Spy Away Home (The Never Say Spy Series Book 10) Page 9

  Hell, who was I kidding? I needed Kane himself, and Hellhound, too, to watch my back.

  And warm my bed, though I had no idea which of them I’d choose if they were both here.

  But with my shitty luck they were probably male-bonding during their motorcycle trip and making a pact to dump me. After all, their brotherhood went back decades. I was only a blip on their timeline.

  I pushed that dismal thought aside and climbed wearily out of the truck. Bracing myself for another litany of woe, I trudged toward the back door. Even if I wasn’t really in the mood to listen, I couldn’t blame Jill for wanting to vent. If I were her, I’d be ready to jam sharpened sticks in my ears just to escape Tammy’s constant babble.

  When I walked in Jill was nowhere to be seen, but Eddy’s face split in a grin as he hurried out from behind the bar.

  “Aydan!” He enveloped me in a bear hug and I silently thanked my lucky stars I’d transferred my weapons out of my waistband before I left the truck. “It’s great to see you!” he exclaimed.

  Finally, one of my friends looked happy. Thank God.

  “It’s great to see you, too, Eddy,” I said with feeling. “How have you been? I’ve missed you!”

  “I missed you, too,” he replied. “The bookkeeper who was filling in for you did a good job, but she was a little, um… well, I’m really glad you’re back, is all. Would you like a beer?”

  “Eddy, after the day I’ve had, I’d like a keg. But I can’t. I’m driving.”

  He nodded understanding and turned back to the bar.

  Some small childish part of me rebelled.

  Dammit, I’d been stuck on an alcohol-free commune for the past four months. After enduring Dump-On-Aydan Day I had a headache the size of Alberta, and I might not even be alive by tomorrow if my unknown enemy had hired a more competent assassin. And if I was going to present any kind of sympathetic ear for Jill tonight, I was damn well going to need a beer.

  No; several beers.

  “You know what, Eddy? Forget it. Bring me a pint of draft.”

  He turned, frowning. “That’s not like you.”

  I sighed. “I’m not feeling much like me today, but don’t worry. I won’t drink and drive. I’m not going to stay late, so I’ll call Spider when I’m ready to go. He can drive me home in my truck and Linda can follow in her car and bring him back.”

  Eddy nodded, his smile returning, and I headed for my favourite table in the corner. Sliding into the chair with my back to the wall as usual I eased out a sigh, relaxing into the welcoming arms of the blues music.

  Eddy arrived with my beer a few moments later. Sucking in a mouthful of suds, I closed my eyes in gratitude as the nectar of the gods slid down my throat. I groaned and opened my eyes. “Thanks, Eddy, I might just live now.”

  “Sounds like a tough day,” he replied, the usual twinkle in his eye fading to seriousness. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I gave him what felt like my first real smile of the day. “Thanks, but I’m okay. This is exactly what I needed.” I took another drink and added, “Well, this and one of your fabulous burgers. I’m starving.”

  “Coming right up!”

  Eddy hurried away and I settled back in the chair and applied myself to his excellent draft.

  A few minutes later Jill appeared in the doorway, her gaze flicking over the room in an agent’s seemingly-casual assessment before she strode over to join me.

  Eddy returned from the kitchen, and I beckoned to him. “Eddy, have you met Jill Francis? We work together at Sirius Dynamics.”

  “No, I haven’t. Nice to meet you, Jill.” Eddy offered his hand and Jill shook it with a smile. “What can I bring you?” Eddy added.

  “Do you have a house red?”

  Eddy nodded. “Cabernet Sauvignon or Shiraz?”

  “Cabernet.” The word issued from Jill’s lips in a tone that might have been used to say ‘Heaven’. “Please,” she added. “And thank you.”

  “Would you like to see a food menu, too?” Eddy inquired, and Jill shot a glance at me.

  “Aydan, what do you like here?”

  “Everything,” I said promptly. “But my favourites are the burgers, hot wings, and Caesar salad.”

  “Burger, please,” she murmured. “With Caesar salad.”

  Eddy returned in moments with a glass of red wine, and Jill’s first sip went down with a moan of satisfaction that echoed mine earlier.

  Eddy smiled and withdrew, and Jill took another appreciative mouthful, her eyelids drifting half-closed and her shoulders relaxing.

