The Prada Paradox

by Julie Kenner

  I pull away, searching his face until I find the courage. “Blake,” I begin, my voice tentative and soft. “I want—”

  I close my mouth, because in truth, I don’t know what I want. Not exactly. Not other than that I want this nightmare to end.

  “It’s okay,” he says. “I understand.”

  “Do you? I’m amazed because I don’t, and—”

  I don’t finish the sentence, though, because his mouth is on mine again, and this time it isn’t soft or sweet. This time it’s passionate and wild, and my entire body is burning from the heat that Blake is generating.

  His hands, I realize, are inside my robe. And so help me, I want them there. Want them all over me. Want to lose myself in sex, and forget this nightmare. I want to float away. I want Blake. I want him so much I can taste it. Taste him.

  “Blake,” I whisper. “Please.”

  And then my hands are on his belt, and we’re fumbling at clothes and—

  “Ms. Taylor?” Lucas’s voice filters through the kitchen console. I shift toward the control panel, planning on hitting the mute button, but Lucas is too fast. “There’s a man here. A Mr. Garrison. He says he’s here to read lines.”

  Damn.

  The kitchen unit has one of the video monitors, so we can see Andy standing by the gate, his entire body tense. I can’t blame him. Security checks are for airlines and federal buildings, not friends and coworkers.

  “Tell him you’ve got it covered,” Blake says, his hand on my bare hip. I look down and realize my robe is gaping open. I take a step back, then knot the thing. I see the cloud in Blake’s eyes, but look away, too chicken to face the issue.

  “Not because of us,” Blake says, his voice somehow both sad and harsh. “You’re dangerous now. We’re dangerous now.”

  The game.

  I nod, once again going a little numb. “You’re right. Of course. I wasn’t thinking.” I lean forward and tap the intercom. “Lucas, give Andy the headset for a second.” I watch as he does, and once Andy has it pressed to his ear, I say, “Listen, I appreciate you coming all this way, but something’s come up, and it’s really not a convenient time for me.”

  Wow. I sound so damn normal. There’s a reason I got that Oscar nod. I mean, considering the severely un-normal circumstances, I must be one hell of an actress.

  Or, maybe I’m not so good, because he’s still standing there, his back to the gatehouse, his face aimed at the security camera, and the handset pressed tight to his ear. “It’s important, Devi. Let me in.”

  “I’ll get the lines down, Andy. I mean, I appreciate the help and all, but I promise you I can handle it.”

  “It’s not about the goddamn lines,” he barks. And then he holds up a piece of paper. I can’t see any of the writing on it, but my stomach falls anyway. Because somehow, I know what’s coming. “It’s the game, Devi. And I’m your goddamn protector.”

  Chapter 18

  “What the hell is going on?” The words are out of Blake’s mouth before I can stop him, and he’s got Andy by the shoulder and is yanking him inside. The whole thing is very cloak-and-dagger, like something out of a movie, and I actually smile. Not because it’s funny, but because I’m on that knife edge between reality and the abyss.

  I think Blake knows it, too, because he steps away from Andy without pressing for an answer, then moves to take my hand. But not before first brushing a soft finger over my lip and giving me a smile of his own.

  Andy looks between us, then takes a tentative step farther into my foyer.

  “It’s okay,” I say, even though nothing is really okay at all.

  “Well?” Blake demands.

  “What are you doing here?” Andy retorts, his voice sharp. I’m a little surprised at his tone, actually. As far as I know, Andy and Blake get along fine. I know they’ve had meetings, giving Blake the opportunity to question Andy about the game. And I’ve never gotten one whiff of gossip about any bad blood between them.

  Of course, these are hardly normal circumstances. And neither man wants to yield the role of knight on a shiny white steed.

  “I came to run lines with Devi,” Blake says

  “What a coincidence,” Andy replies. “So did I.” He looks at me. “We need to talk.”

  “Clearly,” Blake says, before I can get a word out. “So talk.”

