In Deep Shitake Part 33

"Idiot. Where is that byeazoomyets."

"He has be there, boss," a low voice said.

"Then how did this lock come?"

"Uhmmm. I could shoot lock off."

"No. Maybe I let you shoot byeazoomyets. He must be at the club. Come."

A few moments later, car doors slammed and the engine was heard to turn over and fade away into the distance.

This door looks like the only way in or out," Ross said scanning the warehouse. "No windows that I can see."

Pus.h.i.+ng and tugging the door proved futile even though both Ross and Mo partic.i.p.ated. It barely gave an inch in either direction. Mo struck at the door with her shoulder.

"French fried fajitas!" Mo exclaimed through chugging breaths. She hit it again and the door didn't budge.

Ross pulled her into his arms. "Stop it. You're going to dislocate your shoulder."

"We have to get out of here before they come back."

"Obviously," he said with a quirk to his lips. "But injuring yourself isn't going to do it. Let me try."

Ross set her gently aside and then kicked the door forcefully. It bent but didn't give way. Retrieving the metal chair he'd been tied to, Ross rammed at the door with its legs, which produced nothing more than four round leg-sized dents in the metal.

"Maybe we should try to hide," Mo said.

"Where? There's nothing in here to hide in."

"What about the float?" Mo asked.

The two of them climbed aboard the paper mache monstrosity. At the front of the float trailer a miniature model of downtown Savannah had been constructed dominated by a tenth scale version of the gold domed city hall. A similarly scaled model of a suspension bridge spanned a blue tissue paper Savannah River between the downtown and the strip club.

A quick inspection revealed that the replica of the Hoochie Mama's House building had been fastened to a green toilet paper covered hill constructed over what felt like a wood two-by-four foundation about six feet in height.

The house had an interior about six feet square, not including the front porch area.

"They'll look in there first thing," Mo said.

"Yes," Ross said his face set in lines of concentration. "But I have an idea. Get the duct tape remnants and the nail file." Ross examined the hill and then prodded at it with careful fingers.

When Mo had retrieved the items. Ross took the nail file in hand and began cutting into the side of the mock gra.s.s near one of the corners, a straight line for approximately three feet. More cutting and he had created a paper mache entrance. The interior was a tissue paper cave.

Just then they heard a car engine approaching.

"Get in," Ross said.

Mo made a move to comply then stopped. "I'm claustrophobic."

"They have weapons," Ross reminded her.

"Good point." She climbed in. "I'm more gunaphobic."

Ross followed pulling the paper door over the opening. He took the duct tape from Mo's hand and applied it to the corners of the opening.

"Let's hope they don't look at this side very carefully," Ross said.

"Yeah, we're sitting duck a l'orange in here."

Mo knew air could pa.s.s through the toilet paper, and it wasn't even that dark. Nevertheless, the walls seemed to be moving closer. She put an arm through Ross's and the two of them stood, Ross with a slight hunch, silently listening to the metal clank of the Russian mobsters entering the warehouse.

"They gone," a baritone voice exclaimed.

"They can't be. I locked the door," a higher voice with a frightened tremor said.

"Well, they are." Kubikov sounded disgusted.

"Maybe they hide," the baritone said.

Fingers snapped. Mo heard scuttling about on cement. Obviously, the goons were looking for them. Her grip on Ross's arm tightened and, in the dim light of the toilet paper cave, her frightened eyes met his. He was a great actor, but she could tell his calm was too studied and deliberate to be real. Bless him. He was trying to be rea.s.suring. He dropped a silent kiss on the tip of her nose.

They both jerked as a movement near the float startled them. Through the small breaks in the paper, Mo saw Gigantor near the edge of the trailer holding the float. He bent and crawled under the edge. A b.u.mp on the floor under her feet nearly produced a gasp from Mo, which she prevented with a hand over her mouth.

After a few seconds, Gigantor emerged rubbing his head. Excellent, the monster had hit his head.

"Anything over there?" Kubikov asked.

"Nothing. But I look more." The thug jumped up onto the trailer and Ross steadied Mo when the floor dipped with his weight. He climbed the stairs and Mo heard him clomping around on the plank of plywood over their heads. Two steps this way, three steps that. Would he think to look beneath his feet? Were any of the cracks wide enough for him to see them?

"Anything?" Kubikov's tone was impatient.

"No. They not here."

Scuttling noises, then the little goon yipped. Mo leaned closer to one of the paper rips to see the smaller thug in the grips of the larger one.

"Is Stephen Dagger and his girl do the magic?" Kubikov asked.

"I don't understand," the little guy sobbed.

"They are either magician and have dematerialize or you let go."

"No, boss. No."

"Yes. I think they make deal with you."

"No. I just went to get some wings at the club. I was hungry. They were here when I left. They were still tied up."

"How much they pay?"

"Nothing."

"Then explain where they at?"

More sobbing. "I don't know."

A long spate of Russian sounding words spilled from Kubikov. In response, Gigantor dragged the little guy out of the building. Kubikov strolled to the door. He seemed to scan the building before snapping off the light. The building sank into total blackness.

The clanging of the lock being secured on the door seemed to echo in the building before they heard a car depart.

