Not One Clue_ A Mystery - Lois Greiman [65]
It was then that I heard a noise coming from behind the rosebushes beyond my fence. I glanced toward the house on my right. The Griffins were new to the neighborhood. They’d just moved in a couple of months ago, but it had taken less than a week for me to tire of sixteen-year-old Bryn. If she wasn’t playing music loud enough to break capillaries, she was making out with one of her many boyfriends behind the garage. Not that I was jealous or …
But in that instant, I realized something was funny. Both Bryn and her current beau were dark-haired. But one of the heads that poked up above the rosebushes seemed to be blond. Or hooded.
Or turbaned!
Shit! The truth dawned on me like the crack of a new day.
That wasn’t Bryn. It was Aalia. And she wasn’t alone. That much I knew even though she was only visible for a second before she’d disappeared behind the Griffins’ garage.
Pawing through my purse, I snatched up my cell and hit 911 with shaky fingers. It was busy. I ended the call and punched in Rivera’s number even as I raced back into the house for my Mace.
“Is it too much to ask that this is a late night booty call?” Rivera asked.
“I think he’s got Aalia!” I was back outside, gazing through the darkness and shaking like a tambourine.
“What’s your location?”
“My place. I saw someone by my neighbors’ garage.”
“Are you in the house?”
I backed inside, hoping Harley would follow. He did. “Yes,” I said, then closed my eyes for a moment and stepped outside again.
“Lock the doors,” he said. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Hurry,” I said, and closing the phone, stuck it in my bodice. It was a tight squeeze, but I needed it with me and mermaids don’t have pockets.
My bare feet were almost silent against my dusty yard. More silent, at least, than my pounding heart. Getting over the fence was neither simple nor pretty, but somehow I managed it. I ducked up against a garage, then taking a shaky breath, peeked around the corner.
Nothing.
Mace in hand, I trotted along the building, stopped at the next corner, and glanced out. And there they were. He wore a turban and a white robe. She seemed to be in jeans. They were almost to Vine Street. Almost to the car that waited there. The engine was running.
Panic spurred through me, and then I was moving. “Hold it!” I yelled, and stepped into the open.
The pair jerked toward me. He was holding her arm. That much I could tell, but little else.
The man spoke, low and guttural, but I couldn’t understand the words. They turned away.
“I’ve got a gun!” I yelled, and pointed the Mace at him.
He glanced over his shoulder at me. Time stood still, and then he smiled. I could see his teeth glow in the darkness.
“No. You do not,” he said, and raised his arm. It took me a shattered second to realize he did have a gun. That he was raising it. That it was pointed at me. My heart dropped toward my knees as my stomach recoiled in horror. Every instinct told me to dodge for cover, but I was frozen in place.
A bullet pinged in the darkness. I jerked at the impact, stumbling back against the garage, not feeling the pain for a moment. Another moment passed. No agony. I glanced down and found no blood. Jerking my attention back toward the street, I saw that Aalia’s abductor was down on one knee and in that moment I realized I hadn’t been shot at all.
He had. And suddenly Aalia was racing toward me. I braced myself as she rushed into my arms, then gathered her against me, still holding the Mace, but her abductor was already stumbling to his feet, gun lifted.
I shoved Aalia behind me and raised the protection spray.
It was then that another man stepped into view.
“Put it down, Turk, or I’ll fry your ass where you stand.” Vincent Angler!
The Yemeni jerked his attention toward Vincent, snarled something as he glared at me and Aalia, then turned and leapt for the car.
Angler snapped off a shot. It pinged against the door, but the vehicle was already speeding away, engine revved as it careened around the corner onto Opus.
Aalia had my left arm in a death