  I take a step forward, my earlier instincts to hide under a rock fading as I’m pushed out of the center of my own drama. Besides, the air’s getting a little thick with testosterone. Call me a girlie-girl, but at the moment, all I want is peace. And some explanations.

  I point to Blake. “You, be quiet. And you,” I continue, the finger moving to Andy, “explain what you meant outside. About being my protector.”

  He casts a quick glance Blake’s way, and I can see he wants to argue. I’m not giving him the chance. “Talk with him in the room,” I insist, “or don’t talk at all.”

  For a second, I think he’s going to take door number two, but then he nods. He ignores Blake and looks straight at me. “It’s the game, Devi. Play.Survive.Win. It’s for real. And you’re right in the middle of it.”

  “I know,” I say, and his face shifts from concern to surprise to horror.

  “Oh, shit,” he says. “You’ve already gotten the first message.” He holds out a hand. “Let me see it.”

  “Whoa there, cowboy,” Blake says. “Finish your part. What do you mean, you’re her protector?”

  “Just that,” Andy says. “I was at home. You know, getting ready to come over here. And I thought I’d check my e-mails. And there it was.”

  Even though I’d known what he was going to say, my stomach drops anyway. This is for real. And if I’m the target, and Andy is the protector, that means that somewhere out there an assassin has been tagged. And it’s the assassin’s job to kill me.

  Suddenly, I’m not nearly as irritated that Blake is taking charge. I’m too lost in my own fears. I move into my living room, the men behind me, then sink into the familiar comfort of my couch and pull a pillow to my chest. Blake is beside me immediately, his hand on mine. “Don’t go there,” he whispers. “You’ve already been there once tonight, and that’s not a place you want to go back to.”

  I nod, because he’s right. I almost got lost in the black. But getting lost won’t do me any good. All that can save me now is to fight. And I’m not alone. I have Blake.

  And now I have Andy, too.

  The thought gives me strength, and I look up, shifting my gaze between them. “All right,” I say. “What now?”

  Andy’s head shifts just a little bit, and then he says what I already know. “Now, we follow the clues.” Then he looks at Blake and adds the zinger. “And we follow them alone.”

  Blake is immediately up and on his feet. “I don’t think so.”

  “I do,” Andy says. “And I’m the only one in this room who’s ever played the game before.”

  “No. I’m in this now.”

  “Then you’re an ass,” Andy spits back. “Because if whoever’s behind this finds out, you just might end up dead.”

  The harsh tone scares me as much as his words. And I know they’re true. No matter how much I might have earlier justified Blake staying to help me, now that Andy’s here, I can’t hold on to those selfish reasons any longer. “He can’t possibly know, can he?” I ask. My assassin could easily be a woman; I know that. But to me, whoever is out to get me is Janus. Hoarse voice. Broad shoulders. And the scent of old urine.

  I fight a gag as the memory washes over me, and I’m thankful when Blake takes my hand, sharing his strength.

  “No,” Blake says. “He can’t possibly know.”

  Andy’s eyebrows raise. “Really? Your security system is electronic. Someone could have tapped in. You’re at the base of a hill. Someone could be listening now. Whoever is behind this is serious…and seriously supplied. Don’t put anything past him. Not if you want to survive.”

  “He’s right,” I say, letting g
o of Blake’s hand. I turn away, too, simply because I can’t bear to look at him. We’d connected again today, but now…

  Well, now I have to push him away.

  “Devi,” Blake says. “Think about this.”

  “She has thought about it,” Andy says. “You’re the one not thinking.” Blake glares at him, but Andy doesn’t slow down. “She draws someone else in, she’s breaking the rules. She’s risking her life, my life. And most of all, she’s risking the life of the person she brings in. How do you think she’ll feel when your body is on a slab at the morgue?”

  “You son of a bitch,” Blake says.

  Andy holds his hands up in a gesture of self-defense. “Hey, I’m just telling it like it is. You tell me. Do you really want that on your head?”

  I know Blake well enough to see that he’s torn. His protective instincts have kicked in. But in this case, I already have a protector. And as much as I’d like to have two, I know what I have to do.

