Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 03 - Insatiable (21 page)

“It’s an expression.”

I turned back and looked up at her. “Oh.”

She threw a protein bar onto my lap. “Eat that,” she said, and then left the room again closing the door. The lock turned.

I sat up all the way and if it weren’t for the shooting pains in my head, I would have sworn my cranium was floating somewhere above my neck. With weak fingers I opened the Power Bar and devoured it. As I was about to pop the last bite into my mouth, Blue caught my eye. I wondered when he’d last eaten. Slipping the muzzle off him I gave him the last morsel. He chewed it quickly and I pushed the muzzle back over his snout.

I tried to move my legs but they refused to separate. I pulled off the blanket and seeing that my ankles were duct-taped together started to pull at it.

Blane came in and stopped me. He grabbed my hands and pushed me back onto the bed. “Geez,” I said. “If this bed wasn’t so soft that might have hurt.” It actually did hurt and there were little white lights shooting across my vision. Blane moved over to the dresser and opened a drawer. I heard a bang in the other room and figured it was Ana Maria. Blue jumped down off the bed to investigate. “Your girlfriend’s a real peach. Takes things in stride. I bet she’s a real pleasure when she’s on the rag.”

He turned back to me. His eyes were slits and he strode across the room with two easy steps. He hit me hard with the back of his hand and I tasted the metallic tang of blood. “You don’t talk about her that way.”

“Wow,” I said, exploring my split lip with the tip of my tongue. “Must be love.” The sharp pain was bringing my brain back into focus.

“Put your hands together,” he said.

I raised my hands over my chest. He wrapped them so tight that the skin around the tape bulged red. I was about to say something clever when he ripped off a piece of tape and put it over my mouth. Breathing through my nose I watched him pull a knife out of his pocket and cut the tape off my legs. It made me wonder what happened to the straight razor I stole from him. I bet he took it back.

Blue trotted back into the room. I smiled through my tape at him. Neither of us could open our mouths. Made you think they might be our most dangerous weapons. Ana Maria came back into the room dressed in jeans and a blue T-shirt the color of the deepest parts of the Caribbean. Blane left the room and Ana Maria said, “We need to get you into some sensible shoes, some running shoes.” She smiled at me like that was some kind of funny joke. I would have said something that wiped the smile right off her fat little face but I was gagged so I just raised my eyebrows and shrugged. She went to the closet and brought out my sneakers.

“Blane brought all of Melanie’s stuff from Playa Del Carmen. I think when all this is over I will spend about a month or two there convalescing.” She smiled again with that I’m-so-funny smile and then dropped the shoes onto my stomach. “Put them on.”

My wrists were bound but I still had use of my hands. I sat up, feeling that heaviness in my head again, and pushed the shoes onto the floor. My socks were more like stockings and I stood up to try and find something more appropriate but Ana Maria shook her head. “Just stay seated.” I looked up at her and thought about how easy it would be to kick her feet out from under her and bash her face with my bound hands. Pulling a gun from her waistband she shook her head. “Oh no, not again.” The gun was small but its barrel lengthened by a silencer.

I pushed my feet into the shoes and tied them tight. Ana Maria nodded as she watched me. Blane came back into the room. He was now in jeans and a white, collared shirt that had a little crocodile on the breast. Loser, I thought. When he turned around to check his reflection in the mirror over the dresser I saw a bulge in the back of his pants. A gun, I supposed.

Blane pulled me up by the arm and pushed me toward the door. Blue followed not even bothering to growl. Ana Maria clipped a leash onto him and said, “Ready?”

Blane nodded and opened the front door. The stairs were dark and the lobby empty. Out front under the dim yellow light of the street lamp, a black, non-descript car waited silently at the curb. The air was moist from a recent rain and fog hung in the night. The scent of fresh flowers and wet cement filled my nostrils.

