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Authors: Flo Fitzpatrick

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BOOK: Hot Stuff
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Chapter 41
Mahindra grabbed Claire. She did not scream. She did not claw at him. She did nothing. The woman had turned to ice. But the look on her face made me forget any previous asinine jealousy about this woman and Brig. Claire had passed scared and gone directly to terrified.
Next up were Mahindra's associates, who'd been in the nondescript vehicles providing escort for the limo. They had obviously decided to look around for familiar faces, then go after the closest. That would be me.
Five goons headed my way with broad strides at a swift pace. Much as I wanted to help Claire, I needed to do a one-eighty and book it back to the fountain. At least fifty dancers, male and female, were still crowded around the bottom steps, chattering, laughing, and enjoying the break. Talk ceased when they saw me and saw what followed behind me.
I ran, screaming and waving my arms in the air to warn everyone that trouble had arrived with weapons ready.
Asha came charging out of the carnival tent with two snakes wrapped around her neck. Sparky and Fluffy. She didn't seem the least concerned that the serpents were cozily sliding up and down her arms and torso. The
Carnival of Lust
tote bag that held the Diva swung over her shoulder.
Symmetry again. The routine first choreographed at Flora Fountain during Asha's rescue looked like a rehearsal for the real thing. The dancers and I began improvising a lively little number in the water alongside Mahindra's men. Music blared out from two speakers hooked up far above the fountain itself. All fifty of us danced up and down the steps. Men with guns slid and slithered across wet pavement trying to catch us. Well, mostly me. Everyone, including the goons, stayed in rhythm.
One of Mahindra's thugs stopped flailing long enough to chase me up to the top. I grabbed the rope ladder hanging from the fountain and climbed as fast as I was able up to the platform holding the speakers. I took great delight in watching my pursuer lose his footing, crash into a pool of water below, then scream in fury at the six-plus angry male dancers who tackled him.
The Hindi love song between Asha and Raj that had been playing all morning changed. “Holding Out for a Hero,” my favorite song from
Footloose,
suddenly came blasting out at top volume behind me.
From the opposite side of the carnival tent, riding Binky the elephant, appeared one Briggan O'Brien.
Brig charged at Mahindra, who still held Claire in a lethal grip. Screaming, “
Araich
!” (Battle?) Brig stood, then executed a gorgeous aerial somersault from Binky's back. He landed at Mahindra's feet, popped up, and knocked the man in the jaw without harming Claire. Neat.
Mahindra released her. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a piece of red cloth. Damn. My halter top. I'd had to leave it at Mahindra's penthouse when I'd changed into the sari. I nearly fell off my perch from the nausea that swept over me.
Brig had seen and very definitely recognized the top as belonging to me. His nostrils flared. He smashed Mahindra in the mouth. Blood spurted. Mahindra slapped Brig's newly bandaged ear. Dazed, Brig fell to the ground. Mahindra dropped and rammed his elbow into Brig's rib cage. Brig rolled away but managed to get to his feet again.
He seemed about to deliver a nice punch to Mahindra's face when Mahindra clipped Brig behind the knees. He sank back to the ground. Mahindra kicked Brig in the stomach, then jumped up. His foot drew back for a kick aimed at Brig's head.
Brig saw it coming. He rolled, caught Mahindra's foot, and threw him. Mahindra again hit the ground, face first. He sat up and spat out a wad of dirt. Brig began to push himself back up but didn't get the chance. Mahindra lunged and hit Brig with his shoulder. Right in Brig's sternum, which knocked the wind out of him and toppled him over on his back.
Mahindra loomed above him. He waved my halter top like a matador taunting the bull. Brig snatched it, then executed a perfect kip. He faced Mahindra and his face darkened as he looked at the scrap of clothing.
Mahindra screamed, “She's mine!”
Brig's shoulders relaxed. A slight smile crossed his features. He said only one word. “No.”
Brig bent his knees and prepared to leap in the air and bring that leg around with a roundhouse kick. But in midjump he lost his balance. He fell, managing only to knock Mahindra's shoulder. Both men were now on the ground.
Facing them were two king cobras. Sparky and Fluffy.
Mahindra, quick to use any means as an advantage, dove, grabbed the snake nearest him by what I would call its neck, then threw it at Brig.
His aim was bad. The snake ended up a foot away from Brig's foot. But it was now a most unhappy serpent. It coiled into the classic strike pose with its head flat, open, and ready. It looked at Brig, then back at Mahindra.
