California Schemin' (12 page)

I jogged to the corner. The cross street ran
under the mall, coming up on the other side, so I turned and jogged
down the incline. My neck was starting to hurt again, and every
step sent a sharp pain through my neck and down my shoulder. At the
bottom of the dip I slowed to a walk, conserving my energy to get
up the hill.

The street crossed over the mall at the top
of the rise, and I realized I’d made another mistake. The entrance
to the hotel wasn’t on this side either. Maybe there wasn’t a way
to get into the hotel from the street? But that didn’t make sense
either. Surely hotel guests wanted to go shopping, too. They’d need
a way to get back into the hotel, right?

I jogged along the mall, running out of time,
knowing that the hotel was the only place I’d be able to get into
this early in the morning. I just needed a phone, one lousy phone,
but effing cell phones had made pay phones obsolete.

I turned the corner again. I’d been three
quarters of the way around this block; this had to be where the
entrance was. Sure enough, the doors into the shopping mall also
led to the hotel lobby. Jackpot. I walked toward the doors and was
rewarded with a quiet swoosh as they slid open automatically.
Keep your cool, Bree, this is the dangerous part.

I skirted around the glass atrium in the
entrance of the shopping mall and scanned the lobby of the hotel.
Vacant. I couldn’t even see anyone at the desk. I was about to make
a break for the phone sitting on a counter near the front desk when
the elevator dinged. I slid back, hiding behind a potted palm.
Hammie and Moose walked out of the elevator.

Hammie was scanning the lobby much the way I
had been a moment before. Moose was following along behind him with
a hangdog look on his face. Obviously, Hammie had read Moose the
riot act when I’d gone missing. Hammie turned and spoke to Moose.
Moose broke away and headed toward the street. I crouched behind
the pot, heart racing. Either he would see me, or Hammie would.
Damn
.

“Damn, Damn, Damn.” It was a moment before I
realized I’d said it out loud. Well, Shit. Now the cat was out of
the bag. Moose had turned toward me, but Hammie was looking the
other way. I followed his gaze and realized he could see me in the
reflection in the polished gold of the elevator doors.

We locked eyes in the reflection. Hammie
narrowed his eyes. He mouthed something I couldn’t hear and began
to turn. Something in me cracked, and I launched myself at Hammie.
I skated across the polished tile floor, jumped onto his back,
anchoring my right arm around his neck and clinging like a monkey.
He staggered forward, grabbed at the arm I had cutting off his air
supply, lost his balance and fell over backward on top of me.

We lay there for a minute. I assumed Hammie
was getting his bearings. The only reason I wasn’t up and running
was that I was stuck underneath him. I tried wriggling away, but my
leg was trapped between his arm and his side, and he wasn’t giving
me an inch.

Hammie wrapped a hand around my wrist, rolled
over, and pushed himself upright without letting me go. Moose
plucked me off the ground, and I looked up to see a horrified desk
clerk reach for the phone.

Hammie walked over and spoke to the desk
clerk. The phone was replaced in its cradle, quiet words were
exchanged, and I saw money change hands.

I was sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.
Moose had his arms wrapped around my waist, and he sat down on one
of the plush couches, probably to keep from dropping me. I
collapsed on top of him, all the energy draining out of me. I was
face down in the couch cushion, my midsection across his knees,
choking and crying like a child.

“Jeez, girl. You’re going to flood the
place.”

“I hope you drown,” I said into the
cushion.

“Hey. That’s not a nice thing to say to a guy
who bought you make up. I’m just doing my job.”

“Well, your job sucks. I hate both of
you.”

“Come on,” Hammie said from above me. “Let’s
go get some sleep.”

“Have you ever tried to sleep with your legs
tied together? It’s impossible.” I’d stopped crying. I wasn’t full
of rage anymore, but anger burned in my chest. I wanted my life
back. I wanted revenge.

Hammie picked me up off of Moose and set my
feet on the floor. They lock-stepped me over to the elevator, and I
could feel the desk clerk’s eyes on my back.

“What did you tell him about me?” I asked
Hammie.

