In Deep Shitake (A Humorous Romantic Suspense) (40 page)

Mr. Nelson tugged Mo around the front of the monstrosity where she saw
Kubikov
,
Gigantor
and a smaller goon.

“Ah, Ms. Tuttle. Nice to see you again.”
Kubikov
came forward, took Mo’s hand and kissed the back as if he was welcoming her to an embassy reception instead of holding her captive. “You know other guest,”
Kubikov
said, taking Mo by the shoulders and turning her.

Near the front of the float, Ross sat slumped and
unconcious
, tied to a chair—she prayed he was only unconscious.

What had they done to him?

Mo broke away from the
Kubikov
and pushed past Nelson uncaring about his threatening gun, as she scrambled toward her love on shaking legs.

A gash with clotted blood marred his temple. Kneeling by his side she placed trembling fingers to his cheek. It was warm to the touch. He was alive!

“Oh, Ross, Ross.” Mo stroked her fingers through his vibrant brown hair. Ross moaned and leaned into her hand as if by instinct. “He needs a doctor. He probably has a concussion.”

“No doctor. Mr. Dagger will soon awaken and join in our
party,
”
Kubikov
purred. “It is pity, but we start without him.”

Kubikov
snapped his fingers and
Gigantor
came forward. Jerking Mo up, his beefy fingers bit into the flesh of her upper arm.

“Where is it?”
Kubikov
demanded with a harsh sneer.

“What do you want,” Mo cried. Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes. “Just tell me what it is?”

“Why do you persist in this game play, Ms. Tuttle? Or should I say, Francesca.”

“Francesca is a character in a movie. Stephen Dagger is a character in a movie.”

“Yes, but these are the names you and your fiancée have used in the
negotiation
.”
Kubikov
snapped his fingers and the little goon scuttled away before soon coming back with a chair.
Kubikov
seated himself. “Okay, you wish play game. I humor. I explain what you already know and then you no pretend no more.”

Kubikov
crossed his legs, withdrew a gold case from the breast pocket of his expensive suit, and extracted a cross between a cigar and a cigarette. Mo thought they were called cigarillos.

“Mr. Dagger wish me to provide him half million dollars. Perhaps he needs to finance film sequel to
SpyMatrix
movie.“ He pointed at Mo. “If he approach me like man and ask me finance film, perhaps I do. Everybody know the
SpyMatrix
so I think good investment.”
Kubikov
took a puff and blew it out as a ring. “But he not come to me. He
try
blackmail me with my own financial documents. And when I try get my documents back, negotiations break up.”

“Down,” Mo corrected absently. Could Ross really have tried to get funding for a film project from this guy? Why wouldn’t he have told her? Why go through the pretense of going to the strip club to find out what was going on if he had known all along. Even though he’d been a gherkin by not believing her earlier, Mo was certain Ross wouldn’t have put them in danger like that. And he wasn’t stupid. He’d deal with bona fide businessmen to get financing. This was all Clarence.

“Yes,
negotiation break
down. Mr. Dagger is greedy.”
Kubikov
made
a tut-tut
clucking sound. “
That not smart
. Fortunately, I know
Sharlene
,” he said, pointing at Nelson. “He say he meet you and Dagger yesterday and can get you to me. I think Dagger, he is more cooperative with you here.”

“Cooperative?” Mo asked.

“Cooperative to give me my documents. I want mess clear up.”

Did clearing up the mess include killing Clarence?

“I still don’t understand. You think we have your documents?”

“Still play game?”
Kubikov
asked. “Dagger is
oopryamee
. What is word? He is like mountain. He not
move
."

“Stubborn?”

“Yes, thank you.”
Kubikov
puffed and blew the exhaled smoke in Mo’s face causing her to give a choked cough.
Kubikov’s
brows converged into an angry
vee
. “Dagger
have
photos of financial records I am not so eager that your government see. I am not paying all the taxes you know? So you understand I not so happy with blackmail.”

Yes, Mo understood perfectly. She understood that as soon as he realized they didn't have any materials to give him,
Kubikov
would have them killed.

Ross groaned and opened his eyes.

* * * * *

The accented voice came through the darkness into Ross’s brain, telling a story of Stephen Dagger and his Francesca and the theory about blackmail being a way to finance a
SpyMatrix
sequel. The confirmation of the hair-brained scheme— conceived by Clarence, a local yokel who fancied himself a super spy, and urged on by a model who’s brains were apparently scrambled by too much
Botox
— did as much to cause Ross’s headache as the blow did. Ross knew, unfortunately, that he wasn’t dreaming.

Concentrating on his eyelids, Ross gave the mental command for them to lift. No immediate movement. Then they opened a slit. The light made him flinch and groan again.

