Elite Operatives: Demons Are Forever Part 43

Chase pushed Jack aside and went in. "Where's Heather?"

"She left," Dario said calmly, smiling. "She decided she was through being used."

"What did you say to her?" Chase grabbed him by the throat.

"The truth." He choked.

She forced herself to release him. "How long has she been gone?"

"I can't remember." He smiled again.

"Not long," Jack said. "Chair's still warm." She had her hand on the fabric where Heather had been sitting.

"She can't be far." She could have killed Dario on the spot.

"You made her run to distract us. You know she cares for Heather," Jack said, tilting her head toward Chase. "And you want to throw us off, distract us for the drop-off tomorrow. What are you up to, creep?" Jack went to Dario and loomed over him menacingly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said benignly. "I sincerely care about the wh.o.r.e."

Chase shoved Jack aside and punched Dario in the face so hard she knocked him out.

"Fortunately, the Geneva convention doesn't apply to us." Jack grinned her approval. "We're free to torture him."

"Don't impair him. I'm going out." She slammed the door so hard she heard a picture on the wall inside the room fall and shatter.

* 322 *

ChaPter thirty-Five.

Heather kept running until she came to a secluded bench at the edge of the sprawling park adjacent to the hotel. She needed to stop to catch her breath and collect her thoughts. Decide where to go next. Maybe the darkness and unfamiliar setting would make it difficult for Landis or Jack to come after her. How could she have been so foolish to let Landis and the attraction she felt cloud her judgment? And to think she'd considered Landis a catch, a dream woman. The two of them must have had a good laugh at her expense.

She had to make flight arrangements and get back home, a difficult task at this hour. Her cell wasn't set up for international calls, and the area they were in was mostly residential. The few shops near the hotel were closed, the streets empty.

Maybe she could find a bar still open. Or another hotel, where she could access a phone and maybe even the Internet to find a flight.

Hotel was a better option, because there would likely be no flights out until morning and she couldn't risk hanging out at the airport.

She'd be too easy to find. Thank G.o.d for American Express.

She started walking down the main thoroughfare, keeping to the shadows in case Landis and Jack were out looking for her, her spirits sinking further with every block. No sign of another hotel. No pay phone. And the area she soon found herself in looked dicey- the homes more run-down, graffiti everywhere, trash in the streets.

This was definitely not a tourist area.

* 323 *

In the distance, she spotted a building with an illuminated sign. A bar, and it was open. Without a second thought, she pushed through the door. If nothing else, it had to have a phone so she could call a cab to take her to another hotel.

The place looked as seedy as the neighborhood. Ten men were spread out through the bar, and from the looks of them, most had been there all day and night. Unshaved, unkempt, and either completely or mostly wasted. She avoided eye contact as she made her way to the bar.

The bartender said something in French.

"I'm sorry. English, please?"

She heard a murmur of voices behind her and caught the word Americaine, but didn't turn to look.

"What do you want?" the bartender asked with a strong accent.

"Can I use your telephone?"

"First you drink, then maybe you can call." He laughed, and so did the others.

Heather sighed, in no mood for games. "Okay. A Diet c.o.ke, please."

The guy behind the bar shook his head. "You must drink alcohol."

"I can't." Heather sat down on the stool. She was too tired and terrified to cope with this. "I'm allergic."

"Bon. One Coca-Cola," he said. "I have the best." Heather suddenly felt exhausted. "Look, I just want to use the phone." She wanted to add I'm tired, lost, and being hunted, but didn't want to alert these drunk strangers to more vulnerabilities than her gender. Her years as a call girl had taught her when it came to physical strength, there was no comparison, and men were all too eager to remind any woman of that. "I'll have a drink after I'm done.

I promise." She smiled. Once she knew a cab was on the way and had a time estimate, she'd make a fast exit. Plus, she'd make sure to mention loudly that she'd called for one and that it was due any minute.

"Bon. The telephone is back there next to the toilets." The bartender grinned as he pointed the way.

* 324 *

Halfway there she realized she didn't have foreign money.

She walked back to the bar. "Can you exchange dollars, by any chance?" She gave him her most charming smile. "I just arrived in your wonderful country."

He fished in his pocket and gave her a fifty-cent Euro coin.

"The drink will be on me."

"That's so sweet. Thank you." She headed toward the back of the bar and found the phone in a hallway leading to the restrooms. As she started to slide the coin into the slot, she heard a familiar voice speaking French. No. It couldn't be. She peeked around the corner to make sure and saw Landis. She looked angry and aggressive, like she was about to attack the barman.

"Don't play games with me, idiot," Landis said in English before resuming her tirade in French.

"f.u.c.k off," the guy replied. "I told you, I didn't see a woman come in here tonight. Ask the rest if you don't believe me." The men still sober enough to talk jumped in but were laughing.

"She want to stay with us," one guy yelled from his table. "We good company for a beautiful American woman. We teach her French fast, teach her how to drink. Coca-Cola is for children and she is not a little girl." He winked at Landis.

"Oui, we show her good times," another man said.

Landis turned back to the barman and grabbed him by the collar. "Tell me where she is. Now."

