don't, what do I get in return?" she eyes me wantonly.

  "What?” looking at both of them, "You're both loco."

  "TUUCCKKEERR!” the piercing scream freezes us all.

  "Yes, darling?” I answer back in my sheepish husband-like voice.

  "Would you please come here for a moment sweetheart?” she says all honey-dipped.

  I turn to Dick and Madame and say, "if you'd like to meet her, you can, but she needs clothes.” I turn to Madame. "She's five-feet ten and slender. You think you might have something for her?"

  "What was she wearing?" she starts to ask.

  "I think they may be torn," I say sheepishly.

  "I see," she says giving me the knowing eye that I'm the guilty one, "Yes, I will return,” and scurries out the door to her side of the building.

  "Wait here a moment, Dick, while I tell her she has clothes coming. Guess I should unshackle her too."

  "Go ahead, Tucker. I'll put coffee on. Wait,” he says, "you'd better search her for weapons first."

  "Dick, I think I've already been everywhere there is to be."

  "Women have many secret hiding places, Tucker,” he warns.

  "I'm pretty sure I've traversed them all."

  "That's what Columbus said about the new world too, and he missed North America completely, by a hundred miles,” he says.

  Jesus, now he's got me worried. Maybe I should make another search just to double check. I rush back into the room where Julia's laying spread eagle in all her glory across the bed, just as I'd left her. I close and lock the door behind me.

  "Tucker?"

  I shush her with a finger to my lips, then grab the keys from the side table and start unlocking the handcuffs and shackles.

  “I'm going to take these off. The lady next door is bringing something for you to wear. But, you have to promise me you'll behave because either one of these people is perfectly capable of taking your head off in a blink of an eye. I'm serious, Nanette; I mean, Julia. They’re not people to mess around with. The guy owns this place, and the woman manages it. By now, you should have some idea of how this place is, so just take that and transfer it to these two people. They know who you are, and they know who your mother is, and your brothers too.”

  A sharp rapping comes to the door.

  “Just a minute more, please,” I yell out and turn back to Julia.

  “In fact, the man out there has your brothers locked up right now, along with others, so don't even think of doing anything stupid. You understand?”

  She nods her head.

  “Besides, I'm going to offer you a deal of a lifetime and a chance to escape all the trouble you, and your mother have caused me this past week, so be on your best behavior, and we'll talk about it later this morning, okay?”

  “Tucker, I . . .”

  I look her dead in the eye and say,” Don't even. Just say okay.”

  “Okay.”

  The knocking grows impatient.

  “Cover yourself in a blanket,” I tell her turning around for the door and opening it.

  “Yes, Madame. I'm sorry for keeping you. Come in, please.” Madame Bovarie shoots me a displeased look but says nothing. She steps over to the bed where Julia is covered with a blanket and offers the clothes she's brought.

  “Try this honey, something might fit,” she glances back at me knowingly and not pleased.

  Julia says nothing, just stands, and allows the blanket wrapping her to drop to the floor around her feet. It was then you'd have thought I'd been shot by a Taser, as paralyzed as I was at the sight of her - the perfect feminine form, the image hitting me with the velocity of a Slurpee-like brain-freeze, rendering me again the helpless, hapless male. Any trace of rationality or logic or even common sense that might have been there before is quickly abandoning ship, leaving Dickbrain at the helm and Lust navigating.

  I turn to leave, saying to Madame on my way out, "She does anything stupid, shoot her,” figuring that should give Julia cause to pause.

  But, Madame takes a couple of steps back, says, “Si Señor.” And, to my utter dismay, she pulls a pistol from the pocket of her housecoat.

  Holy shit. I was bluffing, for crying out loud.

  But, what's even more surprising is Julia's not. She doesn't even flinch. She just drops her head to the side and gives me the ole, "are you kidding me?” look.

  I toss back to her the ole "Whaddaya gonna do?” shrug.

  “Hey, these are your people,” I say exiting the room.

  ***

  The Rider.

  The rider witnessed it all. He'd followed Hector and his three cholos as they chased the Mini Cooper from Club M all the way to the apartment on Carrer De La Riereta. He watched as they shot at the Mini Cooper without even breaking glass. Bulletpr
oof windows. He watched them careen into building after building as they tried desperately to keep up with the American, virtually destroying Hector's mother's little Fiat. She'll kill him; he thought.

  He watched as they fired dozens of rounds into the apartment's windows without breaking a single one. Bulletproof windows. He watched them ascend the steps of the apartment to the front door with the 5.11 Tactical Miniram 50091 he'd given them, and watched again as they fell back down the steps coughing and choking and screaming they're blinded. Finally, he watched as Five-Oh, came on the scene with two uniforms in a police cruiser followed by three plain-clothes in the black, IndyCat Suburban.

  He watched the fat man step out of the Suburban and confer with the uniforms with the three men sitting in the rear of the cruiser; then two, including Hector, taken from the cruiser and transferred to the Suburban. He watched the cruiser leave, and the Suburban remain while the fat man entered the apartment.

  Yes, he watched it all; including his future, evaporate like a mirage.

  He drops his cigarette, grinds it out with his boot, and brings the Ducati to life, and then slowly, he leaves the alleyway. When he hits Ronda Litoral and all the furies inside him have gathered like a pack of wolves with blood on their noses and are tearing at his insides to break free, he throws the Ducati into a wheelie and rockets all the way to Puigcerda, cursing his bad luck.

  That idiot Hector! I should have never hired that retarded cousin of mine, and his fucking skinhead pandilleros. But, who would have figured the American could drive Formula One? Merda! And bulletproof glass in the Mini and the apartment? Ay Caramba!

  And the fat man again? He is the one protecting the American.

  ***

  After introducing Julia to Dick, and after a thorough visual inspection of her, he and Madame bid us a good day and leave.

  “So, who is it you say I disfigured for life?” She asks sitting at the kitchen table over a cup of coffee she's barely touched.

  I step over to the refrigerator and extract the small jeweler's box from the freezer compartment, walk it over and presenting it to her, open the lid.

  She yelps in disgust then covers her mouth with her hand and turns her head away. "Put it away, Tucker. Oh, my God, that's disgusting. And you're keeping that in your freezer?”