Once Burned, Twice Spy Page 19

  She handed back the burner phone. “You needn’t give me one of yours; Karma Wolf Song and Skidmark and I each have a couple.”

  “Thanks. It’s no big deal, though. I have lots.”

  Her face softened. “Of course, an agent of your calibre would be prepared for anything. But please keep it. You are more likely to need it than I.” She reached into the folds of her capacious caftan and withdrew a slip of paper. “Here are our current burner numbers.”

  “Thank you.” I hugged her, my heart swelling with fondness and relief. I wouldn’t be completely on my own after all. I had three veteran agents in my corner.

  As I drew away, I added, “I won’t contact you unless I have absolutely no other choice, but…” I swallowed the lump of gratitude in my throat. “…it’s good to know you’re here.”

  Moonbeam smiled. “If it is within our power, we will always be available to help you. You need only ask. Now, we should return to the table before awkward questions arise.”

  I nodded and followed her back. As we sat down again, Skidmark leaned toward Karma and spoke in a poorly-disguised aside. “Why do chicks always have to go to the can together?”

  Moonbeam patted his hand. “So we can gossip about our lovers, of course. Storm Cloud Dancer now knows everything there is to know about your genitalia.”

  “It was a short conversation,” I said straight-faced.

  Everyone burst into laughter including Skidmark, who wheezed until he choked. Karma and I sprang up and hurried to him, hovering anxiously until he mastered the spasm and waved us off.

  Reaching for his water glass with a trembling hand, he shot me a grin and croaked, “Christ, girlie, you’re gonna kill me.” He sipped, then wiped his streaming eyes before adding, “And what a way to go.”

  “Let’s try to postpone that for a while, okay?” I asked, my heart still thumping.

  “Sure thing,” he agreed.

  “Well…” I sighed and reached for my bags. “I need to get going. It was great to see all of you…”

  After a round of hugs and goodbyes with his parents, I turned to Stemp. “I hope the audit goes okay at your end,” I said. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with it here.”

  “No need to apologize; I know you will be working hard on it, too.” He inclined his chin. “Safe travels.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, and turned away before I could blow anybody’s cover.

  Behind me, Moonbeam’s gently reproving voice chided, “Surely you could have spared her a hug, Cosmic River Stone.”

  I hurried off, abandoning Stemp to his fate.

  Chapter 24

  Out of sight of the restaurant, I sank into a chair in the hotel lobby and pulled out a burner phone. My first call was to Tom, and it went straight to voicemail. I left him a short message letting him know that I’d be gone for an unspecified period of time and that my house would be occupied until further notice.

  After hanging up, I drew a bracing breath and dialled the number Ian had given me. When he answered with a brisk, “Rand”, I replied in a seductive murmur. “Well, you’re all business tonight. Can you spare some time for pleasure?”

  His voice warmed and deepened. “I always have time for pleasure. Where are you?”

  “At the airport. Stemp had to pick up his parents and then we were all supposed to go back to Silverside, but I begged off. Where are you?”

  “In my lonely hotel room at the Palliser.” I could hear the teasing smile in his voice. “With stellar room service and a decadent shower and a king-size bed with a cozy duvet…”

  “Sold,” I interrupted. “I’ll be there in half an hour. What room are you in?”

  “Eight-twelve. I’ll have the champagne chilling.”

  The taxi ride gave me too much time to think and not enough time to plan.

  How long should I stay in Ian’s room? Only long enough to get whatever information he had to share? Or should I stay longer to make it look as though we were having a tryst?

  The thought sent a tingle of anticipation through me. I had only been alone with him a few short times, and things had heated up fast. If I was in his hotel room for hours with a king-sized bed flaunting itself only a few feet away, what would happen?

  If only I’d had enough time to indulge in Arnie’s expert lovemaking, I would have been sated and relaxed instead of taut with nerves and pent-up need. And if Ian unleashed the full power of his highly effective seduction routine on me now…

  The tingles warmed, and my rationalizations swooped in to encourage the temptation.

