Trouble With Harry (17 page)

Lifting the discarded sweatpants from the floor, he slid into them covering his still oozing, stiff cock. “It’s getting close to nine. I thought I’d get there early.” He leaned over her to kiss her lips.

Edie glared at him and turned her face to the side. How could he do this to her?

A twisted smile quirked the corners of Harry’s mouth. “I figured you’d be mad. But don’t worry. I’ll be back to untie you in a couple hours. And, if all else fails, I left a message on your father’s answering machine to come over tonight at 11:30. You’ll be okay.” He lifted the blankets to cover her naked body and paused.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Edie Ragsdale. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” With that, he laid the blanket over her, tucking her in as if she were a child. “See ya, sweetheart.” He kissed her averted cheek and left the room.

Edie’s muffled scream followed him out the door.

For the next hour she worked at her bonds, the knots only tightening with her effort. Then she tried to get her landlady’s attention by banging her head against her headboard. After a while, her head ached and nobody had come to her rescue, despite her efforts and noise. Finally, she collapsed against the pillows, her body completely exposed to the cool night air from having thrashed around in the bed until the covers had slid to the floor.

She couldn’t help them. What would happen to Mitch?

What would happen to Harry?

Cold, disgusted and angry, Edie’s tears slid one by one down her cheeks.

* * * * *

Harry hated leaving Edie tied to her bed, especially after the unforgettable sex they’d had, and boy was she mad. But in his gut he knew she would have insisted on accompanying him to rescue Mitch and he couldn’t let her come. The people they were up against were too dangerous. And tying her wouldn’t have been enough. With her ability to wish, she could have wished herself right into the middle of a deadly position. Thus the gray tape he’d pasted over her mouth. He hoped it wouldn’t hurt too much when he pulled it off later.

With Edie incapacitated, Harry could concentrate on finding his way to the museum. He hoped to get there early to lay in wait and watch for any opportunity to free Mitch without giving up the stone.

He patted his jacket pocket where the obsidian relic rested against his side. He’d almost left it behind, afraid of the power it might have and the dangers of placing it in the wrong hands.

With the little bit of money he’d borrowed from Edie, he managed the subway, appalled at the cost of admittance. Costs had risen tremendously since he’d last been in the city. Pennies weren’t worth anything anymore, and everything and everyone seemed to move at a frantic pace. Didn’t anyone go home at night? He hadn’t noticed much difference in traversing the city during the day as at night, except it was a bit scarier at night. Strange people came out in droves.

When he arrived at the museum warehouse he circled the massive building inspecting for every nook and cranny a person could hide. He had to know what he was up against and be prepared for any surprise.

An hour before he was supposed to meet with the kidnappers, Harry settled into the alley, hiding behind a huge smelly metal box, the size of a truck. The stench almost knocked him over, but it was the best he could do to remain out of sight.

He wondered how Edie was doing and if she’d ever forgive him. What made him most concerned was why he cared about a woman he barely knew. Together for almost two days, he shouldn’t have felt this close to her. He’d never believed in love at first sight. That was a fantasy for teenaged girls, not full grown men of the world. But he admired her intelligence, sarcasm and determination to stick up for herself. Edie was unlike any woman he’d ever known. And nothing like his former fiancée, Fiona.

Where Fiona was all class and no substance, Edie was solid, determined and fought for what she felt was right. Harry could never picture Fiona out in a desert digging up old tombs, not without a tent, several maids to fan her and provide cooling drinks to make her comfortable. Not Edie, she’d dig in and want to be up to her elbows in dirt if it meant finding a piece of the past or uncovering treasures of years long gone.

Could Edie be his soulmate? Was she the one woman destined to be with him? Did Harry travel across eight decades to find her? And if so, what the hell did he do now? He didn’t have anything to offer her. She couldn’t possibly be interested in a man who didn’t have a job or even any prospects in this century.

The truth of Edie’s words struck him. She hadn’t asked him for anything. She could take care of herself. If she chose to be with him, it wasn’t because he could offer her wealth or a nice house to live in with a picket fence and maybe a swing on the front porch. Edie was a woman secure in her own world, capable of taking care of herself. She didn’t need a man to protect her or provide for her.

