How Spy I Am Page 3
I rapped again.
Waited.
Miss Lacey was just reaching for the knob when the door jerked open.
“What the fuckin’ hell!” Hellhound snapped. His scowl smoothed out. “Uh, sorry, Miz Lacey.”
He balanced awkwardly, a crutch under one arm, his other hand clutching a towel around his middle. His heavy muscles glistened with water droplets.
Even his extensive tattoos couldn’t hide all the contusions and raw scrapes. The face above his beard was a grim collage of bandages and purplish-black bruises, his left eye swollen half-shut.
He hopped on his good foot, dropping the crutch to make a grab for the large disreputable-looking cat that made a dash for the doorway. I scooped up Hooker’s furry bulk and cuddled him while Arnie retrieved his crutch.
Arnie eyed me. “Aydan? Everythin’ okay?” His usual rasp held an edge of anxiety and his battered knuckles whitened on the towel.
“Fine. Everything’s fine,” I assured him, weak with relief. Except for the crutch, he actually looked a little better than when we’d parted the previous afternoon. At least he could see out of both eyes now.
His powerful shoulders relaxed. “Christ, don’t scare me like that.”
I reached up to brush a kiss across his lips. “I don’t bring bad news every time I show up at your door, you know.”
His swollen cheek distorted his smile. “Come on in, then, darlin’. Miz Lacey. I’ll go put some clothes on.”
“Thank you, Arnold, but no,” Miss Lacey replied. “Aydan, if you would be so kind as to drop in at my apartment later, I would appreciate it very much.” She turned and went across the hall, her door closing behind her with a decisive click.
I stepped inside Hellhound’s apartment and swung the door shut, stooping to release the cat.
Hellhound grinned and let his towel drop. “Come to put some drag-racin’ moves on my stickshift like ya promised?”
I returned his grin and took a moment to appreciate the scenery. “Good to see everything’s still where it belongs. Miss Lacey scared the shit out of me. She phoned and said you’d been in a bike accident and you were in bad shape.”
Still balancing with his crutch, he pulled me into a gentle one-armed hug and kissed my forehead. “Sorry, darlin’. I hadta explain the bruises to her somehow, an’ I sure as hell couldn’t tell her it was ‘cuz a’ your spy stuff. I didn’t know she was gonna call ya.”
I frowned. “Kane’s the spy. I’m just an asset.”
“Yeah, darlin’, whatever,” he replied. “If it walks like a duck, an’ quacks like a duck…” He shot a pointed look at my ankle, where he knew my Glock 26 snuggled in its concealed holster. “So I told her I dumped the bike,” he finished.
I pulled away to survey the damage. “Looks like you did. That’s fresh road rash, and there was nothing wrong with your ankle yesterday.”
“Yeah,” he grunted, and limped over to sprawl on the couch. I winced as he eased his swollen ankle onto the worn coffee table.
“I was bringin’ the bike back last night, an’ some fuckin’ dipshit cut me off,” he continued. “Hadta lay ‘er down. Caught my boot in a fuckin’ pothole an’ went ass over teakettle.”
“Did you get it x-rayed?” I demanded.
“Yeah. Just a sprain. No big deal. I wasn’t goin’ very fast.”
“How’s the Harley?”
He scowled. “Scraped the shit outta the pipes an’ dented the tank. Gonna hafta get it rechromed an’ repainted. Little assrat wrote me a cheque on the spot, though. Pissed his pants an’ gave me about twice what it’s gonna cost to get it fixed.”
I eyed his fearsome visage fondly. Hellhound’s normal appearance scared most people. In his current battle-scarred state, I was surprised the hapless motorist hadn’t dropped dead of sheer terror.
His lopsided smile returned, his teeth gleaming white against his split lip. “Too bad ya rushed down here in a panic, but it’s good to see ya.” He sobered. “Did ya work things out with Kane?”
“Um. A lot of things got cleared up in the debriefing. And we talked afterwards. I think… we’re still friends.”
