by Maggie Brown
Eventually, when her vision became too blurry, she figured it was time to throw it in and report back to Milton. He looked up from his laptop with an enquiring glance. “That’s the best I can do,” she said, placing the two folders on the desk. “If something else sparks my memory, I’ll shoot it through to you.”
“Good. You’d better be off then. You look played out,” he said, his face now more relaxed. “And Colly…be careful. I’ve just received word the Russians are tightening their security. Ditch your work phone and pick up a new one on your way out. If you have to send a message, go via Adriana…no direct contact with us here. No body wires, no tapes. We’re nearly at the end of the assignment, so don’t do anything to compromise yourself. Just lie low and observe. It’ll be over soon and you can go home.”
Home.
It sounded nice, safe, but she didn’t know where that was anymore. Too many assignments in different places. She’d let her Sydney apartment go this time—too long away to be paying the rent. It was always a good break to visit her mother in Devonport, to catch up with her childhood friends, but she hadn’t lived at home since she was eighteen. She needed to get off this carousel for a while, to make a life for herself. Unbidden, the image of Winter floated in and she pushed it away regretfully.
Once the operation was over, she would have to leave the city.
* * *
Pandora opened her fridge door and sized up the contents. Her already low spirits took another dive. A lone piece of stale pizza, two vodka lime UDL cans, a bottle of milk, and half a loaf of bread. Crap! With a resigned sigh, she pulled the tab off a can and sloshed the drink over a glass of ice. She took two long swigs to settle herself down, then emptied the rest of the can into the glass. After zapping the pizza in the microwave, she settled down in the lounge chair with her dinner to watch TV. She began to scroll through the channels absently.
There was nothing worth watching as usual—a couple of movie reruns, a hospital soapie, a cooking show, and a nature documentary about the breeding habits of an endangered African monkey. She’d seen the movies, couldn’t cook, and there was no way she wanted to learn about a monkey’s mating life when she couldn’t get one herself.
Restless, she tossed the remote away and stared at the blank screen, wondering what the hell she was going to do now. It wasn’t even eight thirty—she had no hope of sleeping. Normally she didn’t mind being bored. After a rough day, a touch of tedium was welcome, giving her voice and body a chance to recharge. Sometimes she went home from the club completely exhausted. But she needed to be occupied tonight, didn’t want to dwell on the events of the past twenty-four hours.
Usually debriefing wasn’t a problem. As an agent with nearly ten years’ field experience, she had learned to recognize stress, absorb it and file it away, enabling her to function like the professional she’d been trained to be. But last night she had underestimated the danger and lost control of the situation. She should never had entered that room with those men. A big mistake. If Winter hadn’t intervened, she would have been in serious trouble.
Winter—now that woman was becoming a real complication. She couldn’t get her out of her head and was close to breaking rule one: never get romantically involved while on assignment. It was time to be more discerning. Casual sex was acceptable, but a relationship was not. After losing her singing dream, she wasn’t prepared to jeopardise this career she’d carved out for herself. She had long since stopped thinking about the what-ifs in her life. What she had now was solid, exciting work, and if loneliness was a side effect, then it was a price she was prepared to pay.
With new determination, she rose to go to bed. On her way, she caught sight of her laptop on the desk. So far, she had shied away from looking Winter up, feeling it was a bit too much like stalking. Now she couldn’t resist. Ignoring the pang of guilt, she eased down on her office chair and opened Winter’s Facebook page. The fact there were hardly any entries, only reaffirmed what a very private person she was. It always amazed Pandora how indiscreet people were on social media. Didn’t they realize whatever they entered was open to public scrutiny?
She surfed the Internet to learn more about their public split. They had stayed in the news for weeks, with pictures of the two women before and after the breakup. As a well-known media personality, most articles were about Dumont. From her point of view, she was the wronged and innocent party in their parting of ways. She might have sounded truthful, but the vibes were there it was a long way from the real version.
