A Mighty Fortress (38 page)

Before I knew it, I was on the sixteenth floor. It was six o’clock sharp. I found her room number and knocked.

The door opened. I couldn’t see who was in there.

Then she peeked around the door. Her hair was dark brown now; no more hints of red. It still looked very natural except for some light highlights. She hadn’t lost much of her tan either. I entered.

She wore a red cocktail dress that didn’t reach mid-thigh, and black pumps that hurt my feet just looking at them. “Hello,” she greeted me. It was the first time I could recall hearing her sober. Her voice was raspy and hoarse.

“I’m Myles,” I said.

“Good to meet you.” Inside, she kissed me on the cheek. “Please come in.”

The door closed behind me. The suite was cool, fluffy everywhere. I resisted the urge to sit on the bed.

I turned. She was taking her shoes off, about to slide off her dress. “Make yourself comfortable,” she said.
 

I slipped off my loafers and sat on the love seat.

“Have I seen you before?” she asked.
 

“Do I look familiar?”

She looked at me, like the thought had never crossed her mind. She shrugged and smiled. “Not particularly.”

I considered the irony, and how clueless she was to it.

She retreated to the far corner to start undressing. As she did, I saw her cell phone on the dresser. I quickly picked it up and placed it in my pocket. Meanwhile, she slid her dress down, stepped through it, and hung it on a hanger in the vanity closet. She wore a black lace negligee. She turned back around. “So, how do you know Brian?” she said. Just then, she seemed to notice that I was still dressed. “Don’t you want to get comfortable?”

“I like to take it slow,” I said.

“Shy, are we?” She was putting on a good show, and she’d used that line during our first meeting, too. But today her energy and enthusiasm was a far cry from the time we’d met in Scalzo’s apartment. I figured the week’s stress had taken a big toll on her as well.

“A little,” I said.

She got on her knees and crawled in my direction. “Let me fix that,” she said
en route
to me. Once she reached the sofa, she pulled herself up by my knees and leaned into my lap. She started reaching for my crotch, but I grabbed her hand and held it tight.

“You have a strong grip,” she said, as she repositioned herself next to me and slowly crossed her legs. “You just want to talk?”

“Talking would be nice.”

“Let’s talk,” she said, rubbing her left leg along the thigh.

“You miss Tampa?” I asked.

“Can’t say that I do.” She arched her head back and smiled as though she was trying really hard to be amused and not nervous. “So,
have
I seen you before?”
 

I smiled back, playful, maybe a little intimidating. “You don’t remember me?”

She started nodding. “You do look familiar.”

I’d participated in enough games for one week. “So, what do you want to talk about, Evangeline?”

Her fake smile turned to alarm. “What?” she said without thinking. When I didn’t answer, she demanded, “Who are you?” She’d started trembling.

“You don’t recognize me?” I asked. “It’s only been a week.”

Based on the terror on her face, she might have seen the Grim Reaper.

“Try picturing me with a long, full beard and curly hair over the ears.”

“You!” She definitely knew me now. “You can’t be serious.
You
?”

I nodded. “Sorry.”

“Y-you,” she was stumbling over her words now, too. Her eyes doubled as she started realizing the possibilities, which in turn made me wonder what was really worrying her. Like who I was working for now, and what she had to hide.

“You!” she screamed.

“I believe you remember me now. Let’s talk.”

“You were there the night he, Chad, the night…”

“He died?”

She shook her head and scrambled for what to say. “Did you? You were…”

Her arms were moving in frenetic circles, and she was coming closer to hitting me. So I grabbed them, just to make sure she didn’t get any wild ideas.

“Funny you should question me like that, Angie—or is it Evie? ’Cause I know for a fact Chad’s family has some questions for
you
.”

“Who sent you here?” she cried.

“You’re in danger, Angie. And I’m here to get you out.”

She turned pale and had a hard time fighting the trembling. “You can get the hell out of here.”

“Well, I paid for the time, so why don’t we at least talk for an hour?”

“Screw your time. I’ll pay you back myself. Does Brian know about this? What the hell?” She stood and rushed toward the nightstand.

“Looking for your phone?” I asked.

She panicked when it wasn’t there. “Where the hell is it?” She was turning over the bedspread and pillows. I met her, pulled her up, and turned her around.
 