“That you were my sister, our mother had
died, and you were out of your mind with grief.”

“Well, at least you didn’t tell him I was
crazy.”

Moose and Hammie exchanged glances.

“Oh, so you did tell him I’m crazy. Great.
I’m never coming to this hotel again.”

Back in the room I noticed my neck was
hurting again. The effects of whatever drug Hammie had been pumping
into me were wearing off. That was going to make it even more
difficult to get comfortable.

“I don’t want my legs tied up again. I can’t
sleep like that.”

“How do you expect us to keep you in the
room?” Hammie asked.

“Not my problem. You want to keep me in here,
then sit in a chair by the door. Be a proper bodyguard.”

“Moose and I need our sleep. We’ve had a
rough couple of weeks.”

“I bet.” I imagined one of them must have
pushed Lily off the bridge and that his conscience had been keeping
him awake.

“Okay, Moose can cuff our wrists together. We
can sleep like that.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Hammie cut
me off.

“It’s either your legs or our arms. Choose
your poison. I’m done talking about it.”

I picked wrists, not because I was looking
forward to sleeping with Hammie, but because at least I’d be able
to move around some. Moose pulled another zip tie and an O ring out
of his bag.

“Which arm?” he asked.

“I sleep on my side,” I said.

“You?” Moose raised his eyebrows at
Hammie.

“Stomach.”

“Right arms together then.”

Moose cuffed our right arms, and it was
damned awkward with my arm pulled across my body. I turned and
faced the opposite direction, which at least freed me up. I slid
off my shoes without untying them. I pulled up my shirt and fumbled
with the button to my jeans with my left hand. No way I was going
to try using my right hand and have Hammie's fingers that close to
my zipper.

“Hey! Hold on,” Hammie sounded panicked. “Got
to keep the clothes on.”

“I am not sleeping in my jeans. Anyway, this
shirt covers everything.”

“I don’t like it.”

“What? You think I’m going to jump your bones
in your sleep? Give me a break.”

I got the zipper undone and kicked off my
jeans while Hammie looked the other way. I sat on the edge of the
bed and slid my feet under the covers. Hammie stood next to me.

“You have to move over,” he said.

“I’m not moving over, this is my side of the
bed.”

“Fine.”

He put his knee on the edge of the bed and
straddled me.

“Get off.” I didn’t know if I was outraged or
turned on.

“Don’t worry, I’m not molesting you.” The
sarcasm in his voice stung.

He pushed himself over me and landed on the
bed on his back, which pulled my arm across my body. Then he rolled
over onto his stomach, which pulled me over, my arm across his
body. My head on his shoulder.

My God, he’s solid muscle
.

“Hey!” I said. “Give me my hand back.”

I tried to pull my arm back, but he didn’t
budge.

“Nope. This is how I sleep, and you don’t
feel half bad on top of me.”

“Moose, help me.”

Moose shook his head at us and cut the zip
tie.

“Get comfortable,” he said.

“I can’t. I sleep on my side. I won’t be able
to sleep facing Hammie, and I can’t sleep facing away from him with
my arm pulled backward.”

“Front or back, then, you choose. And hurry
up, I’m tired, not much night left.”

I chose to sleep on my back, and Moose cuffed
our left wrists together.

“I’ll never be able to sleep like this,” I
muttered.

I woke with sunlight on my face. I was on my
side with Hammie’s arm around me. He was holding me close, his
breath deep and even against my hair. Shit.

“Hammie! Wake up!”

I tried to push his arm off me, but he held
me close.

“Hammie!”

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured. “I’m not
ready to get up.”

“I’m not Paris. You need to wake up.”

“I know you’re not Paris. Go to sleep.”

“What are you doing clutching me if you know
I’m not Paris?”

“Paris is not nearly this nice to sleep with.
I’m not molesting you or anything. Can’t you just let me sleep?
Fifteen more minutes.” His breathing got regular again.

Why can’t I just fall asleep like that?

I lay with Hammie’s arm around me thinking
about Beau. Beau’s body temperature ran high. He got overheated if
we slept too close together. We snuggled, but when Beau went to
sleep he was normally covers off, sprawled over his side of the
bed. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep spooned together like
this.

