bloody, their mustachioed upper lips lifting in almost a communal hiss as they spied me.
Certainly they weren't zombies or any other unhumans, but they were even worse. I'd seen this subhuman type on TV and internet news sites being taken away by small armies of international law enforcement. These were the terrifying drug cartel musclemen, the men who prefaced hits with unimaginable tortures, offed whole innocent families, and killed by gruesome beheadings and acid baths.
They were all looking at me now.
Freshhhhh meat, Irma echoed my fears.
I immediately adapted my modestly high heels to a useless bimbo-spike stutter and ran into the danger instead of away. Time to embrace Dumb Blonde Gringa mode.
"Oh, gosh, Ben," I breathed. "Am I interrupting an important business meeting? So sorry."
All he could do was cough up blood, which I appeared to be too ditsy to see.
"Say, Ben. Got a minute? Here are some goodies from upstairs. Everything looks good to go for the hotel opening." I gazed around, blinking vacantly. "So these guys here are the new security crew masquerading as bellboys and parking valets? Wow. They really set the tone. Speaking of 'tone,' I left my phone with all my listed shopping destinations in here."
I scooped up my cell phone from the desk.
On I babbled. "And, Bensy, you promised, promised, promised to have this phone covered in Austrian crystals at the hotel shopping promenade by now." Stamp of klutzy pump heel as I dumped the bag under a guest chair. I cradled the phone to my cheek and eyed the screen. "I'm so disappointed."
A text message from Ric read "W. Goose chase. Back ASAP."
"Look, this stupid phone won't even work," I whined, punching my fingernails against the phone screen's keyboard like a demented typist. I managed to get off "Prisoners at EC" before one of the Reptilian Guard smacked the cell phone out of my hand to the floor.
I blinked at them, mainly because they didn't seem able to.
"Twist-tie the stupid bitch," my abrupt personal phone operator barked.
Two of the poisonous toads jumped me. I resisted taking a bow before I was smashed to the floor with my wrists and ankles bound by wire cable.
"Now," said one of the thugs, circling Ben. "You're gonna tell us who got the Augusta Theater goods the boss wanted."
The film? Metropolis? These bozos were after the film? Why?
Ben's unresponsive eyes had rolled up in his head like a saint's ascending to Heaven. I hoped he was just unconscious, not dead.
Half of me wanted to sic these creeps on the penthouse suite, where Snow was alone and rapt in his landmark film and maybe the ... aftermath of me. Serve him right. I also suspected Snow could unleash some nasty containment spell on them. My other half knew that my quota of guilt over Snow was full up for the moment.
So, only I could get Ben and me out of this murderous mess. To do that, I had to unravel why Torbellino wanted or needed the Metropolis film more than Snow.
What would link Ric and his ancient enemy, El Demonio, to a rare film now bound to become an unbeatable attraction for Snow's Vegas empire?
Besides me?
UNFORTUNATELY, A FEMALE presence did not encourage the drug cartel thugs to restrain themselves.
Their flaunted lighters and straight razors, though, could only produce bloody gurgles from Ben Hassard. These minions were too stupidly brutal to get any answers that would satisfy their absent boss. So, they were primed to commit mass slaughter to take their minds off El Demonio's reaction to their failure. I didn't want Ben to die.
I had few options, but at least I was being ignored. I'd be safe until they decided to off witnesses, or play games with the helpless girl. I really had nothing to lose here but time to act.
So, I baaed softly. Baaaa-maaa.
Call me goat-girl.
The chained chupacabra in the corner perked up.
My, what a multibreed beastie it was seen close-up, a little like Barney the purple dinosaur if one wanted to put a soft and cuddly spin on it. The leathery gray-green skin and the quills defining its spine and tail gave it a lizard-like quality, and its blunt-snouted and fanged face flaunted a black forked tongue. Every exhalation broadcast the reek of sulfur. Too many bean burritos for lunch? Or was "dragon" a part of its pedigree? I gathered it would eat me rather than fry me long-distance. Chupacabras were notorious for draining the blood of goats, and I was certainly tied up like a Judas