“You have to listen to me. You’re in danger,” I said.

She landed a nice right hook on me, a solid shot on the jaw. I thought back to her dad swinging the axe. The apple hadn’t landed far from that tree. I shook it off and asked her if she’d heard me.

“Yeah, I heard you. You say I’m in danger. Well, I’m out of here. This is my last day in Florida.”

“They’ll find you, Angie. Wherever you go. You think you’re going to disappear into a porn career? You’ll be the easiest person in the world to find.”

“Who will find me? Who the hell is looking for me?”

“The police, for starters.”

“Why? And how the hell do you know that?”

“You were the last person to see Chad Scalzo alive.”

She shook her head. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“Well, would if make you feel any better if I said the cops knew that, but still wanted to talk to you? As does Scalzo’s family.”

“His family? Who the hell do you work for?”

“I’m not sure anymore.”

“How do you know the police are looking for me?”

“Because I’ve talked to them every day since Chad died. A lot of people are looking for you.”
 

She slugged me again, barely making contact this time.

“Please don’t do that again,” I said. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Trying to get me killed or arrested!”

“This is serious, Angie. We can’t trust the police. We can’t trust anyone.”

“Not my problem.”
 

“I’m sorry to say it, but it is. More than you realize.”

“Why?” she cried.

“Because I think whoever killed Chad wants you dead, too.”

Her eyes bulged, as she seemed to get an idea about how to escape. She lunged onto the bed, picked up the receiver to the hotel phone, and hit a button. “This is room 1630. Please send security up right away. I have an intruder in my room. Yes!” She hung up and screamed: “Get out!”

I sighed and shook my head. “You should not have done that.”

“I said get out!”

“Listen to me, Angie. This is more serious than you realize. They
will
find you.”

She glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “They’ll be here any minute, and they’ll throw your sorry ass in jail. I want you to get the hell out of here and never tell anyone you saw me here.”

“I’m the only person who can help you now. Don’t forget that. Whatever happens.”

She closed her eyes, fighting back tears and rage.

“Angie, Don Alexi is dead. Kara is in a coma, and the lawyer who hired me last weekend is probably dead. Whoever wanted them dead will be after you, too.”

There was a loud knock on the door. It seemed too quick to be security. “Don’t open that!” I yelled.

But she was already unlocking the door. As soon as she turned the lock, the door swung into her and knocked her to the ground.

Kiki led the charge into the suite, pulling a gun from inside his black leather jacket. He grabbed Angie by the hair, pulled her into the bedroom, and threw her against the bed. She bounced off and hit the floor with a whimper and a scream. Jimmy was close behind Kiki, brandishing his weapon of choice. He made a beeline for me and used his gun to cold-cock me right on the bandaged jaw. It sent a sharp pain into my ear canal. As I tried shaking off the sting, a leather pump flew by my face and hit Jimmy right in the mouth. He cursed and pointed his gun at Angie, who was trembling by the bed now.

“Don’t,” Kiki said. “He wants her alive.”

Angie looked at me. “You piece of shit. You led them here.”

I wondered whether I’d been that careless, to let them trail me here.

“Don’t worry, Angie,” Kiki said. “You weren’t that hard to find. Whores like you never are.”

“What do you want?” she cried.

He nodded with his little gun. “You know, I been trying to call you since Monday morning. Not very smart of you to run away like that, under the circumstances. Now you need to come with us.”

There was another knock on the door. “This is Security,” a voice shouted from the hallway.

Jimmy turned quickly, while Kiki kept his gun pointed at me. “Don’t get any crazy ideas,” Kiki grunted. Then he pointed it at her: “Go tell them you’re okay.”

She stood away from the bed. Jimmy used his gun to lead her in the direction of the hallway to the door. Kiki nodded for Jimmy to keep an eye on me. Kiki resumed Angie duties, with his gun pointed right at her head.
 

Jimmy greeted me with another hit to the face, and followed it through with a push to the floor. I went down easy and positioned my fall so I could get a good look down the hallway. Kiki was whispering in Angie’s ear. Then he stepped into the bathroom by the front door. His gun was the last thing to disappear.
 

She opened the door a few inches. “Everything’s okay,” she said, but her voice rang with fear.

“Please step back, ma’am.”

