Beauty Bites (33 page)

My nonchalance broke and I ran for the driver’s door, frantically hitting the unlock button on the way. I yanked the door open and leaped in. Twyla dropped the trash and spun for the cabin. She made it two steps.

Ric’s roar, and the
bang
of the door thrown wide with such force that it shattered into a pile of kindling, are sounds that will remain with me for the rest of my life. I fumbled the key into the ignition and cranked the engine.

Just as Ric thudded against the car frame.

Chapter Twenty-two

I stomped the accelerator. Tires spun, kicking up grass and dirt. Ric got his hand on the driver’s door handle…just as the tires caught purchase.

I sped out of there. Ric shouted but I ignored him to blast toward the bridge. I glanced in the rearview. Ric wasn’t there. I slowed to take the bridge.

A spume of dirt kicked up into the air behind me, Ric pursuing at jet speed. I jumped so hard I nearly smacked my head on the roof.

Ric slammed into the trunk. “Synnove!” His roar was full of pain. “What. The. Fuck?”

Hitting the accelerator, I drove my foot through the floor and tore over the bridge, my heart hammering so hard it rattled my ribcage. My lungs were heaving like organ bellows. I never drove so fast. I took the hook by the main house at thirty, spitting gravel, and hit blacktop going forty.

I dared a glance in the rearview.

Nothing there.

As I drove, the rearview stayed empty. My heart decelerated from sheer panic to merely scared bunny, but it took a while. It wasn’t until I got to the Interstate that I felt safe enough to stop and fasten my seatbelt. But then it hit me. I’d done it. I’d gotten out of there without my vampire.

Without my protection. I could only hope humans were as capable as I thought we were.

When I got to Holiday Buzz I parked in the underground lot. Rosie and Harry were waiting for me. Holding hands. When Rosie saw me she blushed and slid her hand from his paw. With a growl, he snatched it back.

“It’s okay,” I said. “In fact, I think it’s kinda sweet.”

Rosie’s cheeks turned bright red. Oddly, so did Harry’s.

In the lobby, the guard waved us over. “Mr. Little asked me to tell you he’s waiting around the corner at the Buzz Annex for you.” He pointed to the right.

Rosie and I exchanged a look. I said, “Thanks. We’ll head over.”

We went out the front door, silent. On the sidewalk, Rosie said, “This doesn’t feel right. Dr. Byornsson, I think you should reconsider.”

“I can’t. It’s already three o’clock.”

Harry grimaced. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Sure. Meet Chicken Little. Negotiate.” A.k.a flash some cleavage. “Take the painting. Simple.”

“What could possibly go wrong?” Rosie said brightly.

Harry growled. “Now it’s a trap for sure.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Doesn’t matter. I have to do this, or at least try.” I passed under a sign reading Buzz Annex and pushed through the door.

We entered a pleasant pub restaurant with a large bar, wood floors and plenty of table seating, much of it already filled. “Maybe this won’t be so bad. At least there are a lot of witnesses.”

To my right, a neat young man stood at the host station. “Ms. Byornsson? Your party is upstairs in our private dining area. I’m to take you.” He paused and eyed Rosie and Harry. “Only you, Ms. Byornsson.”

The fine hair on my neck rose. “I need them with me.”

“One moment.” The young man clicked an earbud. “I’ve been instructed that if anyone comes up but you, your meeting is cancelled. Next, please.”

“Damn it, wait. Give me a minute.” I glanced at the pair. “I’m going up.”

Rosie’s worried eyes searched mine. “Dr. Byornsson, you can’t.”

“I don’t see much choice.” I handed Rosie the 4G tablet. “This will give me a reason to call you up. If I’m not back in half an hour, send out the troops.”

“Right,” Harry said. “The Troops.” His disgust was plain.

I nodded at the young man and smiled. “Okay, take me up.”

“You’ve made the right choice.” The young man smiled back. Tiny fangs flashed.

Yup. It was a trap.