  Would it be so bad to fall into bed with Ian? It would just be an uncomplicated one-night stand; no strings attached, no consequences. The memory of his soft teasing kisses and hard muscles suffused my body with heat.

  Maybe I should seize the opportunity. If I had to drop off-grid, I sure as hell wouldn’t be getting laid in the foreseeable future.

  Arnie wouldn’t mind a bit. Hell, he’d be relieved. Our closeness was comfortable and deeply comforting, but only as long as we both knew we weren’t committed to each other.

  My thoughts slid to Kane.

  He would mind.

  But Kane already knew Arnie and I slept together every chance we got; and when Kane had been an agent he hadn’t hesitated to use sex as a persuasive tool. He should understand that I might need to do the same.

  And anyway, Kane was still living with Alicia and, for all I knew, sharing her bed by now.

  …But what if he wasn’t? What if he was waiting and hoping to get serious with me?

  I hissed out a breath. Dammit, we weren’t even together. Why was I worrying about what he would want?

  The knee-jerk answer rose fully formed in a gut-kick of memory. Because if I cared about him, his tiniest twinge of emotion should be more important than my very life…

  “Fuck off with the bullshit programming,” I muttered. The cab driver gave me a questioning look in the rear-view mirror, and I plastered on a reassuring smile. Nothing to see here. Just ignore the crazy woman fighting the demons of her shitty first marriage.

  He returned my smile and kept driving, and I pulled my thoughts back to the mission at hand.

  Hot hunger built in my body while my thoughts circled back to Ian. Staying a few hours was a great idea.

  Unless…

  My desire trickled away as an unwelcome thought intruded. Ian had already lied to me. What game was he playing, and who was dealing his cards? What if he’d allied himself with the United States to turn me over to Dirk and Grandin?

  This might be a setup. And here I was, smiling blindly through my lust-coloured glasses while I bumbled into the trap, bringing classified technology as a bonus.

  I spent the rest of the trip hunched in the seat, compulsively tracing the butt of my Glock like an inappropriate worry stone while I considered and discarded plan after plan.

  When we pulled up at the hotel, I tipped the driver enough to be generous but not memorable. Then I slipped my network key and network generator into the P90’s duffel bag and trudged through the front doors straight to the concierge desk. When the uniformed woman greeted me, I dredged up a smile and hefted the duffel bag and my winter emergency pack up onto the desk.

  “May I leave these with you for a while?” I asked. “I’m visiting a friend upstairs and I don’t feel like hauling all my sports equipment up to the room with me.”

  “Of course.” She reached for a claim check.

  “Um… I’m sorry to trouble you, but may I tag these separately?” I gave her my best smile. “I might need one later but not the other.”

  “Certainly.”

  A few minutes later I walked away with my overnight backpack perched on my shoulder, two claim checks in my pocket, and the uneasy conviction that I’d just done something incredibly stupid.

  What would Stemp do if he knew I’d just abandoned top-secret technology, along with an automatic weapon and enough ammo to mow down half the hotel guests?

  I pressed the elevato
r call button with a quivering finger, still fighting the urge to run back to the concierge desk and grab my bags.

  Dammit, this was the best option. The bag lockup was the most secure area in the hotel. If Ian handed me over to be dragged out of the country, at least our classified technology wouldn’t go with me.

  On the eighth floor, I checked the directional signs and strode straight to the alcove that held the ice and vending machines. Palming the claim check for the P90, I dug through my change purse for enough coins to buy a bottle of water. While I inserted the coins and pressed the appropriate buttons, I propped my hand containing the claim check against the top of the vending machine.

  As the bottle dropped into the access port I tucked the claim check out of sight on top of the machine, then departed with my water.

  Only one claim check in my pocket. If they searched me and reclaimed my bag, they’d get nothing but my boots and ski pants and sleeping bag.

