Animalistic Galley Fin (3 page)

The man glanced briefly in her direction, then ignored her. Before she could reach him, a bald man with a thick neck and giant muscles stepped into her path and blocked her.

“Darbo!” Arielle called desperately.

“What kind of business do you have with Mr. Darbo?” asked the bald man unkindly.

“It’s private. Get out of my way.”

“No. You’re the one who needs to go away.”

Crap.
It was Darbo’s bodyguard.

Darbo’s Ferrari engine roared to life. The tires squealed as Darbo hit the gas pedal.

Arielle watched with desperation as Darbo slipped away. She shoved the bodyguard away. “What the hell is the matter with you? Get off me or I’m calling the cops.”

The man was built like a tank with a face like a Rottweiler. He was someone you wouldn’t want to mess with and her bravado diminished instantly.

The bodyguard jabbed a finger at her. “Now you listen; you’re the nuisance here. Go ahead and call the cops. I’ll tell them that you came here to harass my boss.”

“You think I’m afraid?” She was actually freaking terrified, but she wouldn’t show it to this bull of a man. He wasn’t the first person to threaten her today.

“You should be,” the Bald Rottweiler glowered. “Now scram. The next time I see you—you’ll be very sorry.”

“You can’t threaten me like that. This is public property.”

“Lady, you had your last warning. Don’t try my patience.”

Why do I need a law degree if I’m going to be doing this kind of work?
Arielle lamented.
This is useless.

“Fine! One way or another, I’ll get to your boss,” she spat back. She knew it was an empty threat, but whatever. Licking her wounds of defeat, she retreated.

She walked quickly in
the other
direction and fished her phone out from her purse. She dialed Sabrina. A sugary, annoying voice answered her.

“Did you do it?” Sabrina asked.

“I can’t. Can’t get past his bodyguard.”

“Try again. Make sure he gets the summons today.”

“You know, delivering summons’ isn’t my only job. I’ve got five open cases on my plate. Your cases, remember?”

“Make this a priority. I’ll give you an extension.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m fucking serious. This is a big fat case and I want that big fat settlement. Now go and make it happen.” Sabrina hung up before Arielle could answer.

Arielle wished she could reach into the phone and strangle her boss’ thin neck. That woman was seriously infuriating. She knew Sabrina did this kind of thing for kicks. Arielle had never wished bad on anyone before, but at this very moment, she hoped a grand piano would fall on top of Sabrina. No. A grand piano was too nice. A thousand angry monkeys sounded better. A thousand angry monkeys with rabies.

Just when she was about to put her phone back into her pocket, it rang. It was Sabrina again.

“Yes?” She didn’t feel like being nice. She had exceeded her pleasantry quota for the day.

“I thought you’d like to know that Frank Darbo is going to be at a party in the Castlewhite hotel at eight. You might have better luck this time.”

“Is it a private party?”

“Yes.”

“And how do you suppose I get in there?”

“Improvise. I’ll see tomorrow.”

Arielle seriously wanted to hurl her phone into a nearby lamp post. But she couldn’t afford a replacement if she did that. Swallowing her bitterness, Arielle marched back to the office, contemplating a new strategy.

Chapter Three

Trent didn’t feel like going out tonight, but his brother John thought it would be a good way to take his mind off his mysterious woman. Trent himself wasn’t big on partying. He preferred an intimate gathering with close friends and family. Since he had been sulking all evening, John had been bugging him to come. Trent agreed to tag along just to shut John up.

The party was being held in a posh hotel on the Upper West Side. John had been invited by his friend who was a famous Broadway producer. The two had been talking about collaborating on a modern take of King Lear. John usually only produced rock albums; he had worked with two of the biggest names in the industry and had won several Grammys. After he finished recording a new group he believed was going to be big, John took a break, and was considering taking a detour from his usual creative endeavors.

The party was in full swing when they arrived. New Yorkers loved theme parties, and the theme of this party was “Hell Frozen Over.” There was snow everywhere, but waitresses mingled around the guests in cute little devil costumes, while huge torches blazed in every corner. It was beautiful, but at the same time… unsettling.

John grabbed two glasses and sipped one. “What do you think, Trent? It isn’t that bad, is it?”