"Don't touch me," the man said defiantly, and bunched his fists.

"No woman give me orders."

At this, another five men got up and approached Landis from behind. One grabbed his bottle of wine by the neck and held it upside down, ready to use as a weapon.

"I don't tell you anything, gouine," the barman said.

Though Heather had seen Landis work her way out of a similar scary situation in Chinatown, she had faced only two men then, neither drunk or armed. These guys were aggressive and, from the sound of it, had their own plans for Heather. No wonder they were ready to team up to get Landis out of there.

* 325 *

The bartender pushed Landis away and grabbed a crowbar from behind the bar. He held it up with both hands. "You ask for trouble, you get trouble. She not going anywhere with you." Heather wanted to summon the police and cursed herself for not knowing what number to call. She'd never seen anyone look as angry as Landis. It was almost scary to see her like this.

Landis grappled for the crowbar and the two of them struggled over the weapon, knocking gla.s.ses off the bar between them. As she released one hand and punched the bartender hard in the face, the other men jumped her, two grabbing her from behind to pull her back. Landis fought to get away and had almost succeeded when the other three started to punch her.

As she tried to duck their blows, Landis struggled free of the two men holding her-getting one in the ribs with her elbow and head-b.u.t.ting the other. The latter guy screamed in pain as he grasped his nose, but quickly rejoined the melee, as did the bartender, who'd come around from behind the bar with his own broken nose. Now it was six against one, and no matter how hard Landis fought them off, they punched and kicked her back just as fiercely.

Heather couldn't watch any more. She had to do something.

Stripping off her jacket, she pulled at the neck of her top until her shoulders were exposed, quickly applied lipstick, and entered the arena. "Hey, what's going on, guys?" she asked sweetly.

The fighting stopped abruptly and all went quiet as the men turned to look at her. One guy froze with his arm pulled back, about to throw a punch. They'd formed a circle around Landis, so Heather couldn't see her.

"Guys, it's not polite to fight in front of a lady," she said as she slowly strutted over to them. "Someone promised me a drink." She looked at the barman seductively. "I'm ready for it now, so stop this nonsense and get me one."

"I will when we are done with this...woman."

"Woman?" She pushed him aside and came face to face with Landis. Her nose was bleeding and her lip was bruised. Her eyes were aflame with aggression.

* 326 *

"Oh, my G.o.d, sweetie, what are you doing here?" She caressed Landis's cheek, then turned to the guy restraining her from behind.

"Remove your hands from my friend."

He reluctantly pulled away and she put her arm around Landis's waist. "You have to stop these jealousy scenes, honey. I told you I was going out for a drink."

Landis stared at her, clearly spellbound. "I can't help it," she finally said. "I'm crazy about you...baby," she added behind gritted teeth."Let's get you back to the hotel," Heather said. "You're a mess."

"Yes...let's."

"But first, you have to offer your apologies to these sweet men.

They were nothing but polite and generous to me, and you beat them up for no good reason."

Landis's eyes narrowed and flashed with renewed fury. "Are you kidd-"

"Sweetie...what did your anger-management counselor teach you?" She turned to the men with an apologetic smile. "Sorry guys, but she has a condition."

They stared first at Landis and then at her, with befuddled expressions.

She caressed Landis's hair. "Go ahead."

"I'm sorry," Landis mumbled. "I should have never hit you," she told the barman.

After taking Landis's hand, she started for the door. "We're sorry," she called over her shoulder. "Thank you for being so understanding." They left with all six men still staring after them, as were the four guys who'd been too drunk or self-absorbed to partic.i.p.ate in the fracas.

Neither spoke until they were well away from the bar and certain no one had followed. Landis let her take the lead, though she had no idea where she was heading.

"Thank you," Landis said.

"Now we're even," Heather said, referring to the time in the Cave when Landis had played the part of her girlfriend to get the annoying jerk away from her.

* 327 *

"I wasn't keeping score."

She fished in her purse for a Kleenex. "Your nose is bleeding." Landis took the tissue and dabbed at her nose. "Why did you run?"She had been so upset, afraid, and busy scheming her getaway that she had forgotten just how angry she was at Landis for lying.

She stopped walking. "I don't even know where to start."

"What did Dario say to you?"

"Nothing I hadn't already concluded. I can't believe I was so naive." She knew she should probably quit while she was ahead.

Who knew what Landis was capable of if she got her angry or admitted she knew what Landis was up to. But her own anger got the best of her. "I let you convince me you were after Rozsa to save someone...an innocent woman, like Gigi. You did a bang-up job, by the way, of convincing me Dario had her killed."

"He did."

"And you just conveniently happened to find her phone."

"I told you how we found it."

Heather rolled her eyes. "And I stupidly believed that implausible scenario."

"Can we go back to the hotel and talk about this?" Landis took her elbow and tried to gently steer her toward a street branching off to their left.

She pulled away and kept walking. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she shouted. "I'm getting on the first plane back to the States."

"It's not safe for you there. Not yet."

"And it is here?" She laughed without humor. "Between you and Dario, I'm in much greater danger here."

"What do you think I'm going to do to you? Have I harmed a hair on your head?"