In Love by Design (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod) Page 6

  ‘I can’t believe this! My last conversation on earth was going to be arguing semantics with a pouty, plump cherub that dressed like Sir Elton John and had brought me to a stinking house to die!’

  This was such a bizarre thought that it took all my control not to break down in convulsive giggles. This whole night was taking on a dream-like quality, and I was still feeling the drugs. Although, the splinters in my butt were a reality check that this was really happening.

  He primly pursed his lips and crossed his arms on his chest while repeating, “I’m honestly no slayer of innocents.” At my continued silence and level, disbelieving look, he uncrossed his arms and pointed a finger at my nose. “Listen here; my services can’t be had cheaply. Anyone looking to hire me has to have quite a bit of the ready brass and a bloody good reason for needing my talents! I’ve got standards, you know. Whatever you did to set this person off must have been wicked. I don’t normally get special instructions on how to orchestrate my contracts, Anabel, but yours were laid out for me like bloody stepping stones. Do this first, do that next, and then do the other!”

  The Fixer pronounced it An-ER-bel and I don’t know why I’m shocked he knows my name. After all, he did accept a contract to fix me and has probably investigated my life to some degree. He must have followed my movements to be able to abduct me tonight. I’m disgusted I didn’t sense even a trace of this coming.

  “Did you change the light bulb on my garage light?” I demanded suspiciously.

  “What?” he responded blankly.

  “Oh, never mind,” I muttered, frowning.

  Shaking off my despair at my sad lack of surveillance skills, I concentrated on laying out the facts logically for the Fixer. Regardless of the shoes and the delusions, he was still a man.

  “You’ve just proved my point. You were told what to do and you’ve followed instructions, much like any common thug. Where’s the talented fixing in that scenario? No, I’m sorry, but we’ve both run up against someone pretty evil tonight and it isn’t me. Obviously, they’re smart enough to get around your vetting process that determines what contracts your high standards allows you to accept. You’ve been played for a fool, and I’ve been made out to be a bad guy.” I smiled my most angelic smile. My voice is cajolingly soft. “Look at me! I’m just a bookstore owner that has lived in Northfield her entire, uneventful life. The only people I’ve ever bothered are the very bullies you’re claiming to protect your clients from. I’ve certainly never set out to bother any friendly types of chaps.” I pushed away the image of Jack Banner’s smirking face at that comment and said with conviction, “Think, man! You’ve been scammed. If you leave me here tonight, you’ll be a common murderer and killing an innocent woman under fraudulent circumstances.” I suggested an alternative. “Let’s check out who hired you and we can get this cleared up right away! There has to be a mistake or it’s a big, fat scam. Come on, let’s do this together!”

  He’s quiet for a moment staring down at the floor while plucking fretfully at the delicate silver hoop earring hanging from his left ear lobe. He murmured loudly enough that I heard, “It’s true, this has felt wonky from the start. I never get specific instructions, but from this punter I did.”

  My abductor looked up then and shook his masked head quickly, as if clearing away an annoying gnat. Holding up a restraining hand, he sighed. “Don’t bother inquiring; I couldn’t blab who contracted me, even should I be so inclined, which I’m not. Fixing is strictly a word of mouth business, lass, and there are layers of people between me and the clients. This protects everybody involved. Maybe you’ve got the right of it and I have been scammed, but I am a man of my word.” A pudgy hand twirled negligently in the air, “A man’s honor and all that, not that I expect a woman to understand. Any contract I’ve accepted has always been fulfilled or I’d soon be out of business, now wouldn’t I?” He plucked at his earring again and frowned. “It’s the God’s honest you’re not the usual villainess though, are you? I do feel gutted about that.” He sighed again, this time louder and longer. “What a shambles!”

  I held my breath and silently watched him run a finger to and fro over his upper lip, hoping he’ll change his mind about leaving me here.

  He didn’t look my way, but pasted on a cheerful smile that looks as false as the sound of his forced light tone. “Right then! You’re a spirited one and I like you, but a deal is a deal.” He added brightly, as if a dubious compliment made up for murdering me, “If I swung your way, I’d be tempted, but onward ho!”

