Now, I want you to know that you should never look through those things. Most assassins love to use them to shoot you through the eyeball—which is really gross but totally effective.
"Good thinking," I gave Missi the thumbs up as I heard security running down the hall.
Missi just waved me off modestly. "That was kids' stuff."
Paris tucked his gun into the back of his jeans, "So, what now? Whoever it is could just be lying in wait in the stairwell."
"He won't be on the elevators, and he won't show up in the hallway until security is gone next door." I looked at Leonie, "We have to go. Now."
Missi winked at me. "Good luck!"
I nodded, shoved the gun into my waistband, and pulled my jacket down over them. Leonie lifted her dress and shoved her gun into a thigh holster. I started to salivate. That was so hot.
She nodded, and the three of us slipped through the door toward the elevators. It seemed like a very long time before the doors opened. Paris got on and immediately started hitting the 'close door' button.
The elevator turned out to be slower than the damned train at Disney World. And it played The Girl From Ipanema in Muzak. I looked at Paris and saw that he was mouthing the lyrics. That was it. I'd have to plan an intervention for him once we got home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Bluto: Over? Did you say "over"? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!
~Animal House
It only took a few minutes to grab a cab outside, and with no measure of small relief, the three of us sighed as the taxi drove us across town to the airport.
"We're flying out of here?" Leonie frowned as I paid the driver and sent him away.
I shook my head. "No. We're renting a car here to drive to Reno. We'll fly from there."
We didn't say much at first. Paris drove, pretending to be more interested in the road than anything else. I sat in the back with Leonie because I was afraid she'd jump out at any minute.
"So," I started, "are you convinced about my feelings for you yet? I'd never kill you, Leonie."
She looked away from me—out the window for a moment. Then turned and looked me straight in the eyes.
"Where are we going?"
Truth was, I hadn't quite figured that out yet. Taking her home was dangerous. Sooner or later the Council would guess I had her and come get her. Also, until I had this mess with Doc Savage cleared up, I didn't want to put her in danger. As far as National Resources went, there was no way of knowing whether someone was coming for her.
"First there's something I need to know." Okay. I was stalling. "Does the name Doc Savage mean anything to you?"
"The Man of Bronze? I read those books when I was a kid. Why?"
My heart jumped a little when I discovered we had something more in common. "Nothing else? Nothing more…current?"
Leonie shook her head. "No."
"Is there anyone else involved with National Resources? Someone still alive?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Why would I tell you that? You killed the others."
She had a point.
"I didn't know you were involved, I swear." I did a little cross-my-heart thingy.
"If you had known about me from the beginning, would you have killed the other four?" Her chin was set in the most adorable look of defiance.
"How can I answer that? I don't know." It wasn't much, but it was the truth. "Were you friends? Did you know them well?" I was worried about her answer.
"No. I never knew who they were. We were supposed to operate in a vacuum. There's a handler who kept tabs on us. She's the one who called when the last one before me bought it." She handed me her phone, and I saw the message; "Number 4 dead. Run and hide."
"Who's the handler?" I asked.
"There's a handler?" Paris echoed from the driver's seat. So he was listening after all.
Leonie waved me off. "Don't worry. She never did anything but negotiate the jobs and assign them. I don't know anything about her. She'll just go into hiding and never be heard from again. She's not a threat."
I relaxed at hearing that, but still wondered if this woman was Doc Savage. And if there was a handler—were there other employees? Leonie must have received assignments from the handler. Or were there others involved? Others who might at this very minute be hunting us?
"So, what happens now?" Leonie asked.
I looked out the window at the desert. Frankly, I had no idea. Once we got to Reno, maybe we should hole up for a while. At least until we could convince the Council that Leonie was no longer a threat and solve the Doc Savage problem.
"Why did you get into this business anyway?" I asked. "It's dangerous. What were you thinking?"