I didn't know how long the snake would remain still while it debated whom to bite first. It didn't matter. Brig was frozen with fear. And the other snake was slithering to aid its cagemate.
There was a twenty-foot rope tied securely to the railing of this platform at the top of the fountain. The finale to Mahindra's favorite opera,
Tosca
, suddenly flashed into my mind. Tosca meeting her doom from a parapet in a vain attempt to rescue her lover. I pushed the images away.
I grabbed the rope and wrapped the upper portion around my wrist, then made a loop around my ankle as well. I placed a foot on top of the railing. I balanced for perhaps a second, then took a deep breath and jumped.
It was a less-than-graceful ride down. I flopped and twisted and made circles in the air, nearly losing my grip. I sailed past a crowd of stunned, wet dancers and thugs, then continued to sail past Brig, Mahindra, and the snakes, nearly hitting Binky the elephant who stared at me with a look of horror on her broad face.
The backswing was a different story. I landed butt first into Mahindra's chest.
He went down. I hit the ground and immediately went into a back somersault, finishing on my stomach. I looked to my left. Sparky. Or Fluffy. On the other side of the snake lay a furious Kirk Mahindra.
Brig screamed, “Tempe!” and leapt into the air. He rolled me as far he could. Then he reached back over and grabbed the snake to throw it away from me.
It landed near Mahindra.
Brig helped me up. We ran toward the safety of Binky, who had patiently waited for her master to return.
Asha yelled, “Sic him, Sparky!”
Sparky coiled. The snake hissed. Loudly. My bones went cold. Then Sparky struck Mahindra in his chest.
Mahindra fell back, then lay on the ground, quivering. Tears of pain and rage streamed down his cheeks.
It was over.
Asha gathered up the frightened snake and began crooning to it. Claire sat on the ground a few feet away, arms wrapped around her shoulders, rocking and sobbing.
I empathized with how terrified she'd been. But I noted, almost with amusement, that the woman still looked immaculate and that not even tears could ruin the perfection of that face. Figured. I, on the other hand, was wet, dirty, and smelled like chlorine and Binky.
Yet I was the one Brig held close. He began bestowing tiny, wonderful soft kisses all over my face and neck. He finally lifted my chin and stared into my eyes.
“ 'Twas a daft, brave thing ya did there, lass. Remind me to show my true appreciation in a more fitting manner at a more private time.”
I smiled at him. His own smile suddenly turned into a scowl and a look of horror crossed his face. He thrust me rudely aside and with a cry rivaling Celtic warriors defending their soil—and their women—he leapt into the air. I quickly turned and watched the glorious sight of Brig O'Brien tackling Kirkee Mahindra. For good reason. Kirk was no quitter. From his coat pocket, he'd brought out his gun. It was aimed at my back.
Brig knocked the gun from Mahindra's hand. Holding him by the collar, Brig punched him in the face. Again and again and again. Somehow I knew he was seeing not only Mahindra but also all the thugs who'd kidnapped and stolen and murdered. The goons who'd shot up Hot Harry's. Patel, who'd knifed Ray Decore. And perhaps he was even seeing the Irish terrorists who'd killed his sister so many years ago and gotten away with it.
I screamed, “Brig! Brig! For God's sake, stop! Please. You'll kill him! Stop! He's not worth it.”
Brig let Mahindra drop. Mahindra stared at Brig as if making up his mind whether to try and reach for that gun. Finally he let his hand fall, empty, by his side. Brig spat at him and stood, his chest heaving, his breath coming in spurts for at least a minute.
Finally, when the color in his cheeks had returned to normal, he strode back over to me, threw his arms around me, leaned down and whispered, “He chose wisely.”
I giggled. “Indiana Jones.
Last Crusade.
Ha! Don't tell me you're not a film buff.”
“I do watch the odd movie from time to time, luv.”
“I knew it. That rescue bit with the elephant came from
The Lion King
, didn't it?”
Brig said, “Speaking of . . .”
He whistled and Binky trotted over rather like a dog bringing a stick back to its master. Brig led her to Mahindra's resting place, then nudged her knee. The huge elephant lightly lifted one huge foot and placed it on Mahindra's chest. She held it there with just enough pressure to keep Kirk from trying any other tricks, yet without crushing his chest. Brig winked at me.
“She's a pacifist, our Binky.”
