"We're screwed," Max said.
Chapter Nine
Deedee squealed in delight as Frankie led three oversized ex-wrestlers through the front door and into the living room. "Oh, my goodness," she said, dwarfed beside the men who averaged six feet six in height, "we haven't seen you guys in years." She rushed up to Snakeman who gave her a bone-crunching hug. "Where's your boa?" she asked.
"He died of old age. I was going to replace him, but now that I'm retired I enjoy traveling. The airlines wouldn't let me take him on the plane, even when I offered to pay for an entire row of seats in first class."
Snakeman's blond hair had dulled slightly, gray creeping in at his temples, but he was still in excellent physical shape.
Deedee hugged Big John and Choker, who'd earned his nickname by perfecting the headlocks once used by the world-renowned Ed "Strangler" Lewis, who'd begun his wrestling career in the early 1900s and was touted the greatest wrestler ever.
"It's just like old times, isn't it?" Frankie said, putting his arm around Deedee's shoulders.
"Why didn't you boys tell me you were coming?" Deedee asked.
Snakeman exchanged looks with Frankie. "We heard you've been having a little trouble so we're here to help. You don't think we'd just sit by twiddlin' our thumbs when you and Frankie need us."
"That's so sweet of you," Deedee said, looking from one to the other. "But I don't know what any of you can do about it."
"Frankie has men guarding the outside of the house. We're here to guard the inside." He paused. "And we wouldn't miss Frankie's election for anything."
Deedee's smile faded slightly. "We're so glad to have you," she said in an obvious attempt to sound like a gracious hostess. "How about I order some grub and let you gentlemen have some time to yourselves? I need to make a few phone calls."
"Did you hear from Max or Jamie?" Frankie asked before she left the room.
"No." She hurried away without another word.
"Your wife has gotten prettier," Snakeman said, "but she looks troubled. Maybe I shouldn't have told her why we're here."
"She'd figure it out," Frankie said.
"I wish you'd called us earlier," Big John told him.
Frankie shrugged. "I know you guys are busy."
Choker gave a grunt. "Never too busy to come to the aid of an old buddy."
Beenie came into the room with Choo-Choo and did a double take. "Well, smack my jaw, Scarlett," he said, patting his hair into place. "I didn't know we had company."
Frankie introduced the wrestlers. "This is Beenie, Deedee's personal assistant."
The three wrestlers nodded mutely.
"Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen. I'm looking for Deedee."
"She said she had to make some calls," Frankie said.
"Oh, well, I'll find her." Beenie paused and studied the wrestlers one by one, then turned for the door. He almost bumped into the butler who carried a silver tray containing icy glasses and various designer beers. The housekeeper followed with the food.
"Oh, man, Vienna sausage," Snakeman said. "And pickled eggs. What a treat."
"I thought you guys might enjoy them. Deedee always insists on fixing all this fancy stuff when we have guests."
Once everyone was seated, Frankie became serious. "I called all of you because I don't know what else to do. Deedee's scared to death with all that's going on. I try to keep as much from her as I can."
"Have there been any new developments since we talked?" Big John asked.
"Not since the fire." He clasped his big hands together. "I'm worried about Deedee. I was hoping you guys would provide a distraction and make her feel safer at the same time."
Snakeman cracked his knuckles. His hands resembled small hams. "You just tell us what to do, and it's as good as done. Somebody tries to get past me, and he's a dead man."
* * * * *
"You two look like a couple of idiots," Mitzi said. "And Vito, you need to suck in your fat gut before you pop the buttons on that shirt."
"Would you just shut your trap?" he snapped. "They didn't have a uniform in my size."
"You should have asked for a large tent. What are you guys supposed to be anyway?"
"Security men," Lenny said.
"Oh, Jesus. How did you two thugs get a job like that?"
Vito gave her a smug look. "Because I happen to have friends in high places, Mitzi. Did that thought ever occur to you?"
She laughed out loud. "Which explains why we're driving a twenty-year-old car and keep getting our electricity cut off."
