The Prima - Chapter Four
“Come on,” Dan said grimly.
“Where are we going?” Katarina whined. “I need my things!”
“You’ll get them. Where’s your phone?”
“Why?”
“Just give me your damn phone.” Dan was irate as he snatched it from her,
scrolled through her contacts and found Francis.
Change in plans. Will be back in morning.
He sent the text message and then shoved the phone in his pocket.
“That’s my phone!” she squeaked.
“You’ll get it back later. I’m taking you somewhere safe.”
“Safe? You’re a brute!”
Dan spun on his heel; his eyes steely as he stood over her. “I’ve told you
before, Prima PITA, I was hired to keep you safe and that’s what I’ll do.
Now shut it, and get on.”
Katarina blinked in amazement. “No one speaks to me like that!” she
sputtered.
“That’s part of the problem,” he snapped. “Now get on.”
That’s when she realized they had stopped walking and were standing next to
a Harley.
“Get on that thing?” she demanded. “It’s a death machine!”
Dan opened one of his saddlebags and took out the spare helmet. “Here.”
“I’m not wearing that! I don’t know where it’s been!”
“Usually on Trixie and it’s perfectly fine,” he growled. “Unless you want
to spend the night in this parking garage, put it on, and get on the bike!”
Stunned into silence, she took the helmet and gingerly pulled it over her
head. Dan put his own helmet and straddled the bike, turned to look at her.
Hesitantly, she got on behind him, trying to get comfortable on the
machine. It roared to life, covering her squeal of surprise. Dan reached
back and took her arms, wrapping them around his waist, indicating she
should hold on.
He chuckled as she gripped him tightly once the bike started moving.
While he never brought women back to his place, this was a client needing
protection, not a hookup. Dan didn’t trust anyone in her company at this
point, including both Rick and Frances. Each stood to gain from her death,
or at the very least, permanent injury. The only person in that building he
did trust was Trixie. He could get a hotel room but that was more hassle
than it was worth.
He pulled into the parking garage for his and Trixie’s apartment building.
Going up several flights, he backed the bike into one of the few motorcycle
spaces. Shutting off the engine, he removed his helmet, waiting for the
barrage of insults. When it didn’t come, he turned and looked over his
shoulder. That’s when he realized she was gripping his waist very tightly.
“You all right?” he asked.
The ballerina nodded, and removed the helmet, looking a little green.
“Come on. First time can be rough,” he said gently. She got off the bike
and he followed suit, locking her helmet in his saddlebag and carrying his.
Katarina followed him through the walkway to the elevators. “You all right
for an elevator?”
The brunette nodded, taking a deep breath of air. From the elevator she
followed him inside the building after he entered his access code. Another
elevator ride to the sixth floor, and then into a surprisingly spacious and
well-lit hallway.
When they reached his door at the end of the hall, she waited while he
unlocked it and then followed him in. Dan flipped on the light.
He could feel her securitizing gaze making its way around the studio
apartment. Thanks to Honey, like the office, it was decorated tastefully,
with a distinct masculine feel. Dan hadn’t wanted a bunch of elaborate
furniture to clean. He liked things simple. Years of moving about in the
military had turned him into something of a minimalist. The wood flooring
in the first half was a warm dark cherry, the carpet in the elevated
‘bedroom’ was a thick, soft dark brown, the walls a comforting shade
between ivory and peach. The furniture was all dark wood and black.
His bedroom was at the back, two steps up from the front of the apartment,
partially walled off but the king-sized bed in plain view. The only
bathroom was attached to the pseudo-bedroom, the other wall was all glass,
giving him a view of the building across the way and overlooking art of the
city. The small kitchen sufficed for the minimal cooking he did and was
located to the right, along with a space that held a small dining table.
The other wall was mostly window, allowing for plenty of natural light when
he had the drapes open. A large plasma TV was mounted to the wall opposite
the sofa, flanked by black bookcases that held a variety of his favorite
books, vinyl albums and DVDs. Dan briefly wondered what she would think of
all the Star Trek, Star Wars and Dr. Who DVDs. The black coffee table had a
glass top, matching a smaller table at the end of the plush black leather
sofa.
The dancer drifted to the window, staring out at the night view of New York
City. “This view is spectacular,” she finally said.
“Thanks.” He watched her as he shrugged his leather jacket off to hang on
the coat tree near the door. If he and Trixie hadn’t solved a major case
for the building owner, who was also a friend of Matthew Wheeler, they
wouldn’t be able to afford living here. The studio apartments were small,
as were all apartments in New York City, but these were considered luxury.
She turned and moved around the small apartment, studying his books and
vinyl albums. A record player sat under the TV, along with various other
electronic devices and remote controls.
Dan set his gun on the coffee table and looked up at her startled gasp.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She pointed to the nine-millimeter weapon. “You…carry a…gun.”
She said it wish such distaste that he raised an eyebrow.
“Of course, I do,” he said simply.
“Why?” She sank onto the black leather sofa.
“The job,” he reminded her. “Do you know how many times I’ve been
threatened for sticking my nose into someone’s business?”