  “Blake,” I say, putting a gentle hand on his arm. “You need to go.”

  “Devi, this isn’t a game. I can help you. I can—”

  “It is a game,” I say. “And if I break the rules, you’re going to be the one who gets killed.” I meet his eyes, hoping he can read the emotion there. “I lost you once. I don’t think I could stand losing you forever.”

  He hesitates, but I know I have him. “You’re sure?”

  I’m not. But at the same time, I am. So I nod. “I’m sure.”

  “Okay, then.” I watch as his chest rises and falls. Then he takes me by the shoulders and bends a bit so that he’s looking straight into my eyes. “But if you don’t show up on the set tomorrow, I’m calling the cops. Hell, I’m calling the FBI. I don’t care about me, but I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep you alive. Got it?”

  I shiver a bit, feeling all warm and tingly from his attention. “Yeah,” I say. “I got it.”

  Chapter 19

  “I’m sorry,” Andy says, as we watch the video monitor. Blake’s car disappears down the drive and through the security gate, and then he’s gone. I feel a pain in my gut as intense as if someone had stabbed me.

  “It’s not your fault. And you’re right. He needed to go. It’s the only way to make sure he’s safe.”

  “And now we can concentrate on you. On finding the antidote, and on winning the game.”

  “Yes,” I say. “Let’s do that.” Before Blake left, we showed Andy both my clue and the message about the toxin. He took it all in, promising that we were going to play the game like pros…and we were going to win.

  What can I say? That plan works just fine for me.

  Since I’m feeling a little self-conscious in my robe, I tell him that my laptop’s in the living room, but that he can move it to the kitchen. Then I run upstairs and change into real clothes.

  When I come back, I find him at my huge oak table. It’s antique and well-worn. It used to belong to my grandmother, and then my mother. My mom passed it off to me when she downsized and moved to Florida. Sitting there gives me strength, as if I know the women in my family are watching out for me. That’s a good thing. Especially since at the moment, I need all the help I can get.

  Andy is holding the clue in one hand and a pencil in the other. I peer over his shoulder at it before circling around to a chair. I’m disappointed to see that the inscrutable words are still there, despite all my wishes that I’d been wrong and the words had magically shifted into an advertisement for household cleaning products.

  “I don’t have any idea what it means,” I say. “How about you?” I know he’s good at puzzles. Hopefully, he’s good at riddles, too.

  “Nothing yet,” he admits. “Let’s see if we can’t figure it out together.”

  He shifts his chair closer to mine, then puts the clue down on the table between us. We both huddle over it, trying to figure out what the words mean.

  PLAY OR DIE

  My daughter, my sister, and a crazy old man.

  The clue’s where he lost it and Jack found it again.

  But where to look to find the key?

  A house not a home, though used for a fee.

  A reflection of grandeur, of good times once seen,

  And many have seen her upon the grand screen.

  Play or don’t play—it’s all up to you.

  But if you decline, Death will Become You.

  I read it once to myself, then out loud, hoping that inspiration will strike. It’s been about a half hour since I first saw the damn thing, and let me just say that in that interim period the synapses haven’t fired any more. In other words, I’m still clueless.

  Frustrated, I get up and start to putter in my kitchen. Blake left the strawberry box on the counter, and I move to trash it.

  “Teeth all clean now?”

  For a second, I’m confused. Then I remember the conversation earlier today. I smile brightly, certain my teeth are clean and shiny. “All good,” I say. “But that’s mostly because I didn’t eat the thing. Blake snagged it before I got the chance,” I add, keeping up the faux chocolate-lust.

  Andy chuckles—one of those awkward laughs—and I can tell he’s not certain if I’m really pissed at Blake for eating my present. I take pity on him by patting my ass. “No big deal. I watch calories pretty strictly when I’m shooting.”

  “Not that you need to,” he says, and I have to smile. Andy’s a little geeky with his out-of-control hair and his crooked wire-rim glasses, but I really do like the guy.

