Scarlet Nights (42 page)

“I’m driving,” Ariel said.

When they were in the car and pulling out of the fairgrounds, Sara said, “Ariel, you’re going to make some man a
great
husband.”

Ariel didn’t take offense. “The minute I find a man half as good as my brothers, I’m taking him. Can I assume we’re going to Merlin’s Farm?”

“I guess so, as whatever was in the secret room—paintings?—is what Stefan was after.” Sara knew there was only one piece of art that someone had left her the rights to in a will, the CAY watercolor. Surely, that childish little picture couldn’t be worth a lot of money.

Ariel was maneuvering Mike’s car through the people of the fair, heading toward the road. When they reached the end of the grounds, a young man ran to move the barrier to let them through.

“Ah, the perks of being a Frazier,” Sara said.

“If you start trying to make me believe you’re jealous I’ll stop right here. You nearly broke Lanny’s heart in high school.”

“I did what?” Sara put her hand on the dashboard to steady herself as Ariel was going much too fast. The old road followed K Creek, so it curved sharply.

“Nothing. You want to tell me what this is all about? What’s so important that some detective
married
you to get it?” Ariel went around a thirty-mile-per-hour curve at sixty, then had to cut hard to the left to keep from ramming into a tree.

“Ariel! You’re going to get us killed!”

“This car handles better than anything I’ve ever driven. I’m going to have Dad look at it. You know, don’t you, that Mike has bulletproof glass in all the windows? I wonder what he’s got stored in that false bottom in the trunk?”

At that, Ariel and Sara looked at each other with wide eyes. They didn’t know what Mike had in the trunk, but they could guess. Weapons. And they had put Mitzi Vandlo in there with them. While it was true that she was tied up, if she got loose…

“Great,” Sara said. “You
had
to get Mike’s car, and now one of the most wanted criminals in the U.S. is locked away with a bunch of firearms. Good job, Ariel. Really smart.”

“If you didn’t want my help you shouldn’t have asked me.” They were at the entrance to the drive of Merlin’s Farm, and when Ariel started to turn in, Sara halted her.

“Mr. Lang has set traps all over this place, and Mike told me about some of them. I want you to park the car in the orchard. If
Mitzi does get out, she’ll have to make her way through traps that were set to catch her son.”

Ariel followed Sara’s directions and drove on the grass, snaking the car through the hedges, and stopped in the old orchard. “So now what?” she asked as she turned off the engine.

“I don’t know. You have any ideas?”

“First of all, we should call Colin.”

Sara looked at the clock on the dashboard. “Your whole family is at the games right now and they won’t answer their phones.”

“Then I guess it’s just you and me.”

As they got out of the car, Sara glanced toward the trunk. “You think we should … check on her?”

“And be greeted by gunfire? I don’t think so.” Ariel was looking around the orchard with half its trees missing. “This place gives me the creeps. I’ve always thought it was haunted.”

“Mike and I are going to fix it up. Ariel, buck up your courage and let’s go. And stay close to me or you may find yourself hit by an arrow.”

The two women in their medieval dresses looked at home among the old buildings. Even though it was daylight, the women ran across the open lawn in a crouch and made their way toward the farmhouse. It wasn’t until they got near the side entrance that they saw Greg’s car.

Sara couldn’t contain the fear that ran through her. Since she’d met him, Greg had had power over her. And even though the last two weeks had changed her life drastically, she still worried that he could rule her.

But she couldn’t think about that now. Sara figured that if Greg—and she hoped Mike—were in the house they’d be in the big living room where the uneven fireplace would make a secret room possible.

Sara led them to the side of the house. Unfortunately, she could see in the window only if she stood on tiptoes. Stretching up, she peered inside, and what she saw made her heart pound. There were four men in the room. Greg/Stefan stood by the fireplace. Next to him was a man holding a gun that was aimed at Mike and the fourth man, both of whom were in the middle of the room. Mr. Lang’s sparse furniture had been moved to the far edges so the floor was clear and a makeshift fighting ring had been created.

Mike and the other man were wearing only their trousers, no shirts, and their feet were bare. They were circling each other, but from the look of the blood on their faces, the fight had been going on for a long time.