I bit my tongue and shut up. It wasn’t strictly a lie. We could still be friends as long as I pretended he hadn’t used the L-word…
Arnie’s too-perceptive gaze surveyed my face, and something in my expression must have prompted him to leave it alone. He reached out his arms and bounced his eyebrows, grinning.
“So, ya gonna come over here an’ comfort a poor injured man?”
“In a minute. First I have to call Kane and tell him you’re okay.”
My call completed, I cuddled close beside Hellhound on the couch and ran a careful hand over his powerful chest. “You’re so beat up, I’m afraid to touch you. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He captured my hand and slid it south. “Some things ain’t hurtin’.”
I stroked him, smiling when he moved slowly against my hand and let out a raspy half-groan, half-purr.
“I don’t know,” I teased. “That’s some pretty serious swelling you’ve got down there. Maybe I shouldn’t take a chance on making it worse.”
“Trust me, darlin’, that kinda swellin’ only gets better. An’ I got some creative ideas to keep from hurtin’ anythin’ else.” His deep growl caressed my ears and vibrated in some very interesting places.
I let him see my shiver of hot anticipation. “I know just how creative you can be.”
He pulled me closer to trail whiskery kisses down my neck, and the shivers spread like wildfire.
“Ya ain’t seen nothin’ yet, darlin’.”
Some time later, I emerged smiling from Arnie’s apartment to tap on Miss Lacey’s door. When it opened, her bird-like gaze raked me up and down. “Please come in.”
I stepped into her tidy apartment and took a seat in the wing chair she indicated. “Would you like a cup of tea?” she inquired.
“Yes, thank you.”
“And perhaps a snack,” she suggested. “You must be hungry after all that exertion.”
I snapped a look up to meet her sharp black gaze. “…Uh…?”
“The walls in this condo are paper-thin,” she said. “I do hope you were using condoms. Arnold tends to be promiscuous, you know.”
“Um,” I said, feeling my face heat up. “Yes. To both. I mean, we always use… um. And I know Arnie has lots of other female company. Sorry about the, uh, sound effects.”
“It’s all right, child. I quite envied you. He must be an expert lover.”
“Um… yeah… he’s… amazing, actually.” I willed the heat out of my cheeks and tried to look nonchalant.
She chuckled as she passed me a delicate bone-china cup and saucer. “You’d do well to remember that old age doesn’t necessarily equate with prudishness. So is he your… what do you young people call it? Your booty call?”
I laughed and shook off my discomfort as I readjusted my evaluation of Miss Emma Lacey. “Not exactly. We’re friends with benefits. I’d like to think the friendship would remain even if the benefits ended.”
She perched in the opposite chair and tilted her head, increasing the impression of an inquisitive bird. “Please excuse my prying, but I’m keenly interested in the social and sexual mores of the younger female generations. With how many men do you have such an arrangement?”
I eyed her for a moment, debating whether to tell her it was none of her damn business.
I shrugged. What the hell. “Arnie’s the only one.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that he has sex with other women?”
“No. We’re both free to be with anyone else, any time, as we choose.”
She leaned forward, her black gaze piercing. “Why aren’t you jealous? I can tell you care about him deeply.”
“Yes, but I don’t want a committed relationship with him. Or with anybody, for that matter.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve been married twice. I’m done working at relationships.
”
The keen gaze searched my face. “Did you have bad marriages?”
I hesitated. “One was good.”
Oh, Robert, if I’d only known…
“But…” she prompted.
“He was killed a couple of years ago, trying to protect me.” I swallowed the lump in my throat with a gulp of too-hot tea.
“And now you’re afraid to love and lose again. You poor child, don’t cut yourself off like that. Love is worth the risk.”
“No, that’s not it at all,” I denied. “I don’t want to make the sacrifices it takes to make another relationship work. I like my autonomy.”
“But what happiness and fulfilment are you denying yourself by clinging to this shallow relationship with Arnold?” she asked softly.
I bit into a brownie and chewed, studying the vivid patterns of the oriental carpet while I considered the best way to escape the conversation.