Ross’s surroundings had a blurred quality as if he needed glasses and wasn’t wearing them.

Hard blinks and Ross straightened his neck. His head felt curiously heavy, but the movement brought relief to the pain the awkward angle had generated.

Mo stood not far away—within touching distance. It took a moment to realize that it wasn’t his vision playing tricks. She was actually there, trembling slightly but bravely facing
Kubikov
.

He longed to take her in his arms and feel her arms around him. He wanted to beg her forgiveness and feel her absolution in a kiss. He wanted to magically transport them out of this place.

He tried to reach out to her, but his arm wouldn’t move. Ross realized his hands were tied around the chair behind his back with what felt like duct tape.

“Mo.” His voice sounded faint to his ears. “Mo,” he said more strongly.

“Ross.” Mo rushed to his side and wrapped her arms around him. She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “How do you feel?”

“I’ll be all right.”

Gigantor
grabbed Mo around the waist with rough hands and hauled her away from Ross. She screamed.

“Don’t touch her,” Ross shouted, trying to jump up from the chair but finding his feet bound to the bottom. Duct tape there too.

Standing, the Russian strolled toward Ross. “Give documents copy and I let you both go,”
Kubikov
said with a smirk. He puffed again on the cigarillo.

Kubikov
couldn’t let them go. Not without chancing prison for kidnapping. The reality was that they’d be killed the minute
Kubikov
got his hands on the photos he wanted…or when he realized that Ross and Mo didn’t have them.

“Just let her go and I’ll give you what you want.”

“No, I’m not leaving you here.” The exclamation seemed to burst from Mo.

“Sweet love, the two of you. Just like Romeo and Juliet. You both want to die for the other."

* * * * *

If
Kubikov’s
words stunned Mo, they caused the opposite reaction in Ross. He erupted into a frenzy of thrashing and profanity, managing to utter every obscenity Mo had ever heard, or said, as he struggled against his bindings.

A lazy snap of the Russian’s fingers and the smaller goon’s fist fell like a club against Ross cheek.

“Stop,” she cried. “Don’t hurt him. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Good. We make progress,”
Kubikov
said. “Where is it?”

“It’s at the agency,” she sobbed out. “There’s a camera in my office at Incredible Love, it has a
digi
-card with your documents on it.”

“
Spaceeba
. Thank you.”
A curt bow from
Kubikov
.
“Tie her up," he ordered
Gigantor
.

“We not kill?” The baritone of the big goon intoned.

“No,”
Kubikov
said. However, she had the feeling that when
Gigantor
nodded he was acknowledging that he’d get a chance to kill them when the blackmail material
Kubikov
wanted rested safely in his hands.

* * * * *

The smaller goon watched them from the corner of the warehouse as he alternated between munching chips from a crackling bag and swigging from a soda can. Mo and Ross had been placed across from one another, about thirty feet apart. Mo was bound with tape to the chair
Kubikov
had vacated.

“I’m sorry,” Mo said. This had all started when she broke into Ross’s car. If she hadn't
done
as Clarence wanted, Ross wouldn't be here now.

“It’s not your fault. You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” Ross replied. “It’s me who should apologize. I should have trusted you when you said you weren’t the source for that story. I should have trusted you about Clarence being involved with Heather.” His eyes bored into hers willing Mo to feel the sincerity. If they were going to die, he wanted her forgiveness. “I should have trusted you. That is the bottom line.”

His apology rocked her with the strength of her feelings. But if they were going to die, she could give into them, couldn't she? The feelings suddenly weren't as threatening as she'd thought. Life was too short. Look at Clarence. He'd lost everything in an instant. One moment he was plotting and scheming to be with his girlfriend and the next...Mo could still see his body in her mind.

“Poor Clarence,” Mo said, her face crumpling and a tear running down her cheek.

“What do you mean?” Ross asked

“Clarence is dead.”

“These guys killed him?”

“I think so,” Mo said, sniffing. She wasn't going to get a tissue any time soon, so she'd better stop the water works. She didn't want Ross’s last memory of her to be with snot running down her face.

They both fell silent for a few moments.

The goon on his cell phone interrupted Mo’s thoughts. “Hey, buddy. Bring me some wings from the club, will
ya
?” Unlike his cohorts he had a southern drawl.

Apparently, his buddy didn’t want to accommodate.

“Come on, dude. I’m hungry over here.”

Silence.

“I know it’s a busy night with St. Patrick’s tomorrow but…”

More silence.

“Dude, I’m not supposed to leave here. The big guy said…”

More silence.

“That’s true. Where can they go?” The goon scratched at his short buzz cut. “I’m
comin
' to pick the wings up. Have ‘
em
ready. I don’t want to be gone when the boss gets back. And man, include some beer, would
ya
?”