A Spy For a Spy Page 7

  Bye-bye, Charles.

  I returned the flowers to the corridor and locked the door behind them before diving back into the welcome steam of my interrupted shower.

  I was combing out my wet hair when the next knock came. Swearing, I grabbed another towel and headed for the door.

  Bright orange tiger lilies obscured my view through the fisheye lens.

  What the hell?

  I retreated momentarily to grab my gun and held it concealed behind me while I cracked the door open again.

  “More flowers, Ms. Widdenback,” the delivery boy said cheerfully.

  “Is there a card?”

  “It’s in an envelope.”

  “Pass it to me and leave the flowers in the hall.”

  This time he didn’t question me. I took the envelope, relocked the door, and listened for the elevator before opening the card.

  ‘10:15 front entrance’.

  I turned the card over, but there was no signature. Shivering again under the cold wet strands on my shoulders, I carried the card and my gun back into the bathroom and laid them on the vanity, puzzling over the message while I plied the hair dryer.

  Who the hell would expect me to meet without identifying themselves? How stupid did they think I was?

  And anyway, screw them. It was already ten o’clock, I wasn’t dressed, and I was starving. Whoever they were, they could just wait.

  Who knew I was here, anyway? The flowers had been addressed to Arlene Widdenback, so it was someone who knew me by my cover identity.

  A blip of hope made my pulse quicken. Maybe it was Kane. Maybe he’d realized I wasn’t joking and I really needed his help. Kane was an excellent agent. He wouldn’t risk identifying himself on the card.

  I studied it again. The writing was unfamiliar, but that didn’t mean much. It could have been written by a flower shop employee.

  I threw on some clothes and hurried for the lobby.

  Loitering just outside the front entrance, I fiddled with my phone as if texting. Kane should be easy to spot, head and shoulders above the bustle of people, but my surreptitious surveillance wasn’t rewarded by six and a half feet of male hotness.

  I toggled back to my date/time display. Ten-fifteen on the dot. Where the hell was he?

  “Excuse me, could I bother you to take my photo by the fountain?”

  I managed to conceal my guilty start and turned to face the source of the familiar nasal voice.

  Shit. I should have known by the tiger lilies.

  “Sure, no problem.” I summoned up what I hoped was a polite but distant smile and turned to take Doytchevsky’s proffered camera.

  His food-stained clothes and body odour had been replaced by a tidy beige button-down shirt, neatly-pressed khaki pants, and a hint of innocuous aftershave. Without his repulsive trappings, he was a pleasant-looking and eminently forgettable middle-aged man.

  The perfect spy.

  I followed him across the pavement and applied myself to the camera while he posed with bland expression.

  “I’m sorry to trouble you, but would you mind taking another from around the side where the light is better?”

  “No trouble,” I agreed, falling into step beside him.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed through my smile.

  He gestured casually at the waterfall, smiling in return. “Where’s Terry Sherman?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re lying.”

  We dodged a particularly large group of tourists and their clicking cameras. As soon as we were clear, I replied, still hanging onto my I-don’t-know-you-but-I’m-being-polite smile.

  “It’s the truth. Spider tracked the IP to a coffee shop in Boston. He dumped the location to the tactical system. That’s all I know.”

  “Fine.” He reached for his camera.

  “Not so fast.” I held onto the camera and waved a hand toward the railing and the waterfall. “You’re getting your picture taken.”

  I leaned closer, pointing to the back of the camera as if asking how it worked. “Leave Sherman alone,” I muttered. “Let Stemp take him down. If you go charging in and fuck it up, I’ll tell Stemp how you knew all along about the Knights and their treason. You’ll rot in jail for the rest of your life.”

  His hand locked around my wrist, and I had to prevent myself from recoiling from the suppressed violence in his eyes. His voice was a poisonous hiss. “He’s mine! My last chance for revenge on the Knights. If you kill him or let him escape, you will pay.”

  “I don’t have anything to do with this. I’m sure as hell not going to kill him, and Stemp’s not going to let him escape.”