Trent wished he could muster the same enthusiasm. He sipped the drink that John handed him and grumbled unhappily.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Jesus. You’re a ray of sunshine, Trent. Did you know that?”

“If all you wanted to do all night was make fun of me, we could have stayed at home.”

“At least try and enjoy yourself. And look at those women. I think the brunette is taking a liking to you.” John switched into his usual flirty mode.

But Trent wasn’t interested in checking out any brunette. Thoughts of his mysterious lady in black filled his head. Arielle Winter. He wondered what excuse he could use the next time he saw her. She wasn’t an attorney, so he couldn’t just go to her firm and make an appointment with her.

He needed something natural. Something that wasn’t forced, like he accidentally bumped into her?

Nah, too cheesy.

Maybe he could just go to her office, bring her a bouquet of roses, and ask her out. Sometimes the old school methods were the best. Like his brother Quinn, for example. He pined over his mate for months and she was too oblivious to realize it.

Not even five minutes into the party, he and John had attracted attention from most of the women there. John enjoyed the attention and flirted with every lady in the room. A gaggle of blondes had already flocked around them. Trent resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Here we go again.
He wondered why John never got tired of the chase. He wasn’t big on making small talk, or pretending to give a shit about these women when he actually didn’t.

“John Alexander!”

An elegantly dressed man in his fifties called to his brother with a theatrical flourish.

“I’m so glad you made it! How nice of you to come.” The man was flanked by a pair of gorgeous blondes, one draped on each arm.

What’s up with the blondes tonight?
Trent thought.
They’re everywhere.

“I was afraid you might not make it.” The man eyed Trent appreciatively. “And who’s this handsome man? Don’t tell me; let me guess. You’re John’s little brother?”

“Older,” Trent corrected.

“My mistake! You look younger.” The man winked at John.

Trent wasn’t accustomed to men flirting with him, but John didn’t seem bothered at all. Perhaps he was just used to it now. “Trent is a year older than me and my brother Quinn is three years older. He is the oldest.”

“I know Quinn Alexander. He’s one of the nicest gentleman I’ve ever met. We were introduced at the mayor’s charity gala last month. I heard Quinn got engaged recently, and it was only a few days later than I received the invitation for the wedding. How about that? All the ladies in the city are heartbroken. One of the most eligible bachelors in New York had been taken.”

This time, Trent felt like running toward a wall and ramming his head into it repeatedly until he died. He couldn’t stand this idle chatter.

John only laughed. He seemed to be thriving in this environment.

Trent cringed. Who would’ve known that his brother liked to gossip?

Eyes twinkling, John drawled in his smoothest tone, “Sorry ladies, the only single Alexander left is me. Quinn is getting married and Trent here had his heart stolen today.”

“What? No...” the blondes chorused their disappointment.

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

“Who is she?”

“Tell us!”

“Now, now my chickadees, no fighting. I believe you’ll find many eligible bachelors at the party tonight,” said the man dotingly.

Trent wished he brought his gun. He would very much like to use it on himself right now.

“Ah, where are my manners?” said John. “Trent, this is Allessandro Severo, the Broadway producer I was telling you about. He and I are discussing the possibility of producing a modern take on a Shakespeare classic,” John said as he introduced his brother to the producer.

Trent shook the producer’s hand. “How are you?”

“Fabulous. Tell me Trent… do you act?” Severo asked.

“Fuck no.”

“My brother is a former Air Force intelligence officer. He just returned home from his last tour. He’s still adjusting,” John interjected smoothly as an apology for Trent’s curtness.

“Oh, shush. Your brother is intriguing. Everyone loves a man who is a little rough around the edges. Oh, does he have a job?” Severo asked John.

“I have a job, thank you,” Trent answered quickly before Severo could offer him one.

The man tsk-ed disappointedly. “We could have used a strapping young man like you in the production.”

Trent rolled his eyes. Maybe a gun wouldn’t be enough to put him out of his misery. A grenade started to sound promising…

He knew he had to extract himself from the conversation before he lost his patience entirely. Clearing his throat, he whipped an excuse out of his ass. “Excuse me, I need to refill my drink. I’ll be back.”
Yeah, not in a million years
. He planned to sneak out of the party and hail a cab home since John had the keys to the car. Coming here had been a bad idea.

