Chapter 21
As the two brutes rifled through drawers and sliced open the upholstery on a few chairs, Laurette began hyperventilating. I grabbed her hands and squeezed tightly, silently taking quick breaths in and out with her as if we were practicing for a Lamaze class. I knew if she panicked, we were dead. Whoever these thugs were, they had no qualms about breaking the law, so they probably wouldn’t mind breaking a few of our bones as well.
There was no way for us to escape out the front door without them seeing us, so our only chance was slipping out the window in Akshay’s bedroom. Luckily, he was on the bottom floor of the building, and if we could maneuver around a clunky old window air-conditioning unit, we had a good shot of climbing down into a back alley and slipping away undetected.
I guided Laurette to the bed and sat her down, keeping a firm grasp on her hands and locking eyes with her. I whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll get us out of here.”
I tiptoed over to the window and unlocked the latch, carefully and quietly lifting up on the pane. It rose effortlessly, and a quick smile formed on my lips. This was going to be easier than I thought.
But that was before the air-conditioning unit wobbled free and pitched forward, crashing to the floor and crushing my right toe. I screamed in agony, not only alerting the two goons in the living room but half the neighborhood as well. Akshay had never bothered to fasten the unit. He had just stuffed it in the window and used the pane to hold it in place. Why on earth would an Indian actor who was used to the sweltering temperatures of Bombay need air-conditioning in one of the coldest, grayest countries in the world anyway? Of course, the answer to this burning question would have to wait. Pounding footsteps were fast approaching the bedroom.
I dashed across to the door, my toe throbbing with pain, and tried to slide the bolt into place just as two bodies slammed against it, cracking the thick wood. The two slabs of beef on the other side reared back and hurled themselves into it again. The door threatened to fall apart as I pressed my right shoulder up against it in a futile attempt to keep them out.
Laurette yelped and scurried over to the window, managing to slip one leg out into the alley. She ducked her head to cram herself through just as the window slid back down, wedging against the back of her neck and trapping her.
She strained to push up on the pane, but it wouldn’t budge. “Jarrod, I’m stuck!”
I knew I was not going to be able to hold the door in place much longer, but if I left my position for even a second, the two monsters outside would instantly be in the bedroom with us. I had to make a choice. It was going to be painful, especially for Laurette, but it was our only hope.
The two apes rammed the door with their bodies one more time. I could hear them step back for a final assault that would unquestionably smash the already damaged door to bits. I grabbed my opportunity to desert my post, leapt over the bed, and with a running start, my hands outstretched, I collided with Laurette, snapping the window pane in half and sending her hurtling out the window. I saw her crash to the cobblestone street in a shocked and breathless heap. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed the dark-skinned bodybuilders smashing through the door like a team-up between the Incredible Hulk and the Thing.
Without waiting for introductions, I dove out the window after Laurette just as the Hulk took a swipe at me, barely missing locking one of his ham fists around my ankle. Laurette had just sat up to catch her breath and survey the damage when I landed face first in her crotch. She screamed again. I don’t know if it was out of the pain from the impact or the surprise of my out-of-character landing position. I wasn’t going to take the time to find out. Jumping to my feet and wincing from the intense aching in my toe, I grabbed Laurette’s hand and we hauled ass out of the alley. Hulk and Thing were grunting as they attempted to squeeze through the small window frame to get to us.
Harried, sweating, and panicked, we staggered into the middle of the street, where we were nearly run down by a bottled-water truck with its horn blasting. It missed us by inches as we raced to put some distance between our pursuers and us. Laurette lagged behind because of some unwieldy shoes she had bought in Maui a few weeks ago. Who wears high heels to a break-in?
After flagging down a taxicab, I opened the door for Laurette. She was still disoriented and out of breath and took too much time climbing in the back. So when I saw the Hulk and Thing emerge from the alleyway and scan up and down the streets in search of us, I grabbed her butt with both hands and lifted her up off the ground. She let out a muffled squeak as her body flopped down on the leather-cushioned backseat. She was used to Larry pawing her, but not me. I jumped in after her, keeping my head down so as not to be spotted. The fiftysomething, fleshy, watery-eyed, red-nosed driver looked us up and down through his rearview mirror.
“Where to?” he asked in a thick Irish brogue.
Laurette and I had absolutely no idea. I turned my head and peered out the back to see the Hulk and Thing still looking for us. Luckily they hadn’t spotted us yet. Thing became frustrated and angrily kicked over a trash can with his foot.
Laurette sat up and confidently said to the driver, “Heathrow Airport, please.”
The driver leered at her in his mirror and didn’t make any attempt to turn on his meter or drive away.
Laurette leaned forward. “Did you hear what I said? Heathrow Airport.”
The driver snickered and kept his bloodshot eyes firmly focused on her.
“What’s so funny?” Laurette demanded.
“Um, honey,” I said, pointing to her blouse.
In all the commotion, Laurette had not noticed that the buttons on her blouse had popped off and her bra was askew. Her breasts were flopping free from any restraints, and the driver was simply enjoying the show.
“Omigod!” Laurette wailed as she grabbed her breasts and stuffed them back inside her bra. Then she slapped the driver upside the head. “Pervert!”
The driver cackled, turned on the meter, and we sped off, leaving the Hulk and Thing in the dust.
I turned to Laurette. “You know, if the police find out that I’ve left the country, I’ll be in big trouble. I’m their number-one suspect in Claire Richards’s murder.”
“If we don’t go, then we may never find out what’s going on with Charlie,” she said, flashing the still-grinning driver a putout glare. “Besides, you’re not officially under arrest. You’re just under surveillance.”
That didn’t make me feel any better about blowing town. But I had to get to the bottom of Charlie’s disappearance, and Greece was my best bet. Laurette was already on her cell/picture phone booking us a flight to Athens as I sat back and wondered how we had suddenly been caught up in our very own episode of The Amazing Race.