  “You blew the others to bits.”

  “That was an accident.”

  “Don’t have any more accidents.” He stepped away to pose against the rail, smiling for the camera.

  I clicked the button before handing it back to him, wondering if the photo would capture the burning hatred banked behind his insipid facade.

  Shaken, I wandered through the pedestrians in the direction of the entrance. What would he do now? A backward glance showed him moving away, but a moment later he turned, leaning against the low railing to snap another picture. Watching me. I’d have to be extra careful dropping the USB stick. Christ, nothing like making my life even more complicated.

  Speaking of…

  I tried to dodge behind a cluster of tourists, but it was too late.

  “Aydan!” Nichele bounced up and down beside the hotel entrance, waving. Heads turned to survey the short, curvy brunette in her elegant clothes and stiletto heels.

  Goddammit, what was she doing here so early? I barrelled through the crowd toward her before she could blow my cover any worse, my mind ricocheting through a list of increasingly unlikely excuses to prevent her from using my real name.

  Thank God, she shut up as soon as she realized I’d seen her. I used the intervening seconds to seize on the most plausible story I could manufacture.

  “Hey, Nichele, this is great! What are you doing here so early?” I feigned happiness while she gave me her usual bearhug.

  “My plane was early, and I had a limo pick me up.” She handed the driver what looked like a hundred-dollar bill. Judging by his reaction, it probably was. “No, that’s okay, I only have the two. We can manage,” she demurred when he reached for her bags.

  I hefted one of them. “Speak for yourself. What have you got, rocks in here?”

  “It’s got wheels, silly,” she chided, giving me her sparkling grin. “Don’t wimp out on me. I’m nearly a foot shorter than you, I’m wearing heels, and I can handle them just fine.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled, following her into the hotel. “Hey, listen, Nichele…” I bent down to her level. “Don’t call me Aydan, okay? There was this creepy guy coming onto me last night and I told him my name was Arlene so he wouldn’t be able to find my room.”

  She laughed. “Don’t you know anything? The hotel wouldn’t give out your name or your room number.”

  I did my best rueful grin. “Yeah, I know, but…”

  “And why did you use Arlene? Wasn’t that the name of that porn star everybody thought was you?”

  “I know, I know, it was just the first thing that popped into my head. Please, Nichele?”

  She laughed again and patted my arm. “Well, duh, of course I’ll cover for you. You’re such a goofball, girl.” She caught the eye of a uniformed hotel employee. “Be right back.”

  In moments, she was back, brandishing a cardkey and a triumphant grin. “Come on, Ay… Arlene, let’s go!”

  As she turned to tow her bag across the polished tile, I snagged her arm. “The elevators are this way.”

  “Not the ones we’re going to.” She shot me a mischievous look. “Come on.”

  “Seriously, Nichele? The penthouse?” I stared around at the lavish furnishings.

  “Sure, why not? It’s Vegas. Sometimes you have to live a little.” She abandoned her suitcas
e in the foyer and stalked through the living area, her stiletto heels leaving deep dents in the thick carpet. “Hmmm, which bedroom do I like better?”

  I came around the corner in time to catch her bouncing experimentally on the bed in the room to the left.

  “God, Nichele, this ensuite bathroom is bigger than my friggin’ living room! You need a GPS just to find the shower.”

  “Maybe I like the other one better.” She zipped out the door and across to the other end of the suite, and I followed the sound of her voice. “This one’s nicer. I get a better view of the Paris from here.”

  I sank into one of the deep upholstered chairs and propped my aching head in my hands. “This chair is more comfortable than my bed. If I wasn’t so damn hungry I’d go to sleep right here.”

  “Aydan, are you okay?” When I looked up, Nichele was frowning concern at me. “You look wiped. When did you eat last?”

  My stomach responded with a ravenous growl. “Last night. I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning.”

  “You didn’t have time for breakfast? Girl, that’s like the Pope not having time to pray! Here…” She scurried across the room, returning in seconds with a room service menu. “Pick something, and I’ll tell them to rush it.”

