Scarlet Nights: An Edilean Novel Read online

  The men were equally matched in size and weight, their bodies coated in muscle, with wide shoulders and tiny waists, and their back muscles flared out like the wings on a bat.

  The other man struck out at Mike with his fist as though he were bareknuckle boxing, and Sara was glad to see Mike duck and dodge the blow. Then, in a flash, Mike bent and grabbed the man’s leg and pulled hard. The man kept his balance for a few moments, but Mike butted his head into the man’s stomach and he went down, with Mike on top of him.

  The men were wrapped around each other, Mike on top, with the man’s legs around Mike’s back. Mike began punching at the man’s head with his fists while the man pulled his legs down and gave a great push to Mike’s stomach. Mike moved back, and in the next second they were again standing up and punching at each other.

  Sara stepped down, her fist to her mouth to keep from screaming. She looked at Ariel. “Is that the man you saw at the fair? The one you were so hot for?”

  Ariel shrugged.

  “You are a worse judge of men than I am!”

  “We have to call Colin,” Ariel whispered.

  “Mike would be dead by the time he got here.” Sara looked at Ariel in her long skirt and silk top. “We need to distract them. What do you have on under there?”

  Ariel gave a half smile of understanding and turned her back to Sara so she could untie her laces. “There’s a little shop across from the New York Public Library, the big one, run by a tiny Frenchwoman. You can’t believe the lingerie she carries. And it’s all altered to fit you perfectly.” Her voice was too fast as she worked to cover her fear.

  “Really?” Sara asked. Her hands were shaking. “If you can … If you can get one of those men to follow you to the barn, there’s a trap there.” Sara tried to think of the objective and not about what could happen to Ariel if she got an armed man to follow her. She explained about the trap and the trip wire across the door, and she told her about the loft and Mike swinging down on the rope.

  When Ariel’s dress was loosened, she turned around and began pushing the heavy gown off her shoulders. “I’ll be fine. Quit worrying about me.” When the dress was puddled at her feet, Ariel was wearing a black silk corset with tiny red ribbons threaded through the top, and black panties that covered only half of her firm derriere. Her long legs were bare.

  “I’m glad I don’t wear the granny pants that you do.”

  “Ariel, why don’t you try being nice? You might like it.” Since Sara had made her own costume she’d fixed it so it was easy on and off. She’d concealed Velcro under the front seam of the gown, and now she quickly opened it. When she’d dressed that morning she’d thought of rewarding Mike for winning the games, so she’d put on some underwear he hadn’t seen. Her white corset, white underpants, and the white stockings that reached midthigh were certainly a match for Ariel’s outfit.

  Ariel leaned back against the house. “So here we are, outfitted for a day at the Chicken Ranch, but now what do we do?”

  In the next second, the question was answered for them when they heard shots in the distance.

  Ariel and Sara looked at each other. “Mitzi,” they said in unison. She had escaped her ties and found Mike’s weapons.

  “Go to the other side of the house,” Sara said. “I’ll let Greg see me.”

  Seconds later, the sound of the shots brought Greg and one of the bodyguards onto the porch. When Sara, in her white underwear, appeared at one side, both men looked at her in surprise.

  On the opposite side there was a loud noise, like a big rock hitting the side of the house. The bodyguard went to see what it was, and there was Ariel, tall, slim, and in a black silk corset. He didn’t even think to fire, just stood there looking at her.

  Smiling seductively at him, Ariel took a step backward.

  The man glanced at his boss, but Greg only had eyes for Sara. “It’s a woman,” the man said.

  “Go after her,” Greg growled. “This one is mine.”

  The bodyguard jumped off the porch and ran after Ariel.

  Sara turned around and started running, but she couldn’t outrun Greg. He caught her just as she reached the gravel yard in front of the old coach house.

  She prepared herself for a blow, but it didn’t come. When she looked at him his face had taken on an expression of great sadness and hurt. It was a look she knew well. He’d used it many times when talking about his former girlfriends—the ones who’d betrayed him and made him cautious of all women.

  As Sara watched him, she was struck by how emotions could change in an instant. A month ago, when Greg had looked at her with his sad, poor-me face, her heart had gone out to him. How could she possibly complain about anything he ever did? How could she add to the hurt he’d already experienced? Whatever she’d been about to question or complain about, she’d stopped. She didn’t want it said about her that she’d ever hurt anyone—and she’d wanted to prove to Greg that not all women were as greedy, selfish, and manipulating as his previous girlfriends had been.

  But now Sara saw that the feel-sorry-for-me look Greg was wearing wasn’t real, and she wondered how she could ever have been so lacking in self-esteem that she had believed him.

  What she wanted to do was tell him what she knew about him, but there was a gun stuck in his waistband, and she knew she couldn’t do that. It was better to placate him, not make him angry.

  Instead, she was going to do her best to use his giant ego against him. She willed the anger to leave her as she nearly fell against Greg, her arms around his torso. “Oh, Greg, my darling, it’s been so awful while you were gone. You can’t believe the lies people told me about you. But I didn’t believe a word of them.”

  Her breath was held, waiting for him to believe her or … to shoot her. After what seemed like minutes, he put his arms around her.

  “Sara,” he said cautiously. “Why are you here and why don’t you have on any clothes?”

  “I was at the fair and Mr. Lang told me you were here.”

  “Lang?”

  She pulled away to look at him. “Yes. Mr. Lang said you were here waiting for me and that you wanted to see me, so of course I came immediately. After I got here, I was at my car and I was changing out of my fair costume when I heard what sounded like gunshots. I was afraid Mr. Lang had his shotgun and he was after you so I came just as I was.”

  “Why did you run when I saw you?”

  “You looked so angry at my dishabille.”

  “Your …?”

  She saw anger flash across his face and knew she’d made a mistake. He hated it when she used words he didn’t know—and that look reminded her how she’d lived with his constantly changing moods. One second he’d be fine and the next he’d be in a rage—and it was always Sara’s fault. All his bad moods—never the good ones—were, according to Greg, caused by Sara.

  She pretended she hadn’t seen his anger. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said and made herself kiss his neck. “Did you miss me?” When you were with your wife? Or in jail? she wanted to ask.

  “Sara, I don’t have time for this right now.” He pulled her arms from around his neck and stepped away, but she saw the flicker in his eyes. She had no idea if he knew about her marriage to Mike or not, but one thing was clear: He wanted sex. And she needed time. “There’s an old summerhouse near here,” she said softly. “Just behind those hedges.”

  “I …”

  She began to back away from him. “Bet you can’t catch me,” she said in as enticing a manner as she could manage, then she took off running toward the summerhouse. But she’d seen the anger flit across Greg’s eyes, and she knew that it wouldn’t be long before he released his rage. As she ran, the image in her mind was of seeing Mr. Lang put the wire across the doorway of the old summerhouse and attaching the arrows just inside the entrance.

  At the time, she’d visualized what would have happened if Mike or she had stepped into the pretty little building after the trap had been set. But Sara couldn’t think