Never Say Spy (30 page)

I stood for a few seconds drinking in the silence and spacious coolness.  I gazed up at the stars as I spoke to Kane.  “Any idea when I can start living at home again?”

“I’ll have a better idea tomorrow morning.  The way things looked when I left, you might even be able to go home for tomorrow night.  Everything I’ve seen so far indicates that you’re in the clear.”

I drew a deep breath of the fresh air.  “That would be so good.”

My hands were shaking by the time Kane stepped forward to activate the breakers below the house.  I drew a deep breath as the door swung open, and he eyed me with concern.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine.”  My voice was a little too loud, and I stood straighter and met his eyes with all the bravado I could muster.

His face softened, and he half-reached a hand in my direction.  “Aydan, I’m sorry this is so hard for you,” he said softly.  “But it’s for your own safety-”

“I know, and thanks,” I interrupted.  “It’s just my stupid claustrophobia.  It’s okay.  I’ll deal with it.”  I turned and strode down the stairs to stand waiting at the lower door, staring into middle distance and repeating my internal mantra.

Fine.  I was fine.  Not trapped.

Webb and Wheeler had returned while we were gone, and suppressed excitement crackled in the air.  Kane immediately joined the huddle in the meeting room, and I waved a general good-night and departed for the bunkroom, glad to be free of his too-perceptive scrutiny.

Once in bed, I lay still, concentrating fiercely while I did every relaxation exercise I knew.

My eyes flew open and I peered at my watch for the umpteenth time.  It was only six A.M., but I couldn’t face the thought of tossing and turning any longer.  Only sheer obstinate pride had prevented me from begging the men to shoot me with a trank so I could get through the night.  The jagged blades of an incipient panic attack vibrated ominously near the edges of my mind.

I groaned my way out of bed, the aching tension in my muscles completely eclipsing the discomfort from my injuries.

In the shower, I breathed myself into a semblance of calm again, letting the hot water soften my knotted shoulders.  Diverting my mind with a cursory examination, I was pleased to discover my bruises were blossoming into yellow, green, and brown.  They actually looked worse than when they were fresh, but I’d had enough bruises over the years to be reassured by their colourful display of healing.

By the time I arrived in the meeting area, a paper bag was already perched on the table.  Spider looked up as I came in, the dark circles under his eyes belied by his buoyant smile.

“Breakfast’s ready.”  He pointed to the bag, and I grinned at him, clasping my shaking hands under the table.

“Thanks, Spider, you’re the best!”  I sat down and pulled the bag over, purring my approval at the contents.  “Mmmm-mmmm!  I owe you big-time for this,” I told him as I retrieved another bagel with peanut butter, taking secret comfort from its heat and aroma.  “How did you know peanut butter is my staple breakfast food?”

“Lucky guess,” he beamed.  “And anyway, you don’t owe me.  It’s on the department expense.  After all you’ve done for us, a little peanut butter is the least we can do for you.”

I glanced up eagerly.  “Does that mean things went well last night?” I mumbled around a sticky mouthful.

He nodded.  “Better than well.  We’re just tying up the last loose ends now.”  As he spoke, Kane strolled in, rumpled and stubbled again, the lines on his face etched deeper by lack of sleep.  He set his coffee down on the table and dropped into a chair.

“How late did you guys work, anyway?” I asked.  “You look like death warmed over.  No offence.”

“None taken,” Kane growled in his morning voice.  He cleared his throat and took a gulp of coffee before continuing, his deep baritone husky.  “We’ve made some excellent progress.  Once you identified Sandler’s involvement, the rest of the pieces started to fall into place.  There are still some lingering questions, but we’ll get there.”

I hid my desperation in a casual tone.  “Does that mean I can go home today?”

He frowned.  “You should stay here until we have time to search out the last of the details.”

Stay calm.  Breathe.  Not trapped.

“But Fuzzy Bunny thinks I’m dead.  Surely I’m in the clear now.”  I gave him my best pleading big brown eyes.

He shifted in his chair, looking troubled.  “Aydan, I know it’s been hard on you to stay underground.  And you’re right, so far it looks as though you’re in the clear.  But do you really want to take that chance?”

“
Yes
, for-”  I bit off the harsh voice that issued from my throat, squeezing my hands together under the table and drawing a deep breath.

“But how much of a chance is it, really?  And when would you ever be sure?” I argued instead, holding my tone calm and reasonable.  “You’ll never be a hundred percent sure.”

