Dance With the Enemy (28 page)

When Logan opened his eyes, the world in front of him was blurred and swirling. He squinted to try to bring it into focus.

He was lying in a bed. The room was not one he immediately recognised and it took a few seconds to recall what had happened and where he was.

‘Welcome back.’

A woman’s voice. At first he couldn’t place it. The drugs were making his brain cloudy and confused. But then he remembered where he knew the voice from. He’d been dreaming about her.

Not a nightmare. A real dream.

As his senses returned, he saw he was lying on a hospital bed, white sheets draped over him. To his side were various machines and monitors, none of which seemed to be turned on. A drip bag was attached by a tube to a cannula in his hand. Other than that, a sink and a closed white cabinet, the room was bare.

He tried to sit up, pushing on the bed with his elbows. But he had forgotten about his injured shoulder and he cried out as pain sliced through him.

‘How did you find me?’ he said, after waiting for the shooting pain to subside.

‘I asked your boss,’ said Grainger.

‘He told you?’

‘Yeah. Are you surprised at that?’

‘Very. I’m surprised he even spoke to you.’

‘Yeah, well, don’t underestimate him.’

Logan never had.

‘Do you think you could get me some water?’ he said.

‘Yeah, sure. God, where are my manners? I should have asked.’

She wandered over to the sink and came back with a paper cup full of chilled water. The liquid was so cold it made Logan’s teeth hurt, but it perked him up a little.

‘What time is it?’ he asked.

‘It’s about five o’clock in the afternoon. You’ve been asleep for almost two days. They’ve had you pretty drugged up.’

‘That’s their ploy to keep me here.’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Like crap. My head feels like a balloon. My arm feels like there’re razor blades in it. I’m hungry. And thirsty. But other than that, I’m fine. In fact, I’m ready to get out of here. I hadn’t planned on staying this long.’

‘Your personal security guard might have something to say about that.’

She indicated to the door. Logan could see Fagan through the glass, standing outside the door with his arms folded.

‘Oh, him. Don’t worry about him. So what’s happened to you? Are you still in a job?’

She fiddled with her hair, rubbed her cheek. Signs of tension.

‘Officially I’m suspended. But that’s not bad, all things considered. They could have thrown me out straight off. But my boss recognised how well we’d moved things forward. Everyone believes that Selim would have tortured and killed Modena. I’m not saying anyone is happy with how this has turned out, but I think they’re at least realistic that things could have been much worse.’

‘And we got Selim. That’s got to count for something.’

‘Actually it seems that’s being played down. There’s a lot of embarrassment and uncertainty over how he became involved in the first place. The French are desperate to keep quiet the fact that one of the world’s most wanted men smuggled himself into their country. Plus both the French and the Feds are a little uneasy about how he died.’

‘What do you mean?’

She rubbed at her neck again.

‘Well, you know.’

‘Not really. Spit it out.’

‘You killed an unarmed man, Carl. A defenceless, unarmed man.’

‘He wasn’t defenceless when he shot me through the shoulder.’

‘Logan, I know that. But you know how these things get portrayed. A story’s a story. People are saying it was an execution.’

Logan shifted on the bed, anger immediately boiling up inside him. He knew questions would be asked about the manner of Selim’s death, but to hear it from Grainger’s mouth was hard to take.

‘Well, it’s not like you tried to stop me,’ Logan snapped. ‘I saw you standing there, watching.’

Grainger’s cheeks turned red and she bowed her head. Logan thought he could see tears welling in her eyes and immediately he felt bad. He and he alone had made the decision to kill Selim. He couldn’t try to pin the blame on anyone else.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just hard to hear how people can twist things.’

‘Look, I know why you did it and I know he deserved it,’ Grainger said. ‘But not everyone sees the world like you do. But that’s why everyone is trying to downplay Selim’s death. The authorities don’t want or need the heat. And I’m sure you don’t.’

‘I can handle it. It wouldn’t be the first time. Anyway, how’s Modena?’

‘He’s in a coma. But he’s alive. He may or may not recover, but we saved him.’

Logan felt tangible relief at that.

‘And if we hadn’t got to him when we did,’ he said, ‘well, I guess it could have been much worse.’