  I shake off the warm fuzzies because now really isn’t the time, then indicate the clue. “So where are we?”

  “Well, ‘Play or Die’ is pretty clear.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “I’d say so.” I grab two Diet Cokes—I’ll own up to my nutritionist if I’m still alive at our next appointment—then sit at the table beside him. “But what about the first line? ‘My daughter, my sister, and a crazy old man.’ That sounds familiar, but I’m not placing it.”

  “It’s a good sign that it sounds familiar to you, though,” he says. “The clues are always geared toward the target’s interests. We just need to find that kernel of familiarity in the clue that will unlock your understanding.”

  “Right,” I say. “You make it sound so easy.”

  He reaches out to give my hand a firm squeeze. “We’ll be fine. I know the game. You know the clues. Together, we’re going to get through this.”

  As pep talks go, I have to admit that one’s pretty good.

  “Let’s move on to Jack.” Andy asks, “Do you know a Jack?”

  I think back, trying to think of all my personal and professional contacts. “I met Jack Black at a party about eight months ago. And my CPA’s son is named Jack.”

  “Him?”

  “He’s three,” I say. “Somehow that doesn’t feel right.”

  “No,” Andy agrees, “it doesn’t. The Hollywood connection, though. That makes a lot of sense.”

  “Jack Black?” I say.

  He shakes his head. “Not if you just met him at a party. But I really think movies are our best bet. Considering who you are, it just makes sense.”

  I sigh and resist the urge to bang my forehead against the table. He has a point, but we still haven’t solved anything definitively. So the announcement that my celebrity is somehow the key to the riddle isn’t exactly grounds for celebration. The only good thing, actually, is that I’m not scared—not at the moment, anyway. Instead, I’m frustrated. I’m angry at whoever sucked me into this nightmare. And I’m unreasonably pissed off at Blake for leaving. Considering how much I’d hated the man this morning, my current desperate need for him was either ironic or pathetic. I didn’t care which. I just wanted him.

  Andy was right about sending him away, but knowing he was safe was small comfort when I wanted his arms around me. Selfish? Maybe. But so very true.

  I can feel tears welling in my eyes, and I stand up and start pacing the kitchen. “Okay,” I say, because I can’t think of
anything else to say. “Okay, let’s start over. Hollywood. Movies and television.”

  “And Jack.”

  “Right. Okay. Sure.” I’m babbling, but I’m also pacing and thinking, and Andy is smart enough not to interrupt me. “I know Johnny Depp pretty well,” I say, without waiting for him to answer.

  “Good for you. But he’s not a Jack.”

  I roll my eyes because Andy is obviously clueless. “Captain Jack Sparrow. It’s a huge role for him.”

  “Okay, so maybe it does refer to a part someone played. Pirates of the Caribbean, right?”

  “Right,” I say, resisting the urge to pat him on the hand and tell him to read the entertainment news every once in a while if he wants to work in Hollywood.

  “So there must be a pirate map and all that. Did they follow clues?”

  I think back, trying to remember, but of course I can’t. Not for sure. “I don’t think so. I think they just knew where the treasure was.”

  “Well, hell.”

  “What about the reference to Death Becomes Her?”

  “Was there a Jack in that movie?” he asks.

  “Not a lead,” I say. “Maybe an extra?”

  “Maybe,” he says, but he doesn’t sound convinced. I’m not surprised. I’m not convinced either.

  “We’re screwed, aren’t we?”

  He shoots me one of those looks, and I smile sheepishly, then shrug off the whininess and slide back into character. “Right. Confident.” I take a breath. I can feel the black, smoky edges of fear creeping up beside me, and I steel myself. I’m not going to lose it. Not again. Lose it, and I might die. More important, lose it, and he wins. And there’s no f’ing way I’m letting him win.

  “The first clue is supposed to be the easiest, right? So we’re just making too much of this. ‘My daughter, my sister, and a crazy old man.’ Plus a Jack.” I clench my hands into fists because—dammit!—I can feel the answer tickling my brain, but I can’t quite—