Winter had been remarkably quiet in the media about the whole business, only caught by the cameras with her head down trying to avoid reporters. She had never given an interview.
Two years later, a gossip columnist reported that there had been a substantial payout to Christine. It was also alleged that one of them had been caught with her pants down, but as this was only speculation, the affair eventually faded out of the news. Since the initial separation, the TV presenter had been coupled with at least three high-profile women. Jessie was right. Christine wasn’t nearly good enough for Winter. And she bet the tabloid had been right about the de facto alimony. The bitch would have been viewing Winter as a poker machine, with the jackpot coming up whenever she pushed her buttons.
She brought up images of Winter and after enlarging the best one, she sat gazing at it wistfully until she came to her senses. Mooning over her picture was ridiculous. If she couldn’t stop thinking about her, then she had to do something about it. She had another seven weeks to get her out of her system. Maybe they could have a bit of fun like Jessie would. Perhaps Winter wouldn’t want anything serious after her last disaster.
Yeah, right. Like Winter is anything like Jessie.
Pandora shook her head, thinking that it would probably backfire on her as well. Who was she trying to kid anyhow? It had been years since she’d had anything that she could be remotely considered a romantic attachment, and she wanted one. Coming home to a lonely flat wasn’t a way to live anymore. Merely an existence.
Her musings were interrupted by the phone.
“Hello.”
“Pandora, it’s Kurt. I heard Boris was a shithead last night. Sorry, I went out for a while and wasn’t in the club to stop it.”
She smiled into the receiver. At least he cared what happened to her. “Kurt. Thanks for ringing. I got out of it…just. One of the patrons helped me get away. I hope I don’t have to go anywhere near that bastard again. Yuri will have to control him more when he comes to the Fox. The man’s dangerous.”
“I know. Just try to stay out of his way when he comes back. Call me if there’s any more trouble next time. I’m glad you’re all right. I’ll see you Tuesday night then. Bye.”
Pandora hit the off button with a snap. She doubted he’d be a match for Boris. Not with his accompanying goons. She was slipping the phone back into her pocket when it rang again.
“Hello,” she answered gruffly.
There was a pause for a moment on the other end, then Yuri came on the line. “Pandora. Hi. I’m just ringing to see how you are. I’ve rung a few times today, but only got your voicemail.”
She shot up straight, focused now. No wonder she hadn’t heard from anyone at the club. With all the drama, she hadn’t checked her messages. “I thought it wiser to spend the night with a friend after what happened. My phone’s been on the charger.”
“I heard what happened.”
“Then you know Boris went too far.”
“He and the boys were only wanting to let off a bit of steam. Just having a bit of fun.”
“I wouldn’t have called it amusing for me. The bruises on my wrists tell another tale,” she snapped.
“Come on…Boris just got carried away. They’d had a bit to drink. He asked me for your address so he could apologise this morning.”
Pandora nearly choked. As if that swine would apologise to a woman. Then it sank in that he had gone to her apartment. She shivered, imagining what would have happened if she’d b
een home. “I just want him to leave me alone. I told him I wasn’t interested, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Is he still at the club?”
“They flew out at three.” There was a long pause before he added, “You’ll still come in on Tuesday?”
“Yes, I’ll be there.”
An audible sigh echoed in her ear. Good, he was worried. But his next words made her heart sink and demolished any hope that he’d support her in the future. “Be nice to him next time, Pandora. I know he can be difficult, but he is family.”
“I’ll be pleasant, but I don’t intend getting too friendly.”
“We’ll discuss it later. He won’t be back for two months.” After that, he went off on another tangent, discussing at great length the various Russian families who had come out for the celebrations. Usually a man of few words, she knew it was his way of apologising.
When he finished the call, she stared at the phone thoughtfully. She was under no illusion now—Yuri couldn’t control his brother. Boris was by far the stronger personality and there would be no protection for her next time. She would definitely have to be gone by then. One good thing—he’d confirmed it was going to be in eight weeks.