Still, Little wanted the money and stock, so I had some leverage. Backup was a mere floor away. I had the Stealth Top. Conditions would never get better. I followed the young man/vampire up a return style staircase to the second floor.

It was cooler here in the hushed hallway lined with springy red paisley carpet, muted red wallpaper and wall lights with glass chimneys meant to look like oil lamps. Despite that, my skin tingled with perspiration.

Four doors lined the hallway, all to the left, and all closed. He opened the first. “Your party.”

I entered. No lights in here so I only got a few steps in before I faltered.

“Well finally.”

A light clicked on. Charles Little lounged behind a white linen covered banquet table, smirking at me. The little electric table lamp gave the small chamber a romantic glow. I wasn’t feeling it.

Image, Synnove
. I strolled toward him. “Here I am.”

Little’s face flushed with victory. “Here we are. Just you and me.” He giggled.

I’d heard that sound once before, on my psych ward rotation. My shoulders tightened at that mindless giggle. Maybe Camille had done more than seduce him at the meeting. Maybe she’d done some vampire mind control thing that mushified his brain.

And wouldn’t that make a dandy medical specialty practice?

No, no. I was reconsidering medicine, and life in general. Assuming I had a life after this, because the bad feeling of Trap had escalated through nerve-jangling TRAP to
You idiot what part of TRAP don’t you get, the big teeth or the bone crunching when it snaps?

But I kept my limbs relaxed and my attitude casual. “Yep.” I started whistling, tunelessly, while surreptitiously checking out the area. “Just you and me. Noooo surprises.”

“It’s a good thing you left your friends downstairs. If you hadn’t, I’d have had to—
take care of them
.” His voice turned ugly, brutal.

I suppressed a shiver. As casually as I could I said, “One problem. I left the tablet to transfer your stock and money with my friends. I need to bring them up.”

“No.”

“Yes.” For Ric. With a deep breath I popped the top snap. “Bring them up.”

“Maybe.” Little’s eyes riveted to my hands.

I thumbed open another couple snaps, then played with the neckline until his eyes glazed a bit. “At least bring Rosie up to transfer your stock and money.” I unsnapped another two snaps, exposing a frill of black lace—and a whole lot of cleavage. “As soon as I have the painting, that is.”

“Well…I don’t know. I’m not supposed to.” His eyes narrowed and some intelligence crept back in.

Time to bring out bigger guns. I gritted my teeth and shimmied. My breasts wiggled like mounds of gelatin. “Bring Rosie up and we’ll trade. After which, well.
Two women
. Maybe you know what to do with us.” Bay-bee.

His mouth fell open. His gaze reglazed.

“But first, the painting.” I popped another two snaps, exposing bra cups. The bra’s tiny front clasp was conveniently nestled between. “You’re going to give me that portrait.
Now
.” I fingered the closure, contemplating the horrors of total exposure to Chicken Little.

“Well…maybe…”

I closed my eyes and thought of England. Or in this case, Ric. I twisted the bra open.

His eyes fell out of his head. “W…wow!”

The top was too tight and I hadn’t actually revealed nipples but my cleavage surged and he was totally concentrating on me. “The picture.
Now
.”

“
Okay
.”

And I suddenly understood the power some women get from the act of stripping. Triumph made me glow. I’d been limiting myself to other people’s notions of respect. Trashing my doctorly dignity liberated me from caring about what faceless “other people” thought. I knew the human body more thoroughly than most people know their neighbors—and breasts, frankly, are cool.

Fuck Beauty. The Beast had all the fun. I shimmied again. “Where is it?”

“It’s in one of the other—huh?”

Little’s shirt went taut, as if yanked from below. His gaze slid down his body. He swallowed hard. “No. Money and stock first.”

Damn. I grabbed material to peel back to ground zero. Time to let my inner beastie
roar
. “Painting first. Non-negotiable.”

“It’s a stupid picture.”

My hands stilled. He wasn’t talking to me.