She laughed. There was a hard edge to it. "Christ, Dak. I was an English major. The only thing I had to look forward to after college was running a funeral home. I was recruited. It kind of made sense, considering the business I was in."
Grabbing her arm, I pulled up the sleeve. No tattoo. "Why don't you have the tattoo?"
"That stupid thing? What? Are you joking?" When she saw that I wasn't, Leonie continued. "I refused to get it." She rolled her eyes. "Like I'd put Woody Woodpecker on my arm. The company backed down once they realized I didn't need a cartoon on my arm in order to kill people."
After a moment, she spoke again. "I thought I'd be working for the government. You know—saving the world. It turned out they'd lied to me. I was trying to figure out how to quit when I met you."
I must've looked somewhat unconvinced because she continued. "I'm serious. I wanted out. I guess in a weird way—you are helping me."
I realized I'd never spoken to anyone outside the family about the trade. And I'd never met anyone who became an assassin by choice. Still, there was something strangely in common. We both worked in family businesses that dealt with death, and we were both assassins.
"What about you?" she asked. "Why are your cousins involved?"
Paris caught my glance in the rearview mirror. He shrugged. I took that to mean he didn't care if I told her. But there was a problem—Bombays aren't allowed to tell outsiders anything about what we do. I could understand that. Imagine how many of us would be in prison via a bad breakup.
On the other hand, if we survived this, I planned to make Leonie part of the family. You weren't supposed to tell your significant other until the ink was dry on the marriage certificate. Well, this is an exception to the rules—I decided. So I launched into the history of The Bombay Family. By the time we got to Reno, Leonie's eyes were huge.
"That's pretty wild," she said. "I knew we had rivals, but I didn't realize how, um, bizarre they were." She squinted at the mountains in the distance. "Wow. A private island. Cool."
"Let's stop here," Paris suggested as he pulled into a nondescript hotel parking lot.
I nodded in agreement and watched as Paris went inside to get a room. He returned in a few minutes with a key, and the three of us made it to the room.
Paris cased the room for security problems, and I looked around. We had nothing. No luggage, no personal belongings. Leonie didn't even have her purse. But we were still alive. That had to count for something.
Paris immediately called and ordered pizza delivery. Leonie sipped a Diet Coke and watched as I paced the room nervously.
"I don't know who's following us, but I do know that we have to convince the Council that Leonie's not a threat to us." I said more to myself than anyone.
"How can we do that?" Paris asked.
"I don't know. I could go to Santa Muerta and plead her case?"
"You can't leave Leonie alone," Paris answered.
"Guys! I'm not exactly helpless you know," Leonie interrupted. "Hello, I have a lot of kills under my belt."
I thought about asking her how many, but decided my ego was too fragile for me to know the answer to that.
"Well, they let Diego live when he came to the island as a stranger," Paris mused.
&
nbsp; He was right. Diego accompanied our raid on the Council last year, and that was a huge violation of the rules. No non-family member ever saw Santa Muerta. Alive, that is.
While it was true that the Council had made an exception for Gin's sake, I didn't trust them to do it again. We needed the Council's support on this matter. Since I didn't know who in the hell was after us (and at this point there were a couple of suspects) the only safe place for Leonie was Santa Muerta. Huh. That's ironic. The island was either the most dangerous or safest place on earth for her.
I snapped my fingers. "I've got it! We'll get married!"
I thought it was a great idea. So why did Paris look so dubious and Leonie—so nauseated?
"Leonie, would you marry me?" I asked her urgently.
"This isn't exactly what I had in mind when I dreamed of a proposal." She didn't look happy. Why didn't she look happy?
"Well," I said, "I love you. And Louis loves you. And everyone in my family thinks you're amazing."
Leonie just stared at me. "So, you're serious? You aren't just proposing so you can save my life?"
That seemed like an odd question. "Don't you feel the same way about me?" I begged.
She was taking too long to answer. Holy shit! What if she didn't love me?