"I need something to hold in my stomach," Vito told Lenny.
Mitzi grunted. "I'd suggest liposuction, only they're going to need a fire hose to suck out all that flubber."
Vito wiped sweat from his brow. "Keep your fat mouth shut, Mitzi, you got that? I'm sick of listening to you."
"Fine. Go like that. You look like a fool, but that's never stopped you before. I'm taking a bath." She strode into the bathroom and slammed the door.
"Jesus, that woman is driving me right up the wall," Vito said.
"You could try being nicer to her," Lenny replied, "instead of mouthing off every time she says something."
"What the hell do you know about marriage? You should try living with the grand bitch of hell."
"Mitzi is still an attractive woman, dude. Why don't you stop chasing women and concentrate on your wife. Buy her some flowers or something."
"Just shut up, okay? I don't have time to discuss my marriage woes; we got a job to do." He wiped his brow once more. "Damn woman is going to cause me to have a heart attack. Now, listen up. We won't have a lot of time for messing around once we get on the property tomorrow."
"Which reminds me. How did you manage to get us this job in the first place?"
"The guy we're working for took care of the paperwork. He's got connections, and he moves fast." Vito opened the top drawer of a battered dresser and pulled out a folder. "You need to study this in case Fontana's security chief asks questions."
Lenny opened it and read through it. "Man, this is awesome. I could get a job guarding the White House with this resume. That's what it's called, right? A resume?"
"Yeah. And look, we each got a letter of recommendation. We're good to go, pal. Now, like I was saying, we need to find Holt as soon as we get on the property. Whoever gets to him first does the hit, you got that?"
Lenny frowned. "What if I miss?"
Vito grabbed him by the collar. "You ain't gonna miss, asshole, because if you do I'm going to shoot you. Max Holt is not going to live to see the sun go down tomorrow night."
* * * * *
"Okay, don't panic," Max said, as Jamie, cigarette in hand, paced the riverbank. "This is not the end of the world."
She stopped and looked at him. "You don't realize the seriousness of this," she said. "Nobody, I mean nobody, ever comes down this part of the river. We're miles from civilization. Even if I did know how to get back, it would be impossible to get through this thicket. We'd need a machete."
"You worry too much, darlin'. The minute we turn up missing Frankie is going to call the police.
Depending on how adept Lamar Tevis is, they'll eventually find my car back at the dock."
She crossed her arms and tapped one foot impatiently. "What are we supposed to do in the meantime?"
"We need to set up camp."
"You mean we're going to spend the night out here?"
"Think, Jamie. Deedee won't start worrying until we don't show up for dinner. By then it'll be dark. Even if they do find my car, they won't be able to send out a search party till daybreak."
"Oh, double damn."
"I say we look through our supplies, then start gathering wood." He pulled two flashlights and a package of batteries from the canvas sack and handed them to Jamie. "Would you do the honors?"
By the time Jamie put batteries into the flashlights and tested them, Max had finished his inventory. "We're not too bad off. The blankets could use a good wa
shing, but they'll keep us warm during the night."
Jamie tried not to think about the night that lay ahead.
"We still have several hours of daylight left," Max said. "Better start gathering wood."
They went to work. Max found a stand of cane and broke off one, tying fishing string to the skinny end to use as a fishing pole. As Jamie gathered wood, he dug through the black dirt for worms. He baited the fishing pole. "You fish while I finish gathering wood," he said.
Jamie did as she was told. If they were to survive through the night, which wasn't likely, they would have to work together. Max had stripped off his shirt and begun digging a broad hole near the riverbank using sticks and pieces of rock as a shovel. He placed several larger rocks at the bottom of the hole. Jamie tried not to stare as the muscles in his arms and back flexed and contracted while he worked, but it was hard to concentrate on her task when he looked so darn good.
Max caught her looking. He sat back on the heels of his boots and held his arms out in offering. "Take a good look, Jamie. This could all be yours."