Having come from the 1920s, Harry had to reconcile the concept of women and independence. The norm for the Twenties had been for women to marry, raise numerous children, and let their husbands provide for their welfare. Only the really poor families relied on both parents working to support their families.

Women had come a long way since then. Edie was a prime example. She lived alone, supported herself and made her own decisions.

Harry liked her independence. Liked her ability to stand up for herself. With the exception of her self-image. She was beautiful and she didn’t see it in herself. Her father must be completely blind or mean-spirited.

Beautiful, intelligent, independent and feisty Edie. If Harry were the marrying kind, Edie would be his first choice. Her pale skin and the dusting of freckles framed by that fiery red hair stirred him like no other. Even in this dark, smelly alley he could drive nails into the wall as hard as he got just thinking about her. But the chill of the night air was seeping into his skin. The sweats he wore weren’t much protection against the damp fall air in New York City. And the jacket wasn’t doing enough to keep Harry warm.

While rubbing his hands together, he heard the sound of a car engine roaring off the walls of the buildings around him. He froze and inched his way out of the tight corner he’d wedged himself into between the building and the giant trash container.

At the end of the alley, a long black car stood. A fleeting thought to the shape and size of cars floated through Harry’s consciousness. How different from the spindly contraptions of the Twenties. He hoped to get to drive one someday, imagining all that speed and power at his control. But for now he had bigger worries to handle. He had to get Mitch back, keep the stone and get the hell out of here without getting himself and Mitch killed. He stood and brushed the dust off his backside, still hidden behind the trash container.

All the time he’d been waiting, he hadn’t come up with any other plan than to trade himself and the stone for Mitch’s life. As long as he stayed with the stone, he had a chance to steal it away. If they threatened to kill him, he’d threaten to destroy the stone. Simple, right? He prayed his little plan would work. First thing was to find out who and what he was up against.

With a deep breath, he stepped out into the alley. Let the show begin.

A man had climbed from the driver’s seat. In the dim light from the street lamps, he appeared to have dark hair and dark skin like a Middle Easterner. “Did you bring the Stone of Azhi?” the man said, his voice heavily laced with a foreign accent.

“I brought it.” Harry kept close to the shadows. Standing in the middle of an alley without cover left him open as a target. But he had to get Mitch. “Where’s Mitch?”

The guy jerked his head to the side. “In the car.”

“Show me Mitch and I’ll show you the stone,” Harry said.

The man leaned toward the back window. It slid downward exposing another man of the same coloring as the first. They talked in low, hushed tones Harry couldn’t hear their words, but they sounded foreign. Then the back door opened, and the other man got out. He reached into the car and hauled another man to his feet. In the dim glow from the light over the back door to the museum warehouse, Harry could see the man had a lighter complexion and pale hair compared to the others. When he lifted his head and stared across at him with light blue eyes, Harry breathed for the first time in the past two minutes.

Mitch stood barefooted on the dirty pavement and wearing the same khaki slacks and pullover shirt he’d been wearing the night before. A large bruise colored the side of his jaw. His lips twisted in a wry smile.

Harry exhaled a long sigh of relief. They hadn’t killed him and they hadn’t done too much damage. Yet. If he didn’t handle this exchange well, they could all end up dead and Edie would still be tied to her bed until her father rescued her. He was glad he’d left a message on her father’s answering machine. Hopefully, he’d check his machine before morning, but not before Harry got through the next few minutes. That’s all he needed was Edie to show up in the middle of a shooting. Not that a shooting was the likely outcome of this little tryst.
Think positive, Harry
.

The blond man smiled and winced, reminding Harry of his friend Will. “Hey Harry. About time you showed up.”

“Wouldn’t have come if Edie hadn’t insisted. For some strange reason, she thought you were worth saving.”

The two men on either side of Mitch frowned and glanced around at Harry’s words.

“You didn’t bring her here, did you?” Mitch glared at Harry.

“No, she’s safe and secure.” Secured to the bed. But Mitch didn’t need to know that.

