“That’s terrible! That’s awful! How could anyone even think of such a thing?”
She glanced in the rearview mirror. A column of black smoke seethed into the sky.
Casimir dug through his briefcase that was lying on the seat in back. “We need to get out of here. We can’t wait for Ana to send the reinforcements tomorrow afternoon. I’m calling Arthur and Maxence.”
“But what good will that—” Oh. Arthur had a plane. Maxence had a personal military.
“I’m not sure how fast they can turn the plane around, but I’m hoping they can be here sooner than Ana’s forces. Arthur!” he said into the phone, his voice suddenly jovial. “We’ve had a spot of trouble here, and we need a lift. Could you send that plane around for us?”
A speeding fire engine whizzed past them on the other side of the road, sirens blaring.
“Smashing,” Casimir said. “And when would it be here?”
Rox drove silently, maneuvering the car down the winding road.
Casimir said, “First thing in the morning. Excellent. We’ll just survive the snipers and firebombings on our own until then. Of course, I’m joking! But I’ll tell you all about it on the plane tomorrow.” He paused. “Slightly singed.” Paused again. “If Maxence can do without them for a few hours, I would indeed appreciate his security.” He hung up the phone. “We just have to survive the night.”
“We’ll just get a hotel,” Rox said. “We’ll find a hotel that will take animals or smuggle the motley crew in.”
One of the cats howled, as if on cue.
Maybe the hotel would have a dryer. Her soggy clothes clung to her and smelled like meth-lab smoke.
“They will be looking for us,” Casimir said. “Registering at a hotel might not be our safest option. Evidently, by giving Val an ultimatum, I seem to have tipped our hand. They want to prevent us from exposing Val and Josie to the ethics committee.”
“Those bastards,” Rox said, anger winding up in her chest. “Those bastards, that they would try to kill us like that. First a sniper, then a bomb. Those assholes.”
“Indeed,” Casimir said, looking out the passenger-side window into the afternoon sun glancing off the hills.
Anger grabbed Rox, flushing through her body. She could feel her pounding heartbeat in her fists squeezing the steering wheel. “Those assholes think that they can burn your house down? They want to see things on fire? We’ll show them fucking things on fire!”
Casimir glanced over at her.
“We’ll show them so much fucking fire that they’ll regret ever fucking with us,” she said, her words grating in her throat and clenched teeth. “We’ll show those assholes what it’s like when we burn it all down.”
“I don’t think we should firebomb anyone,” Casimir said. “We should just go to the ethics committee and let the repercussions take their natural course. They’ll be disbarred. The clients will sue them and win. They are about to lose everything.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “They ran you off the road and nearly killed you, and then they shot at both of us, and then they threw a damn bomb and burned down your house. They want to see playing dirty?” She looked at him, her heart punching at her temples and wrists with rage. “They should not have messed with a Southern girl. I will fight fire with bright, cleansing fire. I will call down the wrath of God on them such as they have never seen. I will utterly destroy them, salt the Earth, and drive them into the sea.”
Casimir had been watching her, a smile growing on his face. A livid burn crossed the scar on his left cheek. “God, you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”
“You can call me beautiful some other time, Casimir. Right now, I am the vengeful angel of death and they shall rue the day they messed with me or the man I love.”
“I love it when you’re so angry that you become biblical.”
Her brain spun. “We won’t attack until the middle of the night. Until then, we need a place to hide.”
“For a few hours,” Casimir said.
“Phone Chick,” Rox called into the air. She knew of one place where those bastards wouldn’t dare look for her and Casimir.
“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?” her car answered.
“That’s what your phone calls you?” Casimir asked, laughing.
“My phone knows my personality better than anyone else,” she said. “Call Brandy.”
Brandy’s battalion of enormous pit bulls would tear their damn legs off and eat them.
It would serve them right, too.
BIG DOGS AND BRANDIWINE