“Is it…that dangerous?” she asked in a small voice.
“It can be. Want something to drink?”
“Just water.”
“Tap okay?”
Katarina wrinkled her nose. “If that’s all you have.”
“I’ll put some lemon juice in it, it helps,” he chuckled. While he tinkered
around in the kitchen, he mentally reviewed the apartment, making sure he
didn’t have any underwear laying around. He rarely wore it, but when he
did, it didn’t always make it to the hamper if he was extremely tired.
“Here,” he handed her the glass. “Try to relax, I’ll put clean sheets on
the bed.”
“Can I shower?” she blurted out.
“Sure. Trix will be here soon with your clothes if you want to wait.
Otherwise, I have a robe you can use.”
“Okay.” She sipped her water.
Dan was glad he’d done laundry this weekend, that meant he had clean sheets
and towels. He rarely had guests over other than Trixie and she didn’t
spend the night, given that her own studio apartment was just down the
hall.
While he was putting on clean sheets, she called his name in a panic.
“What?” he hurried back to her, reaching for his gun. Katarina scrambled
behind him .There was a key turning in the lock.
“It’s me!” Trixie called out as she cracked the door open.
“She has a key to your place?” Katarina demanded
“Yes, and I have one to hers.”
“I didn’t get all of your makeup or even all of your clothes, but I’ve got
the essentials for you and clean leotards for tomorrow’s rehearsal.” Trixie
said, setting Katarina’s small bag down.
“That’s…that’s only my travel case!”
“Yeah, I wasn’t hauling your five pieces of luggage over here,” Trixie
laughed. “Like I said, essentials.”
Katarina started to protest, then shut her mouth at a glare from Dan. “I’m
going to go shower,” she said stiffly.
“One bathroom, through there,” Dan pointed.
Head up, she stalked towards it and shut the door firmly.
“Wow, she is wound tight!” Trixie said softly.
Dan nodded. “I’m already exhausted from this. We need to sort out who’s
behind this and why, fast, before I strangle her myself.”
“Got anything to eat?” Trixie asked.
“Ordered pizza from my phone,” he answered with a smile. He had also
ordered a salad for Katarina, fully expecting the sight of a meat lovers
pizza to make her freak out.
Trixie removed her jacket and gun, setting it next to Dan’s, while he went
to the fridge and removed two beers.
“All right, let’s review,” Dan popped the bottles open.
“Immediate impressions?”
“Other than she’s a spoiled bitch?”
“Suspects,” Trixie said dryly. She picked up her pen and notepad.
“Who isn’t? First there’s Rick, her partner. He’s a jerk, but can’t stand
her. Not to mention he we would love a new partner, preferably a younger
model. If I’m right, he’s looking for someone that won’t be so difficult,
is easier to manipulate, and even easier to get into his bed. Next up
there’s the manager, Frances. Rick said Katarina’s reputation as a bitch
makes her hard to book. Frances could get a better venue with a new,
younger prima. If you keep going the same goes for the entire Board of
Directors of the company. Then there’s Angela, the understudy—who wouldn’t
want a starring role, especially if she’s aging out? No one is going to
miss Katarina, which means everyone is a suspect. Not to mention the
snakeskin you found, so there’s always the chance she’s doing this herself. Once we have more evidence, we'll confront her on it.
They hired us to investigate and provide security, but when I got to the
theatre today, there was nothing to indicate any sort of security existed.
If we’re pulling double duty, then we’re billing double duty.”
“Agreed. You were supposed to stick with her but nowhere was it agreed
you’d be her personal protection and bring her home for her own safety.”
“Who had opportunity?”
“Well, obviously, she had a chance to put the snake in her shower. But it
could have been a frame up and someone may have stuck the skin in her bag.
It was kind of convenient for you to find. But did she do all the rest?
Doubtful, it’s insane. There are too many suspects, like the entire troupe.
We’ve got find a way to narrow it down.”
“Top three are Rick, Francis and Angela. They benefit the most directly.”
“And yet they seem too obvious.”
By the time Katarina emerged from the bathroom, wearing a robe, her long,
dark hair wrapped in a towel, half the pizza was gone, as Dan and Trixie
reviewed the case details.
Katarina walked over to the sofa and sat primly on the edge, waiting
silently.
Dan looked up and did a double take. With the harsh stage makeup on, he had
thought she looked old for her twenty-eight years, but without the makeup,
he realized she looked younger. Her features were delicate, her eyes large
and darkly expressive. She had a rosebud mouth and Dan was surprised she
how pretty she was. She had removed the towel and was carefully combing out
her wet hair.
“You don’t have a hair dryer,” she said flatly. Her face was shiny, having
just rubbed moisturizer into it.
Dan laughed and ran his hand over his close-cut hair. Seventeen years in
the Navy had him used to it short. “Ah, no.”
“I might have one but it probably isn’t fancy. I can find it, if you’d
like,” Trixie offered.
“I would appreciate that,” Katarina said stiffly.
Trixie wiped her fingers on a napkin. “Back in a flash.”