Logan winced at his own words. It was like he was trying his hardest to justify the outcome to himself. And that made him angry. It wasn’t usual for him to feel awkward in Grainger’s presence, but right now he felt like a failure. Yes, he’d got Selim, but at what cost? Modena may be alive, but what if he was nothing more than a vegetable? And it was clear that not everyone was going to be congratulatory over the nature of Selim’s demise.

What if he had just taken the chance when they were at Blakemore’s and gone for Modena rather than the bad guys?
Just like Grainger had said they should. It was
him
who had insisted on doing it his way. He was responsible for how things had turned out.

‘It’s not your fault, Logan. None of this is,’ Grainger said. Perhaps she had recognised the look of discontent on his face. ‘You didn’t notice it, did you?’ she added.

‘Notice what?’

‘When we were at that house. Before you went in, and even after the fighting had stopped, I was looking at your hands. There were no tremors. Nothing at all.’

He thought back to the fight. He hadn’t noticed that. When he had been pointing the gun at Selim, his hands had been shaking so hard it had been difficult to focus. But, thinking about it now, he hadn’t noticed tremors at all at any other time. Maybe she was right. Maybe it had only been the adrenaline and anticipation causing the shaking when he confronted Selim.

Either way, it meant a lot to him that she had noticed.

‘And you can’t tell me that it wasn’t a stressful situation,’ she added. ‘So while you might not be happy with how things are right now, your hands are telling me a different story. We’ve already saved Modena. Selim is dead. And your body is telling me that you and your head might be on the road to recovery. And I think, deep down, you
know
that’s the case.’

She could read him better than he could read himself. Selim being dead made a huge difference to his life. But there was more than that. A big part of his recent recovery was also down to her.

‘You might be right,’ he said. ‘But I have to finish this first.’

‘Finish what?’ Grainger said, surprised.

‘I need to find out who paid Blakemore and Selim in the first place. What it was they kidnapped Modena for.’

‘You still think that’s the case? That there was someone else behind this?’

‘I’m convinced.’

‘I’m not sure the Feds are. Our investigation has been closed down. As far as we’re concerned, it’s all over.’

Logan raised an eyebrow at that. It wasn’t what he had expected at all. Was that really true? Or now that Modena had been rescued had Grainger reverted to type and this was now her speaking with her formal FBI hat on, not wanting to give the game away?

‘So what are you going to do next?’ he said.

‘I have to stick around here for a few days. They’re bringing some of the bigwigs over from America. Debriefing this one is going to be a long haul. We’re talking days rather than hours.’

‘And the suspension? What does that mean?’

‘That I’m on leave until they say otherwise. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be needed. I think they’ll be picking my brains a fair bit.’

‘By the way, where are we?’ he asked.

The last thing he remembered was being in the car leaving the scene at Dunkirk. Soon after that, the drugs they’d given him, more morphine and a sedative he’d not heard of, had knocked him out and he’d no idea what had happened to him since.

‘Now? We’re in Paris again. Montparnasse.’

‘You’re staying in Paris still?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Great. Then why don’t we get out of here?’ he said.

‘Are you sure you’re up to it?’

‘Just try to stop me.’

He threw the covers off himself and got to his feet. He had to hold his arms out to balance while his brain got to grips with what he was doing. The sedatives they had given him were certainly still in his system.

Grainger burst out laughing. At him.

‘What’s so funny?’ he said, offended.

‘You look like one of those wobbly baby deer or something. And I can see your big red baboon ass sticking out.’

He looked down. He was wearing a light-blue hospital gown. It stopped at the waist at the back, exposing his rear.

‘Where the hell are my clothes?’ he said, unable to hide his embarrassment. Even Fagan, on the other side of the door, who had turned his attention to them in the commotion, struggled not to break his usual deadpan stare.

‘I’ll go check.’

She carried on laughing as she went out of the room.

Wiping the smirk from his face, Fagan came into the room just as she left.

‘Logan, you’re not supposed to leave this place until I’ve heard from Mackie.’

‘You going to stop me?’ Logan said.

Fagan shrugged, unfazed. ‘No. I couldn’t care less. But I’ll call it straight in if you go.’

‘That’s hardly going to make a difference to me, is it?’

‘It really doesn’t bother me. I’m here to look out for you. If you don’t want my help then it’s on you.’