I wondered if Beau was worried about me, if
he’d even noticed I was missing yet. Probably Fogel had called Tom,
and Tom would call Beau. So maybe he was worried. Maybe they were
all roaming around the American River looking for me. Not Beau.
Beau had his leg in a cast; it would be a long time before he could
look for me.

I’d worked myself into despair when Moose
finally came in and cut me free of Hammie.

“You should put the dress back on. You’ll
feel out of place if you wear those jeans again. We need to get you
to a laundry.”

I grabbed the dress and headed in to take a
shower. Just as I reached the door I heard a thump and turned back
to see Hammie on the floor.

“Time to get up,” Moose said to him.

Hammie took a swipe at Moose’s leg, but Moose
just moved out of the way. I locked myself in the bathroom and let
them sort it out for themselves.

Moose drove us south, out of the city. I
don’t know why I’d expected us to go east, back toward the
Foresthill Bridge, but I had. What was to the south? Stockton,
Fresno and points beyond. I dozed in the back seat, which was at
least more comfortable than trying to sleep with my legs tied
together. Moose pulled off the freeway somewhere between Sacramento
and Stockton. We motored along the frontage road for a while before
we turned into a gated community.

It would be hard to escape from here,
I thought as we drove through the iron gates flanked by high cement
walls. Very attractive, but as good at keeping people out as they
were at keeping them in. The houses were big and set well apart.
The landscaping was tasteful and immaculate, if a little sterile
for my taste.

“No individuality permitted,” I said
aloud.

Hammie looked over at me.

“What?”

“It all looks the same,” I said, motioning
out the window. “No one is allowed to be different.”

“What are you talking about? None of those
houses look remotely alike. They were all individually designed to
spec. Just because they are immaculately groomed doesn’t make them
identical.”

My eyes scanned the houses looking for what
Hammie saw in them. “Nope,” I said, “can’t see it. The houses are
different styles, sure, but they’re all the same color. They all
sit exactly twenty-five feet from the road. I’ll bet the same
landscaper designed and grooms all of them. It’s cookie cutter
living. I wouldn’t trade my house for any of these.”

“Your house is so old, I’m amazed it’s still
standing. You don’t even lock it, but if you did, I still could
have gotten in any of the windows.”

“I don’t normally have to worry about anyone
coming in my windows, and the only people who come in through the
door are friends and neighbors, except for you. So statistically,
I’m justified in leaving my house open. Besides, my dogs keep
strangers away. Usually. How did you get past my dogs?” I was
appalled. This was the first moment I’d thought of them. Why hadn’t
they kept Hammie out of the house?

“You didn’t poison them did you?” Panic was
rising in my throat.

“No, I didn’t poison your dogs. I didn’t need
to. I threw some hamburger into the yard, opened your door, and
they ran right to it. They were still gulping it down when I
brought you out. The beagle and the big grey dog came over to check
you out, but I threw some more meat, and they abandoned you.”

My heart sank. Abandoned for a hunk of meat.
Why hadn’t I trained them not to take meat from strangers? For the
same reason I didn’t lock my doors. I didn’t think it was
necessary. There wasn’t much in my house worth stealing except me,
apparently.

We pulled into the drive of a three-story
house with the same brown and beige as the rest of the houses, the
same lawn. The garage doors opened, and Moose pulled into one of
the bays next to a limo identical to the one we were in. We all got
out of the car, and Hammie escorted me into the house. Paris met us
in the hall and followed along throwing daggers into my back with
her eyes.

We walked through a kitchen big enough to
feed the entire state of Vermont and into the living room, cozy
compared to the kitchen, but still big enough to host a marching
band. The ceiling was three stories high. I liked the windows,
though. They rose from floor to ceiling giving a view of the
foothills to the west. The back yard was a pool, cement pathways
and big ferns.

“Where’s the security wall?” I turned to
Hammie, but Moose answered.

“It doesn’t go all the way around.”

I looked at Moose with my eyebrows raised.
“What’s the point of a gated community if anyone can just waltz
right into the back yard?”