  He took a few mincing steps in those absurd shoes towards leaving me in this freezing hell hole and I shouted incredulously, “What? Wait!” He stopped and I tried to think of something to say to prevent his leaving. “Umm, I have a gay brother that looks just like me!”

  “Do you?” His voice rose with interest. “Perhaps I’ll chat him up before I leave town.”

  I cursed while the little creeper let loose with a fit of braying, honking high-pitched giggles. He took a few more steps to my right and reached down to scoop up my purse from the floor.

  He said apologetically, “I am sorry for it, Anerbel, but I have no choice in the matter. I’ll be taking your handbag as well.”

  I hurriedly shouted, “You are leaving me here to die of exposure! Rats will probably eat their way up my legs because,” I started wildly sobbing and thrashing my head, “my niece, Stella has me moisturizing with coconut oil. Even stand-offish animals like cats are always licking me everywhere I go now!” I screamed out, “I don’t even know your real name, but I don’t care! You will always be the man who looked like a young Cary Elwes, but turned out to be a common killer of innocent women!” I wailed on an accusatory note, “Not a Fixer or a Hero!”

  “Oh, come now! Don’t cry!” He squatted down before me again and patted my knee while trying to soothe me. “My name is Dickie and I’m only doing what I was hired to do. It’s a business deal, Anerbel, nothing personal. Don’t you see I have no choice but to keep my word?”

  No doubt in his mind I’m behaving like a typically hysterical woman and what man, even one wearing a black cape and high heels, doesn’t instinctually fear this unpredictable female emotion?

  I shook the hair away from my face and snickered, “Seriously, your name is Dickie?”

  He’s taken aback at the abrupt change of subject, and at my calm voice and dry eyes. I watched in amusement while he ran a finger under the neckline of his buttoned shirt, as if his collar is suddenly binding.

  Shaking off his unease, he preened a little with a sassy grin and a swept a hand in front of his groin. “I know, the name fits, right?”

  “I’ll say.” I shook my head again, but this time in sadness. “You do have a choice, Dickie. You can choose to do the right thing and not leave me here to die.” I added softly, “Please reconsider.”

  He cleared his throat and I could see his eyes darting from side to side in consternation through the slits in his mask. He stood up slowly, the cape falling back behind his thick shoulders.

  “I wish I could, but I can’t. Goodbye, Anerbel.”

  “Wait!” I called out again to his retreating back. “Let’s make a deal!”

  He threw his arms out and swirled around to face me. “What are you talking about?”

  Smiling at his confusion, I replied softly, “I want to hire your services as a fixer.”

  Dickie’s smile was tentative and then turned down at the corners. He stepped closer and whispered, “Er…How can you...I mean…”

  I rolled my eyes impatiently and whispered back, “I know what you mean. Look, it’s not like I have many choices who to hire, but are you any good at what you do or not?”

  Giggling, he pointed a circling finger at me tied up before him. “The proof is in the pudding, wouldn’t you say?”

  I responded coolly, “Well, I certainly know you won’t welsh on our deal. How do you get paid? Do you charge by the fix?”

  He moved his hands helplessly, but followed my
lead and kept his voice low. “Uh…yes, my flat fee is twenty thou U.S. dollars, plus a fiver for expenses.”

  “Considering you are basically murdering me here tonight,” I raised my whisper sternly over his sputtering protests, “I want special rates, Dickie! I’ll pay you five thousand for expenses because a princess bride has to live, but I want the fixing done gratis. Agreed?”

  Dickie blustered, “Dear Lord, I…for fuck’s sake…this is…”

  Relentlessly, I interrupted in a fierce undertone, “This is probably my last deal before I die! I’m sure the Lord would tell you to agree, for pity’s sake!”

  He kicked a tin can across the room and cried loudly, “Yes, you bloody obstinate female, we’re agreed then and you have my word on it!”

  Dickie held up his foot and squealed louder in disgust when he saw the smudge of gook from the can marring his shiny patent leather.

