Into Her Fire (Fantasy Heights) (3 page)

Nicole said, “With good cause. Thomas and the noob-let are all I’ve heard about since I got back. There’s some pretty wild rumors about what happened after she wigged out and Thomas hauled her off set. If I were Ridley, I’d be upset, too.”

“You know, this is exactly how this crap gets started,” Marla argued. “Ridley has no reason to be jealous. Thomas would not hit that with a truck. The noob-let, though, is a totally different story. He was a robot before she showed up. And look at Josh. It’s like she raised him from the dead. Whatever she’s got, it’s working. It works on Derek, too.”

Derek glared at her. “Yeah. Make fun of me. That helps.”

“What? You think this is the first time anyone’s lost their head on set?” Marla asked him. “It happens to everybody. Sooner or later we all run into an Achilles partner we can’t work with, and good chemistry is twice as disruptive as bad. The schedulers have to work around it all the time.”

Derek shrugged a shoulder, still looking sour.

On Amanda’s part, she felt a jab of annoyance. No one had ever explained anything like that to her. If she’d known, she might have said something to Beverly that could have kept her and Derek out of trouble.

Ben said, “If it makes you feel any better, it works on me, too.”

“Oh, really,” Nicole said. “Do tell. What it is about the noob-let that has you guys all starry eyed?”

“She’s proud. And completely immune to control.”

What? What did that even mean?

Nicole said, “And here I thought it was some sort of forbidden fruit thing, or the fear of a severe beating from Thomas if you touched his property.”

“That’s just it,” Derek argued. “She’s no one’s property, and Thomas isn’t the one you need to worry about. The girl’s not helpless. Harmless, either. She’s got some seriously repressed anger. The smart ones always do.”

Anger? What was he talking about? She wasn’t angry.

Marla rolled her eyes. “Not a one of you can ever resist playing with fire.”

“Oh, like you can?” Ben challenged. “What about Gail Warnous?”

“I was under orders, so take it easy on the casting of aspersions.”

Amanda raised her eyebrows. Under orders from whom?

Ben scoffed. “Girl say big word. Me poke with metal stick.”

“Bring it, Blond-squatch.”

Marla, with a much smaller sword, sprang onto the wooden platform where Ben stood. Derek scrambled out of their way. Ben had no time to ready his weapon. Not that Marla stood a chance. She attempted some sort of elaborate spin move and by the time she tried to slice him across the knees, Ben had his sword gripped in both hands and thrust left to block the blow.

Marla cried out and dropped her sword, wagging her hand to dispel the sting of impact. “Bastard. That hurt.”

Just then, Eric arrived, dressed down in sweats and a tank top. The others were on him instantly, firing questions like bullets at an easy, unarmed target: What happened on the boat set? Did someone really attack the noob-let? Where did Thomas go? Why is Dr. Carpenter in trouble? What happened in the Hall? Why is everyone so mad at Steph? When are they firing the last two people on The Reaper list?

Watching Eric withstand the barrage, Amanda caught herself moving closer to the speaker. She knew the answers to some of those questions, but not all. And she would dearly love to know why Eric hadn’t mentioned any trouble with Steph or Dr. Carpenter.

She sighed. So much for earning Eric’s trust. Feeling defiant, she left the intercom on and watched Eric try to fend off the others.

He gave as many answers as he could. Security had carried out the two remaining dismissals that morning. The first one had worked in the IT department. The last was an observer, the former chief’s favorite henchman.

“The fun part,” Eric said, his tone oversaturated with sarcasm, “is Steph just filed paperwork to dismiss someone else. One more person’s getting fired before this purge is over.”

“What?” Marla demanded. “Who?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t think we’ll find out for a while. She told Jerod she wants to sit on it until the Accord meeting and he’s supposed to watch this person in the meantime. It set Jerod off like a rocket. When I asked him who Steph wanted fired, he threw a stapler at the wall, then slammed his door shut.”

“God,” Marla breathed. “This place is like hell stuffed into a pressure cooker lately. There’s another rumor going around that Josh and Steph aren’t speaking. Please tell me that’s not true.”

