Project Produce(30)

Since I didn’t even have Gloria’s deodorant--let alone pepper spray--and I didn’t think a tampon would help me in this crisis, I’d have to make do. But I couldn’t find anything useful in the contents of the main zipper. After searching all the other compartments with no success, my hand bumped against something hard in a side pocket I never used. Frowning, I unzipped the pocket and gasped.

Gloria.

I didn’t know whether to kill her or kiss her for leaving me this little surprise. Some people walked by the entrance, reminding me of why I was hiding in a deserted doorway as dusk settled around me, so I stuffed my shaking hand in my pocket and waited with my weapon.

I’d deal with Gloria later.





CHAPTER SIX





Forget the bongos, a whole flipping drum line banged against my chest as I hid in the doorway. The guy following me who looked like Inspector Gadget would be turning the corner at any second, and I planned to be ready.

Okay, so maybe I was a little nuts. But I couldn’t call the cops. Like they’d believe me after the “cat attack” complaint. I snorted. And calling Dylan? Well, that was out of the question.

As I studied the few people who walked by, a blast of overpowering perfume assaulted my nose. Whew, someone needed to tell Ms. I-Smell-Expensive that less was more. Covering my face with my free hand, I held back a sneeze. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t a cop. I couldn’t save anyone. I wasn’t even particularly good at saving myself.

To heck with this.

Adjusting my backpack, I got ready to bolt when I spotted Gadget’s hat. Shoot. No time to run. I made the sign of the cross. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I needed all the help I could get. Gadget appeared and the drum line hit their finale. I grabbed his arm, pulled him into the doorway, and then jammed my weapon into his back.

“Oomph!” He jerked.

“Don’t move.” I took a deep breath. Everything would be fine if I just stayed calm.

“Take it easy, lady. Don’t do anything crazy.”

“Me do something crazy? That’s rich. You’re the one who’s been stalking me.” I pushed my weapon even harder into his back. He grunted but held still.

“Stalking you? I’m not stalking you,” he scoffed.

“Really. Then explain why you passed through the hotel doors at least a dozen times today and never once asked about a room. I’d say that makes you a tad suspicious, wouldn’t you?”

He glanced at me over his shoulder, registering surprise. “Well, there goes my cover.” He cursed under his breath.

“Cover? Cover for what?”

Hesitating, he answered, “Hotel security. Undercover hotel security.”

“Does your job description include following employees after their shifts have ended?”

He grunted, shaking his head. “You give yourself too much credit, ma’am. My shift is over, and this is my stop.”

“Uh-huh.” I checked him out again. He seemed harmless enough, if a bit eccentric, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I jammed my weapon harder into his spine.

“Yo, watch it, lady. I’m not going to hurt you. Please put the gun down.”

Not about to put my ‘gun’ down, a hysterical giggle slipped out at the absurdity of my predicament. Stressful situations tended to do that to me. Like when I’d found out Bob had videotaped us having sex and then published the footage on an Internet pornography website, I’d laughed myself silly. People thought I was demented, especially my parents, and then I’d cried. He’d not only used me, he’d also cheated on me with at least six other women. Not about to lose it in front of the Inspector, another giggle slipped out.

“Please put the gun down,” he repeated. “It’s gonna go off.”

I barked out a laugh this time. Things could turn ugly real quick, yet all I could do was crack up. Time to call the funny farm, because my faculties had officially vacated my brain.

“Ma’am? You’re not going psycho on me, are you? Your hand’s shaking quite a bit.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You’re completely safe even if this thing does go off. Trust me, it--”

Bzzzzzzz!

“Oh, my God,” I yelped.

“Jesus, what the hell is that?” He jerked forward and spun around to stare at my vibrating pocket.

“It’s not mine. Well, it is, but I didn’t buy it.” I pulled the flesh-colored rubber vibrator out of my pocket and fumbled with the monstrosity, trying to find the switch. “The Jackrabbit 2000 in the flesh... or peach-colored rubber, take your pick.” I thrust my hand in front of his face. “Help me turn this sucker off. There’s no button.”