Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 05 - The Devil's Breath (7 page)

He reached around and pulled, the jeans unsnapped and loosened, freeing the gun. The idiot grabbed for it, pulling the muzzle down, pushing my finger into his, and his into the trigger. The bang sounded real loud that close up. I felt hot blood explode over my hand and up my arm. His fingers went limp, eyes rolled into the back of his head, and the man slid down my arm then fell sideways onto the ground, his hand still stuck under mine. Blood and chunks of flesh covered our joining, and sizzled on the tip of the hot gun barrel. The smell of burned flesh filled the air.

I dropped the gun, his arm flopped to the ground. Then I kicked it away from him, sending it skittering under a rack of clothes leaving a splatter of blood in its wake. “Lock the door,” I said to the girl. She didn’t move for a second. “Please,” I said, and caught her eyes, filling mine with goodwill and strength. She stepped toward me and then scurried past the smaller man, giving the big guy, still under Blue’s control, a wide berth. She reached the door and turned the dead bolt.

I grabbed a dress off the rack and wiped off my hand and arm as best I could, throwing the garment onto the floor when done. My shirt was officially ruined. Pulling out my phone I called Malina, one of the first people to know me as Sydney Rye. She owed me a lot and always picked up when I called. “Sydney,” she said, and I could practically see the grin, full lips drawn wide over perfect white teeth. In the background I heard a man’s voice squawking over a loudspeaker and the sounds of a crowd.

“Do you know anyone in Miami?” I asked.

Her voice dropped low and serious. “Sydney. What’s happening?”

“I need someone with connections in your world and I need that person now. Do you have anyone you trust?”

“Yes.”

#

L
ess than three minutes later my phone rang. It was a local number. I answered. “Malina said you needed help. I am at your disposal,” said a male voice, rich and foreign. His accent sounded African, I thought. Senegalese maybe. Dead sexy, definitely.

I told him my situation. While waiting for his call I’d gagged, blindfolded, and tied up the big guy in a back office I found. The other one was still breathing but leaking blood at a pace that wouldn’t last. He remained unconscious, but I’d bound his hands just in case. The women stood together, watching me and whispering quietly to each other. They were no longer shaking. When I finished my account the man said, “I am on my way. You should leave.”

“What? I’m not just leaving them here.”

“Go out the back door. You will come to an alley. The third door to your right will bring you into the back room of a salon. You can leave through the shop.”

“But-”

“If you want my help you will do as I say.” I didn’t answer right away. “You have no choice but to trust me. Now go.” He hung up the phone.

I looked over at the three women. “Someone is on his way,” I said. “He’s going to take you to safety.”

The woman in blue stared at me then spoke for the first time. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice unsure but the accent pretty good. I could still hear a hint of her native tongue. She came from somewhere cold and harsh with a language that matched its dark and dangerous landscape.

“Safe travels,” I said and then followed Malina’s friend’s advice, entering the alley and running a couple of doors down to the salon. The door was unlocked and I stepped into an air-conditioned room. The three sinks with seats backing up to them made it clear this space was used for hair washing. Right by the door was a shelving unit filled with dyes, shampoos, and other supplies.

I grabbed a smock off a shelf and quickly threw it around myself, snapping the buttons at the base of my neck. Blue sat slightly behind me, head low, scrunching into himself, trying to look smaller. The door opened and a woman walked in. She startled when she saw me, then placed her hand over her heart and smiled. “I am sorry, you gave me a start. I didn’t know you were back here.” She held her hand out pointing toward the row of sinks. “I’m Missy, let me get you shampooed. Who are you here to see?” she asked.

I smiled. “I’m not sure of their name,” I said. “My hotel made the arrangements and I just walked over.” I sat in the chair, being careful to keep my hands under the fabric. Blue sat next to me. The woman walked around me glancing at Blue. “Nice dog,” she said.

“Thanks, it’s great you’re pet friendly.”

“Sure,” she said. I heard her turn the tap, the rush of water from the spout.

“What are you thinking of having done?” she asked, pressing on my shoulder for me to lean back.

I slid into the seat, my neck resting on the cool porcelain. “Something drastic,” I answered. 

