Blue Maneuver (4 page)

“If you could take me to 2557, I’d appreciate it.”

“2557.” He huffed and angled through the opening. Eucalyptus trees towered over us. Their round silvery leaves tumbled to the sidewalk. “No problem.”

A chill washed down my spine at the transition from sunshine to shade. “Which unit did you buy?”

“2972.” He slowed as he passed the placard with the units’ numbers. “Or 2792. I forget.”

He forgot where he lived? “That could be awkward since all the units look alike. You might accidentally walk into the wrong condo.”

Too bad it hadn’t been mine.

“Yeah, it’s a pain being dyslexic.” When the path forked he took the right branch. “Fortunately, I navigate using landmarks. There’s a purple bush next to my door and a thorny one with red flowers next to that.”

I smiled. Finally, a man who adapted to the world and didn’t demand it change to suit him. Maybe I should put a Justice of the Peace on speed dial. “The condo is just up ahead. First door on the right.”

“Got it.” Within a minute he’d reached the entrance. “I’m going to set you down now.”

“I’m ready.” I gritted my teeth.

Slowly, he lowered my knees. A moment passed then another. One hand settled on my hip, the other caressed my jaw. His warm breath stirred my bangs as he leaned into me. “How do you feel?”

“Not too bad.” Aside from the Caribbean band playing bongos. I might feel better with a kiss or two. Of course, I’d have to tilt my head back to do it. I licked my lips. Or I could invite him inside, push him onto the couch and sit on his lap. Would he wait until after I fed Vivian’s cat and we walked to the next group of units over to my place? Only one way to find out. “Look I—”

“Rae!” A woman yelled.

Sherbet! I turned my body toward the sound.

Ms. Roberts jabbed her cane in my direction. Water dripped off her bathing suit and pooled on the sidewalk. “You tell Oscar to stop making all that racket. I pay good money to live here and I expect to be able to hear my soaps without him carrying on.”

“Yes, Ms. Roberts.” I straightened. I’d tell Oscar the grouchy cat but I doubted the fur ball would listen any more than he had since my cat-sitting stint began a week ago.

The stooped, old woman thumped her cane on the sidewalk. “See that you do.”

I glanced at her.

She glared back.

I wasn’t in the mood for a staring contest with a crotchety octogenarian. Sighing, I turned back to my rescuer. “Well…”

I’d invite him in, but the Roberts’ tattler would snitch on me and Vivian was most particular about who she let inside her house.

My hero cocked an eyebrow. His lips thinned for a moment. “Oscar?”

“It’s a long story.” I tugged on the black cord rubbing against my neck. Keys jingled as they came free of my sports bra. “I’d love to tell you about it over dinner.”

His gaze cut to Ms. Roberts. “Sure. You know where I live.”

Without another word, he spun on his heel and stalked away.

I raised my hand. Crap on a cracker. I hadn’t gotten his name. And I didn’t really know where he lived. But I could find it. I would find it. And we would have dinner together. And—

“You shouldn’t let a man lay his hands on you, Rae.” Ms. Roberts’ gray curls bounced against her pink scalp. “In my day, we didn’t have a choice, but your generation does.”

Lay hands on me? I ducked to lift the keys from around my neck and a wave of nausea burst over me. Oh Lord. Ms. Roberts thought Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Latino had hit me. I would have laughed but that would have hurt. Leaving the cord around my neck, I bent my knees and inserted the key into the deadbolt. “Yes ma’am.”

“Humph.” Ms. Roberts shuffled back to the pool accompanied by the rhythm of her thumping cane.

The condo’s door swung open and a rush of air-conditioned air sowed goosebumps on my exposed skin.

Oscar lounged on the back of the chintz sofa edging the tiled foyer. Yellow-green eyes narrowed to slits and his bushy gray tail curled and uncurled in agitation.

“Yeah. I know. I’m late.” I kicked the door shut and dropped the keys. The cord cut across my nape as they jangled to a stop between my breasts.

Oscar turned to look at his dish sitting on the kitchen island’s granite countertop.

Toeing out of my sneakers, I padded across the pristine white foyer and veered to the left into the galley kitchen. Pewter knobs and handles gleamed on the cherry cabinets as the recessed halogen lighting blinked on. If Vivian wasn’t such a fussy person, I’d stretch out on her designer sofa and take a nap.