“I wish I could. I know they had words, and you know how Josh gets all quiet and polite when he’s trying not to take someone’s head off? It’s bad. I know things get tense when all the brass comes to the resort, but this time, I think it’s a good thing. Once Jennifer sees the state this place is in, she’ll knock some heads.”

Marla said, “Jennifer can’t fix the problem. Not when the problem owns fifty-two percent of the business.”

Steph owned fifty-two percent of the business. What did Marla mean? And who was Jennifer?

Amanda’s head ran every direction at once with the possibilities. She flew back to attention when everyone on the soundstage stopped what they were doing.

Jerod Hughes had come in. So close on the heels of Eric’s news about the additional dismissal everyone, including Amanda, went completely still, afraid to stand out lest they be fired on the spot.

Ben walked over to the weapons rack containing their practice versions with dull, unfinished edges. “Come on, kid. You can take it out on me. Unarmed, one-handed, or two-handed?”

“Dual wield. Battle axe and short sword.”

“Aha. Planning to challenge Thomas for the boss-battle spot this year?”

“No. I just really need to beat the crap out of someone right now.”

Every eyebrow in the room flew up and suddenly everyone looked away, ashamed of themselves for gossiping about dismissals. For them, another casualty was a distant disappointment. For the brand new chief of security, if he disagreed with Steph’s decision so strongly he had to throw office equipment at a wall, another dismissal was a brutal entry on his to-do list.

Ben tossed Jerod his weapons, and then reclaimed his two-handed sword. Everyone else double-timed it away from them. Amanda understood why when Jerod swung the axe at Ben’s head. She even reared back in her chair, shocked at the force behind the blow.

Ben had no time to block. He had to duck instead and, laughing as if he were overjoyed to face an opponent capable of kicking his ass, dropped back a few steps, leading Jerod onto the stage.

Amanda had no idea what actual weapons combat looked like, but this was no graceful, choreographed performance. Both men struck hard to injure or block. Bone-jarring blows often made them stumble. The noise and the strength required was incredible.

No way would she audition to fight in that group. With that sort of skill and power involved, her piddly two years of Tae Kwon Do and ballet training wouldn’t be much use.

Ben didn’t taunt Jerod the way he’d teased the others. Any slight distraction or hesitation let Jerod get close to land unblockable blows. Likewise Jerod, who wasn’t as quick to recover as his opponent, took the flat of Ben’s sword to his left shoulder so many times he began to favor that arm.

It was Marla who finally pulled the plug. “Enough. Stop before someone gets hurt.”

The combatants listened to her, and backed off to opposite sides of the stage. Both men heaved air in and out of their lungs, staggering.

Ben had no hard feelings. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.”

The tension on the sound stage shot upward when Jerod quietly returned his weapons to the rack and walked out without another word.

Derek whistled and shook his head. “Poor kid. I’d hate to be him right now.”

The others must have felt similarly sympathetic because Jerod’s visit ended the gossip. Very little conversation interrupted the work as other performers came and went, running through various weapon sets and group configurations.

Amanda watched for more than two hours. With half an hour to spare before her mystery client booking, she left the booth and headed back toward the Menagerie, the rambling complex that housed the Zoo, the wardrobe department, and other group venues. She took one of the tunnels that ran underground through corridors of housekeeping, maintenance and storage rooms mixed with redundant business offices. She had never known of the tunnels’ existence until Jerod and Eric had used them to move her from one point on the resort to another without being seen.

The tunnels had been there for a long time. Much longer than the resort had been Fantasy Heights, from the look of things. Heaven only knew what this property had been before it became a fantasy fulfillment resort. A different type of resort, she figured.

Lost in speculation, she ran into someone as she rounded the final corner. Hands shot out to grab her elbows and hold her steady.

Seeing her savior, she fought a frown. The man was only a few inches taller than she was. Dark-haired and a bit older, he had hawk wings for eyebrows over sharp black eyes, refined bone-structure and a cruel set to an otherwise sensual mouth. Handsome in a wicked sort of way.

“I’m so sorry,” she told him.

A smile and low chuckle robbed some harshness from his looks. Not a lot, but enough that she felt absolved when he said, “You’re fine. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Neither was I. You’re not hurt?”

“Not at all.”