#

W
hen I got back to my suite I kicked off my shoes and unbuttoned the smock from around my neck. I’d convinced the hairdresser I loved it and wanted to keep it. She told me it did look nice. Her face didn’t agree with her words but she went along with it.

I unbuttoned my stained shirt and, grabbing a plastic laundry bag from the closet, pushed it in. Peeling off my jeans I dropped them into the bag and then tied it off. I took a shower and scrubbed at my skin. I’d taken a trip to the ladies room at the salon and gotten as much off my hand and arm as I could but it had soaked through my shirt and onto my stomach and ribs. After the shower I climbed naked into bed. Blue jumped up and settled at my feet, his chin resting on my calf. I dialed Malina’s number. She picked up.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Perfect, Sydney, everything is perfect.”

“Good,” I said, feeling the exhaustion of relief and jet lag come at me.

“You sound tired, Sydney. Is everything all right?”

“Hugh is in real trouble, Malina,” I said.

“Dan told me.”

I bit my lip feeling a surge of emotion. “I’m exhausted.”

“Take a nap. You will feel better.”

My last thought before sleep descended on me like a heavy blanket, was that so far, I’d been pretty useless to Hugh.

I woke to someone knocking at the door. Blue rushed out of the bedroom and through the living room toward the entrance. I followed, pausing to grab a robe from the bathroom. When I checked the peep hole I saw a bellboy, resplendent in his tasseled uniform. I need to switch hotels, I thought, before opening the door.

“Ms. Sydney Rye?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“This came for you,” he said, holding up a large white box with a skull and cross bones patterned ribbon tied around it.

“Oh,” I said, taken aback. He passed it to me and I put it inside the room. “Who delivered it?” I asked, as I grabbed my purse off the entrance table and pulled out a $20 bill.

“Don’t know, Miss. Sorry,” he said, eyeing the bill in my hand. I thanked him handing over the money.

Back in my room I placed the box on the bed. I looked for a card but there was just the large and floppy satin bow. I pulled on it, the knot falling out of place easily. Inside a handwritten note sat on top of folded black tissue paper.

I thought you might have nothing to wear, what with your tiny duffle. Looking forward to this evening.

-Robert

I pulled back the paper under which was a dress. Black and ruched it lay nestled in the tissue. I thought back to the last time I’d been given a dress. It was in New York. The man who gave it to me later fucked my brains out in a way I found downright delicious. It was the same night I met Bobby Maxim.

I wasn’t afraid when I went to that party in a dress given to me by my lover. I was excited. Exhilarated. Was this how Bobby still thought of me? As Joy Humbolt, unafraid, playing with the idea of being naughty.

I lifted it up. Unfurled, the dress proved to be about knee length with cap sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. Dropping it back on the bed, I untied my robe and threw it on the spare bed. Picking up Robert’s dress I held it in front of myself using the full length mirror on the back of the closet to judge my appearance.

The ruched material caught the light here and there, reflecting almost silver against the black. It made my eyes flash. I put it on, pushing the material down my hips. It fit like a fine glove, hugging every curve. However, the rough texture, cap sleeves, and ladylike length made it elegant. I turned, checking my back—the dress covered my shoulder blades. The material hugged my ass, following its curve around, but not so far that it became obscene.

In this dress I could strap a knife to my thigh. I pulled up the hem. It came easily, as the material made to scrunch. My phone rang and I dropped the dress, feeling almost guilty.

The screen showed a picture of Dan, smiling against a setting sun, sitting on our veranda in Goa. I bit my lip feeling an ache of regret and loss. The last time we’d spoken I’d been at a private airport in Delhi, huddled into a quiet corner, my cellphone pressed to my cheek, a glass of seltzer bubbling on the table next to me. Mulberry sat at the bar, his eyes trained on the TV but his tight shoulders and clenching jaw made it clear his attention was on me. Our flight out of India left in 30 minutes.

I was in Delhi and Dan was in Paris. I’d asked him to go, to take our friend, Anita, to safety. And I had to tell him, over the phone across all those miles, that I slept with Mulberry. My voice was low and I felt queazy. I cut off my thoughts and picked up the phone.

“Hey,” I said.

“Sydney,” I could sense a smile on his lips. “How are you?”

“Fine,” I said.

