Part 43 (1/2)
Chase pushed Jack aside and went in. ”Where's Heather?”
”She left,” Dario said calmly, smiling. ”She decided she was through being used.”
”What did you say to her?” Chase grabbed him by the throat.
”The truth.” He choked.
She forced herself to release him. ”How long has she been gone?”
”I can't remember.” He smiled again.
”Not long,” Jack said. ”Chair's still warm.” She had her hand on the fabric where Heather had been sitting.
”She can't be far.” She could have killed Dario on the spot.
”You made her run to distract us. You know she cares for Heather,” Jack said, tilting her head toward Chase. ”And you want to throw us off, distract us for the drop-off tomorrow. What are you up to, creep?” Jack went to Dario and loomed over him menacingly.
”I don't know what you're talking about,” he said benignly. ”I sincerely care about the wh.o.r.e.”
Chase shoved Jack aside and punched Dario in the face so hard she knocked him out.
”Fortunately, the Geneva convention doesn't apply to us.” Jack grinned her approval. ”We're free to torture him.”
”Don't impair him. I'm going out.” She slammed the door so hard she heard a picture on the wall inside the room fall and shatter.
* 322 *
ChaPter thirty-Five.
Heather kept running until she came to a secluded bench at the edge of the sprawling park adjacent to the hotel. She needed to stop to catch her breath and collect her thoughts. Decide where to go next. Maybe the darkness and unfamiliar setting would make it difficult for Landis or Jack to come after her. How could she have been so foolish to let Landis and the attraction she felt cloud her judgment? And to think she'd considered Landis a catch, a dream woman. The two of them must have had a good laugh at her expense.
She had to make flight arrangements and get back home, a difficult task at this hour. Her cell wasn't set up for international calls, and the area they were in was mostly residential. The few shops near the hotel were closed, the streets empty.
Maybe she could find a bar still open. Or another hotel, where she could access a phone and maybe even the Internet to find a flight.
Hotel was a better option, because there would likely be no flights out until morning and she couldn't risk hanging out at the airport.
She'd be too easy to find. Thank G.o.d for American Express.
She started walking down the main thoroughfare, keeping to the shadows in case Landis and Jack were out looking for her, her spirits sinking further with every block. No sign of another hotel. No pay phone. And the area she soon found herself in looked dicey- the homes more run-down, graffiti everywhere, trash in the streets.
This was definitely not a tourist area.
* 323 *
In the distance, she spotted a building with an illuminated sign. A bar, and it was open. Without a second thought, she pushed through the door. If nothing else, it had to have a phone so she could call a cab to take her to another hotel.
The place looked as seedy as the neighborhood. Ten men were spread out through the bar, and from the looks of them, most had been there all day and night. Unshaved, unkempt, and either completely or mostly wasted. She avoided eye contact as she made her way to the bar.
The bartender said something in French.
”I'm sorry. English, please?”
She heard a murmur of voices behind her and caught the word Americaine, but didn't turn to look.
”What do you want?” the bartender asked with a strong accent.
”Can I use your telephone?”
”First you drink, then maybe you can call.” He laughed, and so did the others.
Heather sighed, in no mood for games. ”Okay. A Diet c.o.ke, please.”
The guy behind the bar shook his head. ”You must drink alcohol.”
”I can't.” Heather sat down on the stool. She was too tired and terrified to cope with this. ”I'm allergic.”
”Bon. One Coca-Cola,” he said. ”I have the best.” Heather suddenly felt exhausted. ”Look, I just want to use the phone.” She wanted to add I'm tired, lost, and being hunted, but didn't want to alert these drunk strangers to more vulnerabilities than her gender. Her years as a call girl had taught her when it came to physical strength, there was no comparison, and men were all too eager to remind any woman of that. ”I'll have a drink after I'm done.
I promise.” She smiled. Once she knew a cab was on the way and had a time estimate, she'd make a fast exit. Plus, she'd make sure to mention loudly that she'd called for one and that it was due any minute.
”Bon. The telephone is back there next to the toilets.” The bartender grinned as he pointed the way.
* 324 *
Halfway there she realized she didn't have foreign money.
She walked back to the bar. ”Can you exchange dollars, by any chance?” She gave him her most charming smile. ”I just arrived in your wonderful country.”
He fished in his pocket and gave her a fifty-cent Euro coin.
”The drink will be on me.”
”That's so sweet. Thank you.” She headed toward the back of the bar and found the phone in a hallway leading to the restrooms. As she started to slide the coin into the slot, she heard a familiar voice speaking French. No. It couldn't be. She peeked around the corner to make sure and saw Landis. She looked angry and aggressive, like she was about to attack the barman.
”Don't play games with me, idiot,” Landis said in English before resuming her tirade in French.
”f.u.c.k off,” the guy replied. ”I told you, I didn't see a woman come in here tonight. Ask the rest if you don't believe me.” The men still sober enough to talk jumped in but were laughing.
”She want to stay with us,” one guy yelled from his table. ”We good company for a beautiful American woman. We teach her French fast, teach her how to drink. Coca-Cola is for children and she is not a little girl.” He winked at Landis.
”Oui, we show her good times,” another man said.
Landis turned back to the barman and grabbed him by the collar. ”Tell me where she is. Now.”
”Don't touch me,” the man said defiantly, and bunched his fists.