"Yes, Dak. I do love you. I adore your son and family." She shrugged. "I just didn't really picture it all going down this way."
Paris grabbed the phone book. "There are three chapels within a five-mile radius of this hotel. Let's go."
After calling the front desk and asking them to pay for and hold on to the pizza until we got back, we climbed in the car and drove to the first chapel on the list.
I'd seen chapels with Elvis impersonators, Elvira impersonators and the like. What I'd never seen was a chapel with a Star Trek theme. A very fat Captain Kirk look-alike in full regalia welcomed us onto the deck. The organist somewhat resembled a badly aged Uhura.
Mr. Spock performed the ceremony. I could handle the part where he did the thing with his hand and said, "Live long and prosper," but when he concluded the ceremony with, "This union is logical," I had to smother a laugh. Then Tribbles fell from the ceiling. I kid you not. I handed two hundred dollars to the organist, ignoring her weird eye tic, and we fled. The whole thing took maybe fifteen minutes.
Stunned and a little freaked out, Leonie and I stumbled out of the Star Trek chapel and into married life. I crushed my wife to my chest while Paris waved our marriage certificate in the dusty, arid wind to dry it.
A shot rang out and the three of us dove behind the row of parked cars. Scrambling to a crouched position, I reached for my bride only to find her in a very hot combat position aiming her gun at the alley behind us. Damn. She looked amazing. I sat down in the gravel and stared glassy-eyed at the woman of my dreams as she silently swept the alley and gave us a thumbs up.
Another shot broke my daze, and I regained my composure, creeping around the first car to check out the lot. Nothing seemed to be out of place. In fact, there were no concerned pedestrians or police sirens wailing in the distance.
Leonie appeared beside me. "It must've been a car backfiring."
Paris nodded his agreement, and we rose, holstering our weapons. We climbed into the car and drove off, circling numerous city blocks along the way to make sure we weren't followed.
"Wow," I said to Leonie. "You looked hot back there."
She turned to me with a strange look. "You've seen women do this before, right? Your mom and sister are assassins. Isn't that what you said?"
"Yes, but they never looked as good as you did just now."
"Oh for Christ's sake, Dak. Don't turn me into a sexist fantasy, or I'll have the marriage annulled."
What could I do? I nodded sheepishly and turned my attention to the road.
"I never thought I'd see the day you'd get married." Paris still looked a little shocked as we ate the pizza back in our room. "And don't even think of consummating it tonight. Wait until you get a little privacy. Please."
Leonie tore another can from the six-pack that came with the pizza. "I can't believe it either. I always had the traditional idea of a full wedding. Not a quickie on the deck of the Starship Enterprise." She giggled, and I melted.
It was almost as if our troubles were gone. I watched as she popped open her can. Everything she did seemed elegant. She deserved better than this.
A strange fizz came from the can Leonie opened. Blue smoke started to pour out of it, and she dropped it to the ground. Paris threw a towel over it, but it was too late. My whole body felt like it was swaying. I watched as Leonie collapsed onto the bed and Paris fell on top of her. I would have protested that arrangement, had I not already hit the floor.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Colour Sergeant Bourne: A prayer's as good as a bayonet on a day like this.
~Zulu
Ever have one of those days when you get married by a Vulcan in a Star Trek-themed chapel while on the lam in Nevada and wake up tied to a chair with your new wife and best friend in a strange room—your grandma standing over you with a .38?
Well, this was one of those days. I came to, tied rather uncomfortably to a chair. My pain was forgotten the minute I saw that Leonie was in the same situation on my right, Paris on my left. I didn't recognize the room. In fact, I had no idea if we were still in Nevada or at Santa Muerta. If so, this room was new.
The walls were a blindingly stark black-and-white tile, as was the floor. It was a very uncomfortable room. Leonie was still unconscious, but Paris was awake. Grandma stood in front of us, a brushed steel .38 in the shoulder holster she wore over a muumuu. There was no sign of anyone else in the room.