  Vibrating with tension, I headed for Ian’s room, stuffing the water bottle into my parka pocket to leave my hands free.

  As I approached I unzipped my parka and hitched my right hand comfortably into the waistband of my jeans, inches from my holster. When I stood close to Ian’s door and raised my left hand to knock the sides of my parka swung forward, blocking the sightline of the security cameras as I drew my Glock.

  I smiled at the fisheye peephole, wondering as always whether someone was looking back at me or simply raising a gun to the small aperture to shoot me in the face.

  I flinched despite myself when the door latch clicked.

  A moment later the door swung open. Stepping forward, I wrapped my left arm around Ian’s neck and dragged him into a kiss, jamming my gun into his stomach and pushing him into the room at the same time.

  He stiffened but didn’t fight back. Still crammed against him, I let the door swing shut behind us and walked him backward into the room, checking the open bathroom and scanning the room beyond.

  My heart gave a hard thump when I realized we weren’t alone.

  “Aydan…?” Ian mumbled cautiously against my lips. “What’s going on?”

  I surveyed the bottle of champagne chilling in the ice bucket, the fluffy duvet turned down invitingly on the king-sized bed, and Nora Taylor sitting very upright in one of the chairs.

  “You first,” I growled as I turned him loose and retreated a couple of paces to put my back to the wall. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “Please put your weapon away,” Ian said calmly. “You’re safe here. Nora wanted to speak with you privately, and we decided this was the least obtrusive way to accomplish that.”

  “Nora, is that true?” I asked.

  “Y-yes.”

  I scowled at her and Ian, searching for signs of duress. “You don’t sound too sure.”

  Nora visibly gathered herself, her shoulders squaring and chin lifting just like my mother used to do when she was entrenching herself in an argument.

  “I’m quite certain,” she said firmly. “Put away that weapon, young lady.”

  My lips quirked at her tone in spite of my tension. “I feel like I’m thirteen again,” I said, and holstered my Glock.

  Nora and Ian both relaxed into smiles.

  “Sorry about that,” I added. “I’m not feeling very trusting today.”

  “No bloody wonder,” Ian said. “May I offer you a drink?”

  “You may.” I grinned at him. “In fact, if you hadn’t, I would have helped myself.”

  “Manners,” he teased as he expertly popped the cork and poured three flutes of champagne.

  “No manners whatsoever,” I agreed, and accepted one of the glasses. Left-handed. Just in case I needed to grab my Glock.

  The bottle had been unopened when I arrived and the glasses had all looked clean. So my drink probably wasn’t drugged.

  But who knew?

  I waited until Ian took a drink before sipping warily, the bubbles sparkling and dancing on my tongue.

  “Won’t you sit down?” Ian gestured toward the chair beside Nora.

  “I’ll stand.” I regarded Nora over the rim of my glass. “You had some questions for me?”

  “Yes. I understand that you worked with my dear Sam. And that you were…” Her lips quivered but she brought them under control. “…the last person to speak with him.” She swallowed.

  “I don’t know about that,” I equivocated. “But I did speak to him on the phone once after he disappeared.”

  True, but not the truth.

  I added, “But go ahead and ask me whatever you want. I’ll tell you anything I can.”

  Also true. But I wouldn’t tell her everything I knew.

  “What… what did Sam say?” she asked. “What were his last words?”

  Was she a grieving widow? Or a cold-blooded criminal fishing for information?

  “I don’t remember exactly,” I lied. “He said he was afraid some former friends were trying to kill him, and I encouraged him to come back here so we could keep him safe. It was a short conversation because he was at a pay phone and he was anxious to keep moving. Do you know who he was running from? Or why?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “He only said he was afraid for his life and he was going into hiding. I tried to convince him to come home to the U.K., but…” Her lips trembled again. “I never saw him again… until… until they returned his… body.”

