“I’m thinking the liability insurance at that amusement park would be pretty high. Oh, crap.” She looked behind her.
“What?”
“An angry mob overturned the car that was following us. Now they’re pulling them out of the car…kicking them and beating them…god damn it. Hold on. Mayameen, go back.”
“What?” Pixie squealed indignantly. “Screw them! Let them die!”
“First we find out who they are. Then they can die.”
Mayameen made a quick u-turn and they headed back. She accelerated towards the angry crowd, who scattered and fled, leaving two men lying curled up in the street. Then she slammed on the brakes, screeching to a halt only feet from where the men lay.
Pixie and Bobbi jumped from the car, and dragged the men, who were moaning and clutching their stomachs, into the car. Blood ran from their noses and their split lips. Their eyes were already swelling, and they’d sport impressive shiners by the next day.
Mayameen turned and accelerated out of the neighborhood again, swerving as she dodged the huge craters that had been punched in the road by mortar fire.
Bobbi Leveled a fierce glare at him. “Who the hell are you and why are you following us?”
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” he said, reaching inside his jacket for the gun that he had holstered there. Bobbi shifted on the spot, and lunged for his throat, snarling and snapping. He fell back on the seat, screaming.
She raked open his pocket with her claws, and pulled out his wallet with her fangs.
Then she shifted back to human form, with the shreds of her clothing dangling over her body and barely covering her.
“We can slow down this car and I can let you out on the side of the road, or we can speed up this car and I can boot you out at a hundred miles an hour. The ambulances in this city have stopped running and the hospitals are on generator power, and they’re out of antibiotics and painkillers, which would make compound fractures a joy to treat.” She smiled at them and half shifted, just her face this time, coyote snout extending outwards, and snapped at his throat again before returning to human form.
“Pick number two! I’m begging you! I want to see if you bounce!” Pixie sang out.
“What do you want?” the man muttered sullenly.
“You assholes were the ones following us. What did you want?” Bobbi demanded.
“Maybe we were just looking for a good time. You both look like easy lays,” the man sneered.
Bobbi let out a snarl and tore a chunk of flesh from his shoulder, and spit it out on the car seat. The man screamed, clutching at his bleeding shoulder, and his companion made a move as if to grab his gun.
Bobbi turned towards him, lips wrinkling back from her snout to reveal her bloodied fangs, and he froze.
“We’re with Hammersmith! We’re trying to track down some god-damned statues that your boss stole from our client! And you’re in serious violation of international law, god damn it!” the man screamed, pressing hard on his bleeding shoulder. “When we get back to the states, I swear to God…”
“You’ll do nothing, because whatever I do here would have to be prosecuted here, and all of the courts are shut down. You’re going to want to get some antibiotics. Maybe a series of rabies shots. I can’t remember the last time I was vaccinated. Mayameen, stop and let them out.”
“Do we have to?” Pixie groused. “I wanted to see if they could tuck and roll.”
“Yes, god damn it!” Bobbi barked. “They stink, and I want them out of here. And this asshole’s bleeding all over the seat.”
Mayameen slowed down and then halted. The man closest to the car door leaped out, swearing.
“I swear, it is unbelievable how many outfits I go through,” Bobbi said, fishing through a bag of spare clothing she’d bought with her.
“It must get expensive,” Pixie observed, as Mayameen weaved around potholes and chunks of asphalt.
“If I were an entrepreneur, I’d design a line of clothing for shifters,” she said. “Clothing that wouldn’t shred to pieces every damned time I shift. I’m tired of flashing my boobs all over town.”
“That could work. Shifters are what, ten percent of the overall population in the U.S.? Forty percent in some areas? You’d have a big customer base. Me, I’m sticking with my amusement park idea. It’ll make millions.”
“No, it won’t, because half of the amusement park patrons will be dead. Live ammunition? Seriously.”
“Dreamkiller,” Pixie muttered. “The cars would all be bulletproof.”
They arrived at the El-Debar’s ten minutes later, still arguing over Pixie’s amusement park idea. Bobbi made a quick satellite phone call to Tyler to tell him about the men from Hammersmith Security who’d been tailing them, and then she and Pixie climbed out. Mayameen waved at them jauntily.
“Nice driving, by the way,” Bobbi said. They turned to look at the walled compound before them.
The El-Debar family had apparently operated an antique dealership for many generations. They ran the dealership out of their family compound, which was surrounded by high concrete walls. The compound had seen better days; the walls were riddled with bullet holes, and large chunks had been bitten out of them in several sections, probably by mortars. The entrance to the compound was two large, metal doors, also pocked with bullet holes.
Bobbi pressed her finger against the doorbell and leaned on it for a good thirty seconds.
A short time later a male servant, a human, came to the gate. He wore an ankle length white dishdasha, the traditional robe worn by Middle Eastern men, and black sandals, and he carried an AK-47 slung over his shoulder.
When Bobbi passed her message along to him, he frowned and walked away, speaking on a walkie talkie, and then came back several minutes later.
“The master of the house regrets that they do not have any information for you, and will not be able to speak to you. You are asked to leave at once,” he said.