  “Oh, thank God,” she breathed, and leaned back in her chair.

  I grinned and raised my pint. “Here’s to alcohol and whoever invented it.”

  “You can say that again. Cheers.”

  After we drank, I said, “You must really need that. I don’t know how you’re still sane and sober. Tammy is sweet, but, yikes.”

  Jill gave me a twisted smile. “My sanity is questionable, and I’m planning to ditch the sobriety as soon as possible.”

  “Good strategy.” I twisted my pint back and forth on the coaster, waiting for the outpouring of angst.

  None came. Instead, Jill sipped more wine, relaxing in her chair and tapping her fingertips to the beat of the music.

  I braced myself and broached the subject. “I got the feeling there was something you wanted to talk about.”

  “Huh? Oh. No, nothing in particular. I liked you when we met at Christmas and I thought it’d be fun to get to know you.” A faint flush rose on her cheeks. “And, sorry, don’t take this the wrong way, but I really need to get hammered. I don’t drink alone and I never get drunk with anybody who doesn’t have a higher security clearance than me. That way if I accidentally let something slip it doesn’t matter. But it really limits my drinking buddies.”

  I sat back in my chair, my surprise fading into a relieved grin. “So, no agenda, just a chance to relax and blow off some steam.”

  “Yep.” She raised her glass, then paused. “Unless there’s something you want to vent about. Go ahead, I’m a good listener.”

  I laughed. “With Tammy, do you have a choice? But, no. I just had my post-mission psych evaluation. I may never talk again.”

  “Good Lord.” She nodded toward my beer mug. “I’ll buy your next one. You need it.”

  “You have no idea.” I took another drink, stalling while I searched for a topic of conversation. God, when was the last time I’d gone out for a drink with a new potential friend? Granted, I wasn’t much of a social butterfly by nature, but it was pretty sad that I had to count back years…

  “Yes!” Jill’s shout made me jerk violently in my chair. “Sorry,” she added as I took a shaky swig of beer. “We just scored.” She nodded toward the TV screen.

  “Oh.” I squinted at the on-screen display. “So you’re a Calgary Flames fan.”

  “Oh, hell, yes!” She grinned, then glanced at the screen again. “Way to go, boys!”

  I dredged up my rudimentary knowledge of hockey, and we settled down to a pleasant evening of cheering for the team, interspersed with lively conversation and frequent drinks. Even the sight of Tyler Brock arriving in a group of skinny young men adorned with piercings and sneers wasn’t enough to spoil my evening. I ignored him thoroughly, and he returned the favour.

  Quite a while after the final buzzer had sealed the Flames’ victory, Jill leaned forward, her eyelids drooping and her expression serious.

  “Y’know, Aydan, sometimes I really hate my job.”

  “I hear you,” I mumbled with a tongue that felt too big for my mouth.

  “I mean…” She stared down into her wineglass before taking a gulp and continuing, “Tammy’s sh… sweet, but she’sh sho…” She blinked and tried again, “…she’s… so…”

  She couldn’t seem to think of the word. She made an eloquent gesture with both hands instead, barely keeping the wine inside her glass.

  Apparently the word she had in mind was abo
ut the size of a breadbox. I nodded in perfect understanding through my warm and fuzzy alcoholic haze.

  “She thinks we’re friends,” Jill went on. “All of us. Me, the an’lysts that cover for me…” She swallowed more wine. “An’… an’ then sooner ‘r later, POOF!”

  I recoiled at the sudden loud word, which turned out to be fortunate since it was accompanied by a dramatic gesture and a small splatter of red wine.

  “Poof,” Jill repeated with slightly less emphasis. “Our mission’s over an’ we’re reassigned an’ all the friends she thought she had ‘r gone. Gone like the wind,” she repeated sadly. “Gone like… like… Carl.”

  A small arrow of concern jabbed through my comfy blanket of inebriation and I sat up. “Carl’s gone? You mean, like, gone-gone?”

  “Oh. No. Not gone-gone. Jus’ gone. Mission.” One of Jill’s eyelids lowered in a wink and forgot to reopen. “Wouldn’t let a hot piece of man like that get away. Oh, Lordy, Aydan, what a body! And what that man can do in bed!”

  “Uh…” I began, but she was already elaborating.