He went to the buffet table and put down his champagne flute. He was searching for the exit when suddenly, he caught her scent.

Her
.

The mysterious lady in black, Arielle Winter.

That’s it, I’m losing it. I’m so obsessed with her, I’m starting to smell her everywhere.

But his tiger disagreed. She was close. She was somewhere in this room.

Trent started sniffing around slyly. This time he was convinced that his alter beast was right. He got a lock on her scent and he followed it. It was getting stronger by the fireplace. He looked around to make sure that no one was watching what he was going to do. The fireplace was an ancient one and wasn’t being used. Cautiously, Trent called in a low voice, “Hello? Is someone in there?”

He didn’t expect someone in the chimney to return his call. It was a woman’s voice and it was very familiar.

It was Arielle.

“Help!”

Jesus Christ.
She really was in the chimney. “Arielle? Is that you?”

The garbled voice yelled back, “Superman, is that you? What are you doing here?”

“I believe that’s my line. What are
you
doing inside the chimney?”

“Oh, nothing. Just having a tea party with my friends. I’m stuck. What do you think I’m doing?”

Trent had a hard time not laughing. “I figured that much. How did you get stuck?”

“You know when you force something into a space that doesn’t really fit? That’s how you get stuck. Now help me out.”

“That sounds like an order; not a cry for help.”

“Please help me. I’m seriously stuck in here.”

“I don’t know. The last time I helped you, you called me a creep.”

“I’m sorry, Superman. I really do need your help.”

“You didn’t even bother to ask my name. And you’re pretty rude too.” Trent was having a ball.

“I’m sorry. But I’m obviously having a rotten day. Help me please. Pretty please?”

Trent had to tease her. He couldn’t resist. “Hmm. I’ll help you if you say, ‘O mighty and handsome Lord Trent, please help stupid me get out of the fireplace.”

“Did you just call me stupid?”

“A grown woman got stuck in a fireplace at a party. That’s self-explanatory.”

Arielle swore at him.

Fuck, she curses like a sailor,
Trent mused. “Okay, then, I’ll be going if you—“

“Wait, don’t go!”

“Yes?”

Silence. And then, she said, “’O mighty and handsome Lord Brent, please help me get out of the fireplace.”

“You forgot ‘stupid me.’”

She cursed again before finally conceded. “Please Lord Brent, help stupid me out of the fireplace.”

“Trent. My name is Trent. Well, I guess it’s good enough.”

Trent looked around and caught John’s eye. His brother pulled himself from the conversation and stalked into his direction.

“What is going on?” John asked.

“She’s stuck in the chimney,” Trent explained.

“Who’s she?”

“
Her.”

John couldn’t stop laughing. “Is she going to be as funny as Vanessa?”

“You watch for people. I’m going to help her out.”

“You got it.”

Trent bent down and peeked into the hearth. “Arielle, how far are you from the ground?”

“About three feet, I think.”

“Did you climb in from the chimney?”

“What? No. Please just help me out of here. I’m getting claustrophobic.”

“I need to know where you’re getting stuck. Do I need to get some grease or to call the fire department or something?”

“I’m going to kill myself if you call 911, I swear! I can’t take any more humiliation today.”

“You’ll do no such thing. I’m going to help you out, I promise. Is it your body that got stuck or your shoulders or your legs; explain it to me.”

“My costume. It got stuck in the damper.”

“Costume?”

“It’s pretty big in here; I think you’d fit. Just help me cut the freaking costume.”

Trent poked his head inside the hearth. It was an old fashion commercial fireplace that came with the original building. The firebox was huge, so it could easily accommodate two people standing side by side. It also seemed that the fireplace hadn’t been used for a long time. There was no grate and the wood logs were fake.

Trent crawled inside. It was so dark that a normal person wouldn’t be able to see anything. But as a weretiger, his eyes were almost as good as having night vision. He spotted the problem immediately. Whatever she was wearing had caught on the protruding part of the smoke shelf. The costume was pulled up to her arms, making it difficult to free herself.