Sandra Hill - [Vikings II 03]

by The Very Virile Viking

  “I will tell you why I am angry with you, Angela. You did not summon me when Gunther arrived, even though we have discussed in the past the threat he poses to the Blue Dragon and its people. Did I not order you to call me immediately if he came onto this property?”

  He saw Angela bristle at the word order. He had noticed that women in this country—and time—misliked the idea of a man being in control. They associated too much with man-haters like Carmen. Could they not see that there were times when only a man’s might and authority would suffice?

  Lida must be turning into a modern female, because she made a little growly sound and flung a spoonful of rice onto his face with an almost gleeful-sounding, “Goo!”

  “But I told you about Gunther’s visit right afterward,” Angela persisted.

  He threw his hands in the air, after wiping the glob of rice off his face with a cloth. “What good did that do? He could have harmed you or Grandma Rose with no one nearby to defend you.”

  “He wouldn’t have done that.” Angela had the cheek to argue with him. “Gunther’s methods are more devious than that.”

  “Are you never biddable?”

  “Sometimes,” she said, tossing her hair back off her shoulder in a challenging manner. The witch was reminding him of just which times she had been biddable with him. Like last night.

  I can see you now, heartling, tossing your hair back in the same way while you practically neighed your pleasure. But I do not think I should remind you of that now. Mayhap later. He took a deep breath and said more patiently, “You did me grave insult by allowing Gunther to makes threats against me, then springing to my defense.”

  “What would you have had me do? Say nothing? Let him defame you?”

  You are surely the most stubborn woman alive, Angela Abruzzi. Yield this once. Just free-can yield. “I do not need to hide behind a woman’s robes.”

  “Oh, give me a break, Magnus. Maybe I should have called you back to the house when Gunther pulled up, but—”

  Just then, the cell phone clipped to Magnus’s belt began to beep. He could tell that Angela was surprised that he would carry such a modern device on his person. Hey, he might be over a thousand years old, but that did not mean he was unadaptable. He’d just purchased it that afternoon and was still getting accustomed to it. Gingerly he picked it up and spoke into the mouthpiece. “Greetings.”

  “Father, it is Torolf. We followed Gunther back to his house. Juan is hiding out front, and I am in the back. He is speaking to some rough-looking men just now. I do not think they are regular employees. They are carrying weapons, I believe.”

  “Keep a watch. The men we hired today should take over soon. I have arranged to meet with them in an hour.”

  “How will you get there?”

  “Miguel will drive me.”

  “All right. Juan and I will stick on Gunther’s tail till we hear from you.”

  “Do not let him out of your sight. And Torolf…”

  “Yea?”

  “Be careful, son.”

  Magnus clicked off and returned the device to his belt clip.

  Everyone stared at him expectantly.

  “Torolf? That was Torolf? Where is he?” Angela asked in alarm. She stood abruptly and her napkin flew to the floor.

  “He is busy on an errand I assigned him.” He continued to eat, as if unconcerned. He was, in fact, very concerned…and excited. There was naught like a good battle to get a man’s juices going. And he was bloody well sick of taking a defensive mode with the scoundrels who victimized the Blue Dragon. He hated just waiting for something to happen, like a milksop cowering in a corner. ’Twas past time to take the offensive.

  “Does this involve Gunther?” Grandma Rose asked, just as disturbed as Angela. No doubt she would be sneaking off any moment now to smoke one of her toe-back-hoe sticks to calm her nerves. Juanita, standing behind her, was wringing her hands in her apron as she listened.

  “You have no right…you should have consulted me…I mean…” Angela sputtered her outrage at him. “What have you done, Magnus?”

  You do not want to know. Truly. “Nothing…yet.” He continued to eat—even the dish of greens, which he was developing a taste for, especially when he put huge spoonfuls of creamy dressing on top to cover the bitterness of the weeds. His eating in the face of her fury made Angela even more furious. So he took another helping of everything. “Since you took action on your own, by excluding me from your meeting with Gunther, I have taken some actions on my own.”

