“The guy with the scar,” she said, hoping she sounded conversational and cool. “If he gets his act together.”
“Not going to happen,” answered Victor smugly.
She glanced around, hoping Z’ev would come back.
“I think maybe I should go,” she said, starting to stand.
“I think you should stay with me,” said Victor, grabbing her wrist and yanking her back into the seat. “Where is he?”
“Where’s who?” asked Nikki, playing dumb.
“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his grip on her wrist tightening to a painful level. “Where’s Jim? I know he’s here somewhere. Tell me where he is.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nikki said, trying to regain control of her mind. She had trained for this. There were things she was supposed to do. There was a checklist. Step one: assess threat level. OK, yup, Victor seemed a danger to her physical self and to the mission. Step two: formulate escape plan. Uh . . .
“You think I didn’t see the two of you at the club last night? He’s up to something, and I think you’re going to tell me what it is. Aren’t you, pretty girl?”
He shook her arm, jerking her whole body back and forth, and for the first time Nikki looked him in the eye. She’d had enough.
Step three: execute plan with the full force necessary.
THAILAND IX
Riot, Part Deux
From the fighters’ entrance a noise erupted. Nikki and Victor both looked up to see a man dressed in a short-sleeve yellow button-up shirt and brown polyester slacks come running down the aisle toward the ring. He was dripping blood from a cut over his eyebrow. He reached the ring and grabbed for one of the fighters, shouting something in Thai. The entire arena burst into shouts and yells. From the betting section came an immediate flurry of paper and screams. The entire arena seemed to be stampeding for the ring.
Seizing the opportunity, Nikki snapped her arm out of Victor’s grasp and hit him in the face with the nearest thing to hand—her purse. She knew it was a girlie move, but her purse did pack a significant heft, and he jerked back in surprise and pain. Dodging away, she made it to the aisle and began to battle her way toward the exit. She glanced over her shoulder, checking to see if Victor was following, but he was being pushed toward the ring and away from her. Arriving in the front hallway, breathless and skidding on spilled drinks, she looked around for an escape.
“Nikki!” Z’ev was bullying his way through the crowd by his sheer height, and seemed to be dragging someone along in the wake behind him.
“Victor!” she yelled, pointing back the way she had come. Z’ev frowned, reached behind him, and pushed the someone out in front of him, bringing Nikki face to furious face with Lawan Chinnawat.
She was a small woman—slender and just over five feet tall. She wore her black hair in a no-nonsense shoulder-length bob and blunt-edged bangs. If it weren’t for her determined and angry expression, her perfect cupid’s bow mouth and almond eyes might have looked sweet. Instead, she looked as though she might start breaking things momentarily.
“In here,” ordered Z’ev, shoving both women at a door.
“We can’t go in there,” Nikki protested, digging in her heels. “It’s the men’s room.”
“So? You’ve been in there before,” said Z’ev, recalling the Canada incident and what Nikki thought was a very inopportune moment, and pushing them through the door.
“Who the hell are you?” demanded Lawan, turning to Nikki.
“My name’s Nikki Lanier,” Nikki said, speaking quickly. “I work for Carrie Mae. Laura Daniels sent me to help.”
“Sent you to help? You call this helping?” She gestured angrily around at the men’s room. Nikki’s phone rang out of the depths of her purse, but she ignored it.
“I didn’t start the riot!” snapped Nikki.
“You are leading them right to me!” yelled Lawan.
There was a shuddering thump on the outside of the men’s room door. Nikki’s phone blared insistently, and there was another crash on the bathroom door.
“I think,” said Nikki, breathing deeply. “I think it would be better if you went in here.” She indicated a stall.
“I’m not hiding in a stall,” Lawan said flatly.
“Well, unless you have Tony Jaa skills that I don’t know about,” Nikki said, pushing Lawan in and shoving her purse at the angry woman, “I really think you should.” She reached into her purse, extracted the stun gun, and pulled the stall door shut, just as the bathroom door broke off its hinges, sending Z’ev and Victor sprawling across the floor. Closely following them were two equally burly men. Victor was the kind of man who traveled with a pack.