‘You’d better call Mackie, then. Tell him I’ll come and see him later.’

Fagan shrugged again and left the room.

Grainger returned a minute later with a pile of crisp new clothes: linen trousers and a light blue shirt. Mackie’s choice, no doubt.

It took Logan a while to get dressed. Having one arm that was more or less immobile made everything ten times as hard as normal. He had got used to it years ago when he’d been shot in the arm, but it wasn’t really something he’d carried on practising once that wound had healed.

Grainger offered to help but, stubborn as ever, he refused.

Finally, he was ready to go.

As Logan walked out of the room, Fagan came back up to him. ‘I spoke to Mackie. He says he wants you at the safe house at nine a.m. tomorrow.’

‘Fine,’ Logan said.

‘Oh, and he said to bring along your passport.’

‘Which one? And what for?’

‘Dunno. He just said you’d be going to America.’

After leaving the clinic with a suite of medical supplies that would hopefully keep Logan mobile, they had initially thought about heading to Grainger’s hotel, on the other side of town. But the fact that her FBI colleagues were also staying there had persuaded them otherwise. Instead, they had found a low-budget option nearby. And after heading out for some much needed food they’d spent the rest of that evening in bed together, only going to sleep in the early hours of the morning. The next day, too, had come and gone with them barely leaving the bed. Logan had called in to Mackie, rather than heading to the safe house as requested, and his boss, although hesitant, had okayed a further twenty-four hours’ rest. Not that Logan or Grainger had rested much.

It had been an amazing two nights. Grainger couldn’t believe just how relaxed they had both become in each other’s company. And how Logan seemed to be almost a changed man from the complex mess she’d met just five days ago.

But this morning, Grainger felt altogether different. And not just about the prospect of Logan leaving for America. What was bothering her most, and what really shocked her, was that she couldn’t bear the thought that after this morning she may never see Carl Logan again.

They’d briefly broached the subject of when they’d next see each other the night before, but neither had wanted to spoil the
atmosphere then and the conversation had quickly moved on without resolution. But it was now playing on Grainger’s mind again. Plus she could feel the pressure beginning to build now for what lay ahead for her. Logan had been a convenient distraction for the past two days but she still had work to do.

Having set the alarm to ensure he wasn’t late for Mackie, Logan had got out of bed at six. He left Grainger in bed and headed out to a café to get coffee and some pastries for breakfast. When he got back to the hotel room twenty minutes later, Grainger was already up and dressed.

‘Oh, I thought you were still sleeping. I just went out to get breakfast,’ he said, holding up the purchases with his one useful arm.

He brought the food and drink over to her, laid it down on the small, round table next to where she was sitting and kissed her on the cheek.

She responded with an awkward smile.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.

‘Nothing,’ she said, giving him another less than convincing smile. ‘Thanks for getting this.’

‘I can tell something’s up. What is it?’

‘It’s nothing,’ she said, more bluntly, wanting to say more, but unsure just how to open the subject up.

After that, they ate their breakfast in near silence.

‘Last night was great,’ Logan said, finishing the remainder of his black coffee. ‘I’m not sure where you learned all that. You were like a caged tiger let loose.’

She tutted. ‘Carl, I know you don’t want to talk about this –’

‘Then let’s not,’ Logan said, as though picking up on where she was going.

‘Carl! Stop being so goddamn nonchalant! This matters to me, even if it doesn’t matter to you!’

‘I never said it didn’t matter,’ he said.

‘Look. You can’t just ignore it and hope that it’ll go away. I want to know when we’re going to see each other again.’

‘I want to know that too. But why do we have to fight about it? Why can’t we just enjoy the time we
are
spending together?’

‘Well, that’s just about as non-committal as you can get.’

‘I didn’t mean for it to be. I just want to enjoy this time
together
now
. Not try to complicate things that don’t need to be complicated.’

‘You’re right. It’s not like we even really know each other that well, is it?’ she said, angry as much as she was hurt. ‘I mean, I don’t really know who you are. And you don’t really know anything about me.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Well, you don’t. Tell me what you know about me. I’m an FBI agent you like the look of naked and who’s a good fuck. Is there anything more than that?’

He didn’t say anything, just stared at her.