  “Sweet.” I smiled, referring to the deal and the smudge. I relaxed in my ropes against the chair. “You’ll find a Wells Fargo bank card in the little zipper pocket in my purse. The PIN is 6908. Go to any automated teller and withdraw the five thousand. There shouldn’t be a problem. If there is, it’s not like you don’t know where to find me.” I asked innocently, “Or would your little lordship prefer to untie me, so I can write you a check while I’m still breathing?”

  I smiled evilly when he covered his face with both pudgy hands and screamed in frustration. Dickie’s criminally twisted concept of male honor may not allow him to set me free, but I wasn’t about to let him feel good about it. I also trusted there wasn’t a more tenacious person out there for the job I had in mind. His guilty conscience would see to that.

  He dropped his hands and blew out a defeated breath. “What am I fixing then?”

  Surprised he hadn’t figured it out immediately, I chuckled humorlessly. “Dickie, you disappoint me again. Isn’t it obvious? I want you to track down the true villain that hired you to leave me here in this terrible way. Then I expect you to fix their little red wagon--permanently.” I went on facetiously, “Short of murder, of course.”

  Dickie nodded and started grinning, my sarcastic insults rolling off his back like water off a duck. Dickie will never be accused of being deep. He appeared genuinely happy to be doing me this service. His clicking heels and sweeping bow confirmed my deduction.

  “Anerbel, it will be my pleasure to fix this travesty!”

  “Will it? How perfect since your pleasure means so much to me.” Over his irritating braying, I continued with my instructions. “One last thing, promise you’ll let me know the identity of my enemy when you find out. You can call Bel’s Books with their name. I’d invite you to stop in and say hello, but you’ll probably be too terrorized and not have the balls to show up.”

  Dickie paused in the act of slinging my purse strap over his shoulder. His giggling ended on a confused note again, and was also laced with puzzled apprehension.

  The chubby bum has the nerve to sound hurt when he whined, “Ah Anerbel, come now, don’t be nasty when we’ve reached such a nice agreement! I promise I’ll phone. Is there a particular person I should speak with?”

  “Yes. Me.”

  Dickie’s mouth went slack.

  Responding slowly, it was clear he’s humoring the madwoman, “Right then, okay.” He put his hands together in prayer and did a little forward bow this time. “I’ll be sure to do as you’ve asked and give you a bell at Bel’s, Anerbel.”

  He laughed in delight at his idea of wit while I slumped back and ignored him. Having secured my deal with little Lord Fauntleroy, I was ready to be done with him. I was exhausted, hurting, and dirty. The cold air has penetrated my exposed skin or maybe it’s Dickie’s cold black heart, but I was chilled to the marrow.

  I sighed.

  “I don’t know why I’m bothering, it’s probably my new soul, but I want to give you one final chance. You can do the truly honorably thing and help me, or you can leave me now to die. But know this, Dickie; it’s not me that you have to worry about getting nasty. My boyfriend is extremely tough and very cruel. You will be hunted to hell and back, and he will never stop.” The thought of Luke beating the daylights out of the Fixer warmed me up. I expounded on this theme enthusiastically. “You’re going to feel true suffering. He will tear you from limb to limb with his bare hands! He will beat you to a bloody pulp with your own leg and then kick the living crap out of you--just for fun. You’d better be good at fixing things because you are going to need a calculator to add up all the tiny pieces of your mangled, torn up body…”

  “Good Heavens, the violence!” Giggling with a note of mock-hysteria attached, Dickie hugged himself while shuddering. “Girl, I’m always on the pull. Your twin brother was tempting enough, but your boyfriend is making me positively swoon! Into rough trade, is he?”

  I giggled rather hysterically, too, at the mind-boggling concept of my masculine Dark Prince and this fussy, plump princess bride going at it. “Now that you ask, he is, but he’s taken.”

  “Aren’t they always?” Dickie pouted, his cherub lips comically turned down under the pencil mustache.

  “Anabel, Anabel,” a deep growl admonished from the shadows, “are you telling everyone in the county details of our sex life now? Is that any way for my girlfriend to behave?”

  At the voice coming from behind him in the darkened shadows of the kitchen doorway, Dickie’s shrill scream of startled fright pierced my eardrums. He threw up his hands and tottered back and forth in front of me on his heels. He resembled a chicken with his head cut off, clearly not knowing which way to turn.

