Time's Enemy: A Romantic Time Travel Adventure (Saturn Society Book 1) (31 page)

“It says Room 639 right here on the order... Open faced beef sandwich with mashed potatoes, green beans, apple pie...”

Hmmm, that sounded good. Tony hadn’t eaten since breakfast, hadn’t been hungry, but eating might also speed the renewal of his mental energy. Better take them up on it, even if he didn’t order the dinner. He yanked the door open.

The black man in the hallway wore a white server’s uniform, but his hands were empty. Tony glanced down the hall in both directions. Where was the cart? “Where’s the food?”

“My apologies, Mr. Solomon, but I need to talk to you—”

Tony glowered at the man. “Who are you and what do you want?” Something about him struck Tony as familiar.

“My name is Theodore Pippin.”

Fear shot an icy tentacle down Tony’s throat. He couldn’t move. Moisture trickled down his back beneath his undershirt. God, how could he be so stupid? Charlotte and his failure had clouded his mind so much he’d forgotten all about the Saturn Society’s threat.

His stupor snapped. He shoved the door, but he man blocked it with his foot. “I’m with an organization called the Saturn Society... perhaps you’ve heard of us?”

“Yeah, and I’m not interested.” Tony leaned against the door, trying to dislodge Pippin’s foot. “Get out—”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Mr. Solomon. Now if I could come in, we could discuss this like gentlemen...”

“There’s nothing to discuss.” Not with the man who’d been lauded for subduing more time-criminals than any other Society member in known history. Tony leaned harder against the door, but Pippin’s foot held. “Get out of here, or I’ll—” Somewhere outside, a woman shouted. He glanced at the window. Big mistake. Pippin took the opportunity to wedge himself through the door.

In Theodore’s car, Charlotte panted, her throat raw from screaming. Couldn’t the hotel worker emptying the trash hear her? She struggled against the ropes Theodore had used to tie her down, her sweat-dampened legs squeaking against the beige, leather seat. Theodore didn’t trust her, he’d said. Couldn’t leave her home and risk her getting a warning to the Enemy before he could apprehend him. She shouldn’t have been surprised Theodore’s patience had run out.

She screamed again, but hope splintered and lodged in her throat as the hotel worker disappeared back inside the service door.

The parking lot was deserted, the post office next door having closed hours ago. Buildings hemmed in the lot on all sides. Theodore had parked far from the entry, concealing the maroon Packard from anyone who might walk past. Most of the hotel’s guests were likely in for the night—what few there were, as less than a dozen windows were lit.

She had to get out. For her own sake, if not Tony’s. She might be able to convince Theodore her intentions had been honorable, but as soon as he’d phoned the hotels and located Tony at the Gibbons, he’d rung Dr. Caruthers, who was now on his way from Cleveland to help Theodore administer the Treatment. There was no telling what punishment he’d mete out to a Society member who’d harbored an Enemy. She struggled harder, but the rope didn’t loosen.

Her shoulders slumped. There was no way she’d extricate herself. Unable to worry her quarter, Charlotte’s fingers twiddled within her bonds. The more she struggled against Theodore’s sailors’ knots, the more they tightened.

Tony backed away as Pippin strode into the room. “It’s late,” Pippin growled. “Get your shoes—”

“Get out.” Tony tried to edge around him to the door.

“We’re going to the Society House,” Pippin said. “We’ll begin your instruction right—”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Tony sidled farther to the right, keeping his eyes on Pippin. The “instruction” Pippin referred to was likely the surgery and medication Everly had told him about, that would turn him into a zombie like that Fred guy.

Pippin advanced toward him, sidestepping to place himself in Tony’s path. “You must come with me. We can’t have untrained folk traveling all over history—the implications are enormous, should you interact too deeply, leave something behind—”

“Get out!” Small chance anyone would hear. Tony gathered a deep breath for another shout, but Pippin leapt forward and whipped a knife from a sheath in his sleeve.

Tony froze. A vision of the ancient Mayan priest and his stone blade superimposed itself on Pippin’s image. The Society man’s voice was stern. “That’s not an option, Mr. Solomon. You’re wanted by the Saturn Society. You can come with me peacefully, or—”

“No!” Tony lunged at Pippin in an effort to disarm him, but the other man was faster and grabbed Tony’s arm in an unyielding grip, then slammed him against the wall, pinning him with his body. Tony twisted beneath him. “Help! Someone, help!” he shouted, even though the wing was deserted. There was little chance of rescue.

Pippin held firm. He spoke quietly as he drew the knife back. “You leave me no choice...”

C
HARLOTTE STRUGGLED AGAINST THE CORDS
binding her to the car seat. The ropes chafed her wrists. She scanned the hotel looming over the parking lot. Was one of those lit windows Tony’s room?
Please, let him get away...
She screamed again. Though it was doubtful, maybe someone would hear through one of the open windows.

Pippin brought the blade down, but Tony jerked aside. The knife drew a shallow gash down Tony’s side instead of the deeper cut the other man had obviously intended. Pain lanced along the thin trail and made Tony stumble forward.

“I’m warning you.” Pippin brandished the knife. Its polished silver surface gleamed in the light from the bedside lamp. “Come peacefully, or...” He and Tony circled, dancing around each other like a pair of boxers.

He leaped toward Tony, but Tony anticipated the move and jumped away. Pippin crashed to the floor. He rolled sideways and sprang to his feet before Tony reached him.

Pippin backed away, holding the knife out. “Please, consider my—”

“I have considered,” Tony said through clenched teeth. “And I’m not interested!” He lunged for Pippin again, reaching for the hand holding the knife. Pippin jerked it out of his reach.

Across the parking lot, a door slammed. The worker Charlotte had seen earlier was back, with another man. “Help!”
Please, let them come over!
“Please help me!”

Tony and Pippin faced off, each poised for the other to make the next move. Outside, another scream came from the parking lot. The woman sounded almost like... Charlotte? Both Tony and Pippin turned toward the window for a split second, but Tony recovered first. He slammed into the other man, jarring the knife out of Pippin’s hand. It clattered to the floor, skidding until it landed at Tony’s feet.

Tony snatched it up and pointed it at Pippin. Keeping himself between Pippin and the door, he took a step closer, brandishing the knife.
See how you like being on the other end of it, buddy.
“Now what’re you going to do—”

Pippin bolted into the bathroom, and slammed the door behind him. “Go ahead and hide,” Tony snarled as the lock clicked. “You can’t stay in there forever.”

His knees weak, he sank onto the bed, gripping the knife in both hands, afraid to blink lest Pippin emerge.

He turned the weapon over. PIPPIN 1905 was etched in the polished silver blade, below a hilt that bore a relief of the planet Saturn with three stars. What the hell was he doing, holding a man at knifepoint? He, Tony Solomon, whose worst infraction of the law in his whole life was three speeding tickets?

Vertigo engulfed him. He dropped the knife and clutched the bed. Was he warping?

As quickly as it struck, the dizziness passed. He glanced at his side. His shirt gapped in a neat slash, and a red line ran down his side beneath his arm to the waistband of his slacks.

Damn
!
He hadn’t warped. But then why the dizzy—

A light knock came from the door. “Tony?” a woman called.

Charlotte! His head snapped up. Trembling, feminine fingers curled around the edge of the still-ajar door and she slipped in, her eyes wide.

Lightness burst through him. He jumped off the bed and ran to her. She tumbled into his arms, pulled herself against him, and buried her face in his shirt. “Thank heavens you’re all right!” Without thinking, Tony pulled her close, her breath warm against his chest. “I was so afraid Theodore—”