Chapter Fifteen
Winter found herself staring into space again, her mind wandering back to Pandora. Despite the pile of work on her desk, the outing tonight had her too keyed up to concentrate. God knows why—she was hardly a teenager on her first date. But she couldn’t deny that she had never felt quite like this about any woman. She made her feel so many things on so many levels. But then again, what could she really know? Christine had been her one and only long-term relationship, so she hardly was an authority on the affairs of the heart. Watching Jessie with women wasn’t a good yardstick on which to base anything either.
After battling on for another half an hour with her latest client’s deal, Winter gave up and clicked Save. Then on spec, she rang her favourite salon, figuring that not only would some pampering help her relax, it would also keep her mind off the coming date. Much to her delight, they managed to fit her in for a massage. With renewed energy, she packed up her things and cast a last glance around her office before opening the door.
Nancy looked up, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw the handbag. “Are you going out, Winter? I thought you were preparing the Valcourt merger this afternoon.”
Winter searched for an excuse. Not that she had to answer to her—she was her boss—but she always found Nancy McCaffery a wee bit intimidating. Not far off her sixtieth birthday, the perceptive, no-nonsense PA had been a fixture in the office long before Winter joined the firm. A stickler for protocol, Nancy always wore immaculately tailored business suits, her greying hair fashioned back in a neat bun, and she couldn’t remember ever seeing her without makeup. When Winter joined the firm, it had taken her a lot of cajoling to make her drop Ms. Carlyle and call her by her first name. Finally, she merely said, “I’m not feeling well so I’m taking the afternoon off.”
“Oh, dear. It’s not like you to take a sick day. If you like, I’ll prepare the documents and have them ready for signatures.”
Winter smiled at her gratefully. Nancy knew as much about corporate law as anyone in the building, partners included. She didn’t know what she’d do without her. “Thanks. I’ll be fine. Just an upset stomach. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Feeling like a truant schoolgirl, she hurried off with a spring in her step down the corridor to the lift.
The rest of the afternoon passed so pleasantly, she wondered why she didn’t do it more often. After a relaxing Swedish massage, their beautician did her makeup as well. With only just over an hour to spare, she sailed off home feeling like a million dollars. What to wear proved a little taxing. Since Pandora had rung saying not to get dressed up, she had to scrounge in her cupboard for something casual but decent. She hadn’t realized how much of her wardrobe comprised of work suits and after-five wear.
Eventually—after a minor panic attack—she found her Paige denim jeans packed away in the bottom of the cupboard. Relieved they still fitted, she pulled on her nicest top, a grey silk ruffled blouse, then peered critically at her reflection in the mirror. Not too bad—at least her makeup was flawless. Remembering Pandora had liked her hair free, she brushed it out of its French twist, then added a bright necklace, a few dabs of perfume and she was ready.
The chime of the doorbell brought butterflies to her stomach, which she dismissed as thoroughly irrational. The sight of Pandora on the landing brought them fluttering back. She involuntarily clenched her thighs as Winter’s gaze travelled over her. Gone was the slinky feminine singer from the stage. This woman was bold, strong, edgy with a hint of swagger. Someone who took charge. She stood at ease, her black leather bomber jacket open to the evening air, revealing a clinging blue T-shirt and a glint of gold on a chain. Low jeans hugged her hips, biker boots covered her legs, and her dark hair curled in luxurious waves over her collar. Winter nearly groaned aloud.
She was in so much trouble.
Pulling herself together, she smiled over-brightly. “Hi.”
Pandora dipped her head, mirroring her smile as she passed over a box tied with a pink ribbon, together with her borrowed clothes. “For you. I hope you like chocolates.”