  “I beg forgiveness, my Devil, for I know not what I do.” I tried to look suitably downcast, but that’s no easy feat when a girl’s bubbling over with relief and excitement.

  Chapter IV

  “My Boyfriend’s Back” by Paris Bennet

  Thursday 12/06/12

  11:25 PM

  Luke stepped into the light and didn’t take his eyes off Dickie, except for a brief glance in my direction that started my blood pounding. I’d be happy to see any friendly face at this point; but that it’s Luke’s hard face has me stunned.

  He, too, is dressed all in black, but the difference is amazing. My eyes drank in the sight of those broad shoulders in a leather jacket, those muscular legs in jeans, the boots, the tight gloves, and the deadly black gun. I’ve never seen him look so mean, so dangerous, and so unbelievably killer.

  ‘Down, schoolgirl!’

  I am still tied up, but the weapon in Luke’s hand and the flames spreading like wildfire through my cold body make this a minor detail. All the voices cheered wildly in delight at this unexpected rescue by my Hero.

  Luke gestured with the gun. Dickie let out another shriek while pointing his hands higher in the air. The Fixer started loudly blustering that he was just about to untie me and to not hurt him or ruin his suit. Luke did his karate chop slicing move and Dickie’s words cut off instantly in mid squeal. Like always, I’m impressed how this move works like magic.

  “Shut the fuck up. Don’t talk unless I tell you to talk.” In the quiet of the freezing kitchen, Luke’s voice was deadly.

  My view was of the back of Dickie’s masked head bobbing in terrified obeisance and I couldn’t hold back my huge smile any longer.

  Luke’s black stare showed no response while he took a longer look at me tied to the chair, almost naked and shivering from the cold. Despite his calmness, when he turned that stare back on Dickie it’s obvious to me that he is going to hurt this guy. Luke was rarely out of control, but I’m learning to read the man beneath the tight leash he imposes on his emotions. Dickie’s in serious trouble.

  “Is this true, Anabel? Was he about to let you go?” Luke asked softly, not taking his cold gaze off the Fixer.

  “Nope, he was leaving me to freeze,” I said regretfully. Wisely, Dickie didn’t speak, but he’s shaking in his heels in frightened agitation. I exclaimed, “I’d never guess that was you that I heard wal
king around and making so much noise in the other room!”

  An expression of anger flashed briefly across Luke’s bold features. “Good, because of course it wasn’t me.”

  Earlier, I’d heard creaking noises in the rooms beyond the kitchen doorway that sounded distinctly like footsteps. When nobody showed up to join Dickie to finish me off, I let myself hope that meant help was on the way. I made all the noise crying and shouting a few minutes ago to distract Dickie. There is no way I’d ever seriously break down and cry like such a namby-pamby coward.

  Before I could ask him what he meant, Luke spoke out of the side of his mouth, “Okay, it’s clear.”

  My mouth dropped open in complete shock when Candy MacKenzie sauntered on stiletto heels into the room from behind Luke. My eyes probably bulged at that moment as much as hers do.

  Flipping open a small switchblade knife encased in hot pink metal, she glanced casually around the kitchen. Her knife accessorized perfectly with the hot pink suede shoe-boots and tight ski jacket that showcased her ginormous breasts. But not so much with the pastel lavender skinny jeans that actually bag on her stick legs. With her triangular-shaped face, rounded shoulders, and skinny limbs, she reminds me of a praying mantis. If a man stuck around Candy long enough, I’m sure she’d be happy to eat her mate, too.

  Her thin lips are outlined to appear fuller and shine with a purplish lipstick. They twisted in distaste when her gaze flicked over Dickie standing there with his arms up high and his double chin quivering. Seeing the flat expression in her protruding cow eyes when she passed him by, I didn’t blame Dickie one bit for his hum of distress. Candy doesn’t like anybody much, but she has a particular aversion to gays and cross-dressers. I wouldn’t put it past her to stick him like a pig. It gave me the willies to be helpless while she’s behind me with a knife. She started sawing on the thick rope that held me to the chair.