“And I didn’t mean to gesture that you were a sexless piece of a cold fish lay with nothing more to recommend you than a hair weave and plastic crotch stuffer,” Raidon countered, hugging the smaller man. “Friends?”
“Only if you teach me that last gesture.” Delsin nodded. “I got the hair weave, but I was short on the plastic crotch stuffer.”
Raidon grinned and began to impart the secret ways of the shimmy and the hip toss.
* * *
Blain smiled at the sexy little walk on Trina as she made her way toward the dressing room, Macey, in her garish makeup, following along right behind.
He looked over at the photographer.
She glared back at him.
He grinned, winking, just a little.
“Oh, shut up,” Teresa growled as she began to load her cameras again. It looked like they were going to be going on a road trip.
To photograph the models.
In nature.
Yeah. Not!
And if he thought that the fake backdrops and the rock were soap commercial, wait until he got a load of the “do you douche?” mountain streams they were going to!
* * *
“He is a pretty one,” Trina purred as she entered the dressing room. After one last look at Blain, she turned to check that no one had followed them, then softly closed the door.
“I don’t know what you are speaking of.” Macey was nervous, sweating a little under her heavy makeup, eyes shifting around the room.
“Of course you do. And are the others just as pretty?” There was excitement in her voice, and her eyes glowed in pleasure.
“They’re models.”
“So they are. And I’m so glad that I get a chance to take them into a wonderful natural element, so that I can see their true beauty without the artificiality of the studio setting! They are so… perfect!”
“If you say so.”
Macey was not pleased, and it showed in her nervous actions, though she tried to hide them from Trina.
Her palms were sweating just a little, and she again looked around the room to see if anyone was there.
Paranoid.
“Oh, I say so! Edgar has outdone himself, but there’s something about that Blain. Have you ever seen such male perfection? He’s the epitome of Irish, and his accent is true. I know because my stepmother was Irish, and I came up with the concept for these cosmetics just for her, to make her happy and more beautiful.”
Then a sad look crossed her face.
“I hope my dearly departed father knows that I’m trying to carry on his legacy, Macey. You know the loss of his newest wife hit him hard, the loss of her beauty there beside him. And she was beautiful inside and out, Macey. And then… then my father, rest his soul, was found dead.”
She sighed as tears filled her eyes, looking imploringly up at Macey. “I hope I’m doing the right thing -- fulfilling his final wishes. Please tell me I’m doing the right thing?”
“Who am I to tell you how to do anything, Trina? Especially when it comes to beauty.”
Macey’s words were stoic, and something hardened in her eyes as she stared at the shorter woman.
“Because I trust your opinion, Macey.”
“My opinion is worth less than… that abandoned kilt,” Macey nearly growled, glaring daggers at Trina. “And apparently it’s just as flimsy, Madame Owner.”
“Watch yourself, Macey,” Trina countered, steel entering her voice. “You had best remember who’s running this show.”
“Oh, I know,” Macey snarled. “I remember every day I look in the mirror and see what should have been.”
“You had just better be glad I decided to keep you on, after what you and Edgar did.”
“What Edgar and I did?” Anger was radiating off of Macey in waves, and her eyes narrowed as she glared at Trina. Her fists clenched and unclenched as a murderous rage consumed her.
“I only asked your opinion.” The anger left Trina as she viewed the other woman, trepidation in her eyes. “And now I’m getting the feeling that your last betrayal won’t be the only one I’ll have to deal with.”
“Betrayal?” Macey’s voice rose several octaves and her eyes widened in shock.
“Just don’t mess up this account, Macey. Irish Eyes means a lot to me, meant a lot to my father. I just want it to go right. There have been so many… unfortunate accidents.”
“You mean murders.” Macey nearly hissed the words.
“Yes, murders, and I don’t want anything to happen to Blain. He’s… special.”
Macey sighed, rolled her eyes, and turned her back to the other woman.