  “I…Grandma and I…own the Blue Dragon.”

  “I have an interest in it.”

  “The money?”

  “Nay, not the money.” You.

  Angela blushed. “Tell me what you are planning.”

  “Nay.”

  “Nay…uh, no?”

  Women and their incessant questions! With all the inventions they have in this new land, you would think some man would have invented a zip-her for a talksome woman’s mouth. “I cannot disclose our secret plan. What if Gunther returned and you decided to meet with him again, alone, and he tortured our plan from you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Ridiculous am I now? That mouth zipper is looking mighty good. “Well, I am done eating.” He stood and motioned toward Miguel. “Are you ready to drive me into town, my good man?”

  Miguel nodded and grabbed his hat, which was sitting on the counter. Juanita appeared as if she might have a worry fit.

  “By the by, Angela, I have arranged to start taking driving lessons on Monday. Torolf is coming, too.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  Finally, a way to stop her blathering. Magnus walked over and gave Lida a kiss on the cheek, trying his best to avoid all the rice sauce.

  “Goo,” Lida said. Then, “Fa-Fa.”

  “That is what I like. A woman of few words.”

  He swore he could hear Angela gritting her teeth behind him.

  Dirty Harry meets Mighty Magnus….

  Magnus had been working with a private detective agency and a team of security personnel for the past two weeks. The head of the troop, and owner of the agency, was Harry Win-slow, which Magnus thought was an odd name for an investigator to have, but then again, betimes winning slow was the best way.

  Harry was a hard-as-nails former soldier with a haircut that was so short the scalp showed through. Magnus was thinking about getting a similar haircut, till he mentioned the idea to Angela. “Get a buzz cut, and you might as well buzz away, big boy!” she had exclaimed. Magnus was pretty sure that meant no. Whatever. He had other plans for her once this whole drama was over, and none of them depended on what was atop his head.

  Her comment to him about the haircut was one of the few times she had spoken to him these past weeks. She was still fuming over his failure to share his plan for capturing “Big Bird.” That was the code name Harry had given the culprit who was threatening the Blue Dragon. When he had asked Harry why they needed a code name, why they couldn’t just refer to that nithing Gunther, he had said there was no firm evidence yet that Gunther was the one…or the only one.

  Actually, there was another occasion when Angela had deigned to talk to him—when they took Jogeir to visit an orthopedic surgeon, who took pictures of the inside of the boy’s foot and leg. An operation was scheduled for two weeks hence. He was nervous about putting his son under the knife, but Angela was optimistic about the operation’s outcome, and Jogeir was wildly enthusiastic. In essence, he’d been outvoted from the start.

  If Angela had been stingy in sharing her talk with him these past two weeks, she was even stingier with her body. “No sex, no way, no how!” she had proclaimed when he had broached the subject.

  When he’d grumbled, “There are some who say that an organ in too much disuse could wither away,” she had rolled her eyes at him.

  Wait till she hears what I have to say now.

  Angela was in Grandma Rose’s vegetable garden when he walked up. Sitting
down on a bench near the bean trellises, he inhaled deeply, loving the smell of moist earth, sun, and growing plants.

  “Angela, come over here, please. I have something to discuss with you.”

  She glanced up from the basket where she had just placed several red toe-may-toe globes. “Go away.”

  Well, that was certainly short and sweet. “I need you to do something for me.”

  “Dream on, buddy. You aren’t coming near my bed until I find out what you are up to. Even then, you might not be welcome.”

  “Tsk, tsk,” he chided. “I was not speaking of sex.” I was thinking it, but I did not say it. Bloody hell, I am always thinking it when around you, witch of my heart. “I need you to gather Grandma Rose and all the children, except Torolf, and go stay in your apartment in the city for several days.”

  That got her attention.