“Get her!” yelled Victor, pointing at Nikki. Whatever he had been going to say next was cut off as Z’ev threw him into a stall. The two goons were clearly torn between helping their boss and following instructions.
“Your move, fellas,” Nikki said, palming the stun gun and hoping she didn’t sound as scared as she was. The two men split up, one going after Z’ev and the other reaching for Nikki. He was surprisingly fast, but she was ready for him. She faded left and kicked him in the stomach. He grunted and spun around after her. Dimly she was aware that there was suddenly a great quantity of water spraying in the air and her phone was still beeping. The goon closed the distance, reaching for her neck, but he never got that far as she slid the stun gun out and up into the soft spot under his jaw. The man dropped, hitting the floor with a smack that made her wince.
She looked up to see how Z’ev was doing. The bathroom was covered in water from a spraying pipe that had been wrenched from the wall. Z’ev was in the process of giving the second goon a swirlie. Victor was shaking his head, staying upright only through the aid of a urinal. Just as Z’ev stood back from the unconscious man, Victor recovered from his stupor, lunged forward, gripped Z’ev in a bear hug, and heaved him into the air. Z’ev cracked his head backward into the man’s face, then threw his body weight onto Victor’s grip. Victor, surprised by pain and slippery from the spraying water, let Z’ev loose. Z’ev landed firmly on his feet and sent the man stumbling back with an elbow to the chest. As Victor skidded backward in her direction, Nikki took advantage of the moment and jabbed the stun gun into the base of his skull. Victor made a high-pitched grunting noise and hit the floor, where he lay twitching.
Lawan came out of the stall, dropping Nikki’s purse. When she saw Victor’s body, her face contorted with rage, and she began kicking the prone man and screaming in Thai.
“Whoa,” said Nikki.
“Hey,” Z’ev said, his tone sharp and commanding. When Lawan didn’t respond, he grasped her under the armpits and lifted her away from Victor, her legs still flailing.
“What goes on here?” asked a voice, and they all turned to find the room was suddenly filled with Thai boxers. Nikki recognized the one in front as the “usher” who’d given Z’ev the program. “Are you all right?” His question was clearly directed toward Lawan.
Z’ev put Lawan down, but she continued to yell angrily in Thai, pointing at Victor and then at Z’ev. At one point she even gestured toward Nikki, and Nikki tensed. None of the kickboxers was big, but they looked as if they’d been carved out of teak. They might only have weighed a buck twenty apiece, but Nikki was willing to bet that it was a buck twenty that bought a whole lot of pain. If this was going to be a fight, she was thinking she maybe should have brought her gun. The kickboxers made a move toward Victor.
“I can’t let you take him,” said Z’ev, stepping between Victor and the kickboxers.
“If you’re not going to help,” said Lawan, “then stay out of my way.”
“I’m trying to help,” Z’ev said, “but I have to do it my way. We need him.”
“That doesn’t help Lindawati,” said Lawan.
“I’m doing my best,” Z’ev said.
“Not good enough, government man,” said Lawan, turning on her heel and storming around Victor’s
prone body and out of the room. The kickboxers went after her, leaving Nikki and Z’ev under the steady drizzle of the burst water pipe.
“They tore your suit jacket,” Nikki said, picking up her purse and slipping the stun gun into it. She was certain there were more pertinent things to say, but it was the only thing that came to mind.
Z’ev glanced at the place where the pocket had been ripped from his jacket. “Yeah, they did,” he said, straightening up. He turned to the mirror and wiped the blood off his lip with the casual air of someone performing a routine task. “Come on,” he said, opening the door for her. “We’re getting wet.” He followed her out into the hallway. The sound of crashing seats and angry voices still came from the arena.