He dropped his head into his hands and stared at the table.  “That’s true, but...”

“I need to get out of here.”  I tried to hold onto my calm voice, but it vibrated with desperation and my shaking fingers dug into my thighs.

He looked up to appraise me for a moment before blowing out a tired breath.  “All right.  If you’re sure.  I’ll take you home, and clear your place one last time.  Here’s your cell phone, too.”  He pushed it across the table.

Germain arrived, the shadows under his eyes matching Webb’s, his stubble even more rampant than Kane’s. His eyes crinkled when he saw me.  “You look like a kid on Christmas morning.  Somebody must have fed you.”

“Yes.  And even better than that, I’ll be out of your hair today.” My relief bloomed into a grin.  “Not that it hasn’t been a slice, but...”

Germain laughed.  “Fickle woman.”  He drifted toward the kitchen.

Kane leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head.  His shirt sleeves strained around his bulging biceps, and I sighed inwardly at the realization that this would be my last glimpse of that eye candy.  As scary as the past few days had been, I had thoroughly enjoyed the view when I wasn’t being frightened out of my mind.  Too bad he was so scrupulous about propriety within the team.

He rose, stretching.  “I need to grab a shower and a shave, and then we can go.”

“Okay.”  With freedom in sight, it was all I could not to spring up and pace.  I turned to my breakfast bag instead, concentrating on eating slowly.

Almost there.  Almost free.  Just breathe.

After a while, Germain appeared with his coffee and slid into the opposite chair.  “So what do you plan to do with your first day of freedom?”

I turned gratefully to the distraction.  “First, I’m going to go and stand at the top of my hill for about an hour or until I freeze, whichever comes first.  After that, I guess I’ll get organized and pack up some tools to take to Calgary, if I can figure out how to get them down there on the bus.  And then I can bring my car back.”

A clean-shaven Kane returned as I spoke, his short, still-damp hair neatly combed.  A whiff of shampoo made my stomach drop with the memory of the delicious body under that black T-shirt.  And those jeans…  I kept my eyes above his waistband with an effort.

“Why don’t you give Hellhound a call?” Kane suggested.  “I think he was planning to go back today.  He’d have room for your tools in his SUV.  Are you ready to go?”

I jumped up, only wincing a little, and made a beeline for the door.  I snatched it open before remembering my manners and forcing myself to turn with a smile.

“Thanks for everything.  You guys were great, and I really appreciate all you did for me.”

Germain rose and offered me a handshake that turned into a hug.  “Let’s do it again sometime when you’re not in mortal danger.”

“Good plan.”  I smiled.  “Spider, thanks.”

He got up and hugged me, too.  “Take care.”

“You, too.  Be safe, you guys.  Say goodbye and thanks to Wheeler for me.”

“Will do.”

My rigid muscles threatened to give way with shaky relief when we stepped out into the cold gray light of dawn.  I leaned heavily on the handrail beside the front step and drew in a long, trembling breath.  “I’ll never take liberty for granted again.”

Kane gave me a half-smile.  “Did you ever?”

“Once, a very long time ago.  Not in the last few decades.”

He nodded, looking thoughtful, and we drove to the farm in silence.  He cleared the house one last time, and we said an awkward goodbye on the front porch.

Hellhound arrived in the afternoon, and we loaded my tools and got on the road.  Less preoccupied with my own problems than on the previous trip, I gradually discovered the keen mind he camouflaged with his habitual bad grammar and ribald humour.  The two-hour trip flew by while we conversed easily.  When we pulled into my driveway, he glanced up at the house.  “Nice place.”

“Yeah, I can hardly wait to sell it.”

“Why, darlin’?  Bad memories?”

I smiled, feeling wistful.  “No.  Good memories.”

He looked puzzled, but I didn’t elaborate as we carried the tools inside and upstairs.  I stopped at the top of the landing.

“Shit.”

The door was split, hanging off a single hinge at the top.  The jamb and casing were splintered on the latch side, but the latchset still seemed intact.  I tried to turn the knob, and the latch jammed.

“Shit!”

“Somebody hit this door hard,” Hellhound observed.  “Musta been a pretty big guy.”

“Yeah, glad I didn’t meet him,” I replied absently, examining the wall with growing irritation.  “Damn.  That asshole buggered up the drywall, too.  Now I’m going to have to buy an entire new sheet of drywall just to repair this one little spot on the wall because I didn’t think to bring one of the million fucking pieces I just moved up to Silverside.  Goddammit!”