‘There isn’t, is there?’ she said, angered even more by his lack of response. ‘You know nothing about me. Other than my name and who I work for. Hell, you don’t even know where I’m from, where I live.’

‘Yes, I do,’ he said. ‘You live in Virginia.’

She looked at him, confusion now etched on her face. ‘How do you know that?’ she snapped. ‘I never even told you that.’

‘Yes, you did. You told me about how your dad used to take you hunting in the Appalachians. You’ve lived in Virginia your whole life.’

Was that true? Her thoughts immediately went back to the night before. She’d certainly talked to him about her dad. About how he’d take her hunting in the mountains. About how, on her thirteenth birthday, she’d been allowed to fire her dad’s rifle for the first time. The fact that the recoil had knocked her off her feet into the wet snow. That she’d cried for days when she realised she’d killed the poor deer with that very shot.

She’d told Logan numerous intimate details about the good times she’d spent with her father.

But she’d never told him where she was from.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. But it was.

‘I could have lived anywhere and gone to the Appalachians with my dad. How did you know I live in Virginia?’

Logan fidgeted in his seat, his cheeks burning red.

‘I had a colleague look up your profile,’ he said, unable to look her in the eye. ‘Check out that you were who you said you were.’

‘You what?!’ Grainger said, standing up out of her seat, arms folded.

‘I’m sorry. I just wanted to know who I was dealing with. Wouldn’t you have done the same? But that was before any of this happened. Before me and you. It was right after you dumped me on the side of the road!’

‘What else did you find out about me?’ she said, a feeling of real unease creeping over her.

‘It was just a simple check! It was completely innocent.’

‘Well, I hope you got from it what you wanted. I’m glad it didn’t put you off.’

‘Jesus, Angie, you’re making far more out of this than you need to.’

‘I don’t think I am! I think I’m kinda proving my point! We
don’t
know each other. Not really. Like I didn’t know that the man I’m sleeping with was going around checking up on me behind my back!’

‘Look, why are we even arguing about this? We had a great time last night. We should be having a good time
now
. Can we not just enjoy this time together?’

‘What, so you buy me dinner, then we go back to a hotel and fuck? Then what?
See you later?
Is that how this works?’

He had nothing to say to that. Not for the first time, his lack of response didn’t calm her down at all and she moved away from the table, storming towards the bathroom door.

He jumped up after her and grabbed her arm.

‘Angela. You are the most amazing person I have ever met,’ he said. ‘I’ve never felt like this before with anyone. You’ve made me feel alive – I mean
really
alive – for the first time in my life. And I spend every waking minute and every second I sleep thinking about you.’

The anger on her face began to ebb away, leaving a look somewhere near bewilderment. She looked deeply into his eyes and could feel tears forming in hers. She shrugged, trying to pull away from his grip. But he wouldn’t let her; he held her tight.

‘You’ve changed my life,’ he said. ‘For the better. I was a mess before you walked into my life, pointing that gun of yours in my face. Before you, I never had a single meaningful relationship. For the past five months I’ve been struggling with a condition I didn’t even want to
think
about, let alone deal with. And look at me
now
. Do you know what I dreamt about last night? I dreamt about
you
. Not a nightmare. I’ve had nightmares nearly every
time I’ve slept for five months. And when I don’t have nightmares I don’t dream at all. Last night? Last night I dreamt of me and you.
Together
.’

Her bottom lip was quivering. She tried with one last feeble attempt to free herself, but she soon gave up. Tears were now rolling down her face.

‘And when I say I’m not sure how it’s going to work out between us,’ he said, ‘it’s because I’m
scared
. Scared that you might not feel the same way about me. And scared because things might not work out how I want them to. I want you, Special Agent Grainger. Surely you must see that by now. And I damn well know that I
need
you.’

He finally stopped his monologue.

Without saying another word, Grainger buried her head in Logan’s chest. What he’d said had really touched her. It was exactly what she had hoped to hear. Because she was feeling much the same way for him, too.

Yet she knew that despite their mutual attraction, their relationship would likely never get the chance to blossom. Not now, not ever. How could it?

And as she stood with her head nestled into his chest, longing for his touch and the warmth of his body next to hers, a strange sensation crept over her: the most euphoric feeling she’d ever known, mixed in equal measure with sadness.