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He nodded, again. "I asked his permission."
"And he gave it," I said.
"I think that Jean-Claude knows if he kills me, you would kill him. That you'd sacrifice all of us for one of us."
It was true. It sounded sort of stupid put that way, but it was still true. "I guess I would."
"So if I can stand it, and you want to do it, you date both of us. You share both of our beds." His hands balled into fists at his sides. "But if I can't have monogamy from you, you can't have it from me. Fair?"
I looked at him and gave the barest of nods. "It's fair, but I hate it. I hate it a lot."
Richard looked at me. "Good," he said and closed the door. A moment later, I heard water running. And I was left na**d in his bed with everything I'd ever wanted offered to me on a silver platter. So why was I sitting there, hugging my knees to my chest and fighting not to cry?
29
I wanted to get dressed. I'd brought my suitcase over from my cabin for just that reason, but I needed a shower. I'd had too much fighting, too much sweating, too much blood, too much sex last night not to shower. So I sat huddled in a nest of sheets that smelled of Richard's cologne, my perfume, the sweet scent of his skin, and sex. I had managed not to cry. In fact, if Richard had just admitted undying monogamy to me, I'd have joined him in the shower. But he hadn't, and I was confused.
There was a knock on the door. It startled me, and I almost just ignored it. Almost pretended we were still asleep or otherwise occupied, but the second knock was more insistent. The third was so firm, the door shook.
"Police, open up."
Police? "I'm not dressed. Just a minute." I really hadn't packed a robe. But I also had a sudden bad feeling. If he just wanted us out of town, why come this early? Why wouldn't he give us time to pack and get out? Unless he didn't care if we left anymore, at least not on our own. Maybe he'd known about the hit last night. Maybe he meant to kill us. I'd dealt with rogue cops before, once. It made everything harder. If I met them at the door with a gun, it would give them an excuse to shoot me. If I didn't protect myself and they shot me anyway, I'd be pissed.
"Open the f**k up, Blake."
I didn't pick up my gun, I picked up the telephone. I didn't call a lawyer. Carl Belisarius was good, but not good enough to help me stop a bullet. I called Dolph. What I wanted was another witness that couldn't be shot. A cop in another state seemed a good bet.
The phone was near my pillow. The pillow had the Browning under it, but if I had to go for the gun, I was dead.
Dolph answered with "Storr."
"It's Anita. Wilkes and his deputies are about to break down my door."
"Why?"
"Don't know yet."
"I'm putting a call through on the other line for the state cops there."
"Why? Because the cops broke down my door when I didn't open it?"
"If you don't want help, why are you calling, Anita?"
"I want to be on the phone to another cop when they come through the door."
I could hear Dolph breathe for a second or two, then, "Don't have your gun in your hand. Don't give them an excuse."
And the door burst open. Maiden was first through the door. He cleared the door going low. The tall deputy with the scar took high. They both trained guns on me. Maiden's big forty-five looked right at home in his big hands.
I just stood there, one hand clutching the white sheet to my chest, the phone in my other hand. I was very careful not to move. I stood frozen with my heart beating so hard it filled my throat like air.
Dolph's voice was in my ear: "Anita?"
"I'm here, Sergeant Storr." I didn't yell it, but I made sure my voice carried.
Sheriff Wilkes came in behind his deputies. His gun was holstered. "Put down the phone, Blake."
"Why, Sheriff Wilkes, fancy meeting you in Richard's cabin on such a lovely morning."
He strode across the room to me. He yanked the phone from my hand, and I didn't fight him. I didn't think he was here to kill anyone, but he was here to hurt. I was going to try very hard not to give him an excuse to do it. Whatever he did today, I wouldn't make it easier for him.
He put the phone to his ear just long enough to hear Dolph, then hung it up. "A phone call won't save you this time, Blake."
I looked up at him and gave him big brown eyes. I did everything but flutter my lashes at him. "Do I need saving, Sheriff Wilkes?"