Miss Lacey straightened. “I’ve pressed you too far, and I apologize. I actually invited you here so that you could give me your honest opinion. How is Arnold? And I’m not referring to his sexual prowess,” she added.
I hid my sigh of relief. “He has a sprained ankle and a broken nose, a couple of cracked bones in his face, and lots of scrapes and bruises. He’s pretty badly beaten up, but he doesn’t have any serious injuries.”
She leaned back in her chair with a sigh of her own. “Thank heaven. I’m very fond of him. You know that he drives me to all my appointments and takes me grocery shopping.” Her bright black eyes met mine. “He’s a good man. And he conceals a brilliant mind behind that dreadful facade.”
“I know.” I smothered a smile. “I like his facade, though.”
“I do tend to fuss over him a little more than I should. I hope he wasn’t upset that I had called you.”
“No, I’m sure he wasn’t,” I reassured her. “But if you didn’t get my number from him, how did you find me? My number is unlisted.”
She hesitated. “Arnold and I exchanged emergency contact lists some years ago, shortly after I moved into this complex. I won’t bore you with that story, but in all the time I’ve known him, he has had only one contact, a John Kane. Last week he added your name.” She smiled. “I’ve known you were special to him ever since he introduced us this summer. You are the only woman he welcomes back repeatedly, unlike his usual conquests.”
“Oh.” My heart swelled at the unexpected honour. I knew how cautious Arnie was in bestowing his trust.
Miss Lacey leaned a little closer, her bright black gaze searching my face. “He warned me never to divulge your name or number to anyone. He said you were in a difficult personal situation.”
“Uh.” I rapidly dredged up the cover story that had served me in the spring. “Yes, my ex-husband is, um… well, I’d prefer to avoid him.”
She sat back in her chair, nodding. “I understand. Your information is completely safe with me. I’m not in the habit of giving out personal information, particularly not to men like those ruffians who were showing your photo around here last week.”
The brownie turned to cardboard in my mouth.
Time for damage control, indeed.
Chapter 4
I was about to demand details when a rap on her door made us both start.
“Please excuse me,” Miss Lacey said as she rose, and I slouched in the chair and gulped more tea while she went around the corner to answer the door.
My mind raced. Could the ‘ruffians’ have been the hired goons who’d been contracted to kill me last week? Or were they working for Fuzzy Bunny? A tingle of fear rippled over my skin, and I reached down to skim my fingertips over the reassuring shape of the gun at my ankle.
God, please let them have been the contract killers. I knew they’d been called off. Fuzzy Bunny, on the other hand…
I spared a sudden moment of empathy for Stemp’s insistence on knowing my whereabouts. Leaving so abruptly this morning had probably been really stupid, but at least I’d told Kane where I was going this time. I’d better get back to Sirius, pronto.
“Aydan, you have a caller,” Miss Lacey said as she rounded the corner again.
I sprang to my feet and dodged behind the wing chair at the sight of the handsome young man following her. A spasm twisted Mark Richardson’s face when my hand flew to the wound on my arm.
“Aydan, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know. Sorry, I’m just a little twitchy. I’ll get over it.” I stepped out from behind the protection of the chair. “So what’s up?”
His blue-eyed gaze wavered. “I… I’m here to take you back to Sirius.”
“No need, I’ll drive myself.”
He hesitated. “I have orders not to let you out of my sight. Your car can stay here. You’re to ride back with me.”
Alarm prickled the back of my neck, and I sidled over to lean on the wing chair with feigned nonchalance, placing it between us again. “What’s going on?”
He shot an uneasy glance over his shoulder. “You’ll be briefed when we get there. Come on, let’s go.”
“I’ll just check in with Kane first,” I said casually, and whisked my phone out of my waist pouch to punch the speed dial button.
“Sirius Dynamics.” The crisp female voice on the other end of the line made me jerk the phone away from my ear to frown at the display. I’d dialled Kane’s number, all right.
“May I speak to John Kane, please?” I inquired, watching Richardson’s gaze dart around the room. His hand hovered in the vicinity of the concealed shoulder holster I knew he wore under his jacket.