Blane pushed me into the back seat and Ana Maria climbed in next to me, Blue followed her. Ana Maria had her gun out and put it right up against my neck as Blane got into the driver’s seat. Blane started the car with a rumble that disturbed the quiet night. We pulled out into the empty street, turned left and drove by the darkened stores of Gucci and Hermes. We passed a restaurant where the last of the wait staff were putting chairs up on tables. The low hum of a vacuum barely reached my ears. We turned off the main road and travelled down darkened residential streets. The glow of lamp lights filtered through the thick air giving the streets a look that made me think of old Sherlock Holmes movies. Who knew what would come out of this mist?

Blane pulled up in front of a large mansion that I recognized as belonging to Ana Maria’s parents. I felt a chill work its way through my limbs as we climbed out of the car. I didn’t know what was going to happen. There was a part of my mind that thought it was possible, but I wasn’t willing to believe it.

Blane used a key to open the door. He didn’t turn on his flashlight until the door was closed behind us. He ran the beam over the familiar large staircase and large crystal chandelier. Except for the sound of the four of us breathing, I didn’t hear a thing. Without a word they started moving down the hall.

I followed the bright beam of light and with the help of a gun barrel in my back I made it into the sitting room where my initial visit with the bereaved parents had taken place. Blane brought me over to the bar and poured a drink. He ripped the tape off my mouth and it took every ounce of will I had not to scream. He pushed the glass of warm tequila into my hand and in a low whisper said, “Drink it.”

I brought the glass to my lips and took a small sip. His eyebrows bunched together and he lifted his chin gesturing that I should finish it. I took another sip. It was warm and I like my tequila iced, but what can you do when a man is pointing a gun in your face and telling you to drink?

I went to raise the glass to my lips again, but instead of taking a sip I threw it hard into Blane’s face. The bottom of the glass hit him right in the nose and then fell to the carpeted floor with a low thump. I used his momentary daze to bring my fist down onto his gun arm. The gun skittered across the ground into darkness. Before I could do anymore, something hit me hard in the back of the head and I fell forward, spots dancing in front of my eyes. Blane, his nose dripping blood, hauled me off the ground by the back of my shirt.

A noise that sounded like the footsteps in the hall made us all freeze. The air felt thick. The smell of blood filled my nostrils. The footsteps stopped and we all held our breath. Somewhere in the room a clock ticked. Ana Maria was standing close to my left arm. I could see blood glistening from a cut on the bridge of Blane’s nose. The footsteps started up again. They were retreating.

Ana Maria pushed me into a chair. I landed hard. She grabbed my legs and pushed my feet together. Pulling duct tape out of the darkness, she bound my ankles. Blane paced the floor; I could see his dark form occasionally reaching up to touch his nose. Blue sat by my side, his muzzle was a little tilted but neither of them seemed to notice. Ana ripped off one last piece of tape and put it over my mouth.

I concentrated on calming my breathing. It’s easy to get freaked out when your mouth is covered. Think about if you were watching a scary movie. You could be sitting there on your couch, breathing happily through your nose, but when the boogie man jumps out of the closest or grabs the girl’s ankle from under the bed, you scream. You intake air fast. If you don’t have your mouth to do it, you’re likely to pass out. My nose was clear but my heart beat was up and I could feel that it was going to be hard to maintain enough breath if anything exciting happened.

SOMETHING EXCITING HAPPENS

Blane whispered something to Ana Maria who nodded back. He crossed the room and climbed on the couch. I squinted my eyes trying to make out what he was doing. I saw a large dark rectangle swing out from the wall and then the beam of his flashlight illuminated the paint. It passed over whiteness until landing on a metal door, in the middle of which was a dial.

He turned to Ana Maria, the beam of light gliding across the room in her direction. For a second it lit her face. I was struck again by how young she was. Her features still soft with the collagen of youth. She scowled into the light and waved her hand through it. Blane immediately dropped it to the floor.

Then she screamed. It was loud and unexpected. I jumped in my seat, bucking against the tape binding me. Her voice vibrated off the stone walls around us and you could sense a whole household waking up. Blane jumped down from the couch, knocking over a table stacked with large volumes. They spilled onto the floor, the pages squished by the weight of their binding.