Her look was deadpan. Suddenly, her line jerked. "I've got one!" she cried.
"Go for it," Max said.
"This sucker is big. I can tell by the way he's tugging."
Max watched her, a smile playing across his lips. "I want mine filleted and marinated in papaya juice and served with Caesar salad and fresh asparagus."
Jamie struggled with the pole. She gave one hard jerk and pulled in a medium-sized bass. Her eyes popped open at the sight. "Look at the size of that sucker!"
Max was still looking at Jamie as she stood there, pole in both hands, grinning from ear to ear. The fish flipped about in protest. "Nice-looking fish," he said. "Where's yours?"
"There's more where this one came from, Holt."
Jamie managed to catch two more fish in the next half hour, during which time Max cleared a dry area of limbs and brush where they could later sleep. The blankets were still hanging from tree limbs, airing out.
Jamie presented her three fish. "Dinnuh is served," she said.
Max looked up from his work. "How are you at cleaning them?"
Jamie tossed her head. "I don't clean fish, Bubba." She gave him a speculative glance. "And I'll bet you don't know how. I'll bet you've never cleaned a fish in your life. Probably, the only time you've ever seen one is on a dinner plate with lemon slices on the side."
Max just smiled.
The sun was low in the sky by the time Max began cooking the fish he'd expertly cleaned while Jamie shared a soft drink with him. They only had a couple of bottled waters and had agreed to ration them.
When the fish were done, Max laid them on the lid of the ice chest. They'd watched the ice chest itself float down the river.
He and Jamie waited until the fish had cooled before tasting it.
"It could use a little seasoning," Jamie said.
"Next time have Emeril do your cooking."
"I wasn't complaining," she said. "Actually, it's very good."
"Thank you," Max said. "Coming from you, I consider that a high compliment."
Jamie looked at him. "What do you mean, coming from me?"
"You're not always easy to get along with. Some women would be happy to be in your shoes right now." He grinned.
Jamie knew he was goading her. Max Holt enjoyed getting her riled. "I'm sure that's the case," she said matter-of-factly. "No doubt they would have cleaned the fish and chewed it for you, but I'm not that desperate for a man's attention."
They stared at each other over the campfire. Night had settled in, cooling the temperature. The air felt good on Jamie's skin. As she looked at Max, taking in the dark hair and eyes in the soft firelight, she could easily understand why women flocked to him.
"You look mighty fine sitting by a campfire, Miss Swift, with your hair shining like gold in the firelight. I'll bet it feels like silk."
Jamie dropped her gaze, but she could feel Max's eyes on her. She felt self-conscious, knowing he missed nothing. "You're staring," she said, still refusing to look up.
His voice was soft. "How do you know?"
"I feel your eyes on me."
"I'm looking at your neck, and I'm thinking—"
"Stop it, Max." She turned and looked toward the water, which was too black to see.
"Know what else I'm thinking? You have a nice profile. Strong stubborn chin, dainty little upturned nose, high cheekbones. A perfect face, Jamie."
Jamie felt her throat tighten. For some reason she felt very sad. She felt bereft, as though something very important was missing in her life, and she'd only just realized it.
She had planned her future down to the last detail, and Max Holt had stepped into her life and made her question it for the first time. Max Holt, who thrived on taking chances and lived life on the very edge; Max, who would think nothing of picking up and leaving for a new adventure at the drop of a hat. Like her mother.
Jamie blinked back a tear and stared up at the night sky where stars winked back at her, bringing back memories of her youth. "This reminds me of when I was a Girl Scout," she said, trying to hide the emotion in her voice.
"You were a Girl Scout?"
"Does that surprise you?"
"Not really. I can see you going door to door threatening people to buy cookies."
She smiled while her eyes sought out the different constellations her father had taught her long ago. "Hey, I was a sweet little Girl Scout. Naive, too. I was probably the last Girl Scout to find out how babies are made." She paused. "I'm still pretty naive, I guess. Either that or I'm just plain dumb."
