Skin Trade(124)

Bernardo and Victor got out; Bernardo opened the door behind Edward. I started to try to scoot out, but the pain grabbed me like a sharp hand and made me stop in midmotion. “Just let me do it, Anita,” Edward said. He started to pull me out, as gently as he could.

Victor peered in and said, “We’re being watched. Maybe even photographed.”

“Then why bring us here?” Edward asked.

“It was closer, and you can legitimately say you’re here to question Paula Chu’s coworkers, but we need Anita to walk in on her own power, if possible.”

“Can you walk?” Edward asked.

“How far?”

“Ten yards.” Just like that, he knew exactly the distance to the door. I’d have never been able to be that precise.

“Let me lean on someone’s arm and be all girly, and I’ll do it.”

I got upright, and the leather jacket fell to the floor. Olaf crawled over the seat and picked it up, as Edward let me take his arm and begin to try to get out of the truck on my own power.

Olaf reached out and helped arrange my shirt over the wounds. Though red and blue made a lot of purple on my shirt. We tucked the ends into my pants to hide the slice.

I got standing, though my grip on Edward’s arm was as serious a hold on any man’s arm that I’d ever had. It hurt just to stand, and I could feel the blood begin to trickle down my stomach. Not good, and if it hurt to stand, it was going to hurt more to walk. Perfect.

Edward had tucked some of my weapons in and around his body, but a lot of them and my vest were on the floor. “Weapons,” I said, in a voice that was a little strained.

“Leave them,” Victor said.

“No,” I said.

Olaf simply started gathering them up and tucking what he could into his waistband. Edward had already added my backpack to his load. He picked up the leather jacket. “To hide my hands,” he said.

I realized that his hands were spattered with my blood. I’d seen it moments before, but something about the sight of it, and standing at the same time, made the desert heat swim around me.

“Inside,” I whispered, “need inside soon.”

Edward didn’t ask any questions, just helped me turn for the walk. Things in my stomach pulled wrong when I turned. My inside stomach rolled threateningly. I prayed that I would not throw up while my outside stomach was cut up. That would be very painful. I took shallow breaths through my mouth of the hot, still air, and concentrated on each step. Concentrated on making the movement as natural as possible for the cameras, and not moving so fast that I ripped the wounds open more. It was one of the most careful walks I could remember. I was concentrating so hard that I wasn’t really aware of the building until Victor was holding the door for us. Then I looked up, and saw the sign that said Trixie’s, which had a neon-formed seminude woman sitting in a huge martini glass. The sign was enough, but they’d felt compelled to put more neon in the window by the door that simply said, Girls, girls, girls-all nude, all the time.

I gave Victor a look as we walked slowly past him. He whispered, “The doctor is waiting inside, and this is where Paula Chu works. You can find a clue that lets you tell them to keep holding her without giving away your secret.”

I couldn’t argue with his logic, and the air inside the door was cool. At this point if I could lie down and have air-conditioning, I didn’t care where we did it. I swallowed past the nausea one more time and let Edward help me into the cool twilight of Trixie’s; all nude, all the time. At least hell was cool.





49




THE MUSIC WAS loud, though not the ear-jarring loud of some clubs. The music sounded tired, or maybe that was just me. My eyes adjusted and saw small tables scattered around a surprisingly large room. There was a main stage and smaller table/stages with seats around them. It was before seven o’clock, and men were already sitting in the darkened room. Women crawled around on the table/stages, as nude as the sign promised. I averted my eyes, because some views should be seen by only your gynecologist or a lover.

The main stage was empty, but huge. It had a small runway and a circular area with seats around it. I’d never seen a stage like it in any strip club, outside an old movie.

Victor led us through the tables, and we followed, because having me carried in front of the customers would not help our cover story.

Edward didn’t try to comfort me; he just kept his arm flexed and solid under my double-handed grip and walked slowly. Olaf and Bernardo were still behind us. Victor got to a small door to one side of the main stage long before I managed to get there. The pain had gone past just pain and was dizziness. My vision was beginning to spot, and that was not good. How much blood had I lost, and how much was I losing?