The men were equally matched in size and weight, their bodies coated in muscle, with wide shoulders and tiny waists, and their back muscles flared out like the wings on a bat.

The other man struck out at Mike with his fist as though he were bareknuckle boxing, and Sara was glad to see Mike duck and dodge the blow. Then, in a flash, Mike bent and grabbed the man’s leg and pulled hard. The man kept his balance for a few moments, but Mike butted his head into the man’s stomach and he went down, with Mike on top of him.

The men were wrapped around each other, Mike on top, with the man’s legs around Mike’s back. Mike began punching at the man’s head with his fists while the man pulled his legs down and gave a great push to Mike’s stomach. Mike moved back, and in the next second they were again standing up and punching at each other.

Sara stepped down, her fist to her mouth to keep from screaming. She looked at Ariel. “Is that the man you saw at the fair? The one you were so hot for?”

Ariel shrugged.

“You are a worse judge of men than I am!”

“We have to call Colin,” Ariel whispered.

“Mike would be dead by the time he got here.” Sara looked at Ariel in her long skirt and silk top. “We need to distract them. What do you have on under there?”

Ariel gave a half smile of understanding and turned her back to Sara so she could untie her laces. “There’s a little shop across from the New York Public Library, the big one, run by a tiny Frenchwoman. You can’t believe the lingerie she carries. And it’s all altered to fit you perfectly.” Her voice was too fast as she worked to cover her fear.

“Really?” Sara asked. Her hands were shaking. “If you can … If you can get one of those men to follow you to the barn, there’s a trap there.” Sara tried to think of the objective and not about what could happen to Ariel if she got an armed man to follow her. She explained about the trap and the trip wire across the door, and she told her about the loft and Mike swinging down on the rope.

When Ariel’s dress was loosened, she turned around and began pushing the heavy gown off her shoulders. “I’ll be fine. Quit worrying about me.” When the dress was puddled at her feet, Ariel was wearing a black silk corset with tiny red ribbons threaded through the top, and black panties that covered only half of her firm derriere. Her long legs were bare.

“I’m glad I don’t wear the granny pants that you do.”

“Ariel, why don’t you try being nice? You might like it.” Since Sara had made her own costume she’d fixed it so it was easy on and off. She’d concealed Velcro under the front seam of the gown, and now she quickly opened it. When she’d dressed that morning she’d thought of rewarding Mike for winning the games, so she’d put on some underwear he hadn’t seen. Her white corset, white
underpants, and the white stockings that reached midthigh were certainly a match for Ariel’s outfit.

Ariel leaned back against the house. “So here we are, outfitted for a day at the Chicken Ranch, but now what do we do?”

In the next second, the question was answered for them when they heard shots in the distance.

Ariel and Sara looked at each other. “Mitzi,” they said in unison. She had escaped her ties and found Mike’s weapons.

“Go to the other side of the house,” Sara said. “I’ll let Greg see me.”

Seconds later, the sound of the shots brought Greg and one of the bodyguards onto the porch. When Sara, in her white underwear, appeared at one side, both men looked at her in surprise.

On the opposite side there was a loud noise, like a big rock hitting the side of the house. The bodyguard went to see what it was, and there was Ariel, tall, slim, and in a black silk corset. He didn’t even think to fire, just stood there looking at her.

Smiling seductively at him, Ariel took a step backward.

The man glanced at his boss, but Greg only had eyes for Sara. “It’s a woman,” the man said.

“Go after her,” Greg growled. “This one is mine.”

The bodyguard jumped off the porch and ran after Ariel.

Sara turned around and started running, but she couldn’t outrun Greg. He caught her just as she reached the gravel yard in front of the old coach house.

She prepared herself for a blow, but it didn’t come. When she looked at him his face had taken on an expression of great sadness and hurt. It was a look she knew well. He’d used it many times when talking about his former girlfriends—the ones who’d betrayed him and made him cautious of all women.