She hated to challenge him, but she did have responsibilities. Clients weren’t supposed to see the resort’s puppet strings like this. She did her best to be polite about it. “Are you just exploring? Or maybe I can help you find a venue?”

The man watched her a moment with the strangest expression on his face, as if he were confused and trying not to laugh at the same time.

Oh, lord, she thought. He was probably someone frightfully important, maybe even one of the Accord members, and she was making an ass of herself right now. She just knew it.

His smile widened, and then he tamped it down. “I’m not lost. I’ve got an appointment across the quad, and it’s raining outside. I didn’t want to get my suit wet.”

Now that he mentioned it, the suit really was something. Black as his eyes and made from the sort of summer-weight wool that cost the earth, tailored with extreme skill.

“Vanity,” he said. “One of my many faults.”

No deficit on charm, she decided, wishing she could borrow some. She had no idea how to retreat with any grace. “It’s a beautiful suit.”

She invented several new degrees of crimson when his eyes took a meaningful trip south to her blue robe and the belt that wasn’t tied as tightly as it might have been. She glanced down and saw a two-inch wide strip of skin visible all the way down to the coral panties.

While she was busy blushing half to death, the stranger let go of her arms to gently right the front of her robe. He wrapped the two ends of the belt around his hands. Looking back up into her eyes, he pulled the belt ends opposing directions, tying her up more securely.

Her body responded with hot enthusiasm to the gesture’s overt message, and suddenly the ten-foot-wide corridor felt very small and intimate.

The stranger, though, turned his face a bit to the side, his eyes still holding hers, but sending an easily understood message. He was attracted, but suspicious about something.

Why, she wondered. And of what?

He released the ends of her belt and let them slither free of his hands while he took two distinct steps backward. “I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Tate.”

Oh, great. He knew her name, but she had no clue who he might be. And when had she become ‘Miss Tate’ with strangers? She much preferred the oh-so-objectifying ‘noob-let’ to that.

Her stranger took off around the corner, then, and short of peering around the wall like a dork, she couldn’t watch him go.

She sighed, shook her head, and closed her eyes. This place was crazy. And now she had to meet her mystery client. Though she had mostly forgiven him for tricking her, she was determined to find out who he was. He knew too much about this place and the people in it to be a generic client. He had to be on the staff, and an insider, at that.

In wardrobe, she found Kara in a state of caustic agitation. Amanda made the mistake of asking if she could help in some way, and was treated to a ten-minute, stress-induced tirade about Steph turning uber-critical now that the bigwigs were about to descend.

“I’ve had it. I’ve friggin’ had it, I tell you. You know what her problem is? Everyone and their mother warned her not to get involved with Robert Warnous, but did she listen? Of course not. And now she’s embarrassed because her bad-boy rock star project was a huge fail. Duh. She has to save face so she’s riding everyone’s ass. You should have heard what she said to Beverly. And then Jerod… I swear you could hear the yelling from Connecticut.”

Amanda soothed her as best she could and meekly submitted to having her hair yanked tight into a ponytail, and only a little makeup dashed on. She was given a prissy pink bra and panties in curious contrast to an austere floor-length, sleeveless black jersey dress.

The last item to go on was a pair of long dangling gold earrings. They had clip backs, the wide, old-fashioned kind. Tight, and quite remarkably uncomfortable. “I have pierced ears, you know,” she told Kara. “Do I have to wear these?”

Kara pressed her palms to her temples. “Please don’t argue with me.”

Sorry she’d asked, Amanda escaped wardrobe and hurried toward the garage. She would have to drive all the way over to Haynes House. She arrived precisely on time, just moments before the sun slipped beneath the horizon and turned the sky over the lake a burnt orange hue. It was too pretty a scene to leave go ignored entirely. After lingering a couple moments appreciating the color’s reflection on a glassy lake surface, she hurried through the gate and up to the front door.

No observer greeted her, but the inevitable blindfold hung on the coat rack. Amanda snared it on her way past, making for that night’s appointed door. They would be in a different from the last time she’d met her mystery client in Haynes House. This door led into a smallish room without a bed. Practically empty, the room contained a highly polished, oblong dining table and two chairs. A number of covered silver dishes waited on the table. Like the bedroom, the outer wall of the dining room was glass, giving her another chance to appreciate a colorful, fading twilight.