"What's going on?" I said with more than a little attitude. This was the second time in one year my grandmother threatened me, and I was getting pissed off.
"I should be asking you the same thing, Dakota." She looked angry.
"I suppose the Council is going to take action on the job?" I was really being an asshole, but this was irritating.
"Actually," Grandma tilted her head to one side, "they don't know you're here yet. I did this myself. I wanted to find out what the hell you were doing before Lou killed you."
Okay, so that was good news. Maybe I'd better wise up.
"I can't let the Council kill Leonie. I love her."
Grandma looked at Leonie. "She's the one who made a man out of you? She should get a Nobel Prize for that." She laughed. "She's really lovely, Dakota. But that's beside the point now, isn't it?"
"Where are we?" Paris asked, which was good because if he continued to remain silent, I'd deck him. Not that I could. But I would.
"Let's just say, you're safe for now. I have a safe room in my apartment. It's sound-proof, and no one knows about it. Until now, that is."
"Jesus Grandma," Paris cursed. "At least untie us if you aren't going to turn us over to the Council."
"Yeah!" I backed him up. "This is stupid. You aren't going to kill us."
She arched her right eyebrow, and for a moment she reminded me of Leonard Nimoy. "Oh? I'm not? Are you sure?"
"I am so sick of this family," I muttered. No one else had to deal with family shit like this.
"Quit pouting!" Grandma barked. "This is serious. You are in serious trouble."
Paris snorted. "Then just shoot us. Because I'm so over these dramatics."
Okay, right attitude, wrong choice of words. "Grandma, you aren't going to kill us, and you aren't going to hand us over to the Council, so just untie us."
Leonie started to stir. She opened her eyes and immediately summed up the situation as bad, and possibly bizarre.
Grandma softened. "Hello, dear. It's so nice to meet the woman who tamed my idiot grandson. You must be very special." She smiled and patted Leonie's shoulder.
Leonie shot me a "what the fuck?" look. It was strange. But if we lived, she'd eventually get used to the quirks of the Bombays.
"So, Lou, Troy, and the others don't know we're her
e?" Paris ventured.
Grandma nodded. "That's right. And they won't until your hearing tonight."
My ears perked up. "Hearing? What hearing?"
My grandmother rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm not going to just hand over my grandsons for termination. Of course we'll have a hearing."
"What hearing? I've never heard of the family holding any hearings!" It was true. Bombays were more likely to just shoot first and ask the dead body questions later.
"We haven't held a hearing since…" She scratched her chin. "Oh, since 1823." She cast a glance at Leonie, "Let's just say it didn't end well."
Oh, great. We were just waiting for some weird witch trial. Maybe we could talk them out of it. I couldn't think. My head ached, and I had this strange aftertaste of yellow mustard.
"What did you hit us with, anyway?" I asked.
"Just some knockout gas. I don't really want to tell all our secrets in front of an outsider and competitor." She turned to Leonie. "No offense, dear."
"Um, none taken?" Leonie responded quietly.
"I just have to figure out a way to punish you without killing all three of you. I figured time was on my side." She looked at her watch. "Unfortunately, I overdid it on the gas, and you slept too long." She pushed a button on the wall, and I watched as three hooks on heavy chains came down from the ceiling and clamped on our chairs. A light humming noise came from the floor, and I looked to see the floor open up. We didn't fall, as the chains from the ceiling lowered us to the floor of the room below. Just as the legs of our chairs touched down, the hooks disengaged and retreated into the ceiling and the room above. The ceiling closed up, leaving no trace of the secret room above.
Paris and I looked at each other. Actually, I think we were both impressed and more than a little freaked out by what had just happened.
"What is this place?" Leonie whispered as we looked around the Council's conference room.
"I don't know," I answered. "But it sounds like we have some chance to get out of this alive."
Guns Will Keep Us Together Page 18