“Love them, thanks,” she murmured, her eyes welling up at the gesture. It had been a long time since anyone had given her a present other than at Christmas and on her birthday. Just another thing that had been one-sided with Christine. Though she often gave her gifts in their dating days, Christine had never reciprocated. Embarrassed at her unexpected show of emotion, she turned quickly to place the box on the table in the hallway. “I’m ready,” she said over her shoulder.
“Great. Let’s go then.”
Winter followed her to the silver RAV4 in the driveway, charmed when Pandora opened the door for her. The trip into town passed pleasantly, the conversation easy and light. Then instead of going to one of the uptown eating venues, they made their way to a suburb popular with people living more alternate lifestyles.
“This is as close as we’re going to get,” said Pandora as she eased the car into a parking spot on top of a hill above the busy streets.
When they alighted, Pandora immediately took her hand and laced their fingers together. They stood in the semidarkness to enjoy the view of the city lights before they strolled down to the main hub. The streets were crowded with revellers enjoying the night life. Always reticent about showing public affection, Winter relaxed when she realized they weren’t out of place from the number of same-sex couples walking hand-in-hand. After a few blocks of window-shopping, Pandora made her way down a side street to a recess next to a dress shop.
“We’re dining at The Blue Peacock. It’s in the basement,” she explained as she led the way down a flight of steps. They passed through an archway into a cosy restaurant lit by round Turkish mosaic lamps hanging from the ceiling.
Winter took note of her surroundings. The décor was bohemian, woven rugs hanging on the walls, and lots of cushions and throws. The room was filled with chunky wooden tables, the bench seats arranged to face a small raised stage at one end. The place was packed with an odd assortment of patrons: all sizes, all ages, very multicultural. Clothes varied from jeans to flamboyant caftans, with no suit brigade in sight.
They were greeted by a slender woman with dark brown hair tied back with a scarf, dressed in a vibrant loose top and flared bell-bottomed pants straight from the seventies. She engulfed Pandora in a tight hug. Before she pulled away, she mumbled something in her ear that Winter didn’t catch.
Her dark eyes swept over Winter curiously. “I’ve reserved the table for two in the left corner for you.”
Pandora introduced her as Adriana Flavus, though Winter had no idea how close a friend she was. The hug seemed possessive. Maybe they had a thing in the past? She hated to admit it, but she was more than a little jealous at that thought, especially when Adriana rubbed Pandora affectionatel
y on the shoulder as she said, “I have a few things to attend to, so have fun.”
Pandora smiled fondly at her. “I’m sure we will.”
Winter slid onto the bench seat, her pulse not quite steady as she wriggled to get comfortable. It was very cosy, their thighs touching lightly. She could smell Pandora’s perfume mixed with her distinctive musky scent, feel the heat radiating from her body. Her voice felt oddly thick as she said, “You and Adriana seem…um…good friends.”
“We’ve worked together for years. She’s a remarkable woman and a great singer.”
Winter winced. That’d be right. Hard to compete with. “What type of songs?” she asked. Adriana didn’t appear at all like a sultry blues singer. She was attractive, but in a home-spun sort of way, as if she belonged behind a potter’s wheel or a weaving loom.
“Folk mainly…Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez, Tracy Chapman. She’s singing tonight.”
“Oh? She’s the entertainment?”
“Yep. Wait ’til you hear her. You’ll love her,” said Pandora and handed her a menu. “The Spanish tapas are superb.”
“Then let’s order,” replied Winter.
And they were delicious. They were finishing the last dish when a stool and a microphone were brought out to the small stage. The restaurant began to buzz with anticipation and excitement. The lights dimmed except for the mosaic lamp above the stage, and Adriana walked out to a burst of applause. After she settled in front of the mike with one foot on the stool rest and a guitar cradled on her lap, she plucked a few cords before beginning her song. She began with Joni Mitchell’s “River,” her attractive cameo face calm, though her eyes were intense as her fingers strummed restlessly over the strings. Held captive by the sweet tone of her voice, Winter sank back to enjoy the show.