  She put the basket down on the ground, dusted off her hands, placed them on her hips—hips that look very nice, by the by, in a pair of tight den-ham braies, which mold her behind and slender legs and cup her woman place…not that I consider any of that significant—and said in a snarl, “Are you crazy?”

  “Crazy for you.” Sometimes I astound myself. I can smooth-talk even in this modern language.

  “Ha! Don’t you dare try that smooth talk on me. I know what you are up to.”

  “You do?” Caught in the act of being smooth. Ah, well! He glanced down at his groin, where the only “up” thing on him was located.

  “Not that, you dolt!”

  “Oh.” She is losing her sense of humor…fast.

  “You think you can Softsoap me, and I’ll agree to anything you want.”

  “Well, Softsoap did work in your shower when—”

  “Oh! You are such a brute for bringing that up now.”

  A man will try anything. Trust me on this, sweetling. “Angela, can we start afresh? It is serious business I need to discuss with you. Events are building and I fear a climax here at the Blue Dragon sometime soon. I would not want you or your grandmother or my children to be at risk.”

  Angela walked up and plopped down beside him on the bench. “Why don’t you start by telling me what’s been going on?”

  “We have been tracking Big Bird, and a trap has been set.”

  “Huh? Who has been tracking?”

  “Dirty Harry and me.”

  Angela put a hand to her forehead and counted aloud. When she got to ten, she said, “Who is Dirty Harry? And please don’t tell me it’s Clint Eastwood.”

  “Flint who?

  “Not Flint…Clint. Aaarrgh! Are you deliberately trying to confuse me?”

  “Not deliberately.” Well, mayhap a little.

  She scowled at him fiercely, and when he tried to put his arm around her shoulder, she slapped it away.

  This appears not to be my day. Actually, there have been few of those lately. Mayhap I need to hone my skills better. “Dirty Harry is the code name for Harry Win-slow, the private detective I hired to help catch Big Bird, which is the code word for Gunther, or whoever has been threatening the Blue Dragon.”

  “You hired a private detective? Without consulting me?”

  “Yea, I did. And I got my driver’s license today. Didst know that? Of course, I had to take the test twice. I almost hit a pole the first time. The policing man bit his tongue, drawing blood, and said a very coarse word. Mine is a license for foreigners living in this country, since I could not take the written test in your English—yet.”

  This woman needs to learn that men are men and women are women. I am the leader; she is the follower. That is the way of the world. Angela was staring at him as if he’d grown another nose…or bigger ears, which would be disastrous, of course. His were plenty big enough, thank you very much. Or mayhap she had read his mind and did not agree with his philosophy of life.

  “Harry is a very nice fellow. In fact, when this whole investigation is over, he is going to take me out for a beer…to a local stripper bar. I did not want to ask him, but what is a stripper bar, Angela?”

  Of course, he knew what it was, having asked Harry, but he was teasing Angela, or trying to. Unfortunately she just glared at him.

  “Harry says the ladies there have tassels on their boobs. What are boobs?”

  “You’re a boob,” she said angrily. Then she inhaled and exhaled deeply, as women were wont to do when exasperated with their men. “Magnus, how could you get a driver’s license when you don’t even have a birth certificate?”

  “It helps when you know the right people. Leastways, that is what Harry says. He got those parchments for me, and for all my children, too. And social security cards, whatever they are. Why do people need special licenses in this land to be secure in their social lives? Oh, and work records…Harry got those for me as well. The papers say I was a Green Beret. And I was in the Witness Protection Program.” He beamed at her, sure she would be pleased at his enterprise.

  She did not beam back. In fact, she murmured, “More like the Witless Protection Program.” Mayhap she was not all that pleased.

  “Let’s start at the beginning. Just whom did you hire, and what has he discovered?” she demanded to know.

  She is a demanding wench betimes. “I hired a private detective, and he in turn hired some professional hit men—”

  “Hit men?” Angela screamed in his ear.

  He rapped the side of his head with the heel of his hand as if to clear his ears. “I was just teasing, Angela.”

  “This is no teasing matter.”

