Trust Me

in the bushes?”
    “Just keep it down,” the man muttered.
    Desdemona walked briskly toward number six. When she reached it she knocked once.
    “Who is it?” Tony asked from inside the room.
    “It’s me, Desdemona. Who else are you expecting?”
    Tony opened the door a scant two inches and peered out. “You alone?”
    “Of course I’m alone.”
    “Come on in.” Tony opened the door wider. “Christ, am I glad to see you. Did you tell anyone where I am?”
    Desdemona stepped into the motel room. She swept the tawdry little cubicle with a single glance and winced. “No. I told you that I wouldn’t let anyone else know where you are. But, Tony, we have to talk. This is crazy. You can’t hide out here forever.”
    “I haven’t got enough money to leave town.” Tony started to close the door. “That bastard boyfriend of yours has really run a number on me, kid. He’s set me up for murder.”
    “Don’t call him a bastard.” Desdemona swung around to face him. “I refuse to believe that Stark would do such a thing.”
    “Well, he did.” Tony turned toward her as he continued to push the door closed with one hand. His handsome face was twisted into an expression of seething fury. “It’s the only explanation.”
    “Wrong,” Stark said from the doorway. “There’s another explanation. You’re guilty.”
    “Shit.” Tony threw his full weight against the door.
    He was too late. Desdemona glanced down and saw that Stark had the toe of one running shoe wedged securely in the narrow opening.
    “Let him in, Tony.”
    “Are you crazy? The guy wants me dead.” Tony gritted his teeth as he leaned against the door.
    Stark planted his palm on the opposite side of the door and shoved hard.
    “For heaven’s sake, let him in, Tony.” Desdemona was exasperated. “This is pointless. He obviously knows you’re here.”
    Tony whirled and braced his back against the door. He was breathing heavily. The tendons of his neck bulged with effort. “The son-of-a-bitch is out to get me. Don’t you understand? For God’s sake, help me.”
    “This is ridiculous,” Desdemona said. “Let him in.”
    “Whose side are you on here?” The heels of Tony’s boots scraped along the threadbare carpet. He was losing ground.
    A moment later the door slammed open. Tony lost his balance and reeled against the wall.
    Stark walked into the room and closed the door.
    With a snarl, Tony launched himself toward Stark. Stark sidestepped the lunge. He turned with an astonishingly casual movement, caught hold of Tony’s arm, and sent him flying toward the opposite wall.
    Tony landed with a thud.
    “Stop it,” Desdemona said fiercely. “Both of you. Stop it right now. I won’t have this, do you hear me?”
    Both men ignored her. Tony picked himself up and hurtled once more toward Stark, who watched him until the last possible instant. Than he moved to the side, turned, and went in low. Tony raised his hands to defend himself.
    The two men collided, grappled, and fell to the floor.
    Desdemona dropped her purse and ran to the bed. She grabbed the tattered chenille spread, yanked it free, and tossed it over the heaving fighters. It settled over their rolling, twisting bodies, muffling their blows and savage grunts.
    “Stop it.” Desdemona grabbed the stained sheets and the thin blanket and dropped those on top of the surging bedspread. “Stop it, I said.” She was trembling.
    The pile of bedding heaved one last time and then stilled.
    As Desdemona watched, stunned by the violence, Stark’s big hand appeared from underneath the tumbled bedclothes. He jerked the sheets aside and sat up. He gave Desdemona a single, unreadable glance. Then he got to his feet and looked down at Tony.
    With a groan, Tony wrenched aside the confining bedclothes and levered himself to one knee. His jaw was rigid, and his eyes were mere slits.
    “Son-of-a-bitch,” he breathed. “You goddamned son-of-a-bitch. I know what you’re trying to do.”
    “Do you?” Stark asked.
    Desdemona realized she was still shaking. “Please,” she whispered. “No more. We have to talk.”
    Tony turned on her. “Why did you bring him here, Desdemona? I told you that he was the one who’s trying to set me up. How could you do this to me? I’m family. I trusted you.”
    “I didn’t bring him here.” Desdemona sank unsteadily into the nearest chair. She clasped her hands together to still the shivering in her fingers. “I have no idea how he – “