“Rowrr.” Oscar scolded, stretching along the sofa back.

Remembering to turn my body along with my head, I eyed the gray striped cat. He was as big a snitch as Ms. Roberts, even if he couldn’t talk. I eased to a stop near the can of cat food sitting next to the stainless steel gas range and peeled off the sticky with the word Friday in red sharpie. Oscar was probably already collecting evidence that I’d fed him his entrees out of order. “With the day I’ve had, you’re lucky I showed up.”

Oscar hunched down before leaping the four feet from the arm of the sofa onto the island counter. He nudged his water dish. Bits of food rolled in the rippling water.

“Yeah. Yeah. Food and water.” I popped the top of the gourmet cat food and upended the can into the appropriate dish. Bossed around by a cat. My life certainly hadn’t gone the way I planned.

Oscar stuck his head in the dish and shoved against the can.

But then I was getting paid a hundred dollars to look after Vivian’s precious baby.

“Hold your horses.” I whacked the bottom of the can and the wet pate splatted out.

Oscar reared back. His pink tongue curled over his nose and licked off the dots of gravy.

I lifted the can and rinsed it out in the island sink. Sliding open the specially designed cabinet, I tossed it into the recycling container. The steel rattled against the others inside.

Still eying his water dish, Oscar lapped at the gravy circling the pate.

“Yeah, I get it. You’re thirsty.” Welcome to the club. I licked my dry lips and padded to the refrigerator. Too bad I couldn’t drink one of the bottles of water. But like everything else, Vivian had numbered those too. I plucked the half-empty designer container from its place amongst the ordered regiment then carefully made my way back to the island.

After emptying and rinsing the water dish, I twisted the plastic cap off. Of course, there was nothing to say that I couldn’t finish off this bottle and give the kitty tap water.

Oscar looked up at me and flattened his ears.

Okay, there was his foul temper. No point in adding nasty scratches to the bump on my head. I dumped the water into his dish. “See, I didn’t do it.”

He hunkered lower onto the counter.

Geez was he judgmental. I chucked the empty into the recycle bin and watched the cabinet glide silently closed. “Thoughts don’t count.”

Oscar growled.

Like I needed this. Wiping my hands on my shorts, I glared back at him. “If that’s your attitude, I’m leaving.”

His tail swished.

Ungrateful creature. I retraced my path to the foyer and stepped into my sneakers. The backs folded under the weight of my heels but I didn’t care. I didn’t have too far to go to get home.

Oscar hissed.

“Oscar, really. I don’t feel up to dealing with your male-diva attitude now.” I set my hand on the door knob just as the hair on the back of my neck prickled.

A moment later, a hand covered my mouth and a body slammed me into the door. I hit my forehead. Stars danced in front of my eyes before winking out.

I jerked awake and the world started its mad tango. Again. Cotton batting shrouded my thoughts while stray memories struggled to poke through. This wasn’t quite the do-over I’d imagined, especially if it cost my meeting with Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Latino. Light colored my eyelids pink right before the air conditioning unit kicked on. Cold air washed over me and mingled with the scent of cat litter.

Happiness trickled through my confusion. So I wasn’t in the park and Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Latino had carried me home.

Behind me, a cat meowed.

Relief relaxed the tension biting into my shoulders. That’s right. I’d been in Vivian’s apartment to feed her cat. My tongue slipped over the fuzz coating my teeth and I swallowed the sourness in my mouth. I’d given the darn cat the bottled water and had walked to the door when…

Silence rang inside my head.

Oh snap. I must have passed out again. Now, I’d have to visit the doctor. Mentally I tried to tabulate my savings but the gauzy swirl spit random numbers at me. Hoping to still the whirling, I reached up to grasp my head.

Except my hands didn’t move.

What the heck? Opening my eyes, I glanced down. Bands of blue light bound my wrists to the arms of the cane back chair. What in the world? I blinked. Nope, still bands of light. I tried to lift my hand. Nothing doing. Fear coiled low in my stomach. Leaning forward, I noticed similar manacles chained my legs to the front of the Vivian’s dining room chair. This was not good.

Vivian would be mad at the abuse of her antique furniture. A chill wormed down my spine. The heck with Vivian. How had I gotten here? And where had these light thingies come from?

“Ah, you’re awake.” Low and throaty, the man’s voice resembled a growl more than civilized speech. Movement whispered behind me.

