Goodman stopped his club in mid-swing. He stared at me and relaxed.
When I was seventy-five yards away, he cocked his body in my direction, readied his club, and swung.
The ball cracked from the tee and zoomed right at my face, like he’d shot it from an antitank rifle.
I snatched the ball before it hit me between the eyes.
I kept walking toward Goodman. He lowered the club and waited. A straw fedora shaded his face. His gray eyes were the color of lead bullets. Both of his hands worked the grip of the club like he was trying to choke it. His mouth chewed these words: “You’re harder to kill than a fucking roach in a woodpile.”
Ten feet from him, I snapped my wrist and flung the golf ball too fast for him to react. The ball thwacked his forehead and bounced aside.
Goodman flinched in pain and sank to his knees. He rubbed his forehead and steadied himself by leaning on his club.
“You son of a bitch,” he said, standing. The ball left a red welt the size of a quarter.
I stepped toward him. “I’m just getting started. The next thing I’m going to do is shove that club up your ass.”
“Not so fast, you freakish fuck.”
“You and your mouth need some manners.” I got closer.
He held his hand up and dug into his pocket. He tossed something at me.
A cell phone. I caught it. The phone had a leopard skin cover, like Carmen’s.
My ears and fingertips tingled in alarm.
I opened the phone and recognized the photo on the screen-Carmen blowing herself a kiss.
It was Carmen’s phone. How did Goodman get it? The tingling turned into an electric shock.
“The last message in her voice mail was from you, Felix.” Goodman rubbed the knot on his forehead and winced. His frown changed into a smile. “Behave yourself, and you might see her again.”
Chapter
39
Carmen captured?
My mouth went dry. My fingers started to tremble and I forced them to keep still. “This is a trick.”
A dozen men in black uniforms appeared from behind the trees and bushes. They pointed submachine guns and assault rifles. My fingers trembled again. I’d come here thinking I was the tough guy and instead I stumbled into their trap.
My thoughts careened into one another.
Everything in this case had been about the darkest of conspiracies and the confluence of cold-blooded human cunning and alien murder. What was the Araneum warning? That I not allow one of us vampires to get compromised.
But I had. Worse, it was a good friend, someone who had saved me.
The trail leading here began with the death of one alien, so were other aliens involved in her capture? I didn’t know, but how else could Goodman have managed to snag Carmen?
Another golf cart rounded the corner past a stand of live oaks and palms. The cart drew closer and I saw Krandall driving, Peltier by his side. Both wore matching dark uniforms and equipment harnesses. At the party, these two looked like pampered yuppies; now they had the menacing presence of wolverines. An HK submachine gun with a silencer rested on Peltier’s lap. Make that armed wolverines.
Carmen had gone to see them for a session of casual sex. So these two had set her up. How? They and Goodman had to know more about us than I could imagine. What device-alien or otherwise-had they used to capture her? Carmen? Mice subduing a tiger made more sense. My kundalini noir tightened in confusion.
Goodman would tell me. Quick as a thunderbolt, I seized him by the neck. I whirled him around to use as a shield. If the guards opened fire, Goodman would be the first to die. Movement rippled through the security detail as they steadied their weapons to shoot.
Goodman waved his arms. He coughed twice and pulled at my fingers. “I’m okay.”
Peltier and Krandall cupped their earpieces and shouted into the microphones clipped to their harnesses. “Check fire. Check fire.”
My talons pressed into his throat. “Where is Carmen?”
Goodman squirmed from the pain. He turned to look at me. The arrogant smile of his was long gone, replaced by a grim, hateful stare. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”
“One of them, who?”
“The alien Gilbert Odin.”
Goodman knew about aliens and had me mistaken for one of them. A little bit of good news.
Unfortunately, I was surrounded by bad news. If the guards opened fire, I would kill Goodman first and then leap at Krandall and Peltier and slash their throats. After that?
“Easy now,” Goodman said. “Don’t forget about your friend.”
He didn’t need to repeat the threat. What were my options? Only one.
“I’m not leaving without Carmen.”
More armed men crept out from the surrounding trees and brush.
“I knew you’d say that.” Goodman couldn’t keep from gloating.
I gave him a fresh taste of my talons. “If you think you’ll survive this, think again. I’m going to tear that smile off your face before this is over.”
Goodman’s face turned red from the pain. He gasped, “You want Carmen? Then let up and you’ll find out what I want from you.”
What could he possibly want? I relaxed my hold.
Goodman’s color faded and he stumbled and coughed. He turned his attention toward Krandall and Peltier. “Tell everyone to stay cool. We’re going inside. Pass the word.”
“Inside where?” I poked my talons into Goodman’s neck.
He winced and grabbed my wrist. The guards steadied their aim.
“Somebody wants to talk to you.”
“Who?” My kundalini noir coiled in alarm.
“Mr. Big.”
“You’ve lost me.” I gave Goodman’s neck another squeeze.
He choked and clutched at my fingers. “You want to talk to the one in charge, let’s go.”
My kundalini noir coiled tighter.
That arrogant glint hovered in Goodman’s eyes. “You don’t have a choice. Carmen, remember?”
I thought I had come here to bully Goodman. Instead I was the one with my back against the wall.
Goodman clasped my hand. “Mr. Big wants to talk. He’s got questions about you and your friend.”
“Who is this Mr. Big?”
“Does it matter? You don’t think you can handle him? I thought you wanted your friend back. No? Then stay out here and pick your nose.” He gestured toward the guards. “They need something to do.”
I had Goodman by the neck but he had me by the balls. I let go. “What kind of questions?”
“That’s between you and him.”
I looked back at Krandall and Peltier. She was touching her earpiece.
I warned them: “There isn’t a bullet fast enough to kill me before I can rip the heart out of your boss. Either one of you want to bet that I couldn’t kill you now?”
I expected Peltier to flinch in horror. Instead she put a hand on her submachine gun and flicked the safety to the fire position.
I pushed Goodman into his golf cart. “You drive. Don’t want to keep your Mr. Big waiting.”
He got behind the wheel and I sat next to him. I rested my hand on his shoulder. “Goodman, if I detect anything suspicious…”
Goodman massaged the red marks I’d left on his neck. “You mean more suspicious than being escorted by a platoon of armed guards through a golf course?”
Good point. “Despite what you think,” I replied, “the odds aren’t in your favor.”
“Don’t get too cocky, my weird friend.” Goodman’s demeanor frosted. “I’ve made a career of beating the odds.”
“So have I.”
Goodman pursed his lips in contempt before giving a rude smile. He pressed the accelerator pedal and the cart rolled forward. He drove on the asphalt cart path toward the hotel. I counted more than thirty guards along the way. Hotel guests gathered a safe distance from the display of firepower and gawked at the spectacle.