  My heart ached for her even though a small cynical part of me knew she might be faking the whole thing.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said. “It must have been difficult for you. He had been living here for several months before that, hadn’t he? So you had been apart for quite a while.”

  She dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “Yes…” She lifted her chin. “And it’s been over a year since I lost him. You would think that by now I shouldn’t be so…” She drew an unsteady breath and returned to her narrative. “Anyway… he had been called over here last October for an urgent development in his research. I don’t know what it was. Of course we never divulged our classified work details to each other.”

  “Of course not,” I murmured.

  Was she lying? If so, she was damn good at it.

  “But he didn’t say anything else to you?” She gazed at me imploringly through brimming eyes. “He never hinted that… anything might be wrong? If he turned to you in… in his final hours of need…” Her voice wavered and she gulped. “He must have trusted you. Were you close?” Before I could formulate a reply she burst out, “Oh, Aydan, please! Tell me anything you can about him! Any tiny little thought or detail…” She pressed her hand to her lips, entreating me silently to bring her beloved Sam to life again, if only through my memories.

  My throat tightened as I struggled to scrape together some crumbs of comfort. “He was excited about his research, and I’m sure he must have missed you…”

  Though he had never mentioned her. Hmm.

  I went on, “…but I know he was absorbed in his work. He never mentioned anything that might be bothering him, and he didn’t seem upset or anxious…”

  Until we discovered he’d been callously risking my life and sanity in the brainwave-driven network. After that he’d been anxious; and with good reason. We had all wanted to throttle him.

  I dragged my mind back to the platitudes I was spouting.

  “…until I talked to him on the phone,” I went on. “We had gone down to the States for work and he seemed fine; and then he disappeared, and the next time I spoke to him was that last phone call. I never knew him very well, but he was always pleasant to work with.”

  Until he betrayed us, the bastard.

  “Oh.” Disappointment trembled in the single word as Nora’s face fell. “I… I had so hoped you might have been closer to him…” She sighed. “Well, thank you for indulging me. I suppose I’d best get back to my room.”

  She rose tiredly and moved toward the door, then paused in front of me. Throwing her arms around me, she whisp
ered, “Thank you, Dani-dear.”

  A deluge of icy recognition froze me to the spot.

  She withdrew with a wobbly smile and a glint in her eye that made my heart rattle inside my petrified chest.

  “If you remember anything else, even the smallest thing, I’m right next door in eight-fourteen,” she said. “Drop by any time of the day or night. Or here…” She withdrew a scrap of paper from her pocket and pressed it into my numb hand. “This is my private number.” She curled my fingers around the paper and patted my hand. “Call me anytime.”

  And then she left.

  Chapter 25

  I stood paralyzed, unable to breathe.

  No.

  No, it couldn’t be…

  Despite my steadfast refusal to believe, my brain was already racing through memories, computing possibilities and reassessing information…

  My mind reeled.

  It couldn’t be true.

  It just couldn’t be.

  But my mother was the only one who had ever called me Dani-dear…

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Ian said lightly, eyeing me with a smile that might have warmed me to my toes only a few short minutes ago.

  I eased my deathgrip on the champagne flute and forced a smile. “Just trying to come up with some memory of Sam that might make Nora feel better.”

  “Ah. It’s sad when death parts such a devoted couple.”

  “Did you know them?” I demanded.

  Ian frowned at the sharpness of my tone. “Not at all. Is it important?”

  “No.” I gulped a mouthful of champagne.

  He smiled and pried the glass from my grip to top it up. “I would have thought an agent of your calibre would be a better liar,” he teased.

  “Guess I suck,” I snapped, and reclaimed the flute for another large swallow.

  “Please,” Ian said reproachfully as he confiscated it again. “One does not guzzle a five-hundred-dollar bottle of Krug.”

  I imitated his posh British accent. “If one is stupid enough to spend five hundred dollars on fizzy vinegar, one is in no position to criticize another’s drinking style.”