"So you tested the waters," I said.
Richard nodded. "I tested the waters."
"You asked his permission," I said.
He nodded, again. "I asked his permission."
"And he gave it," I said.
"I think that Jean-Claude knows if he kills me, you would kill him. That you'd sacrifice all of us for one of us."
It was true. It sounded sort of stupid put that way, but it was still true. "I guess I would."
"So if I can stand it, and you want to do it, you date both of us. You share both of our beds." His hands balled into fists at his sides. "But if I can't have monogamy from you, you can't have it from me. Fair?"
I looked at him and gave the barest of nods. "It's fair, but I hate it. I hate it a lot."
Richard looked at me. "Good," he said and closed the door. A moment later, I heard water running. And I was left na**d in his bed with everything I'd ever wanted offered to me on a silver platter. So why was I sitting there, hugging my knees to my chest and fighting not to cry?
29
I wanted to get dressed. I'd brought my suitcase over from my cabin for just that reason, but I needed a shower. I'd had too much fighting, too much sweating, too much blood, too much sex last night not to shower. So I sat huddled in a nest of sheets that smelled of Richard's cologne, my perfume, the sweet scent of his skin, and sex. I had managed not to cry. In fact, if Richard had just admitted undying monogamy to me, I'd have joined him in the shower. But he hadn't, and I was confused.
There was a knock on the door. It startled me, and I almost just ignored it. Almost pretended we were still asleep or otherwise occupied, but the second knock was more insistent. The third was so firm, the door shook.
"Police, open up."
Police? "I'm not dressed. Just a minute." I really hadn't packed a robe. But I also had a sudden bad feeling. If he just wanted us out of town, why come this early? Why wouldn't he give us time to pack and get out? Unless he didn't care if we left anymore, at least not on our own. Maybe he'd known about the hit last night. Maybe he meant to kill us. I'd dealt with rogue cops before, once. It made everything harder. If I met them at the door with a gun, it would give them an excuse to shoot me. If I didn't protect myself and they shot me anyway, I'd be pissed.
"Open the f**k up, Blake."
I didn't pick up my gun, I picked up the telephone. I didn't call a lawyer. Carl Belisarius was good, but not good enough to help me stop a bullet. I called Dolph. What I wanted was another witness that couldn't be shot. A cop in another state seemed a good bet.
The phone was near my pillow. The pillow had the Browning under it, but if I had to go for the gun, I was dead.
Dolph answered with "Storr."
"It's Anita. Wilkes and his deputies are about to break down my door."
"Why?"
"Don't know yet."
"I'm putting a call through on the other line for the state cops there."
"Why? Because the cops broke down my door when I didn't open it?"
"If you don't want help, why are you calling, Anita?"
"I want to be on the phone to another cop when they come through the door."
I could hear Dolph breathe for a second or two, then, "Don't have your gun in your hand. Don't give them an excuse."
And the door burst open. Maiden was first through the door. He cleared the door going low. The tall deputy with the scar took high. They both trained guns on me. Maiden's big forty-five looked right at home in his big hands.
I just stood there, one hand clutching the white sheet to my chest, the phone in my other hand. I was very careful not to move. I stood frozen with my heart beating so hard it filled my throat like air.
Dolph's voice was in my ear: "Anita?"