“I’m sorry, Captain Kane is on vacation,” the woman responded.
“What do you mean, he’s on vacation?” I snapped. “He was in the office this morning. I have a meeting scheduled with him this afternoon.”
“I’m sorry, but I was told he’s on vacation,” she repeated. “What is this in regards to?”
Richardson stepped toward me, reaching for my arm, and I jerked back. “Aydan, never mind,” he said urgently. “Let’s just go, okay?”
I backed away a few more paces, noticing Miss Lacey moving quietly in the direction of the door. Thank God. She’d be out of the line of fire, if there was one.
“It’s Aydan Kelly. Let me speak to Clyde Webb,” I demanded, still staring Richardson down.
“I’m sorry, he’s in a meeting and can’t be disturbed.”
Richardson’s hand hovered near his holster. “Come on, Aydan, let’s go. You’ll be briefed when we get there,” he insisted.
Dammit, there was no way I could reach my gun before he got to his. Why the hell hadn’t I worn my waist holster today?
“Give me Stemp,” I barked.
Relief gushed through me when Hellhound rounded the corner behind Richardson, moving fast and silently despite his limp.
“I’m sorry, he’s in a meeting and can’t be disturbed,” the woman singsonged.
Richardson whirled to face the movement and froze at the sight of Hellhound’s gun.
“Tell Stemp one of his agents is about to take a bullet to the brain,” I snarled. “Get him on the line. Now.”
“Just a moment,” she squeaked.
Seconds later, Stemp’s flat voice came on the line. “Ms. Kelly, is there a problem?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“None that I’m aware of,” he said coolly. “I presume Richardson is the one on the business end of your gun?”
“Yes.” I didn’t elaborate. Stemp didn’t need to know about Hellhound’s illegal weapon. “Did you send him?”
“Yes. You can stand down. His orders are to bring you back to Sirius.”
“Why?”
“You’ll be briefed when you arrive.”
Dammit. He wouldn’t tell me anything more than I absolutely had to know, and he couldn’t tell me anything over an unsecured line anyway.
I sighed and hung up. “It’s
okay, Arnie, thanks. Sorry, Mark.”
Both men relaxed, and Richardson gave Hellhound a tentative smile, the elusive dimple flickering in his cheek. “I was hoping you weren’t going to pay me back for tranking you the other day.”
Hellhound grinned and stuck the gun into the waistband of his jeans. “Nah. I’ll do that when ya least expect it.” He limped over and sank into the chair I’d vacated, wincing when the weight came off his ankle. “Hope ya don’t hafta report this.”
“I told Stemp I was holding my gun to his head,” I said quickly. “Mark, if you have to report what really happened, it’s okay, but-”
“No, it’s all right,” he interrupted. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me, and I’m not going to report anything. But we’d better get going.”
“Okay.” I stowed my phone back in my pouch. “Where’s Miss Lacey?”
“In my apartment,” Hellhound said. “She came an’ said some guy was tryin’ to force ya to go with him. I told her to stay there until I came to get her.”
“I’ll go get her, and I’ll get your crutches, too. You shouldn’t have been walking on that ankle.”
He winked. “I wasn’t. I was walkin’ on my foot.”
“Wise-ass.” I dropped a kiss on his lips and went to retrieve Miss Lacey.
On the long drive back to Silverside, I tried to pry more information out of Richardson, but he refused to tell me anything. His eyes were constantly in motion, scanning the countryside, the oncoming traffic, the cars behind us, and even the sky. Nervousness skittered in my stomach. This couldn’t be good.
My uneasiness ratcheted up another notch when he parked a block away from Sirius Dynamics. As he shot a wary glance around the bowling alley’s almost-deserted parking lot, I gave him a suspicious glance of my own.
“Why are we here?” I asked, trying to keep the mistrust out of my voice.
“Secret entrance,” he muttered. “Come on.”
We got out of the car and he hustled me through the back door of the dilapidated building as if he expected a flock of ninjas to descend from the rooftop. Hell, by that time, it wouldn’t have surprised me.