“How’s Hugh?”

“In trouble.”

“I’m in Miami.” I felt a thrill run through me. “I want to help.” I wet my lips but didn’t respond. Dan continued. “I’m not asking for anything but to help. Can I come over, so we can at least talk? Our last conversation was so brief.”

“You hung up on me.”

I heard him laugh low in his throat. “If the situation were reversed what would you have done?”

“Dan… I.”

“We need to talk,” Dan said, his voice forceful.

I looked at the clock. There was still time before I needed to leave for Robert’s. I told Dan which hotel I was in.

“I’m at the airport,” he said. “I’ll be there soon.”

I hung up the phone and saw my reflection in the mirror staring back at me. My hair, now bleached blonde, the bangs and sides framing my face in a tight rectangle, looked almost like a warrior’s helmet. The tight black dress hugged every dangerous curve. I felt fierce. Not at all like someone you should love or trust with their heart.

Before I’d slept with Mulberry, left India, taken my whole life and my two closest relationships and smashed them together littering pieces of lust and hurt all over the damn place, Dan had asked me to join him. To use the network of Joyful Justice to create our own organization. To help people, make a difference, fight for the little guy, all the cheesy shit an organization called Joyful Justice might be into. The only promise I’d ever made Dan was to think about his offer and instead I’d run from it as fast and as far as I could. I owed him an answer. I owed myself an answer.

Staring into my own eyes I thought of Mulberry’s question: If I didn’t want to work with an organization like FGI then what did I want to do?

Blue came and sat next to me, he leaned against my leg and pushed at my stomach with his muzzle, asking for pets. Looking down at him, I smiled and rubbed under his chin. “What do you think?” I asked. His ears perked. “What should we do?”

He didn’t have an answer for me.

#

I
decided to wear the dress. Why not let Robert Maxim keep his ideas of me? This evening was about me getting inside his head, not the other way around. Besides, I hadn’t actually gotten any shopping done.

I found my garter knife sheath in my duffel and pulled it over my foot and up my leg, positioning it inside my thigh within easy reach from the front or back. I pushed the small knife into the holster feeling calmer with its hilt pressing against my flesh.

The phone rang, and when I answered, it a polite female voice announced Dan was downstairs. I gave my permission for him to come up and then, still barefoot, checked my reflection again, running my fingers through my hair. I opened the door and looked down the hall. Empty. Blue pushed his head into my hand and sat next to me, leaning against my thigh and turning his head to follow my gaze to the elevators.

A ding announced the lift’s arrival and Dan stepped out. He looked away from me first and I licked my lips, biting down on the bottom one, taking the moment to watch him. He wore loose jeans with a striped linen shirt I remembered buying with him in Mumbai months ago. It was always a favorite of mine, the subtle green stripes bringing out the shades in his eyes.

Blue’s ears perked, and as Dan turned toward us, I looked down at him and nodded. He took off down the hall, tail wagging, letting out a bark of excitement. Dan’s face broke into a grin. “Hey boy,” he said as Blue reached him, skidding to a stop. He lowered his head and lifted his tail, hopping from side to side with excitement. Dan patted his thigh and Blue quickly took position next to him pushing his nose against Dan’s hip. Dan pet him, rubbing his muzzle and ear as they walked toward me.

“Hey,” he said to me and wrapped his free arm around my waist pulling me into a hug. I fell against him, reaching up both arms and encircling his neck. He was warm and smelled like himself. It took all my strength not to run my nose against the exposed skin of his neck, breathing him in. “I like the new hair,” he said. “Very Miami.”

I pulled away and he looked down at my dress and cocked his head. “I have dinner plans,” I said. His jaw clenched. “I need to leave in about a half hour,” I added. He nodded, not looking me in the eye. “Please come in,” I said, pushing the door wider.

He passed me, stepping into the room and crossing to the windows. “Nice view,” he said.

“Thanks.” I looked past him to the ocean and sky, colored in the soft tones of dusk. “How’s Anita?” I asked. The last time I’d seen Dan he was headed to the airport with Anita, who’d been brutally beaten and just committed her first murder, in self defense, of course.

“Good,” he said, not turning around. “She’s got a new project she’s working on. I think it’s really helping her.”