As Sara watched him, she was struck by how emotions could
change in an instant. A month ago, when Greg had looked at her with his sad, poor-me face, her heart had gone out to him. How could she possibly complain about anything he ever did? How could she add to the hurt he’d already experienced? Whatever she’d been about to question or complain about, she’d stopped. She didn’t want it said about her that she’d ever hurt anyone—and she’d wanted to prove to Greg that not all women were as greedy, selfish, and manipulating as his previous girlfriends had been.

But now Sara saw that the feel-sorry-for-me look Greg was wearing wasn’t real, and she wondered how she could ever have been so lacking in self-esteem that she had believed him.

What she wanted to do was tell him what she knew about him, but there was a gun stuck in his waistband, and she knew she couldn’t do that. It was better to placate him, not make him angry.

Instead, she was going to do her best to use his giant ego against him. She willed the anger to leave her as she nearly fell against Greg, her arms around his torso. “Oh, Greg, my darling, it’s been so awful while you were gone. You can’t believe the lies people told me about you. But I didn’t believe a word of them.”

Her breath was held, waiting for him to believe her or … to shoot her. After what seemed like minutes, he put his arms around her.

“Sara,” he said cautiously. “Why are you here and why don’t you have on any clothes?”

“I was at the fair and Mr. Lang told me you were here.”

“Lang?”

She pulled away to look at him. “Yes. Mr. Lang said you were here waiting for me and that you wanted to see me, so of course I came immediately. After I got here, I was at my car and I was
changing out of my fair costume when I heard what sounded like gunshots. I was afraid Mr. Lang had his shotgun and he was after
you
so I came just as I was.”

“Why did you run when I saw you?”

“You looked so angry at my dishabille.”

“Your …?”

She saw anger flash across his face and knew she’d made a mistake. He hated it when she used words he didn’t know—and that look reminded her how she’d lived with his constantly changing moods. One second he’d be fine and the next he’d be in a rage—and it was
always
Sara’s fault. All his bad moods—never the good ones—were, according to Greg, caused by Sara.

She pretended she hadn’t seen his anger. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said and made herself kiss his neck. “Did you miss me?” When you were with your wife? Or in jail? she wanted to ask.

“Sara, I don’t have time for this right now.” He pulled her arms from around his neck and stepped away, but she saw the flicker in his eyes. She had no idea if he knew about her marriage to Mike or not, but one thing was clear: He wanted sex. And she needed time. “There’s an old summerhouse near here,” she said softly. “Just behind those hedges.”

“I …”

She began to back away from him. “Bet you can’t catch me,” she said in as enticing a manner as she could manage, then she took off running toward the summerhouse. But she’d seen the anger flit across Greg’s eyes, and she knew that it wouldn’t be long before he released his rage. As she ran, the image in her mind was of seeing Mr. Lang put the wire across the doorway of the old summerhouse and attaching the arrows just inside the entrance.

At the time, she’d visualized what would have happened if Mike or she had stepped into the pretty little building after the trap had
been set. But Sara couldn’t think of that as she ran across lawns, then around the tall hedge that protected the structure’s privacy.

She headed straight into the building, jumping as she went through the doorway. At the other side she stood there with her back against the wall, and she could see Mr. Lang’s four arrows affixed just inside the entrance. There was no way out.

Greg stopped outside the door. “Sara!” he ordered. “Come out here this minute.”

“I’d rather you came to me,” she whispered even though her heart was pounding in her ears.

When she disobeyed him, his wrath was released. “You little bitch!” he said as he lunged for her.

Everything happened at once. Greg drew his gun and took a step toward her—and she heard the click of the wire.

Greg saw her expression and knew something had happened. “Damn Lang and his traps!” he yelled as he pointed his gun at her. Instinctively, Sara dropped to the floor, her hands over her head.

Just as the gun went off, the arrows were released.

Stefan Vandlo, aka Greg Anders, aka several other names, was shot by four steel-tipped arrows—and he was silenced forever.

Sara was so horrified at what happened—at what she had caused—that she only managed to stand upright. Greg’s blood was splattered on her face and clothes. To get out, she would have had to move Greg’s body from where it was pinioned across the doorway, and she couldn’t do that. She stayed where she was, her back against the summerhouse wall.