by Robert Burton Robinson

A voice from behind Kory said, “Let’s go!”

Kory turned his head and saw Bella. He showed her the tie-wraps. “There’s a knife in my right pants’ pocket.”

She took it out, opened it, and cut the tie-wrap off his ankles. Then she cut the one off his wrists.

Billy’s truck alarm went silent.

Kory and Bella heard somebody’s boots walking across the wooden front porch as they hurried out the back hallway.

“Daddy!” yelled Bobby. “He’s gone!”

The old man and Billy ran into the house.

“Catch him!” said the old man. “If he gets away, we’re dead!”

“I’ll get him,” said Billy. He picked up his blowgun and ran down the hallway, through the utility room, and out to the back porch. He could barely see the figure running across the grass toward the neighbor’s house. He quickly loaded his weapon, aimed, and blew. Kory would fall to his knees, and then drop dead—just like the mangy old dogs he used for target practice.

“Why is he still running?” said the old man. “He’s still running!”

“Hey, I see two people,” said Bobby.

Billy blew another dart.

“I think you missed again,” said Bobby.

“Why’d you go off and leave him alone in the house, Bobby?” shouted Billy. “This is your fault!”

“Uh-oh,” said Bobby. “Look!” He pointed toward the road. Three sets of flashing red and blue lights were racing up the road. “They’re coming here!”

Billy dropped the blowgun, and ran off the porch and around to the front yard. Bobby and the old man were close behind.

Billy jumped into his truck.

Bobby got into the Mustang.

The old man jumped on his Harley and stomped the starter.

Just as the police were pulling up to the house, Billy drove diagonally across the front yard, through the ditch and onto the road, nearly colliding with two police cars that were just arriving.

Bobby and the old man drove out the other direction. But the cops quickly cut them off.

Bobby surrendered.

The old man tried to make a sharp U-turn, and slid down.

Kory and Bella watched the circus from the neighbor’s driveway.

“How did you find me?” said Kory.

“I found a piece of paper in Evan’s shirt pocket. It had the directions on it.”

“He must have been planning to come here tonight to sell the drugs.”

“Evan was a dealer? I can’t believe I went out with a drug dealer.”

“So, you just took a chance that this is where I went.”

“Yeah. After I found the dart stuck in Evan’s back, I figured you hadn’t killed him.”

“So, at first you thought I had killed him?”

“Well, what was I supposed think? I go into the house for two minutes, and when I come out, Evan’s dead and you’re speeding away in your car. But when I saw the dart, I figured that maybe you had gone after the killer. So, I followed the directions. It was the only clue I had.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“And when I got here I saw your car in the driveway. So, I parked over here and ran up to their house. I peeked in the window and saw that you were in trouble. I figured if I could distract them for a minute, you just might be able to escape. Fortunately, your keys were in the ignition, so I called 9-1-1 and gave them directions. I told them to look for a black ‘66 GTO. Then I started up your car, dropped it into ‘Drive,’ and just let it go up the driveway. I knew it would pick up speed as it went along. Then I ran as fast as I could, and went around to the back of the house, and came in just as the truck alarm tripped.”

“But how could you be sure his alarm would be turned on?”

“Actually, I didn’t even think about the possibility of a car alarm. I figured the crash would be enough to get them out of the house.”

He looked at his wrecked GTO in the distance and wondered if it would ever be the same.

“And by the way,” she said, “the police are not going to be too happy with us for leaving the scene.”

“What do you mean? We’re still here.”

“I’m talking about the scene at my house—Evan’s body.”

“I think they’ll forgive us. We’ve just handed them three drug dealers.” Kory suddenly remembered Billy and his blowgun. “Did you hear something when we were running?”

“Like what?”

“Like a dart flying through the air.”

“No, but you were behind me. Turn around and let me check you.”

Kory turned his back to her.

“I need more light. Come over to my car,” she said, leading him to the truck. She popped the lid, and the light came on inside. Almost immediately, the bulb burned out.

“Great,” he said. “But I guess if he’d hit one of us, we’d already be dead.”

She took hold of his shoulders to direct him. “Turn just a little to the left. There.”

The moonlight was dim, but his pants were white, and looked almost glow-in-the-dark. “Hold still.” She put her left hand against his right butt cheek.

He didn’t have any idea what she was doing, but he kinda liked it. He felt her pull something off the seat of his pants. “What are you doing?”

“Getting this.” She held up a dart.

He turned back around. His face went pale when he saw it. “I didn’t even feel it.” He began to hyperventilate. “I must be going numb—just like Billy said I would!”

She dropped the dart in the trunk. “Relax. You’re gonna be fine. Take off your pants.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Take them off—carefully.”

He slipped out of his shoes. Then he took his pants off, and held them out, by the waistband.

She took them, turned them around, and pointed to the right rear pocket. “Your wallet saved you. You’re gonna need a new one.” She dropped the pants into the trunk.

Without thinking, he grasped her head with both hands and kissed her on the mouth. He pulled away from her lips sooner than he really wanted to. “Thank you for saving my life, Bella.”

She stepped back. “I was just returning the favor.”

“Oh, I don’t think Evan planned to kill you.”

“No. But if he’d had his way with me, I might have wished I was dead.”

“Hey, I’d better check you for darts.”

“No. I was running in front of you. He couldn’t have hit me. Besides, like you said, I’d already be dead.”

“Turn around.”

“Oh, alright.” She turned her back to him.

“Let’s see.” He worked his hands carefully down her back and across her firm rear end and thighs.

“Hey.” She spun around.

“Looks like you’re dart-free.”

“Do that again, and you’re gonna be hands-free.” She punched him hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. Once he had caught his breath, he said, “Bella?”

“Yes?”

“You said you wanted to get a job. Why don’t you come to work for me?”

“I don’t want to be a secretary.”

“You wouldn’t be. You’d be my personal assistant—taking phone calls, answering emails, stuff like that.”

“Sure sounds like a secretarial job to me.”

“Look, Bella, I need somebody I can trust. Not some nine-to-fiver who’ll go telling everybody my business. I want somebody who’s smart, tough, and discrete.”

“Somebody who can rescue you when you get yourself into trouble?”

“I don’t usually get into this much trouble.”

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe if I could take it on a trial basis, and just see how it goes….”

“Sure.”

“But no more kissing or grabbing. That’s not part of the deal.” She punched him hard in the arm.

“Ouch! You got me right on the bone.”

“Good.”

“So, you want to start on Monday?”

“Yeah. And my first order of business will be to make you go out and buy some new boxers. Those things are ugly—even in the dark.”

Kory rubbed his arm. “I must be crazy. You’re gonna be a big pain in the butt, aren’t you?”

“You betcha. But I’ll keep you on track.”

“That’s what I need.”

They watched the police cuff the three felons and stuff them into the back seats of their cruisers.

Kory moved in close to Bella’s side and put his arm around her shoulders.

“Careful,” she warned, smiling to herself.

THE END

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Copyright © 2006-2008 Robert Burton Robinson
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