While they waited for her to come back, Dan pointed to the large pizza
smothered in cheese and meat. “Help yourself,” he offered.
Somehow, he wasn’t surprised when she shuddered. “No, thank you.”
Dan chuckled, and reached for the salad box. “Here, I got you this, if
you’re hungry.”
She scrutinized it. “Is it organic? Kale or arugula?”
Dan snorted as he took a swig of his beer. “Not likely. It’s probably just
iceberg lettuce.”
Trying not to sneer, she set it down on the table. “Thank you,” she said
coolly.
Dan tried not to roll his eyes. If she wasn’t going to eat, it wasn’t his
fault. The contents of his fridge contained mostly leftover take-out at
various stages of edibleness, beer, and a maybe a loaf of bread. There was
peanut butter and canned soups in the cabinets, but Dan rarely grocery
shopped. If there was orange juice in the fridge, it was probably rancid.
He glanced at her hands. His old mentor, Thomas Magnum, had told him once
to always study a person’s hands, it would reveal much more about them than
their words. Her hands were slender, but her fingers shorter than he
expected. Her fingernails were too short, visibly bitten down. High stress,
he thought. The skin of her hands were a little shiny, as if she had just
rubbed lotion into them as well.
Pity about the nails, Dan thought. He liked seeing women’s nails taken care
of. He had a flash of Kona’s nails, and how she always kept them just
slightly past her finger tips, and always painted with a soft peachy shade
that suited her dark skin. Just long enough to dig into his back or
shoulders during orgasm. He tried not to think about her as he remembered
Yasmina’s fingernails, long, almond shaped, and scarlet red. Dan shuddered
inwardly at the memory of the woman.
Trixie came back, locking the door behind her, and held out the hair dryer.
“Here you go. It’s just a basic one speed, but it’ll do the trick.”
“Thank you,” Katarina took it and went back to the bathroom. Once the door
was shut and they could hear the dryer going, Dan rolled his eyes.
“Ice Queen!” Trixie whispered.
“Mmmhmm. Thank God this is only for a couple days.”
“She didn’t want her salad?” Trixie reached for her beer.
Dan snorted. “She wants organic kale.”
Trixie paused, stunned, her bottle almost to her lips. “Like, to eat?”
“Evidently.”
“Gross. I thought people only bought that stuff to let it die in their
vegetable drawer.”
“Vile stuff,” he agreed. “Where were we?” Dan reached for another piece of
pizza.
“Mucuna pruriens. Common ingredient in itching powders.”
“Does it cause the swelling?” Dan had had his hand on ice as much as
possible at the theatre and finally put some cortisone on it, along with
taking a Benadryl.
“It can. Particularly if you’re already allergic to it.”
“I don’t have allergies.”
“You might be allergic to this. It makes most people itch.”
“This never happened when Mart was using the stuff on everyone.”
“It’s just a common ingredient. There are several. All easily
attainable, and a concentrated dose could make for a miserable night.”
“I didn’t want to take the Benadryl,” Dan nodded.
“You really should get it looked at, Danno. I can stay with Prima PITA.”
“If it doesn’t get better, I will.”
“You’re going to be going crazy with that all night.”
“Trust me, after two tours in Afghanistan, I can take a little itching.”
*
Trixie had left by the time Katarina came out of the bathroom; her hair
dry. Soft waves tumbled about her shoulders. She wore a set of light blue
silk pajamas and white socks.
“I’d like to go to bed,” she said. “I have an early call.”
“Sure. I put the clean sheets on.” He had made sure to wear a glove, to
avoid risk of transferring the substance on his hand. Currently his hand
was coated in in cortisone cream.
She eyed him suspiciously. “It’s a large bed, are you planning on sleeping
in it too?”
“No,” he sighed. “I’ll stay out here on the sofa, just in case.”
Her eyes widened. She was really pretty, he thought, if she wouldn’t scowl
so much and brought her nose down a little.
“Just in case of what?” she demanded.
“In case we were followed.”
“You said I’d be safe here!”
“It’s a very small chance.”
Katarina began to pace. “How small?”
“Small enough you should go to bed and let me worry about it.” His tone was
no-nonsense.
From her expression, he expected her to argue but she finally turned and
went to the king-sized bed.
Since the studio apartment was open without sectioned off rooms, any noise
he made would be heard. As she got into bed, he took the pizza to the
kitchen and wrapped the last two pieces in foil before sticking them in the
fridge. He’d finish it for breakfast.
The beer bottles he rinsed out and put in the recycling bin. Since she was
done in the bathroom, he took care of business and brushed his teeth.
Stripping off his jeans and shirt, he was aware of her eyes on him as he
took the extra sheets and blanket out to the sofa. He had pulled on a pair
of boxers and clean shirt but he was proud of his lean and muscular frame
and enjoyed women appreciating it.
It would be a short night, he thought with a heavy sigh, glancing at the
clock. Tomorrow he and Trixie had more interviews to conduct.
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Author’s Notes
- HUGE thanks to Trish taking this on to edit!
- Word Count, 2,890
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