  “It’s okay, let’s just go down and get something from one of the restaurants…”

  I was too late. She was already on the phone. “…two orders of Eggs Benedict and a Belgian waffle with strawberries and whipped cream and couple of mimosas…”

  I waved a hand. “I don’t like mimosas.”

  Nichele shot me a quelling look. “They’re for me. You’re getting…” She turned back to the phone. “…Milk. And green tea. And a fruit platter. I’ve got a hundred bucks for whoever brings it up here in less than fifteen minutes.” She clicked the phone off and laid it back in its cradle with a decisive nod.

  “There.” She flapped her hands at me as if shooing chickens. “Go and lie down. You can have one of your famous ten-minute naps.”

  “Nichele…”

  “Go! Hurry up, girl.”

  I went.

  I sprawled in the comfort of the upholstered chair, cradling my belly with the hand that wasn’t holding my mug of tea. “Urgh. I think I hurt myself.”

  Nichele looked up from the remains of the Belgian waffle. “Good. You needed it. You look ‘way better. Drink your tea and then go off to work. You’ve got four hours before our Stripper 101 pole-dancing class, and then there’s just enough time for supper before we go to see the Chippendales. And we’re going to go party with the Chippendales boys afterward, so make sure you wear something sexy.”

  I stared at her mischievous grin, all-too-familiar horrified amusement dragging my jaw toward the floor. “Nichele, no! I don’t have time! Can you seriously see me pole-dancing? And I only have jeans and workout shorts with me, so forget the sexy party clothes. Just go by yourself. You’ll have more fun without me.”

  “No. You need some fun in your life. Besides, how much work can you really do? This is Vegas!” She eyed me, frowning. “What kind of work are you doing here, anyway? I thought all your bookkeeping clients were in Silverside.”

  “Uh...”

  Shit! Another damn hole in my cover story. What the hell would a small-town bookkeeper do in Las Vegas?

  “Um…” Inspiration bloomed in my brain. “One of my clients owns a sex shop, and she’s down here at a trade show. She’s hopeless with numbers so she offered to buy my plane ticket if I’d keep track of her sales while she was here.”

  “Aydan, really?” Nichele’s squeal of delight made me wince with the certain knowledge of imminent catastrophe. “A sex shop? In a tiny town like Silverside? Ooooh, I totally have to meet this woman! I’ll come with you!”

  “No…” My protest died on my lips at the sight of her enthusiasm. What the hell. She’d love Lola, and Lola would get a kick out of her.

  And maybe, just maybe, it would distract Nichele long enough for me to plant the tiny USB stick that was burning a hole in my change purse.

  Chapter 9

  I was just opening my mouth to speak again when my cell phone vibrated. I slipped it out and grimaced at the two-word text message: ‘Call home’.

  Stemp’s signal.

  “Nichele, I have to run downstairs and grab some stuff before we go. Let’s meet down in the lobby in a few minutes.”

  She sprang up from her chair. “I’ll just come down to your room with you.”

  “Uh…” My mouth forged ahead before my brain could catch up. “I need to take a dump. You won’t want to stick around and smell that.”

  Nichele clapped her hands over her ears. “Eeeuw, girl! That was waaay too much information!”

  I shrugged. “You picked me out of thousands.”

  “Lord knows why.” She grinned. “Okay, meet you downstairs.”

  Back outside the exalted realm of the penthouse, I hurried to my room, guiltily eyeing the flowers still on the floor outside my door. They really were beautiful. But they could be bugged, and not with the kind of insects that roamed a garden. I should’ve brought my bug detector.

  Dammit. What kind of agent forgets to bring critical equipment on a mission?

  A moron civilian, that’s what kind.

  I left the flowers where they were and locked myself into my room before extracting one of Stemp’s secure disposable phones from my bag.

  The phone rang once before he answered. “Yes.”

  I spoke into his waiting silence. “It’s Arlene.”

  “The two men who were impersonating RCMP officers broke into your house last night,” he said. “We’ve just finished questioning them. They were sent by Fuzzy Bunny.”