I scowled up at the remaining bent hinge.  “New door.  New jamb.  New casing.  New stop.  New hardware.  Bodywork for my car.  New fucking drywall.  Fill, sand, paint.  A week of my fucking life gone.  Thank you, Fuzzy Fucking Bunny.  Aargh!”

I snarled and wrenched the door off.  A chunk of wood splintered out of the frame with a crack.  I swore some more as I staggered over and threw the broken door down on the bed, hunching over to support myself beside it while I nursed my protesting bruise.

“Ow!  Not to mention getting the shit beat out of me by some fucking lowlife buttcrack...”

I paused in my tirade at the sight of Hellhound’s expression.  “Darlin’, are ya feelin’ okay?” he asked cautiously.

I breathed deeply, reaching for calm.  It eluded me.

“No, I am not feeling okay!  I am feeling pissed off!  And if that asshole Sandler was still alive, I’d shoot the fucker to ribbons all over again, starting with his big fucking ugly dick, the smarmy self-important asswipe!  This is all his fault!  And I have to clean up the fucking mess!”

Hellhound moved into the room and sat on the bed, reaching to stroke one of my clenched fists.  “Darlin’, ya ain’t makin’ much sense.”

“No, and I can’t, either.  Fucking NDA.  Forget everything I just said.”

He frowned.  “NDA.  Oh, the non-disclosure agreement.  So you’re sayin’ this’d make sense if ya could tell me about it.”

I did some more deep breathing.  This time I managed civility.  “Yeah.  Sorry, you didn’t need to listen to all that.  This is why I live alone.”

He shrugged.  “Ya had a tough week.  Come on, let’s go get somethin’ to eat.  It’s dinner time, and I know ya gotta be hungry.”

My stomach agreed with an audible growl, and he laughed.  I let him shepherd me out of the room and down the stairs, still trying to get my temper under control.  When we walked by my car, the sight of the bullet holes made me clench my teeth to keep the profanity from spilling out again.  I stalked to Hellhound’s SUV and got in, breathing deeply.  In.  Out.  Ocean waves.

He eyed my clenched fists with concern.  “Let it go, darlin’.  It’s just things.  What matters is you’re okay.”

“Yeah,” I gritted.  “Just things.  Things I have to pay for out of my own pocket.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and concentrating on relaxing my hands.  I rolled my neck and shoulders and took another slow, deliberate breath.

“You’re right,” I told him after a short pause.  “The good guys are undamaged, despite my best efforts, and the bad guys took some serious losses.  That’s about as good as it’s going to get.  Sorry for the whining.  I’m all better now.”

He smiled.  “No problem.  Ya just gotta blow off steam sometimes.  What d’ya wanna eat?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t want to go to Kelly’s because my friends will all be there tomorrow for lunch, and I’m going to lie low.  I don’t want Alanna to tell them I’m here.  Take me wherever you like to go.  I like everything.”

“Ya avoidin’ your friends?”

“Just for this week.  I really don’t want to deal with the ‘how was your week’ question right now.  And by next weekend the bruises should be gone.”

He nodded and put the SUV in gear.  “D’ya like sushi?”

“Love it!  And none of my friends can stand it.  I’m in serious withdrawal.”

“You’re gonna like this, then.”  He drove for a few minutes before steering the SUV into a small strip mall.  When we walked in, the sushi chef greeted him warmly by name.  We took seats side by side at the back of the sushi bar, overlooking the entrance and the rest of the tiny restaurant.

“The one good thing about this week has been that I don’t have to explain my seating choices.”  I grinned at Hellhound.  “Nice to hang out with a bunch that’s as paranoid as I am.”

He eyed me appreciatively.  “Nice to hang out with a woman who gets it.  My question is, why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why d’ya always sit with your back to the wall?”

I laughed and explained the bar scenario to him.  From there, the conversation wandered to biker bars, then motorcycles and music while we drank hot sake and enjoyed the delicate, flavourful sushi.

Finally, I pushed the last plate away.  “That was amazing.  I can’t believe I never knew this place was here.  I’m definitely coming back.”

“Call me if ya do,” Hellhound urged.  “I get better service when I got a gorgeous redhead with me.”

I laughed and handed the server my credit card.  “This is on me.  Thanks for everything.  I’d have been dead a couple of times over if not for you.  A sushi dinner isn’t much of a payback for saving my life, but it’s a start.”

He gently captured my hand, turning it over to stroke lightly down the inside of my wrist and palm.  He gave me an intimate smile.