Ross carefully removed enough of the duct tape to slip out. Mo heard him flip on the light switch and check the door. "Dammit. They locked it." Returning to the float, he hopped up and ducked back into the opening in the hill. "I think we should stay in here. We don't know if they'll come back."

"Yeah, but can we leave the door off unless we hear something?"

"Yes, but I'm going to turn the light back off."

"Do you have to?"

"Yes. If Kubikov comes back and remembers he turned it off, he'll be certain we're in here. Right now he's going with the idea that the little guy let us go."

"You're right. They'd probably tear this float apart to find us if they were certain we're here," Mo acknowledged grudgingly. "But get my purse would you? It's on the floor near the door."

"I'm not even going to ask why," Ross said as he picked it up.

"There's a small flashlight on the keychain."

He soon scooped it out. "Got it."

When he'd turned out the light and found his way back to the inside of the float with the help of the small pin light provided by Mo's keychain, Ross propped the door so that it could be quickly placed over the opening. He settled in to sit beside Mo, handing her the messenger bag.

The pin light provided enough light for Mo to dig through the contents and come out with a candy bar. "I've got a Snickers bar here," she said, inspecting the paper wrapping. It's only a little bit mashed. I'll share with you."

"Cheers. I'm starved." Ross held out a hand.

Mo tore the bar in half and offered a part to Ross but s.n.a.t.c.hed it back before he could take it. "Hey, wait a minute. You really don't deserve this. You were a huge pork 'n beans earlier today."

Ross's hand fell. "I know I was completely and utterly wrong and I grovel at your feet with my wrongness."

"I don't see any groveling, mister," Mo said trying to joke but she had to look down to keep the real hurt from s.h.i.+ning out.

"I would grovel if we weren't hiding from Russian mobsters in a paper mache strip club crawl s.p.a.ce. It's a bit cramped in here to accomplish truly effective groveling." From Ross's light tone, Mo knew he had picked up on her effort to lighten things up.

Ross took her hand and the look in his eyes wasn't light at all. "Mo, I am so sorry about how I acted earlier. I don't have a proper excuse. There is no excuse." Ross reached out and stroked a finger in a sensuous line down along her cheekbone. "I should have trusted you. I don't really know what else to say. You have every reason to hold a grudge, but I hope you won't because I love...being with you and I don't want to lose what we've started to build here."

When he leaned toward her, Mo knew he was going to kiss her. She pulled back, placing a finger to his lips.

She couldn't kiss him. But he looked like such a puppy dog Mo couldn't resist offering the half a Snickers bar again. "Okay, have the candy if you're that desperate."

Taking it with a laugh, Ross tore back the paper and bit off a chunk, which he then chewed with gusto. "If this is all I can get, I'll take it...for now."

His words sent a s.h.i.+ver through her. Not from fear but from the sensual possibilities they promised for the future. Mo studiously avoided any eye contact and instead concentrated on carefully peeling back the paper and nibbling on the chocolate.

Chapter Nineteen.

Being this close to Mo was doing things to Ross that he knew he shouldn't allow under the circ.u.mstances. Russian mobsters could come back and kill them at any minute. But Russian mobsters be d.a.m.ned, he wanted Mo. The only thing really stopping him was Mo herself. She hadn't forgiven him and he didn't blame her.

"I think we should turn out this light," Ross said.

"I really don't want to," she responded. "But you're right. We don't want to run the battery down." She picked-up the keychain from where it lay on the floor. "You may as well put the door into place. If it's dark, I won't be able to see that it's open anyway."

After Ross taped the door into place, Mo snapped off the switch on the key chain and plunged them into blackness.

Almost immediately, Ross heard Mo's breathing become more ragged with the kind of choppy sounds he sometimes heard from young actors about to go on stage-and about to suffer a panic attack.

His own breathing had become more rapid, but Ross knew it wasn't panic, but the smell of Mo that he now knew so well had its effect. He couldn't think of anything but her. It was as if the darkness had focused all his attention on her.

Feeling his way, Ross tried to place a comforting arm around Mo's shoulder and encountered her breast instead. The unintended caress did not help him in his effort to ignore his desires or the reaction of his body.

"Hey, watch it," she said.

"Sorry." He moved away. "You were panicking. I was just trying to comfort you."

"By groping me?"

"Again, sorry." He settled in the cramped s.p.a.ce by leaning in a sitting position against one of the two-by-fours.

"Okay, then," Mo said and fell silent. A few seconds later, she spoke. "My leg is going to sleep."

Ross heard movement and a.s.sumed she was trying to get more comfortable. He felt Mo's hand fall on his upper thigh, just grazing his hardness under the jeans zipper.

"Hey, watch it yourself," he said. He hoped she didn't notice his state of arousal and think he was a lecher.

"Sorry. I thought you were panicking," Mo said sardonically. "I was just trying to comfort you."

Silence reined in the darkness as Ross fought for self-control. Finally, he lost the battle and said, "You can comfort me like that any time you want." He couldn't hide the desire that strained beneath the joking words.

"Yeah...well," Mo said. "It wasn't s.e.x that we had a problem with. I seem to recall we couldn't handle...other things. Relations.h.i.+p things."

"I know. My fault."

"I'm not looking for an explanation, Ross. And I'm not asking you to apologize again. Apology accepted. Okay? Just stop apologizing." Her words dripped anger.