“Mmmm. A well-trained little darling as well. Who is she, Bambi's twin? Must be. She seems to adore
you
.”
Brig gathered me up in his arms again. “We'el now, and who wouldn't?”
He had me there.
I glanced around the set to see how the dancers were faring with the other nonfriendlies from Mahindra's war party. Five goons lay in a heap at the bottom of the fountain. Water oozed up to their necks. They were tied in ropes as neatly as the calves from a rodeo event.
I glanced at the tallest dancer. He stood proudly with his foot resting on one of the thugs in the exact manner Binky still held Mahindra. The dancer was less kind than the elephant. He gave his captive an occasional kick when the man twitched. He smiled when he saw me, waved, then yelled, “Three of us did a curry western last year. Had a real live American lasso champion come and teach us!”
I nodded and shouted back, “He did a good job.”
I turned to Brig. “Is it over? Yes? Whatcha think?”
“Let's just ask Mr. Mahindra there. Beg pardon, Kirkee? What's it to be? Got any fight left, you perverted son of a bitch?”
Mahindra opened his mouth to speak. Nothing happened. Not a sound. Not a croak. Silence. Brig turned and smiled at Asha and at me. “Thought so.”
“Okay. I'm confused. Wasn't Sparky the snake defanged? Or devenomed? Both? Which is why Mahindra is still alive. Why can't he talk?” I asked.
“Didn't you hear the hiss? Remember the legend? Mahindra's been struck mute. Permanently, I imagine.”
Claire had recovered enough to watch this latest drama with much interest. She smiled. She said something to Brig in an Indian language I wasn't familiar with. His eyes grew wide. He nodded.
“What? What did she say?”
“Well, let me explain that these are the first words Claire has spoken in ten years since she had a throat operation that went bad. She said she agreed with my assessment. Mahindra has been cursed. Saraswati had enough of him. She took away his power to speak and blessed Claire with that ability again.”
I stared at Claire, then at Brig. “How does she know that?”
He gently took Claire's hand and led her toward me.
“Tempe Walsh, let me reintroduce you to Claire Braganza Dharbar. The rightful heir to Shiva's Diva.”
Chapter 42
“I need food. Now.”
It wasn't the most gracious thing I could have said after Brig made this introduction. But it was what came out and I meant every word.
No one disagreed. Claire stared at me as if I'd lost my wits, but then, she didn't strike me as a stress-eating type. Asha and Brig nodded.
Brig decided that, cursed or not, he couldn't trust Mahindra. One does not need words to throw a knife or shoot a gun. He yelled at the three rodeo-trained dancers to bring more rope and work their magic on Mahindra.
Brig glanced at me. “You know, now that I think about it, Mahindra may own most of the cops around Bombay, but I'd wager the boys at Interpol are not so easily bribed and would be happy to take possession of the thieving, kidnapping scum. Or maybe I should just let my elephant crush his rotten, speechless neck.”
“No. Don't upset Binky. She's been through enough.”
The dancers quickly bound Mahindra with the rope. Asha sneered at him, kept well away from the elephant, then giggled. “Guess we don't need to gag him though, do we?”
“Ouch. I guess not.”
Mahindra wasn't going anywhere. For a truly tacky coup de grâce, Asha set Sparky the snake down a few feet away from the man.
“Stay, Sparky. Good girl.”
I crossed my eyes at her. “It's not a dog, Asha. You really think she's not going to crawl off in search of a nice mouse somewhere?”
Asha lifted her chin. “She's very well trained. She'll stay. Besides, she's had a very alarming experience and it's her nap time.”
“Fine. I can't say it would upset me much if the dear little girl wound herself around Mahindra and kept him company for the rest of the day.”
Brig put his arm around me. “No offense to the ‘dear girl,' but I'd be a mite more relaxed if Sparky did not accompany us at the table for tea. Nor her buddy. The one now reclinin' around Asha's neck.”
Asha smiled and released the second serpent. “Go on, Fluffy. Go with your sister and make friends with the bad man there. Good girl.”
Both snakes curled up and stared at Mahindra. They seemed quite content to remain in that position.
Claire spoke then, in Portuguese. Her English skills must have been better than I'd thought, at least as far as her understanding. Translated, she stated that king cobras using that flat-headed strike pose are males, not females. I told Asha. She snorted.