  Elaborately.

  I blinked in silent awe, too drunk to exercise the level of good taste required to make her stop, but with a growing certainty that I was going to have a hell of a time looking Germain in the eye the next time I saw him.

  Just as Jill finished describing activities involving a certain household appliance that I’d never look at again without having a hot flash, a tall angular woman appeared beside our table.

  I twitched. I’d been so engrossed in Jill’s narrative I’d almost forgotten we were in a public place.

  Jill stopped speaking, and I felt a small pang of regret that now I’d likely never find out what had happened with the western saddle and cherry Jello.

  “Oh, hi, Mary,” Jill said, unsurprised. Then again, she was several glasses of wine past the ability to be surprised. She waved an inaccurate hand in the woman’s direction. “Aydan, this’s Mary. She’s anana… anan… uh…” she trailed off, frowning, then shrugged and swallowed the last of her wine.

  “Hi, Aydan,” Mary said. “I’ve heard a lot about you so it’s nice to finally meet you. What Jill’s trying to say is that I’m an analyst. I and another woman spell off staying with Tammy in the evenings to give Jill a break from her handler’s duties.”

  “Nice t’meetcha,” I slurred. Somehow it seemed as though I should say something else, but I didn’t know if the proper words were bigger or smaller than a breadbox so I offered a bleary smile instead.

  “How smart’m I?” Jill mumbled. “Asked Mary to come’n get me when her shift’s over.”

  “Fuck’n smart,” I agreed.

  “Well, back to the grind,” Jill said, and lurched to her feet only to stagger sideways. “Oops. Gimme a hand, Mary?”

  Mary looked slightly less than enthusiastic, but she allowed Jill to drape an arm over her shoulders and they made erratic progress to the bar. Jill handed a wad of cash to Eddy and offered me a cheery if uncoordinated wave before she and Mary navigated to the door and disappeared.

  I stared down into the dregs of my latest pint. I’d lost count a while ago. That probably wasn’t good.

  Without Jill’s convivial company I suddenly realized my mouth felt like I’d been drinking glue, and a one-eyed squint at my wristwatch made me groan. After midnight. I couldn’t call Spider now.

  And I’d be stupid to go home drunk anyway. If I got attacked, I’d be a sitting duck. Never mind aiming my pistol; I was having enough trouble finding my mouth with the beer mug.

  Speaking of which…

  I gulped the last of the beer and stared morosely down at the foam streaking the inside of the mug.

  I was so totally fucked.

  Lucky I was too snockered to care.

  I was considering laying my aching head down on the table when two Eddys appeared beside me.

  “How are you doing, Aydan?” they inquired in stereo, and I frowned and blinked until they reluctantly merged into a single Eddy, regarding me with a mixture of concern and amusement.

  I sighed. “Shit-faced.”

  He chuckled. “That was my professional opinion, but I didn’t like to say so. If I didn’t know you so well I’d have cut you off two beers ago.”

  A groan escaped me. “You prob’ly should’ve, but thanks.”

  “Do you want me to call Spider for you?”

  “No.” A beery urge to burst into tears seized me and I let my head fall forward to thump gently against the table, but my depth perception was off.

  “Ow.” I rubbed the painful knot rising on my forehead. “’S too late, Eddy.” I sniffled, feeling colossally sorry for myself. By morning I’d be dead, shot by some two-bit assassin. “’S too late,” I repeated in lugubrious tones. “’S’all over for me.”

  Eddy patted me on the back and gently prised the empty beer mug from my grasp. “Yep, that’s all for you tonight. Give me Spider’s number and I’ll call him for you.”

  “Can’t.” Realizing how pathetic I sounded, I sat up straighter and marshalled my tongue as best I could. “’S too late t’call him now. That’d be rude.”

  “Well, you can’t drive home,” Eddy said firmly.

  “God, no!” I stared at him in horror. “I’d never… People die! Or survive; that’s worse…” I shuddered, my stomach doing a slow roll at the memory of raw-throated screams and supplicating hands clawed in agony.

  “Okay, Aydan,” Eddy said with the kindly patience only possessed by career bartenders and trusted friends. “Who can I call for you?”

  “Nobody.” The sniffles were back. I straightened my spine and muttered, “Get it together.”