Blue looked up at me and I looked back down at him. Blane positioned himself in front of the door. Ana Maria, without breaking her cry, squared off, raising her gun at the entrance. I watched them, not understanding what the hell was going on. Did they expect Pedro to come running and then at gunpoint force him to open the safe? But then why did they need me? Why have me bound in a chair?

All I could hear was Ana Maria screaming. It was making it hard to think and I had to concentrate on my breathing. In and out but not too hard. The pressure of air racing through my nose was starting to give me a headache when Anna shut up. Footsteps echoed throughout the large house. I heard shouts from indistinguishable voices saying unintelligible things.

The steps became more focused, the yells closer. I saw Blane’s hand begin to tremble from the weight of his gun. Why were they both aiming at the door? What were they doing? Then there were steps running down the hall right for the door. They came so quickly that I was surprised when the door was flung open. A shaft of warm yellow light fell on Ana Maria right before she opened fire.

The silencer muffled the shot making it sound like little more than quick intake of breath. The darkened silhouette in the doorway crumpled to the ground without so much as a cry. “Ana Maria! Ana Maria!” A woman was yelling from close by. Blane ran forward and dragged the dark lump into the room. He stepped back and joined Ana Maria in the shadows, just out of reach of the hall’s light. I was in a corner, invisible. Blue leaned against me, his body warm and heavy on my leg.

The woman kept yelling Ana Maria’s name until she was in the doorway. I couldn’t see her face but from the thin frame and perfectly coiffed hair, I was pretty sure that it was her mother. I steadied my breathing and closed my eyes. “Ana Maria!” she called one more time, her voice more of a sob than a name. The intake of breath filled my ears. I heard her body hit the stone floor and struggled to fight back the tears.

If you cry, you will die, I told myself. If you get stuffed up you won’t be able to breathe. A tear slid down my cheek and I sniffled, my mouth pulling against the tape that covered it. I opened my eyes and saw Ana Maria grab under her mother’s arms and pull her into the darkness with us. There were still more footsteps in the house. I thought about the size of the staff that kept a place like this going and wondered who would die next.

“How many left?” Blane asked my question out loud.

“The chef and the maid.” She didn’t use their names.

“Do you think they’re coming?” The footsteps did not sound like they were getting closer.

“Probably not,” Ana said. “They’ll just call the cops.”

I saw Blane nod in the semi-darkness. He closed the door, locked it, and turned on the light. I blinked against the sudden whiteness. Blue stood up and his hackles raised. I blinked again and using my shoulder got some of the tears off my face. Ana Maria saw the red around my eyes and smiled.

“Are you crying for them?” she asked, using her gun to point at the slumped bodies piled by the door. My eyes riveted to them. Her mother was in a bathrobe, untied it hung open to a short nightgown made of worn cotton. She was on her back, her arms splayed out to the side. Her body twisted at the waist, both her legs leaning left. Her face was turned away from me but I could see the dark red matting in her hair where part of her skull was missing. At least she died quickly, I thought. Next to Juanita, Ana Maria’s father lay on his side. He was also in his pajamas. He had on one slipper. Blood leaked slowly out of the hole in the middle of his forehead.

I swung my eyes to Ana Maria. She was staring at me. “You feel an awful lot, don’t you?” she asked. Blane crossed the room and poured himself a drink. I could see his hand shaking from the corner of my eye, and I didn’t think it was from the weight of the whiskey.

“See, I wondered,” Ana Maria continued, “if you felt or not.” Blane downed the drink in one go. “When I read about you, about you killing Kurt Jessup, I thought it was amazing. It really inspired me, you know?” Blane’s hand was steady as he poured himself another drink. “That a girl with no experience could kill. That you could go from not killing to killing. I wondered if you did it because you felt a lot, or nothing.”

Blane turned to look at Ana Maria. He didn’t say anything but he watched her closely as she crossed the room toward me. “You think I’m a monster don’t you? For killing my own parents. But what if they were monsters, Joy, what if they made me this way?”