Bobbi felt anger flaring up inside her, but tamped it down.
Diplomacy, she reminded herself.
“Please tell the master of the house that even if we leave, others will come asking the same questions,” she said. “We know that members of this family approached the Chamberlin family several times offering to buy certain works of art, and we urgently need information about those works of art. We are prepared to offer the El-Debar family safe passage out of the city if they will speak to us; we can fly everyone here to America, and obtain visas for you.”
The servant just looked at her, impassively, fingers tightening on the scarred wooden stock of the AK-47. Oh, blow me, Bobbi thought irritably. I’ve flossed my fangs with bigger men than you.
“I know that the artwork was of great interest to the El-Debar family. We have information about its whereabouts,” she lied. His eyes widened. Now he was interested.
He walked away again, and after a brief conversation on the walkie talkie, came back to let her in.
“Very well,” he said. “Come this way.”
She and Pixie followed him in to the courtyard, where tomato vines curled around wooden stakes and chickens pecked at the dirt. A great round bowl of a fountain covered in blue tile sat forlorn and dry as a bone. The servant closed the gate behind them.
There were craters in the earth, and a hole in the domed roof of the main house, which was a peach-colored stucco with blue and gold tile inlaid along the top.
Inside, the battered house was still beautiful, with thick plush carpets the color of jewels, maroon and blue. The air was warm and languid. Bobbi had seen air conditioning units on the windows, but she heard no hum, and the interior of the house was dim and lit by flickering kerosene lanterns. The electricity in this part of town had clearly been knocked out.
They were led into a living room and invited to sit at a wooden table. After a few minutes, a servant carried out a tray of tea and pastries of flaky dough and honey.
The servant poured tea for each of them. Bobbi shook her head. “Thank y
ou, but we just had tea,” she said.
He frowned at them. “It is considered an insult in Turak to refuse to drink the host’s tea,” he said reprovingly.
Pixie started to raise her cup to drink it.
“Hold it,” Bobbi said. She leaned forward and sniffed at it, and then slapped it out of Pixie’s hand so hard that it flew across the room and bounced off the wall, shattering.
Bobbi leaped to her feet, and Pixie followed suit. “Sleeping potion? Really?” Bobbi snapped. “I’m a coyote shifter, of course I could scent that. Good luck finding your statues.”
“Don’t go,” a voice said from behind her.
She turned to see a tall, handsome, bearded man in his sixties, dressed in the traditional loose baggy pants, loose long sleeved shirt, and vest. A woman who appeared to be in her fifties, wearing an ankle-length gown and a white and blue patterned headscarf stood by his side. Two other young men stood behind him.
“I am Abdul, this is my wife Sarai, and these are my sons Saheed and Karesh,” he said. He walked over to the table and they all sat down.
“We apologize for our…error,” Karesh said, shooting his father a reproving look.
“What, the sleeping potion accidentally fell into the tea?” Bobbi snapped. “I bet you don’t get a lot of repeat guests at your dinner parties. You know, we have someone waiting for us outside, and she has a family who knows where we all are. That was a pretty stupid move.”
Abdul frowned. “You are pushing us into a corner. You could not possibly understand how important those statues are. They have great cultural value to our people. It is very bad luck for them to have been removed from our country. Do you see what is happening to our city?”
He gestured towards the window. Mortars whined in the distance.
“Bull,” Bobbi said. “My boss’s grandfather purchased those statues in the 1960s. This war started a few months ago.” She folded her arms across her chest and fixed him with a steely glare.
“So you admit that he purchased them. They have always denied it in the past. Are they being guarded?” Abdul asked anxiously. “Where are they?”
“No, I’m asking the questions now. We know that you have approached my boss’s family several times over the years, asking to buy the statues.”
“Yes. We were always told that they did not possess any statues of the type that we described to them,” he said reproachfully. “We know this is a lie, because they purchased the statues from a criminal who broke into a tomb and looted its contents. The criminal was finally arrested, and made to talk, and he revealed who he sold the statues to.”
“The same way that you would have made us talk, if we’d drunk that sleeping potion?” Bobbi bit the words out.
“We are not monsters,” Abdul muttered. “We would not have used such methods. We just wanted to gain some…leverage.”
Karesh rolled his eyes and sighed with exasperation, and his father shot him a dirty look. Clearly the two men didn’t see eye to eye on matters.
“My boss’s family did not know they had the statues until recently. Shortly after Barrett Chamberlin purchased the statues, he hid them away from everyone. He literally sealed them away in a room, and didn’t tell anyone about their existence, and nobody discovered them until the house was damaged by an earthquake recently and the room where he’d hidden the statues was revealed. You may or may not know, he died in a plane crash in this region.”
Bobbi caught the faintest flicker of a glance that drifted across Abdul’s face.
“Do you know anything about Barrett’s death?” she asked, watching him closely.
He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. Karesh moved impatiently in his chair, and he looked as if he were about to say something, but Abdul cut him off with a raised eyebrow.
Clearly they knew something. Bobbi would have to pass that along to Kenneth and see what he wanted to do with it.