The two men pushed Mitch forward a few steps and stopped. Then a long, slender leg appeared in the car’s doorway, the skin as pale as the men were dark. At the end of the leg was an expensive-looking high-heeled crocodile-skin shoe. Another leg appeared and a woman followed, unbending from the back seat of the car. She was tall, lithesome and as blonde as an expensive bleach job could make her. But her eyes were every bit as dark as her male counterparts.

“Enough talk, get the stone,” she demanded, her voice laced with a foreign accent her words spoken in the Queen’s English as if she’d been tutored by someone from Great Britain. “I want the stone.” Hers was not a request, more an order to the two men. Her classic face could have been etched in celluloid on a movie screen in the Twenties. She wore a slim black skirt with a matching jacket, a stark contrast to the platinum blonde hair.

“I take it you’re Danorah,” Harry said.

Her only acknowledgement was a slight dip of her head.

Mitch frowned. “You know her?”

“No.” Harry’s eyes narrowed. “But her reputation precedes her in the bloody trail she’s left around the city.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Mitch raised a hand to the bruise on his jaw. “She’s quite a bit of work.”

“I’m not letting go of the stone until I know Mitch is safe,” Harry said. “Me and the stone for Mitch.”

Mitch shook his head. “Don’t do it, Harry. These guys don’t play fair.”

“How do we know you have the stone?” the woman asked, her tones smooth and deadly.

Harry pulled the object from his pocket and held it up between his fingertips. “Is this what you’ve been looking for? Or should I say, killing for?”

Her eyes widened briefly like a greedy dog seeing a tasty treat waved before its hungry eyes. Then her cool mask slipped back in place. “What makes you think I can’t take the stone and kill you both?”

“If you shoot me, I drop the stone and it shatters into a million pieces. Are you willing to risk it?” Harry knew how hard the stone was and was fairly certain it wouldn’t break even if he took a hammer to it. But Danorah didn’t know that and Harry hoped she wouldn’t guess and call his bluff. She looked like she wanted it. Bad.
Well, let her sweat a little
. He tossed the relic into the air.

The woman gasped, her gaze following the path of the stone as light from a street lamp glinted off its smooth black surface.

With ease, Harry snatched the stone from the air and held it high, ready to drop it. “What’s it to be? Mitch or the stone?”

“We’ll shoot him if you run with the stone, so don’t try anything.” The woman’s ruby-red lips thinned and she turned to her henchmen. “Let him have his friend.”

When the two men reached out to follow the woman’s orders, Mitch stumbled. Before Harry’s eyes, the scene turned into chaos. Mitch hunkered over and plowed into the man next to him knocking him off his feet. The goon’s 9mm pistol flew from his hands, skittering across the pavement to thunk against a brick wall.

The woman screamed and backed away from the men as they fell to the ground and struggled for supremacy.

With no time to think, Harry tucked the stone in his pocket and launched himself at the other man while his attention was directed toward Mitch.

* * * * *

The clock on Edie’s bedside table flickered and changed. Eleven o’clock. Rendezvous time and Edie was still tied to the bed. She kicked her feet against the mattress, and then swung them high to kick them against the wall over her head, yelling through the tape as loud as she could.

Someone somewhere had to hear all the commotion she was making. Hell, she could hear her upstairs neighbors whenever they were making love, why couldn’t they hear her when she was whacking against the wall like a lunatic?

Edie banged harder. She had to get to Harry and Mitch. Her gut told her they needed her right now.

What was that noise? Did she hear knocking? Edie stopped yelling and lay still.

Bang! Bang! Bang!
Someone was pounding on her door. Thank the Lord.

Edie screamed long and loud, hoping the pitiful attempts could be heard through the tape and through her bedroom, living room and the front door. She stopped to listen.

“Edie!” Her father’s voice drifted in to her.

She almost wept in relief. Her father was here. He’d untie her and she could wish herself to the museum warehouse
. Hurry up Dad!
she yelled into the tape.

The sound of the doorknob rattling drifted into her bedroom and eventually was followed by the front door slamming open against the wall. Edie could just see her father through the open bedroom door.