Guns Will Keep Us Together (23 page)

"Lulu?" I asked, afraid of the answer.

"That's what I named her. Oh!" A buzzing noise emanated from Lulu, and she turned toward it. "Found her! Well, that's weird."

Hearing Missi say that something was weird is truly a strange experience.

"She's here. In Vegas. Huh." Missi said distractedly.

"Are you serious?" That was weird. "Where is she? And is anyone following her?"

She pulled up another screen. "It looks like she's—" Missi looked at us with an odd expression—"in the room next door. On the left."

I ran to the door that adjoined that room to Missi's. Knocking was out of the question. Leonie would just run away again. So I scrambled through my pockets to find some way to pick the lock.

Missi appeared beside me, rolling her eyes. She held what looked like a garage door opener and pushed the red button. After a few seconds, the door popped open.

"I need one of those!" I said as I burst through both sets of doors to find a shocked Leonie looking out the window.

"What the…" She opened her mouth, and shut it. "How did you…?"

I closed the gap between us and crushed her to me.

"Oh my God." I said over and over, "You're all right. You're all right."

"Dak," Leonie murmured against my shoulder. "Dak! I won't be all right if you don't stop crushing me!"

I loosened my grip but did not let go. "You're not going anywhere until you hear what I have to say."

Paris entered the room, gesturing madly and whispering, "In here! Get in here!"

I dragged Leonie into Missi's room, and Paris shut and locked both doors behind us.

"Hi! I'm Missi, Dak's cousin. You must be Leonie."

Leonie cautiously reached out and took Missi's hand.

"What the hell is going on here?" she asked.

I started to talk when Paris brought his finger to his lips. "Someone with a gun is on the elevator. He'll be here any minute," he whispered.

"How do you know that?" Leonie whispered to me, and I shushed her. I wanted to know that too but figured Missi's Lulu could do a lot more than I thought.

Missi sighed and pulled a case out from under the bed. Inside were six semi-automatic handguns, all .45s. We snatched them up, quietly shoving the magazines into them and racking the slides.  

We couldn't hear anything at first. Then there was a rap on the door to Leonie's room. I looked around and realized we were pretty much trapped. Our best defense would be to wait whoever it was out.

It seemed like hours passed before we heard the door open next door. I gripped my gun tightly. Whoever it was took this assignment seriously. Of course he'd break into her room. He had no idea we were just on the other side of the wall. Missi told us she used a fake name on the hotel register.

There was the usual sound of movement in the room. I heard drawers opening and closing, the shower curtain rustling. This bastard was looking everywhere.

A thought chilled me. What if he decided to stay and ambush Leonie? How long could we hold out in silence next door? If we tried to leave through the hallway—what if he decided to leave at that moment too? Damn.

So, we sat. Missi quietly showed Paris more of Lulu while Leonie and I sat together on the bed.

"Who's in my room?" she whispered.

"I don't know," I replied, wondering how much to tell her. If I was ever going to gain her trust, it was now. "I'm just glad I found you before he did." I neglected to add the word
seconds
before
he did
, but you get the idea.

Leonie looked at me with an expression I couldn't read. Hopefully, it was a
Wow, Dak! You saved me from your own family! You do love me!
But I couldn't tell. We just sat there.

I came out of distraction hearing a strange noise on the other side of the adjoining door. I recognized it immediately. The uninvited guest next door was sliding his hands around the door, trying to decide if Leonie was in here. I turned to Missi and shrugged. She frowned and picked up the phone.

"Yes, security?" She asked using a very loud, high-pitched Southern accent. "This is Myra Hodges in 6111. I think someone has broken into the room next door, and I'm mighty worried. Could you send someone up immediately?"

I looked back toward the door. The sound had stopped. In fact, it sounded like he was leaving. I ran to the door and looked through the security window as a blurred figure in a dark, hooded sweatshirt ran toward the stairwell and disappeared. He was gone too fast for me to ID him.

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.

 

 

 

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.

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."