Chapter Four
"You'd better get your bags back," the bartender told Jaime. "You do not wanna check in here."
"Well I'm over here – and the bags are certainly not gonna check themselves in without me," Jaime said reasonably. "They'll wait."
The bartender shrugged. "Your choice, Lady. I just hope you have plenty of money in your pocket, then...."
"For what? I don't need a drink."
"There are.....ah....people who've paid me a great deal of money to keep an eye out for you -"
"Terrific," Jaime muttered.
"But I guess I'm more of what you'd call a mercenary. You top their offer and I'm all yours."
Jaime wasn't about to bargain with Steve's life (and her own) at stake. Very quickly, before anyone could notice, she picked the bartender up by the collar of his shirt and backed him into the small supply shed behind the bar, closing the door behind them. She continued to hold him, feet dangling, and pulled his face very close to her own, glaring directly into his eyes.
"Now you listen to me," she hissed. "I don't intend to pay you a penny, but you will talk to me. Wanna know why? Because if you don't, I'll see to it that you spend the rest of your life singing soprano." Jaime raised a knee threateningly. "The fact that I can lift you like this should tell you that I am fully capable – and I'm not kidding."
The man stared at her with fear in his eyes, but Jaime saw doubt there too – and she couldn't allow that. She hoisted him up on top of a stack of liquor cases and – much faster than he could react – grabbed some baling twine and bound his ankles together, securing the knot behind the cases at the very bottom, where he couldn't reach them. "Now," she said, smiling with satisfaction, "start talking."
- - -
Armed with an address (and after notifying Oscar that she was on her way to find Steve), Jaime ducked from the street in front of the building to the alley that ran behind it. It was one of a series of offices, and most of them appeared long-vacated. She stopped just above a stairwell that led down to a basement and listened. At first, she heard nothing – and started debating the merits of returning to the bartender and retying him headfirst toward the floor then....footsteps.
"Alright, Colonel," a voice was saying, "we will work with you. You will go back to the hotel and find this woman, make another deal with her and get her up to a room...then we move in. Just remember, you'll be in our sights the whole time. Try anything stupid and there will be more bullets than you'll be able to count. Who knows how many innocent bystanders will go down with you..."
Jaime turned and ran at bionic speed back toward the hotel, thankful for the winding country roads Steve and his captors would have to take to get there. She prayed she'd be able to beat them there...and still have enough time to pull this off.
- - -
Steve could feel half a dozen pairs of eyes watching him – and half a dozen guns at the ready – as he made his way toward the beach side of the hotel. He was still silently scrambling for what to so next. Maybe grab an innocent blonde from the lobby and coax her up to a room, where he could call Oscar or Interpol...? Too risky. He'd halfway decided to charm someone into following him and then send her out of the elevator at a different floor to keep her safe (hoping Interpol could reach him in time) when he saw.....Jaime.
Steve had to do a double take. What was she doing in Greece – and looking like that? She wore a sapphire blue dress that was far too short and cut almost to her navel, heels that would make any man swoon (and any woman break her legs)....and the most ungodly shade of bright red lipstick Steve had ever seen. She looked like...exactly the kind of woman Steve had told his captors she was!
Jaime smiled and licked her lips seductively, knowing they were being watched. "Hey there, Handsome....buy me a drink....?"
- - - - -
