Earle turned to Jeff. “Mr. Mueller, who is this?”
“Robert Cortland. He owns the club she worked at.”
Earle nodded. “You and Mr. Layden will have to take care of him on your own dime.”
“No problem.”
“What do you mean, no problem?” Carlotta walked behind her captors. The suited men kept a careful eye on her. “You kidnapped me. That’s a federal crime.”
Earle laughed, but it wasn’t Carlotta’s doing. “You’re welcome to address your grievances to the police if you’re ever in a position to do so, but I don’t think you will be.”
“Why did you bring Bob?” Carlotta shook her head. “He doesn’t mean anything to you.”
“He does to me,” said Mueller. “I don’t like anyone taking a shot at me.”
“Why do you want her back?” Bob was stalling for time, trying to come up with some plan of action. If there was one thing smug egomaniacs like Earle shared with entertainers, it was the need for an audience.
“I’m glad you asked me that question. I could say she makes me laugh, or that the sex was incredible.” Earle feigned a yawn. “But that’s not it. The truth is, she made me look ridiculous. A man with my position in life can’t have one of his acquisitions leave him of its own accord. That’s all she was to me, an attractive acquisition. So, in return for her disloyalty I want to make her miserable and I want the pleasure of seeing her miserable every day of her wretched life. May it be a long one.”
“You’re a fool,” Carlotta said. “It’s a damned shame money can’t buy sense. Maybe then you’d understand.”
Breton Earle folded. “With my money, I’m hardly restrained by your idea of what’s sensible, Miss Desoto.”
“Don’t have to go begging to daddy anymore?” Carlotta gave Earle a nasty smile.
Earle eyes took on a hard quality. “My father died 19 months ago. After the estate was fully executed I gave some of my best men the job of finding you, which they did. I bought this house to work from. It’s a more expensive prison than you deserve, but who knows where I’ll ultimately keep you.”
“Asshole,” Carlotta said.
“It’s a shame you didn’t fall for our blond Adonis. He was very disappointed when you disappeared from the coffee shop.” Earle shook his head. “You’re such a slut. You’d have enjoyed that.”
Carlotta raised her chin. “The last person in the world to know what I’d enjoy is you, Breton.”
“What exactly are you going to do to her?” Bob planned on keeping the questions coming as long as Earle was in an answering mood.
“Whatever it suits me to do at any given time. I’m sure whatever it is, it will be better than what happens to you.” He headed for the door. “Shall we, gentlemen?”
Mueller bent down and whispered in Bob’s ear. “I’m betting we’ve got an oil drum in your size. If not, I’ll just have to break some of your bones to get you in.” He grinned and followed Earle and Layden out of the room. The door clicked shut and Bob heard a lock being set.
“Okay,” he said, removing his shirt and shoes. “Put these away. They’ll be back in a minute.”
“What?”
He tossed her his pants. “Hide them.”
She picked up his clothing and gave him a long look. “So, you’re going to die and I’m facing a fate worse than death and you want to score with me as a dying request?”
Bob dropped his underwear at her feet. “No.”
Carlotta stared at his crotch and Bob realized that the adrenaline had gotten to him in an unexpected way. “Those who are about to die salute you,” she said. “No wonder you’re the boss.”
It was good she was still cracking jokes, however lame, but now was not the time. “I’m going to show you something, and I don’t want you to freak out. Okay, my dear?”
“You’ve already showed me something, but okay.”
Bob puddled, waited a few seconds, and reconstituted.
“Holy shit. You’re one too.” Her mouth closed and eyes narrowed. “You never told me, even after you knew about me, you never told me.” She slapped him.
Bob raised a cautionary finger. “My head really hurts, so don’t do that again. I was going to tell you, after we had sex the first time.”
“Oh, that’s cute. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me something that important.” Carlotta sat down. “So where does this get us?”
“Out, with any luck.” Bob padded over to the door and pressed his ear to it. He heard footfalls approaching at a brisk pace and ran to the far corner where there was a large, heavy rug with a Middle Eastern design. “Don’t tell them a thing, and try to keep them from stepping on me.” The door began to open. He centered the rug on the top of his head and got flat.
The vibrations were heavy, frantic and all around him. He prayed not to get trod on, fearing one of his vital organs might be turned to paste. Bob would have held his breath, but he was doing the equivalent anyway. His flat body was incapable of respiration and the oxygen to his tissues was quickly depleting.
After what seemed to him like the eternity of a bad comedy routine, Bob resumed his normal form. He was alone in the darkened room. He heard voices outside the door, but they were growing fainter. He had two options for escape, the door and the window. After groping his way to the door, he tested the knob, but it was still locked. Judging by the crack of light under the frame, he might be able to slide under, but it would be quite a squeeze and he might wind up in the lap of Earle’s goons. He fumbled under the couch where Carlotta had tucked his clothes and pulled them out, then moved to the window and slowly opened the blinds. It would be no problem for him to get under the bars, but that would still leave him on the outside looking in. Doubtless, they were searching the grounds for him right now, possibly with dogs, although he was relieved not to hear the sound of any barking.
He unlatched the window, lifted it silently up a foot or so, and pushed his clothes out under the bars. Decision made. Bob thrust his arms under the bars and began to slide out. By the time he was completely flat, enough of his body extended past the windowsill that he was dragged down the wall and onto the ground. The impact didn’t bother him and Bob pulled himself together and hurriedly put on his clothes. The tiny flashlight was still in his pocket, but along with his car keys, those were his only tools.
He circled the perimeter of the house, amazed and disgusted at the size of the place. Although only one story, Earle’s mansion had to be five or six thousand square feet of house, minimum. Most of the rooms were dark and he quickly passed them by. He came to a well-lit corridor that was, for the moment anyway, deserted. The window was unlocked and unbarred. Taking a deep breath, he opened the window and went in. There was a door on either side of the hallway, but Bob decided to move further into the interior of the house, maybe catch the sound of voices and overhear something about Carlotta. More likely, he’d get caught or shot, but he wasn’t going to run for it. He wouldn’t ever be able to live with that. About 20 feet in was a large living area, lit by a single lamp. The ceiling arched upward from all sides to an oval skylight.