  “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  I forced my clumsy tongue into a semblance of cooperation. “Would it be ‘kay if I jus’ slep’ in your office t’night, Eddy? I could jus’ curl up…” I smothered a hiccup. “…onna floor. I’d be no trouble, promise.”

  He studied me for a moment. “You really did have a bad day, didn’t you?” he said softly. “And you don’t want to go home, is that it?”

  His sympathy brought tears to my eyes and I blinked them back, focusing on the coaster I was turning over and over between my fingers.

  “It’ll be okay, Aydan,” he comforted. “I can just run you over to the hotel…” I was already shaking my head, and he hesitated before brightening to say, “Or, tell you what, if you want to stick around until closing you can stay at my place tonight…”

  “No.”

  The bluntness of my refusal made him blink, surprise flickering across his face before dismay replaced it. “I’m sorry!” he exclaimed. “I’m not propositioning you, I swear I wasn’t thinking that…”

  “No! Oh, God, no, Eddy, sorry, I didn’ mean that…” I clutched his hand. “I didn’ think you were; I jus’ have loud nightmares ‘n’ didn’ wanna keep you awake. An’ you’re such a nice guy, I’d sleep with you inna heartbeat… Oh, Jeezis.” I knotted my fists in my hair. “I didn’ mean that, either, I jus’ meant if I wanted t’ sleep with somebody right now, you’d be… oh shit, I’m jus’ gonna shut up now.” I gave him an imploring look. “Are we still friends?”

  He laughed. “Of course. And I can do better than my office floor. The original owner used to live above the bar and there’s still an old couch up there. It’s not the Ritz, but…”

  “Eddy, you’re a prince!” I managed not to burst into tears or kiss him.

  “Come on,” he said, and held out his hand. “I’ll help you up the stairs.”

  “’S’all right,” I mumbled. “Corndation… Oops, cro… I mean cord… fuck it, balance… ’s the las’ thing t’go…” I stood and managed a straight line over to the bar, where I proffered my credit card despite Eddy’s objections. The stairs were an exercise in concentration but I made it to the top without incident.

  Eddy bustled around closing blinds and fussing because there were no blankets or pillows, but I made grateful noises until he wished me a goo
d night and closed the door behind him.

  I guzzled the mug of water he’d left me and fell onto a dilapidated sofa that smelled of stale beer and wet dog. It looped once; twice; dizzying spins that made me utter a feeble “Whee!”

  Then I knew no more.

  Chapter 12

  My stomach was vibrating.

  I groaned and clamped my hand over it, but the vibration transmitted itself to my palm.

  I pried an eye open and fumbled my phone out of my waist pouch as it vibrated a third time. Squinting one-eyed, I identified the answer button and pressed it before squeezing my eye shut again and holding the phone to my ear.

  “’Lo?” My croak elicited a moment of silence on the other end of the line.

  “Is Aydan there?” a familiar gravelly voice inquired.

  “Arnie!” My cry of delight subjected my nasal passages to my own foul breath and I dragged myself upright, gulping distastefully. “God. Gross. Hang on…” I swallowed a couple more times. “Jeez. Fall asleep for a few minutes and somebody goes and eats shit with my mouth…”

  Hellhound’s voice took on a worried note. “What’s wrong, darlin’? Are ya sick?”

  “No.” I ran a fuzzy tongue over my dry lips and sucked at my cheeks in an attempt to generate some spit. “Drank too much last night.”

  A raspy chuckle tickled my eardrum. “Ya celebratin’ somethin’?”

  “No, drowning my sorrows.” Giving up verticality as a bad job, I fell back on the couch. “It’s good to hear your voice. Um… it’s not Sunday is it?”

  “Nah. Only Saturday. Ya sure you’re okay? How long’ve ya been passed out?”

  I laughed. “I drank more than I intended to, but I didn’t pass out. I just thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow. Are you calling from California?”

  “Nah, I’m home. Been off work for too long an’ needed to get caught up on a coupla my cases.”

  Guilt nudged me. He was behind in his P.I. business because he’d dropped everything to rescue me last week.

  I pushed away the thought. That wasn’t the whole reason. Nobody had twisted his arm to join Kane on that motorcycle trip afterward. I suppressed a sigh. But he had known Kane needed his companionship. He always put himself last…