The phone rang. We stood there, letting it ring. Seven rings and Wilkes picked it up and hung it up again without putting it to his ear. He was so angry, he was shaking. A fine tremor ran through his hands, his arms. His face was flushed with the effort not to do something violent or regrettable.
I stood there as neutral as I could manage. Looking as harmless as I could manage. With my long hair tousled from sleep, wearing nothing but a sheet, it wasn't hard to look harmless.
The bathroom door opened, and Richard just stood there in nothing but a towel. Guns turned and pointed at him. He froze in the doorway with steam curling around him, spilling out into the room like clouds.
There was a lot of screaming. Cops yelling, "Hands up! Get on the floor!" Richard laced his fingers on top of his head and took it all pretty calmly. He'd heard them. He'd stepped out of the shower, knowing they were out here. He could have gone out the window, but he hadn't.
Of course, if they really thought we were dangerous, they'd have gone in after him. But they'd let him come out to us. They weren't treating us like criminals. They were acting like the criminals.
Richard was on his stomach with Maiden's gun pressed to his back. Handcuffs went on. The scarred deputy pulled him to his knees, using his long, wet hair. The towel stayed on. Tough towel.
The phone rang. It rang three times. Each one seemed louder than the last.
Wilkes grabbed the entire phone and jerked it out of the wall. He threw it against the far wall, where it lay silenced. He stared down at me, breathing so hard it looked painful.
He spoke very carefully, as if afraid to yell, afraid that if he lost control of even his voice, it would be over. "I told you to get out of my town."
I kept my voice very soft, very unthreatening. "You gave me until sundown today, Wilkes. It's not even nine o'clock in the morning. What's the rush?"
"Are you going today?"
I opened my mouth to lie. Richard said, "No."
Shit.
Wilkes grabbed me by the arm and pulled me towards Richard. I tripped on the sheet, and he dragged me the last few feet. I put most of my effort into clutching the sheet to my chest. Bruises were okay; being na**d in front of them was definitely not okay.
Wilkes half-threw me, half-dropped me on the floor beside Richard. Richard tried to get to his feet, and the scarred deputy hit him in the shoulder with the butt of the shotgun.
I touched Richard's arm. "It's all right, Richard. Everyone just be calm."
The scarred deputy said, "God, you are a cold bitch."
I just looked at Wilkes. He was the one in charge. He was the one who would dictate how bad this was going to be. If he stayed calm, so would the others. If he lost it, we were in deep shit.
Wilkes just stared down at me. His breathing had eased, but his eyes were still wild. "Leave town, Mr. Zeeman. Leave town today."
Richard opened his mouth, and I squeezed his arm. He'd tell the truth unless I made him shut up. The truth was not what we needed right now.
"We'll leave, Wilkes. You've made your point," I said.
Wilkes shook his head. "I think you're lying, Blake. I think Richard here is planning to stay. I think you'd say anything to get us out of this room right now."
It was the truth, and that made it hard to argue. "We'd be fools to stay, Wilkes."
"I think Richard is a fool. A softhearted, tree-hugging liberal. It's not you we have to convince, Anita. It's your boyfriend."
I didn't argue with the boyfriend part. I couldn't anymore. I leaned a little into Richard. "How do you plan to convince him?"
Wilkes said, "Thompson."
The scarred deputy gave up his place in back of Richard to Maiden. Maiden looked uncertain, as if things were moving too fast for him, but he kept his gun out, not pointed at Richard, sort of resting against his face.
"Thompson, we never patted Ms. Blake down for weapons."
Thompson smiled, a big, good-humored smile. "No, we did not, Sheriff." He grabbed two handfuls of sheet and dragged me to my feet. He jerked hard enough that I stumbled into him. He locked one arm behind me, holding me against him. His Sam Brown belt pressed into my stomach but kept the rest of him from touching me.