Picking up a janitor’s broom, placed to the side of the hall like a piece of flotsam, he shoved it through the handle on the door, locking Victor inside. Then he flung his torn and bloody jacket casually over his shoulder so that none of the damage showed.
“What happened out here?” Z’ev asked as a few people ran by.
“I’m not sure,” Nikki answered. “There was some sort of upset about the fight.”
“Yeah?” he said, putting one hand on her shoulder and steering her out of the arena. She could tell that he wasn’t really listening.
“Can I borrow your phone?” he asked, as they left the building. The walkways were crowded with knots of chattering fight fans. Lawan and her kickboxers were nowhere to be seen.
“Um . . . yeah,” answered Nikki, delving into her purse again, pushing aside the stun gun, her sunglasses, compact, and lipstick she was hoping was of the nonexplosive variety, before pulling out her cell phone.
“That button and dial,” said Nikki, pointing out the call buttons. “But not those two! I haven’t read far enough in the manual to figure out what they do yet,” she explained hastily. She didn’t want to mention that she was worried that he would push them and accidentally blow something up. He took the phone with one hand, but his eyes remained fixated on her purse.
“Think you’ve got enough crap in there?” He started to dial without looking, still staring. “And how do you fit it all in there? It’s not like it’s a big purse.”
Before Nikki could respond, someone answered Z’ev’s call and he walked a few steps off the path. Nikki stayed where she was, trying to process all that had just happened, but it was hard to concentrate over the sound of the phrase “government man” ringing in her ears. That could mean only one thing: Val had been right. Z’ev wasn’t who he said he was. Nikki was suddenly very hurt and then very, very angry. Who did he think he was? Did he really think he could just go jerking her around like that? And who cared what she put in her purse? It was her purse. And no, she wasn’t just going to stay put and wait until he came to claim her. She spotted a couple of tourists who had also been inside at the time of the fight and approached them.
“Hey, do you guys know what happened in there?” she asked, smiling.
“Took us a while to figure it out,” one of the men said, his accent distinctly Australian.
“We had to ask one of the ring judges,” said the other, also Australian.
“Turns out the fight was fixed. One of the trainers found out and they tried to stop him from telling, but he escaped.”
“I knew he shouldn’t have been losing!” Nikki exclaimed. The two Australians looked startled.
“You’ll have to excuse my wife,” said Z’ev, coming up behind her, the phone still pressed to his ear. “She does like the fights.” He draped an arm across her shoulders, and the two Australians laughed as if he had made an actual joke. He nodded to the two men and walked away, effectively forcing Nikki to go with him. Nikki smiled for the strangers, seething silently.
As they walked away, she heard one of the Australians mutter, “Lucky bastard,” which only reinforced her anger. Z’ev was lucky—lucky she didn’t kick his ass.
“Yeah, OK, got it,” Z’ev said, speaking into the phone. Stress made his consonants harder and more American than usual. “I’ll get back as soon as I can. No, it’s a call on the other line. Yeah, bye.” He punched the Off button and without asking Nikki, answered the waiting call.
“Nikki’s phone,” he said. Startled, Nikki reached for the phone, but he leaned away from her outstretched hand. Nikki felt a slosh of panic. It had to be Val on the phone, and she was going to get so reamed for this. She held out her hand more emphatically, but Z’ev just grinned.
“Uh, yes, ma’am,” he said, as his face made a dramatic change to serious and he handed her the phone. “It’s your mother,” he said with one hand over the speaker.
Nikki shook her head, backing away from the phone. He held it out with more conviction.
“Nikki?” Her mother’s tiny voice could be heard echoing from the phone. With a sigh, Nikki took the phone from his hand and put it to her ear.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Nikki? Who was that?”
“Oh, you know, just someone I met.” She didn’t want to talk about Z’ev while he was standing there.
“And you’re letting him answer your phone? I don’t really think that’s wise. What if he goes through your phone book and copies down all your information and steals your identity?”
“He couldn’t fit into my dresses,” answered Nikki. Z’ev gave her a strange look.