"What do you mean?"
Finally, she looked at him. And wished she hadn't. Max Holt was even more handsome with the fire casting shadows across his face and turning his hair an inky black. She could almost sense his desire, and it would be so easy to give in to it. But then what? She shoved the thought aside. "This whole business about missing tax dollars has me thinking," she said.
"Yeah?"
"I thought it was all a bunch of malarkey, even though people speculated about it now and then. I realize I didn't want to believe it because I was afraid people I grew up with and cared about were involved."
"We always want to think the best of people."
Jamie was quiet for a moment. Finally, she looked at him. "What was your family like?" she asked, realizing she was suddenly curious about him. She smiled. "I would imagine there was never a dull moment with Deedee around."
"Deedee and I weren't close because of our age difference. I was an accident, so to speak. A mistake, as far as my parents were concerned."
"Oh."
"Don't worry, I don't feel like a mistake. My enormous ego, as you refer to it, has convinced me I have too much to give to this world. But there was a time when I believed they were right.
"I was very fortunate. My cousin and his wife took me in when I was sixteen so I was raised in a loving home and given every opportunity to succeed. I had a lot more than most kids. There are times I miss the normalcy of that life."
"I would imagine it's hard for you to live a normal life under the circumstances. I mean you're so well-known."
"I try to maintain a low profile. That's why I keep my place in Virginia. It's fairly private."
"Max?"
"Yeah?"
"What's it like being so damn rich?"
He laughed. "I don't know, Jamie. I've never been poor so I have nothing to compare it to."
"Then you'll never be able to say you've lived a full life," she said laughingly. "You'll never know the humiliation of bouncing a check or having your credit card denied in front of your friends. What kind of life is that?"
"I'm lucky that somebody else pays my bills," he said, "but what you have to realize is, I don't think about money."
"Because you have so much of it?"
"No. Because rich people can get as obsessive about money as those who don't have a lot of it. If I sat around and worried about where every
dime of my money went or whether I was investing it wisely, I wouldn't have time to enjoy my life. I just don't think about it."
Jamie couldn't imagine living without money problems because she'd always raked and scraped to keep her head above water, even when her father was alive.
"I try to do the best I can," Max went on. "I try to concentrate on doing the next right thing. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't."
Jamie enjoyed hearing him talk. His voice was nice. It lulled her into a sense of well-being. A splash sounded near shore. Jamie shone her light in that direction.
"It's just a fish," Max said. "If you're feeling anxious you could always sit closer."
"I'm not afraid of a silly old fish."
"What are you afraid of?"
She looked at him, brow wrinkled.
"Let me guess," he said. "You are afraid of not knowing what tomorrow will bring. Am I right?"
It was uncanny the way he was able to read her. "I suppose you never worry."
"I'd be a liar if I told you I wasn't concerned about what's been going on, but I usually let tomorrow take care of itself."
Jamie yawned. "I'm beat. This has been a long day."
"Why don't you rest?"
She hesitated. "Yeah, right."
"I'm not sleepy. I'll let you know if the boogeyman shows up."
A few minutes later, Jamie settled herself on top of the blanket Max had laid on the ground, and she covered herself with the other one. Surprisingly enough, she was able to relax. She peered out at Max who continued to sit quietly by the fire. Even though he'd claimed he wasn't tired, she could see the fatigue around his eyes and mouth, and she realized he was staying awake and keeping watch. Once again, she felt a lump in her throat.
Was she making a mistake by marrying Phillip? Could it be that love offered more than security, companionship, and a warm body beside her at night? She had thought herself in love before, but it wasn't until Phillip came along that she began to take it seriously.
Phillip picked fresh flowers and brought them to her door because he'd read somewhere it was supposed to be more romantic than store bought. Phillip always saw that Jamie sat at her favorite table in the restaurant they frequented, sang in her ear when they danced close, and had offered to bail her out financially when he'd discovered how hard she was struggling to make ends meet.