Oh, God no! The hair on my neck pricked. Instinct drove my knees together despite my bound ankles. A shadow drifted across the wedge of light seeping through the thin part in the curtains. How had this happened? I was normally so careful. I turned my head. Bile rose in my throat, choking me.

“You can’t pass out. We haven’t had any fun yet.” One large hand cupped the back of my head as he walked to the front of my chair.

His hold was firm but gentle. Maybe he didn’t plan to harm me. Idiot. He’d fixed me to a chair like a photo in a scrapbook. Whatever he was up to couldn’t be good. I jerked on my left hand. The motion transmitted through the wood and into my body but those funky light cuffs didn’t give an inch.

He grasped my chin and turned my head toward him. Green eyes stared at me.

Ah shit! I flinched at the mental cursing. Who cared about a swear jar contribution? Mr. Parks and Rec Supervillian made no attempt to disguise his identity. Yet hope bubbled up at the clear maroon firebird embroidered on his breast pocket.

Maybe he wasn’t here to rape me.

Maybe he was here about some mischief my parents had gotten into. Heaven knew their protests for the cause of the day always accompanied a lecture on Big Brother’s ubiquitous oversight and the length of its evil tendrils. It also explained the light manacles. The government hoarded its technology and made up lame excuses to keep their secrets—things like Sasquatch, the Jersey Devil, and alien abductions. I tried to move my wrist. My belief had become incontrovertible fact.

Now I just had to remember the details and I’d start with my kidnapper. His blond hair was cut with military precision around his high forehead. A bump on his otherwise straight nose indicated a break in the past. Deep grooves bracketed his lips already thinned in disapproval.

He raised a fist.

I flinched and jerked back. Then again, maybe I had been right the first time. Instead of trying to contain the vomit chugging up my throat, I aimed for his face. The sad little lump of bile landed on my tongue. Fudge bunnies! How was I supposed to make myself unappealing if I couldn’t even throw up properly?

“Relax.” He pinched my chin tightly and tugged my head forward a bit then he opened his fist. A silver, triangular keychain fob rested against his palm. Nestled in a bed of filigree, a fiery opal winked in the kitchen light.

Rape or Big Brother interrogation? Neither would be pleasant. I locked my bones against a shiver of fear. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm. Not yet anyway. Surely someone had seen him sneak inside and there was always Mrs. Roberts. The old snoop was bound to notice I hadn’t come out of Vivian’s apartment. All I had to do was bide my time until help arrived.

His lips twitched. “Decided to cooperate, have you? Good. This shouldn’t hurt. Much.”

Green light shot from the opal and washed over my forehead. The James Bond gadget confirmed it. I was in for an interrogation by a government douche. Would I survive it? Or would I end up as one of those losers who screamed alien abductions?

“What do you care?” And just exactly what did the green flashlight do? A frigid cold burned across my forehead. Tears pricked my eyes. I hissed through the pain and my breath fogged the air. Crap on a cracker! Even the battle of the punk metal bands seemed to fade before this torture.

Crouching before me, my abductor shifted his weight but his attention remained riveted on my forehead. In the jade light, he resembled a goblin. Or an ogre. Repulsive creatures both. Maybe I wouldn’t be left with alien delusions after the G-douche finished his experiments. Maybe he’d brainwash me into believing this was some sort of demonic encounter.

“Your repeated incapacitations interfere with me finishing my mission.”

“Mission?” I snorted then waited for the cranial payback. Nothing. Even the racket had faded. Maybe my head was so numb I couldn’t feel anything anymore. But what about the skullquakes? I ignored the questions and confusion. That could wait until he was gone. Hopefully in jail with a fellow named Bubba that wanted to give him a proctology exam. Too bad his buddies in the government would spring him. Still, he didn’t need to know that I was on to him. “Is that what they’re calling kidnap and rape these days?”

He blinked then his green eyes lasered onto mine.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Egging him on wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done in this century. Yet I couldn’t seem to stop myself. He was undermining my civil liberties. I’d been to the protests, read the literature my parents had gotten.

Of course, Mr. Parks and Rec had picked me for his experiment because of my free-thinking parents.

Taking a deep breath, I boxed up my anger. My situation called for a calm rational approach. So what could I do? My self-defense classes told me to be cooperative until I could find a way to escape. I mentally reset my brain. If I played docile maybe he’d untie me. I had a better chance of escaping.