“What? That is not what stealing your identity means, Nikki. Why do you say such ridiculous things?”
“I lent him my phone to call someone. You were on the other line.”
“Oh. Well, I suppose that’s all right then.” There was a pause, while her mother regrouped for the next attack. “Is he good-looking?” Nikki gave Z’ev the once-over and Z’ev met her stare with a bland smile.
“Some people think so.”
“Hmm. He had a nice voice. Is he nice?”
“Sometimes,” Nikki answered.
“What does he do? He isn’t a native, I hope?”
“He says he’s a lawyer,” answered Nikki, and saw Z’ev wince at her stress on his lie.
“Oooh, that could be good.”
“I think it’s more complicated than that.”
“Well, still, he sounds promising: I won’t keep you. But you said you’d call and you didn’t call. I worry, you know.”
“Yeah, sorry. But I’ve been really busy, and I wasn’t sure of the time difference. I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“Don’t be silly. As if I’d be mad at you for waking me up.” Nikki considered pointing out that her entire childhood indicated otherwise, but she thought better of it.
“OK, I’ll call you later then.” Nikki hoped Nell would take the hint and hang up.
“Bye, sweetie.”
“Bye, Mom.” Nikki pushed the Off button and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “So,” she said, turning to Z’ev, “Are we going to have another one of those conversations where you explain why something bizarre is perfectly reasonable?”
“Like your relationship with your mother?”
“My relationship with my mother is not bizarre,” she snapped. “Besides, I’m trying to get over my mother issues. Now what about those guys in the bathroom?”
“It’s taken care of,” he said.
“What about Lawan?”
“How do you know about her?” he demanded sharply.
“My company donates to her foundation. She’s one of the people I’m supposed to talk to here. She’s the keynote speaker of the conference! Now, what was she doing with you?”
“You know we aren’t really married,” he snapped. “I don’t have to answer your questions. Why are you worried about her, anyway? I don’t think this kind of thing is your job.”
“Carrie Mae helps women,” Nikki said. “It is my job.”
“Carrie Mae sells makeup,” he said harshly.
“Hey! There is nothing wrong with selling makeup. Each Carrie Mae consultant is her own boss and earns her own money, on her own time. That kind of flexibility and e
xtra income can really help families.” She paused, realizing that she was giving the wrong impression. “And I only did it once. And besides, it’s not like the experience was scar-free.”
“You got scars from selling makeup?”
“I didn’t say they were my scars,” replied Nikki, avoiding eye contact, trying to figure out where she’d lost track of the conversation. “My point is that the Carrie Mae Foundation helps women, so it is my job to help Lawan. How do you know her? Why did she call you?”
“We’re not having this conversation,” he said, cutting her off and looking around while making shushing noises with his free hand.
The sound of police sirens could be heard in the distance, and Z’ev pulled on her arm, trying to make her move. “This conversation is bad for both of us. We are not having it.”
“No,” Nikki said, resisting. “Why don’t you just tell me the truth?” He walked a step away and then came back, towering over her. Nikki held her breath, frightened for a moment, and then angry that he could do that to her.
“Nikki,” he said, stepping away, as if sensing her sudden change in mood, “this is really not something you want to be involved in, and I’m not someone you want to be involved with. Let’s just leave it at that.”
He took her arm again and walked away, increasing the length of his stride, forcing Nikki to break into a trot to keep up. He slowed down to a walk again as they came out onto a sidewalk, putting his arm around her waist, attempting to blend in with the other strolling couples. But Nikki’s spine remained poker straight and she knew that anyone who looked closely would notice the distance between them.
“What about you?” he whispered in her ear, which might have been romantic under different circumstances. “Do you always pack a stun gun?”
“Yes,” countered Nikki, as if he were crazy for asking. When in doubt, pretend you’re the normal one. “Particularly when I go on dates with suspicious ‘government’ men.”
Bulletproof Mascara: A Novel Page 25