Claire, Asha, Brig, and I walked toward the food-service tent. I gathered tea cups and saucers. Asha headed for a stack of freshly baked Indian desserts. Brig found tea strainers and a small canister of
chai
. Claire sat and let us wait on her. She still seemed to be in shock over all the events of the day. I sympathized.
We sipped and chewed and did not mention anything that had transpired over the last hour until all color had been restored to everyone's cheeks. Asha scanned the tent.
“Anybody have a clue where Jake is? He's usually first in line for tea.” She grinned. “Or third, behind Tempe and me.”
I thought about this. “Last I saw him he was hanging on to the crane overlooking the fountain. With the zoom camera and the CD player. Come to think of it, he's probably the joker who decided to play tunes from
Footloose
during Brig's gallant rescue atop Binky the brave.”
“What's this?” Brig turned to me. “I couldn't hear anything besides the voice in my head telling me to finish it. I was rather intent on climbing onto Binky's back.”
I told him about the music changing to “Holding Out for a Hero” during his ride.
He beamed. “Nice. Wish I'd had the wit to hear it. But I was somewhat focused on urging the elephant into the fray. It might have spurred me on.”
“I think you were spurred enough.”
“ 'Twas seeing your garment held in his
lochdah lorgair
hand what did it. The very thought of him touching anything of yours made me crazy.”
I inhaled. Then I squinted at Brig. “Criminal dog tracker? Is that what you just called Mahindra?”
He grinned. He leaned over and kissed me. “I did. Trying to stay polite for my Gaelic-speaking lass here.”
Asha interrupted. “Will you guys shut up? I want to know why Ms. Dharbar is the rightful heir. Brig? Get on with it.”
Brig sat back, inclined his head toward Claire, then took a long sip from his cup. “Let me back up a bit. Okay. Claire speaks only Portuguese and the native language of her village. A very obscure Indian language, I might add. She understands English but can't speak it.”
Asha groaned. “Are you about to start one of your longwinded Irish tales?”
“I am hurt. Wounded, you might say. I was going about being direct and getting to the point. But now that you've impugned my integrity in telling the story, I may have to elaborate after all.”
I poked Asha under the table with my foot. “You started this, Jersey girl. You ought to know better. Brig. Continue. Or start. Whichever.”
“Thank you, luv. Where was I?”
“Nowhere,” Asha snorted.
I wrinkled my nose at her. “Will you just let the man talk? Jeez. This is going to take forever.”
She sighed. Brig lifted his chin.
“All right, then. Claire's husband, Sachin Dharbar, is another friend from college.”
I groaned. “I might have known. By the way, did you ever get anything done at Yale or did you just make international buddies so you'd never have to stay at a hotel?”
Brig kissed me and Asha tried to shush me.
“Now who's interrupting? Let him get on with it.”
I did. Happily. Claire was married to a friend of Brig's. Brig could tell any tale he wanted now that he'd spoken those two words. “Claire's husband.”
Claire smiled. I translated for Asha's benefit when Claire stated, in Portuguese, “Sachin and I are from the village of Chaul. My maiden name is Braganza.”
Asha coughed. “That's nice. Hello? Point?”
Brig tapped Asha. “Hush. We're getting to it. And Braganza is important. Just keep the name in mind. Now, if you and Tempe will let me be, I might finish this before the next Ganesh festival. The pair of you are dangerous together, you know that?”
My turn to motion Asha to be quiet. Brig threw her a quick look and began to speak faster on the very probable chance either of us decided to interrupt again.
“Sachin called me about three weeks ago. He'd gotten word that Shiva's Diva was about to be sold by that slithering Khan. To more than one buyer, including most of the players we've been dealing with all week. Sachin needed my help to get into what started out as an auction among at least a dozen customers.”
My turn to call time-out. “Why you?”
“Tempe. I'll explain. Promise. But can I get to the good part of the story?”
“Yeah, fine. Go ahead.”
He sighed. “Women. Lord love them, but they're a sore trial to a man, and that's for sure. Well, I got to India about a week before Khan set up the so-called buy at Hot Harry's with Raymond Decore and Mahindra and Patel. Apparently, Khan had whittled the bidding down to those three, which could be why the whip toting Rashee didn't show.”
I raised my hand. “Don't throw anything at me, but why couldn't Sachin come himself? I mean, he's like what, two hundred miles tops from here? And you were, where?”
“London. And, darlin', Sachin couldn't make it to the meeting because he'd broken his leg in two places not one week earlier.”
“Was this by courtesy of Mahindra or Patel?”