“Whatever happens will be your fault, and will land on your head.”
With those ominous words, Macey Snow turned and walked out of the room, leaving behind a seething Trina.
And Barika recorded every word.
Chapter 7
Barika stared down at the recording device as Nalu burst into the room.
“Do you know that you can mix nightshade and poisonous water lilies to produce an effect that looks like rabies?”
Barika turned stunned eyes from the words that were even now printing across his screen toward his hunky partner in arms.
“What?”
“That model, Dennis? He died of poisoning and the foaming of his mouth looked like rabies! It threw the coroner, but now he knows that it’s a fast-acting poison, Rika. How else does someone get rabies and poisoned all in one go?”
“Rabies?”
“Well, something that mimics it. The doctors were stumped because Dennis was allergic to animal dander, but it looked so much like rabies that they assumed he was bitten by something. But this stuff is man-made. It attacks the respiratory system and the nervous system at the same time, while it slowly suspends bodily functions and causes severe nerve pain.”
“And how was it transferred?” Barika was sure that Nalu knew the answer, and he was correct, as usual.
“The makeup, Rika. It was in the makeup! Makeup is topical, and can be sweat-activated! Like that crap they tested on animals a few years back that had the animal rights people in an uproar. Remember that so-called natural herbal from Irish Eyes’ parent company that turned out to be nothing more than a combination of plant toxins and dye? But that’s not all. Some of it had to be ingested to have that reaction, so I’m assuming it’s a toxic combination of the two. The things that caused his very ugly death might be found in his makeup and maybe in his food or drink.”
“A bad chemical reaction?”
“Who knows, but I feel that it was deliberate. It’s rather hard to find those combinations of plant toxins now. I read about the scandal and the toxins in Model Weekly last year, and it kind of stuck. It had to be deliberate.”
“And I may have the two who are behind it,” Rika said, staring at the words crawling across his computer screen. “Call Shelby. I’ll call the away team. We need a quick conference.”
“How quick?”
“Very, because who knows when the murderers will strike again, and I have a feeling that the next victim may be Blain.”
“I know Blain’s skinny and talks too much and has no deep understanding of self, but who would want to kill him?” Nalu asked. “He’s annoying and loud, and so very… poetic, but that’s no reason to kill the man.”
“I think it’s to kill the account.” Barika pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He was visibly exhausted.
“Why?”
“Jealousy? I don’t know, but I have to do more research into Macey and Edgar.” Barika tried to shake off his exhaustion as he turned back to the computer.
“Got a confession?”
“No, but something that’s almost as damning, more suspicious. Go get Shelby and I’ll call Shen and the others. Shen will know what to do until we can formulate a plan.”
* * *
And Shen knew exactly what to do. He was gathering up sunblock and thong bikinis as his phone buzzed.
“Ma
ke it fast for me,” Shen purred as he opened the line, his arm threaded through the leg holes of several suits and his hands juggling SPF 45 and SPF 60. Which was the better protection? Dry skin could kill a modeling career, and he wanted at least another ten years before he had to settle down with one sugar daddy to take care of him and ensure he received the plastic surgery he would need.
“How about I think I know who the murderer is?”
“Really? The model murderer?” Shen exclaimed, eyes widening as he tossed both bottles of sunblock into an open bag.
“Keep it down!” Barika shouted. “Anyone could be listening!”
“Really?” he whispered, crouching down and looking around the room. “And still you are yelling at me!” Then, “Oh! The model murderer, you mean?”
Barika rolled his eyes as he pictured the excited look on Shen’s face.
“Yes. Now listen up. Macey Snow and Edgar Rice seem to have some grievance with Trina Kensington and it looks to be fairly recent. I’m doing research on both of them now, but I need you to keep an eye on them both. Never let Raidon and Adan out of your sight, and that especially holds true for Blain. He seems to be the target.”
“Well, he’s the centerpiece of the collection,” Shen mimicked Trina. “Not that the others wouldn’t do as well. Hell, I could do as well, Rika. But then Blain’s so… so… Irish!”