In fact the direction of both Chicken Little’s gaze and his comments were directed to his, um, Little Chicken. “Why the fuss over a stupid ugly dwarf—
ouch
!” He leaped to his feet, chair tumbling. His shirt tail hung over naked hairy legs. “You bit me!”

My neck iced and my scalp prickled. Little was not alone.

She rose from beneath the table, licking fangs, like a blood-sucking Venus.

Camille.

“Darling. You can’t insult my boss that way.” She twisted Little’s tie playfully—until he went
ack-ack-ack
. Transferring her smile to me, she looked me up and down. “Hello, bitch. You can put those away.” She pointed at my black-lace cupped breasts. “They’re not as impressive as you think.”

Ouch. So much for letting my inner beast play. Although why believe Camille, such a pack of total honking lies? Ric liked ‘em. “Hello, asswipe.”

Her face darkened. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Talk about hoary and irrelevant.” I rolled my eyes. “That smarmy dialogue went out in the nineteen fifties. You’re the real picture thief, aren’t you?”

“Naturally. This minion—” her smile curled cruelly as she twisted Little’s tie so tight he rose to his toes, “—didn’t have the brains to steal it by himself.”

Little’s face darkened and choking sounds started coming from his throat.

He was a dick, but I didn’t want him dead. I measured my chances of leaping over the table and taking her out before she throttled him completely. Not close enough. I needed to keep her talking while I edged nearer. “So why the exercise in humiliation yesterday?”

“Well I didn’t have the portrait then, did I? Besides, it was such fun crushing you.” She smirked.

I inched closer. “Yeah, you’re top dog. How did you manage to break into the company safe?”

“This one has his uses. He knew the combination.” She yanked the tie like a leash and dragged him from the table just as I got within striking distance.

Little’s lips turned blue.

My hands tightened into fists. “If he’s useful, don’t you think you should let him go before he keels?”

“Well…” She gave a final yank to the tie. Little’s eyes rolled back into his head and he went limp. She released the tie and he dropped with a
whump
. “I’m done with him anyway.” She sauntered off.

I skirted the table. Little was sprawled on the floor, breath rasping. I knelt and loosened his tie. His breathing eased and his color flooded back. Tension in my shoulders relaxed slightly.

I stood and shot Camille a glare. “Where’s the portrait?”

A sly smile crossed her face. “I’m so glad you asked. There are four private rooms on this floor, connected by a public hallway in the front and a serviceway in the rear.” She pointed back to a second darkened doorway I hadn’t seen. “The painting is in one of those rooms.”

“Thanks.” It couldn’t be that easy, but nothing ventured, so I started for the service door.

She caught my arm, vamp-fast even in her Prada knockoffs, and pulled me in reverse so hard she nearly yanked my arm out of its socket. I did drop my purse. I will say this for her; the girl’s strong.

“Hey!” I rubbed my shoulder.

She gave me a fanged grin as she tightened her grip on me. “I forgot to tell you. All the other rooms’ doors are locked. You’ve been outsmarted and outmaneuvered, bitch.”

“Yeah, you’ve been ahead of me the whole time, I get it. Go Team Edward.” Sheesh. Apparently some people’s egos were based totally on image. “Wait. Locked doors, which you
know
I can’t get through… You expected Ric. This is an ambush of some kind for him. One problem, though. Ric isn’t here.”

“Are you sure?” Camille raised her voice. “Come out now, darling. But be careful. I’ve rigged a nice little trap for you.”

“He’s not here,” I repeated, although there was a buzz in the air, raising bumps on my skin.

No, I’d left him at the cabin. Proof was the empty rearview mirror. Ric couldn’t be here.

Could he?

“See this?” Camille held up a small box, her thumb on its red button. “It’s armed now. The trap is rigged to go off when I take my hand off this button.”

Damn, a dead man’s switch.

“It’s courtesy of some of my more technically capable allies. A bit repetitive, as they did the same trick for my predecessor, and a tad cliché, but they’re only tech, you know. Not as creative as Yoo-oo.” She sang the last to an unseen party.

Another chill fluttered across my arms. “No,” I whispered. “I left him behind.”