  Cold fear stopped my breath, but when I managed to speak a few moments later, my voice sounded much calmer than I felt. “Don’t they think I’m dead?”

  “Yes. They believe Aydan Kelly is dead and that you are Arlene Widdenback the fraud artist and internet porn star. They were searching for a re-engineered fob that allows untraceable access to a brainwave-driven network. They believe the late Ms. Kelly stole it from their agent, so they were searching your house for it.”

  I spared a moment for a breath of relief, immediately followed by worry about the state of my house. I wrenched my mind back to the conversation at hand when I realized Stemp was still talking.

  “…so it appears your cover is intact. We’ll send uniformed officers to your neighbours, ostensibly to ask if they saw anything, but actually to disseminate the information that two men were arrested for breaking and entering at your farm. That news should find its way quickly to Fuzzy Bunny. We expect they will arrange a fatal incident at the Remand Centre to dispose of their compromised agents, but not before they learn that the fob was not in your possession. Your farm should be left in peace now, so I’ve recalled the tac team, though your surveillance cameras are still active as always.”

  “That’s… good… I guess. Um… did they take anything else?”

  I held my breath. Shit, I really should’ve brought that bug detector with me. Stemp didn’t know I’d ‘acquired’ it. It was going to be damn hard to explain illicit Sirius Dynamics technology in my house…

  “No. We intentionally waited to capture them until after they had finished and left your house. They were empty-handed.”

  I sagged with relief, thankful he couldn’t see me, and changed the subject. “I got the flowers.”

  “Do you have a drop location?”

  “Yes, but I might have a complication.”

  “What?” he snapped.

  “Somebody might be following me.”

  “Abort. I’ll arrange an extraction and send Kane to rendezvous with you. Are you in immediate danger?”

  “No, and I’m not sure I’m being followed anyway. Even if I am, I know who it is. There’s no danger to me.” I tamped down my desire for rescue along with a much hotter and considerably less wholesome desire. “There’s no need to send Kane.”

&
nbsp; A longish pause crackled on the line. “You’re sure you’re in no danger. No possibility of capture.”

  “Positive.”

  “Kelly, you know very well that in our line of work there is no such thing as ‘positive’.”

  I blew out a sigh. “Yeah, I know, but I’m pretty sure.”

  “Check in again as soon as you know more.”

  “Okay.”

  I hung up and dropped the phone into my pocket for later disposal before extracting my own phone to dial Lola’s cell.

  “Hi, Aydan!” Her throaty purr made me smile.

  “Hi, Lola. How’s the trade show?”

  “Great! But how did you know I’m here? Were you talking to Linda?”

  “No, Spider said you were at a ‘conference’ in Vegas. And he blushed.”

  Her bigger-than-life laugh warmed me. “That kid is just as cute as a button. He can’t get used to the idea that his girlfriend’s grandmother spends her days dabbling in sex toys.”

  I grinned. “I notice he never discusses Linda’s share in the business.”

  “No, I suspect he doesn’t object to product-testing with his girlfriend. But their sex life is none of my business,” she added virtuously.

  “Since when?” I demanded. “You don’t hesitate to pry into my sex life.”

  “Which reminds me, I’ve still got that chocolate-scented leather thong. I bet Big John would love to wear it for you-”

  “Well, so what’s new at the trade show?” I interrupted, perhaps a shade too heartily.

  “That’s a surprise. Wait’ll you see what I’m bringing back this time!”

  “How about if I come over and see it first-hand? I’m in Vegas right now.”

  “Really? That’s great! Come on over, then. We’re at the Sands. I’ve got some free passes, so I’ll leave one at the ticket counter for you.”

  “Thanks, Lola. Um… can I ask you a favour?”

  “Sure, honey.”

  “I… uh… I kind of fibbed to one of my friends. I wanted a relaxing weekend by myself, so when she said she was coming to join me, I told her I was working. But she came anyway, and now she thinks you bought my ticket down here so I could keep track of your sales from the trade show.”