  Yea, she is definitely losing her sense of humor, and the best place to restore it is in the bed furs. Unfortunately I couldn’t lure her to my bed furs at this moment even if I had the smoothest tongue in the world. “Harry hired some professional security and detecting men. I realized the day Gunther came to visit that I needed help…that you needed help. I have often been a soldier for my king in the Norselands, but fighting is direct there. You lop off a head or pierce a man’s gullet with a sword. Or he does the same to you. We use none of these devious attack-and-hide tactics. Well, actually, we Vikings employ a bit of that when out a-viking, but that is neither here nor there.” I have got to stop rambling. I am beginning to bore myself.

  “How much is this going to cost?”

  Money, money, money! I am sick of talking about money. “You are not to worry about that, sweetling.”

  “Don’t call me sweetling. At this moment I feel anything but sweet toward you. And you can’t keep shoveling out money on my behalf.”

  Oh, really? Try to stop me. “We can discuss that some other time. What Harry and his troop have discovered thus far is very alarming. Not only did Gunther probably set fire to your vineyard, but he has sabotaged your good standing with bankers in the area. If you had gone to them for a loan to recover your losses, you would have been denied.”

  “Oh, no!”

  “He is the one who lured your winemaker away, as well. He found him employment in the Franklands. ’Twas he who conspired to raise the price of the glass bottles you use for your wines. ’Twas he who was responsible for the bad brakes on that load of grapes that was lost last year when the truck careened off the road.”

  “Is Gunther really that evil?”

  “I think so,” Magnus said, taking her hand in his. “Harry’s men are experienced in gathering evidence…everything from fingerprints to car tracks to a paper trail, whatever that is. But Harry warns me that Gunther is getting desperate. He was moderate in his methods in the past because he thought he could afford to wait you out…that eventually you would surrender, being helpless women. But now…”

  “Now?” she prodded.

  “Now he perceives that my presence may change things. He is not sure who I am and what our relationship is, but to his mind I am here to save the Blue Dragon, and that he cannot allow.”

  Angela quietly pondered all he had told her. He saw the moment understanding dawned. “Gunther is going to try to kill you. That’s why you want us all b
ack in Los Angeles. That slimeball plans to kill you. Ha! Over my dead body!”

  Methinks I am making progress now. Leastways, she cares if I live or die now. He smiled grimly at her vehemence.

  “Nay, not over your dead body…because your sweet body is going to be far from the Blue Dragon.”

  It’s not over till it’s over….

  For two days Angela walked around like an automaton in her L.A. apartment.

  She went into her office both mornings, managed to show a half dozen homes, and even sold one, pulling in a hefty commission. But the rest of the daytime hours she spent with Grandma and the kids, all of whom fought the strictures of confined living. None of them wanted to go out, though, in case Magnus called, which he did once a day.

  When she asked how the “plan” was going, Magnus was always infuriatingly elusive in his answers. “On target.” “Biding our time.” “Do not worry.” She felt like screaming into the phone at him, and she would have…if she weren’t so very worried about him.

  To make matters worse, Darrell Nolan was being a real pain, now that he knew she was back in town. The man just wouldn’t give up on signing Magnus to be the next big star in his stable. Apparently Magnus had taken to hanging up on Darrell on those occasions when Darrell managed to connect with him by phone. Even that rudeness didn’t daunt the persistent producer.

  “Why don’t we go to the mall?” Angela suggested in the late afternoon of the second day. If she had to put up with much more MTV, video games, the quack-quack of Lida’s pull-along duck toy, makeup makeovers of Dagny and Kirsten in her bathroom, and general overall shrieking, Angela was going to pull her hair out. She loved Magnus’s kids—each and every one of them, even the rascally Njal and Hamr—but all of them all at once in such a small space…well, even a saint’s patience would be taxed. “We can have dinner at Chi-Chi’s or Red Lobster. Even McDonald’s…God forbid! Then spend an hour or so walking around the mall.”