“I know that he was flying through a dangerous area,” Abdul said. “Those mountains are notorious. There are harsh weather conditions and sudden storms that appear from nowhere, there are always guerillas…who knows what may have happened to him.”
“You do,” Bobbi said coolly.
Abdul slapped the table in front of him. “I do not like your implications! What are you accusing me of?”
Karesh was looking away now, nervously tapping his fingers on the table top.
“You know exactly what I’m accusing you of,” Bobbi said scornfully. “Listen, let’s cut to the chase here. You have information that we need. My boss is a very wealthy man, and in exchange for this information, we can get you safely out of the country. We can get you political asylum in the United States.”
They were all shaking their heads.
“It wouldn’t have to be forever, just until the war ends. You’re not safe here,” she argued. “You have families. Wives. Children. You have no idea which regime will win, and what will happen to the city. You all could die here.”
“Some things are worth dying for,” Abdul said. His family nodded solemnly, their expression resigned.
“Your artwork? You could bring most of it with you,” she said. “Money? Kenneth will help you financially.”
They stared silently, not saying a word.
Well, this was going nowhere fast, she thought, annoyed. Had she and Pixie come here for nothing, endangering not just their own lives but the little prince’s?
“Did you know that there was a magazine spread recently, which featured two of the statues, on display at Kenneth’s houses?” she asked.
“No, we have been cut off from the outside world for months, because of the war. There is no internet, no mail, and television works only sporadically,” Abdul said. “He has these statues on display?” His eyes gleamed with interest.
Bobbi suspected he was telling the truth. She didn’t think it was likely that the El-Debar family had been responsible for the two break-ins.
“He had them on display, past tense. Shortly after the magazine came out, both statues were stolen by very professional, high tech thieves. The thieves stole two of the statues, and oddly enough, left behind a smaller statue.”
Abdul and his family exchanged significant glances, and she wanted to scream at them with frustration. They knew the mystery of the statues, and they weren’t going to say a damned word.
“So you do not know where the stolen statues are now?” Abdul asked.
“Maybe we do, maybe we don’t. That’s all the information that you’re getting from us. We’re at an impasse. We will be staying at the Crescent Moon hotel, for six more days. If you decide you want to speak to us before then, send us a message. Once we leave the country, it will be very difficult for us to get back in.”
“You must find those statues, and you must keep them under lock and key,” Abdul said. “You don’t understand the forces that you are dealing with. If you find them, then perhaps we can share some information about them.”
“Father, perhaps if they understood what –“ Karesh started.
“No!” Abdul silenced him with an angry glare. “I am in charge here! I make the decisions!”
The sound of gunfire in the distance seemed to be growing closer now.
Bobbi stood up. “We had better get back to the hotel while we still can,” she said. She turned to Abdul. “For your family’s sake, I hope you make the right decision and leave the country with us. Your time is running out.”
A great weariness seemed to settle over Abdul. “Time is running out for all of us,” he told her. “Faster than you think.”
Chapter Nine
Italy
The limousine glided between twin rows of cypress trees towards the towering villa. On the right side of the road were acres and acres of olive trees, hunched over with their gnarled brown trunks and gray-green leaves. To the left were rolling hills draped in a carpet of vineyards.
“Seventeenth century?” Chloe guessed, looking at the massive building.
“Very good,”
Kenneth nodded approvingly.
He was sitting next to her, too close for comfort, as relaxed as if they were heading for a family vacation. She was a bundle of nerves.
“Lovely example of Roman Baroque architecture,” she said.
“I had no idea you were an expert on architecture throughout the ages.” Was it her imagination, or had he moved closer to her?
“I’m far from an expert,” she said, “although my mind is a storehouse of useless trivia.” His aroma grew stronger, so tantalizing that she fought the urge to bury her face in his hair and breathe him in. She tried to scoot over a little further from him, but her seatbelt held her in place.
“Quit that!” she told him, scowling.
“Quit what?”
“Moving closer to me.”
They were pulling up in front of the magnificent villa now. The building was huge and stunning, glorying in its asymmetry, with massive curling adornments and great arched windows the height of several tall men.
“I haven’t moved.” Kenneth smiled politely, raising an eyebrow at her.
She was sure he had. Otherwise, why did she feel his presence overwhelming her, making it hard for her to breathe?
The car had pulled to a halt. Chloe turned away from him and quickly opened, the door, climbing out of the car. The limousine driver also climbed out, heading for the trunk of the car to fetch her bags.
In front of the house, a half dozen shifters stood at attention. Kenneth had brought in extra security because of the attacks on his other houses. She could see more shifters roaming the perimeter.
“Lunch is waiting for us,” he said. “I thought you might like to go for a run after lunch, and then we’d move on to the statues. Or, we could go for a swim.”
Of course, he was implying that they’d shift, and then go for a run or a swim. And they’d have to strip naked to do that. She’d have to stand next to Kenneth, naked, not looking at his magnificent body. She felt a strange throbbing between her legs, as she tried very hard not to picture that.
“Some other time,” she said. “I’m anxious to get to work. Lunch can wait.”
His Purrfect Mate Page 9