Someone pushed the door open. Angie was walking backwards, quickly.

A security guard strutted down the hallway, bulky, probably former police or military. Not well trained, obviously. Before he knew it, Kiki was behind him, and had removed the guard’s gun from his holster. Kiki had his own gun digging into the guard’s neck. “Walk, asshole.”

Kiki led our visitor into the bedroom, where Jimmy was standing over me. There, Kiki opened the door to the armoire.

“Get in,” Kiki said.

“Fuck you,” the guard said. “The police are on their way.”
 

Kiki hammered him a few times with the pistol butt. “Then you better hurry.”

The guard leaned into the armoire without putting up a fight. The only problem was, there was no way he was going to fit into the cabinet. It was a pathetic sight: him leaning into it, his feet still standing on the ground, Angie’s dresses scattered on the floor by his feet.

“Find something to tie him up with,” Kiki ordered Jimmy. The first thing Jimmy went for were the sheets to the bed. Kiki ripped them out of his hand. “Idiot. Just keep on eye on them,” he said, nodding in the direction of Angie and me.

Kiki opened a dresser drawer and found a stash of Angie’s toys. “I knew a good whore would have some rope on hand.” He waved a wad of black velvety rope. “This’ll do the trick.” In thirty seconds he had the guard’s hands tied to the rack in the armoire. He pulled a hand-held radio from the guard’s belt, crushed it against the nightstand. “We don’t have much time,” he told Jimmy. “Go get the car.”

Jimmy nodded and scurried away.

Kiki turned to us. “We’re gonna take a little walk.” He put the gun in his pocket. “One wrong move, one wrong sound, and you’re both dead.” He threw the red cocktail dress at Angie and told her to get dressed. The shock had worn off her; she pulled the dress on and glanced at me.

“Do what he says,” I told her. “If they wanted to kill you, they would have already.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re still not going to,” she whispered.

She had a point. “Let’s ride the current and see where it takes us,” I said.

“What?” she said.

“Just follow me.”

“Are you done?” Kiki asked me. “Now let’s move.”

We rode the elevator down with two other couples. Kiki stood in the rear corner, to my left, and Angie to my right. Angie’s eyes were covered in shades, but they didn’t hide the tears. I held her hand, so I received the angry stares as the abusive boyfriend. Meanwhile, my face was bruised and traced with specks of blood. They all thought I had it coming.

We reached the lobby. Kiki let the elevator empty before he nodded for us to go. “To the front. And remember, not one wrong move.”

I gripped Angie’s hand and started walking. She gave mine a hard squeeze in return.
 

We passed through the lobby and exited the main entrance. A bellhop asked if we needed a cab. Kiki answered for us, saying we had a ride.
 

He guided us toward a black Ford Fusion parked by a row of taxis, opening the front passenger door. Jimmy was waiting in the driver’s seat, checking the rearview. “You have the honors,” Kiki told me. “Shotgun.”

I nodded to Angie. “Just stay calm.”

She took a deep breath. Kiki opened the door for her to sit behind me. We both got in the car at the same time.

The same bellboy approached Kiki and asked if we needed directions. “Beat it, asshole,” Kiki said. He closed Angie’s door, and then mine.

Kiki sat behind Jimmy. Then he pulled out his gun and told Jimmy to get the hell out of there.

We were on 95 North in no time.

As Jimmy drove us farther north, I realized a serene calmness had fallen over me. It was as though I’d had my fix—maybe the way heroin calms an addict, or porn calms someone addicted to it. I’m my calmest when someone is pointing a gun at me.
 

I might not have realized this had it not been for Angie in the backseat. She was crying hysterically. There was nothing I could say to calm her; she was lost in her emotions. Kiki had even threatened to beat her with the gun to shut her up, but she ignored him in her state of mind.
 

It didn’t take long before the city was behind us, and we were driving through the Everglades. A canal ran parallel to us. We’d taken 595 West to 75 North, Alligator Alley. Another twenty minutes and Jimmy took an exit for a highway that seemed to head northwest. We passed a few tourist stands for alligators, citrus souvenirs, and airboat rides. Then the sun was setting, and we were surrounded by water and prehistoric foliage. The sky had turned a fluorescent pink and orange, with a large black thunderhead sweeping in from the west.