“Yeah, and it may get him so… so… dead.”
“Understood.” Shen was all hunter now, in protective mode and ready to do harm to protect his charges.
“Good. Do whatever you can to keep Rice and Snow away from Blain. Never leave him alone for a second until we get this sorted.”
“Well, that could be hard. We are doing a nature shoot.”
“A what?”
“Nature shoot. Delsin and I pointed out that the lighting was all wrong for Blain, and then he pointed out that the backdrops were so sixties commercials. So we are going to a mountain stream! I didn’t know there was one around, but there was an opening at the local state park that has a waterfall. Lots of trees and wooded areas, Rika, and we can’t hover when he does his shoots.”
He crouched low again and covered the handset with his hands. “It would look suspicious and it could tip our hands.”
“So follow the suspects.” Barika rolled his eyes.
“Well, Delsin and I can do that easily. We need someone to protect Blain while we are… you know, spying.”
“And Blain?”
“Oh! I know! I have a brilliant idea!” An excited Shen was a dangerous thing.
“Let me hear it so I can report to Shelby.”
“There’s the owner, Trina. She liked Blain and there was some hot and heavy going on there.”
“Good. She seems okay on the surface, but I’m running a check, just to be sure. Keep her and Blain together, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
“Okay. Any news on how… you know… model go dead?”
“Poisons, something that acted like rabies, through the skin and the stomach.”
Shen shuddered and cursed tightly. “Good thing I posed as a makeup artist. Only I do their makeup. We have been avoiding what they were giving us to use, inferior crap!”
“Good. Keep it that way, and now I’m off to talk to Shelby. And Shen?”
“Yeah?”
“Trust no one.”
“Bye, Rika.” Shen sighed and closed out the call.
Then, once again, he turned to his contemplation of thong bikinis. If Blain was going to have to stick to Trina, it was Shen’s job to ensure they used the correct bait to glue them together at the hip.
But only if they didn’t get up and wash afterwards. Drying semen was nature’s hair remover.
* * *
Hanging up the phone, Barika again turned to his computer. Heading to the ‘net, he began a comprehensive search on Trina Kensington, as well as a more thorough dossier on Edgar Rice, because he was entertaining in some sick way to read about, and Macey Snow because she was suspect number one in his book.
He was almost struck dumb by what he found.
So when Shelby walked in a few minutes later, he was able to tell her about an attempted hostile takeover by Snow and Rice… and how they tried to take the company from the owner’s daughter, one Trina Kensington.
Immediately, Shelby went to red alert, Def Con five, and any other screaming panic modes that fit the situation. “My Angels are not smart enough --” She paused to glance at Barika, who missed her slip-up. “-- I mean, equipped -- to deal with that level of corporate chicanery!”
But they were safe for now, in broad daylight, surrounded by a camera crew and their crack operatives.
So after Barika got Shelby to stop yanking out her hair by the roots, they began to plan the downfall of Rice and Snow. But because of a mental nagging, a small screaming voice, Barika decided to dig some more. Something just didn’t make sense to him. Maybe it was Trina and her goody-goody sex kitten act, or maybe it was Edgar’s arrogance, or maybe it was Macey’s fear. But something was screaming in his head.
“I want them back here tonight for a meeting,” Shelby told him. “We need a group session and a way to gather up more concrete proof.”
The others, when contacted, agreed.
Nalu organized his findings, Barika continued to rapidly type on his computer, quiet William poured the drinks, wondering why Shelby was not more attentive to his sexual needs, but not complaining because she was a working woman, and Shelby drank said drinks, wanting more as her nerves began to fray.
Damn models! Why did they have to be so brainless, so inept, so much in danger because of her?
She motioned for Will to fix her another drink and promptly downed it.
At this rate, her liver would be pickled before they solved this case!