He grinned. “Neither. The man was trying to get his satellite TV set hooked up on his roof and fell off. Nothing sinister about it.”
“Should have known it would be something ridiculous since he's one of your friends. Okay. So, you're at the meeting. Ready to buy?”
Brig shook his head. “I was there to observe who else was interested and find out the price. Then, of course, all bloody hell breaks loose and Tempe and I end up with the statue.” He smiled at me. “And each other.”
I was getting warm again and it wasn't the tea. Asha “Ahem'ed!” and “Yo'd!” and Claire chuckled. I gathered she'd understood that last phrase. Brig winked at them both.
“So Tempe and I go on the run with the statue. Which is where Asha and Jake come in. And I apologize for that.”
Asha rolled her eyes. “Get over it, Brig. Other than the night I spent under Patel's watchful evil eye, I've been having a terrific time. And Jake, wherever he is, now has all sorts of ideas for his next flick.”
“I appreciate your saying that. I'm just very glad you didn't suffer any harm at his hands. Unlike Ray Decore. Dead in an alley over a piece of ivory. Bloody stupid.”
I nodded. “I still don't know whether to tell Jeremy, my boss, that his friend Ray turned rotten during this jaunt to Bombay. Maybe it's best to let it go? Ray's dead. Nothing can be gained by destroying his memory.”
“Very charitable of you, Tempe. You're a sweet girl. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Thanks, I think. Brig. I have a question. Well, I have several, but mainly, why didn't you just hand the statue over to Claire once we had it?”
“She and Sachin were terrified when I told them about the cast of characters who were showing a keen interest in the Diva. None of whom would take no for an answer if the question was ‘Can we get our hands on the goddess?' She relied on me to keep the statue safe.”
Claire smiled at him as he continued.
“I had to prevent the thugs chasing our goddess from knowing the ultimate destination was Chaul. I couldn't simply deliver Shiva's Diva to Claire and send her back there. The way Mahindra and Patel, even Ray, were following and snatching people and all that, well, they'd've been on Claire, then Sachin in a flash. And it's a tiny village they're from. So we couldn't risk letting them take Saraswati home.”
“Why risk it today? With Mahindra chasing us and kidnapping me and the last shoot-out at Hot Harry's?”
“I set things up with Claire early yesterday to come to take the Diva today. Ray was dead. I figured I could handle Patel by letting the cops know he'd killed Ray. I didn't know I'd end up in jail for that same thing. And I thought Mahindra would be chasing us anywhere but here.”
Brig grinned. “I forgot to tell you, I waved at Seymour as I was leaving the pokey and he was coming in. I then turned and told a few of my new friends in enforced captivity that the man liked small children as more than a legacy to his name, if you get my drift. I knew there'd be no more interference from Patel.”
He frowned. “I really hadn't counted on Mahindra snatching Tempe out here on the lot. Once I learned that Tempe had been kidnapped, I let that idiot pal of Mahindra's stand guard outside my door at the hotel while I snuck out and crawled down with the Diva. I hid it in the Jeep after calling Jake and Asha to ask them to come help with a rescue. I figured Kirk wouldn't think of looking for the statue in Jake's vehicle.”
I lightly caressed his hair. “And he didn't. Mahindra really thought you were being a good little boy and staying put till midnight at the hotel. Sleeping.”
He stared at me with a look that melted my insides down to my toes. “He had no idea how true and deep my feelings were, and are, for you, Tempe. His mistake.”
I reached for Brig's hand. “Okay. I've got the gist of this. But I still have a question.”
“And that would be?”
“You've explained everything except what makes Claire the rightful heir.”
Brig smiled. “She's a direct descendent of the Portuguese sculptor who carved the Diva in the first place and added the blessing and the curse five hundred years ago. Christopho Braganza was kin to Catherine of Braganza, who married King Charles the Second of England back in 1661 and presented Bombay to him as part of her dowry.”
“Wow,” I said.
“Wow,” Asha said.
“Well put. Christopho aside, Claire and Sachin have another claim I like even better. They run a school in Chaul. They teach art, music, and acting to kids. Actually, that's mostly what Sachin does. Claire's been teaching sign language to the hearing impaired in the school. So, Shiva's Diva can finally come home and spread the gifts where they need them most.”
Claire stood and smiled. In Portuguese she said, “As she did today. I am blessed again by Saraswati herself.”
BOOK: Hot Stuff
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