Amanda crossed her arms on Marc’s knee and rested her aching head. Even his perfect nakedness seemed foreign now. As if a glass wall had formed out of the very air between her and the rest of the world cutting her off from all feeling.
A whoop of delight shocked her back.
Christine came rushing at them waving Wilde’s sketch, her Renaissance skirts swirling around her. “Me! He gave it to me!”
She spun ecstatically, sending up clouds of chalk dust from the salon’s floor, then rushed back to the beaming artist to hug him tightly. She whooped, “Wilde, you are the best buddy in the world! This will go over my bed. The highest place of honor!”
As Marc and Amanda heavily stood to congratulate the chortling Christine, a furious, scowling Nathan stalked toward her and snatched the drawing.
“It’s mine,” he snarled through gritted teeth. He turned viciously on a quaking Professor Angeli, wide-eyed with fear. “I warned you, you old crock. I told you to tell the old bastard not to give the stuff away.” He shoved the drawing quickly but carefully into his backpack and spun to spray the group with a mad-dog look.
A look that had no effect on Christine. “What the hell are you doing, you little twerp? Have you gone nuts? That’s
Without a moment’s hesitation, Nathan swept his arm across his chest and snapped it back, hitting Christine in the face with the back of his hand. With a gasp, she sprawled backwards into Marc who had instantly lunged for Nathan. They fell in a tangle of fabric.
“I warned you. I warned you all!” Nathan wrenched the door open. “This is my drawing!”
The door slammed thunderously behind him.
Chapter 18
“OH, MY word!” Wilde flapped his arms in disbelief.
“Dear heaven, he’s gone mad!” Professor Angeli charged about distractedly.
“Christine, you’re bleeding!” Amanda leaped to disentangle Marc from the older woman.
“God, whatta belt. Bleeding? Damn!”
“Ace, look after Christine! I’m going after him!” Marc bolted around the bewildered older men.
“The little twerp has always been flaky.”
He dashed out of the apartment.
“You don’t have any clothes on!”
“Damn! I think he loosened a tooth! Ace? Who the hell is…?”
“Professor! Mr. Wilde! Look after Christine, I’m going with Marc!”
“Marc?” Angeli’s voice was a confused croak.
“I’m fine, damn it! I’m coming, too,” Christine shouted after Amanda. “It’s a scratch. He must have caught me with one of his arty rings. Just get the little bastard. I knew he was going to crack!”
The hallway was empty except for the naked model looking frantically around.
“Ace, I’ve gotta get that drawing! If he destroys it we have no evidence!”
“But…”
“I don’t know whether he grabbed an elevator or made for the stairs. You take the elevator, I’ll take the stairs! Be careful,” he yelled, disappearing into the stairwell.
Christine furiously stormed after them into the hall, still trying to clear her head, followed by the two men.
“Catch the elevator,” Amanda called to the group, “I’m going down the stairs.”
She dashed into the stairwell and caught sight of a naked Marc racing down the steps two floors below her.
“Marc, Marc!” Her voice echoed down the shaft. “The others are taking the elevator. Do you think he went down to the street or do you think he’s hiding on another floor?” She was already puffing hard.
“Sounded like he just wants to get away from here.” Marc’s voice rebounded up to her.
“But it doesn’t make sense.” She raced down the stairs, gasping, clutching her long skirt out of her way. “We all know where he lives. What’s he thinking of?”
“That’s what worries me. I think he really might have flipped! I don’t want him to hurt himself or the drawing. Or us!”
Good lord, he’s not ever breathing hard, she noted in astonishment as her calves began to burn.
Marc hit the first floor flying and dashed into the lobby with Amanda not far behind.
“What the hell?” the guard behind the desk leaped up at the sight of the naked man.
“Have you seen a kid in a jerkin and tights? Probably running?” Marc quickly scanned the startled occupants of the narrow lobby.
“Uh…”
“He’s a thief!” Amanda yelled, emerging from the stairwell. “We need back-up!”
“Take the south door,” Marc called, zigzagging through startled people. “I’ll take the north!”
Amanda dashed out the door onto the sidewalk. The night was filled with people. Nathan was nowhere to be seen.
She caught sight of Marc’s muscular bare body at the other end of the block frantically searching the crowd as the flow of pedestrians parted apprehensively around him.
Amanda bellowed into the passing late-night crowd, hoping to catch the attention of the blase New Yorkers. “Nathan’s stolen a fake Michelangelo! The game’s up, Nathan!” She quickly scanned the startled pedestrians, slowed down by the galvanizing shout which had caught the attention of even blase New York night strollers.
Half-way down the block she caught sight of a costumed figure that broke from the crowd and suddenly began to run.
“There he is, Marc! He’s headed for the subway!”
The tanned body streaked by her with the grace of a gazelle.
“Get the little bastard!” Christine and the two older artists lurched from the lobby onto the sidewalk, all in disarrayed Renaissance splendor. Amanda dashed after the disappearing Marc, her long dress hiked up to her knees.
“Stop him,” Wilde bellowed.
Christine flung her train over her arm and started running.
Professor Angeli gasped for breath as he hurried after them. “Oh dear, oh dear heaven, please!”
Suddenly ahead of her, Amanda heard a noisy commotion and screams. “He’s got a gun!”
“The kid’s got a gun!”
She pushed her way through the frantically dispersing mob of wild-eyed, terrified women and frantic men. Blood-lust spectators raced along with her.
Ahead, breaking through the crowd, she saw Nathan dash into the middle of 72nd Street, clutching his backpack to his chest with one arm, the modern pack an incongruous shock against his 15th century garb. Wildly, he swung his other arm around. She caught the frightening glint of hard metal in his hand. Cars screeched to a halt to avoid the angry, threatening figure.
The tearing of metal split the air as two cars collided. She spun around as Marc leaped into the air onto the hood of a taxi and stepped lightly onto the roof. A shot rang out.
His tan body, illuminated by street lights and neon glow, contracted to avoid the bullet and then dove off the yellow roof. Amanda screamed and raced around the car. Cowering passengers inside twisted to follow her. Marc landed square on the spinning Nathan, trapped by traffic and surging crowds.
The gun went off again as Marc’s falling body hit the younger man and sent him sprawling. Amid screams and yells and screeching brakes, the arena cleared.