Chapter 8
“Remember, stick to the plan,” Shen reminded his people as they all climbed out of the huge SUV that the company had hired to transport them to the site.
“Delsin, you take Macey, but don’t get too close. I’ll make the ultimate sacrifice… and take Edgar.”
They all shuddered at the sound of that name. Adan reached out and patted his shoulder, as if trying to comfort the shorter man.
“I’ll survive. I survived acid-washed jeans, fish net shirts, those Venetian blind glasses, and puffy pants.” Again, all the Angels shuddered. “I will survive this as well.”
“You’re so brave,” Delsin whispered, and the others nodded.
“Raidon, you and Adan keep an eye on Blain,” Shen ordered. “I know that it will be impossible for you to watch him all the time, so I want you, Blain, to stick with Trina.”
“As if that would be a problem, lad.” Blain’s smile was rather toothy and shark-like, and his hand unconsciously went to his crotch for a quick rub.
“Whatever, Romeo.” Shen rolled his eyes. “But keep an eye out for, you know, murder and stuff.”
“Murder and stuff?” Blain repeated.
“Yeah. Nalu said that the guy was poisoned. So I asked how, and Barika told me through the skin. From now on, I’m the only one allowed to do makeup and I have our supplies under lock and key.”
“You always have our supplies under lock and key,” Adan felt the need to point out.
“Yes, and remember why? Remember the RT conference, when those second-class model wannabes got into our skin conditioner and hair mud? Do you remember what straw hair feels like?”
“I… I remember,” Raidon whispered, running a possessive hand over his white-blond locks, and smiling as he encountered nothing less than silky near-perfection.
“Okay, so don’t eat anything that’s not in a package.”
“Nothing fresh?”
“Not unless you picked it yourself. We’ll go on a week of Atkins when this is done to make up for it. And nothing but bottled water.”
“Like we do tap,” Delsin snorted.
“Well, true,” Shen said with a smile. “What was I thinkin
g? But that’s our meeting, Angels. That and remember to use the sunscreen. I got some really high SPF numbers too. So coat well and don’t forget your asses. I brought thongs.”
“For all of us?” Raidon asked. He was not a big fan of the thong. The only thing he wanted up his ass was…
“For all of us. While you two were having your… debate in the hall.” Shen glared at Raidon and Delsin, who blushed and looked shame-faced. They should have known that Shen would know. Shen seemed to always know. “It was decided that you would all do water shots, and that Raidon will be filmed doing a kata, so make it a simple one.” Raidon nodded. “Adan, they want you on the back of a horse.”
“My people were excellent horsemen. It will be no problem.”
“Well, make it look good.” Shen grinned, thinking of Adan’s other riding skills.
“Blain, you get to play in the waterfall and then do the voiceovers. They may want to do radio spots too, but that’s just a thought. They also want shots of you and the guys having fun in the water, but let’s not turn it into another Jacuzzi incident.”
“Well, Barika looks hot in water!” Delsin said, with some finality.
“Yes,” Shen agreed. “But that was no reason to start a threesome with him and his date. What was her name again?”
“Irene. Short women always give good head.”
“Yes,” Raidon agreed. “Shorter pipes. More suction power, no strain on the knees and they try harder.”
“Whatever!” Shen snorted. “Just remember that the country club never invited us back!”
“But I got the manager’s number,” Adan crowed.
“Really?” Shen asked, eyes wide in delight. “Which one? The tall black woman or the taller dark haired Italian man?”
“Both!”
They all took a moment to give Adan the ovation that was his due for pulling that one off.
“Now remember, stick to the plan,” Shen reminded them.
They all nodded in agreement, snatched up their thongs, and made their way to the changing tent.
* * *
“Get ‘em wet, boys!” the photographer shouted out, and her three puppet-like models raced toward the water.
She took photos as the three splashed into the water, crystalline droplets spraying up in the air and coating their bodies.
Shelby's Angels: When Irish Eyes Are Dying Page 5
