The Spy Is Cast

by Diane Henders

  “You told him it was a sim?” Kane’s voice was ominously expressionless, and I hastened to reassure him.

  “No, no. I just reminded him that it was in his head, that it wasn’t real.” I swallowed hard. “Don’t blame Arnie for telling them about the watch. You didn’t see what they did. And he thinks they’ve killed Hooker, too.” My voice wavered a bit, and I sipped some more water.

  A spasm crossed Kane’s face. “I wouldn’t blame him. I don’t know anybody who’s as mentally tough as Hellhound. If he cracked, there’s nobody in the world who wouldn’t have.”

  I took a deep breath. “By the time I left Arnie the first time, I was… pretty shaken up. That’s when the policewoman arrived. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a more detailed message. I was afraid to tell her anything.”

  “It’s all right. I know now that you couldn’t have done anything else.”

  “Thanks.” I gave him a quick smile, relieved he agreed with me this time. “After I was sure you were gone, I went out of the bathroom and Maria was there. She was very kind, and she offered to let me lie down in the guest house. When I got there, I realized she’d dropped me into a sim. She’s in deep with Fuzzy Bunny. She was the one who tortured Arnie. And probably the agent, it looked like the same kind of work. And me.”

  Kane sat forward, his face creasing with concern, and I held up a reassuring hand. “A construct of me. That’s why I didn’t die when she shot me inside the sim. Arnie was trying to save me by telling her about the watch. He had figured out how the other captives died, so he thought I would die, too.”

  “Well. He thought I was dead,” I amended. “The construct took a bullet to the head, and I had to get out of the sim fast because I knew Maria would come straight to my body to get the watch. So I pried open the watch to make it look like somebody had beaten her to it, and she fell for it. You and the team arrived shortly afterward.”

  “How did you recover fast enough to deal with the watch?”

  “Maria slapped a fob on me. It got me out painlessly. Which reminds me.” I peeled it off the back of my neck and handed it to him. “Too bad it only seems to work for specific sims, not for general network access. I would have been happy to skip all the kicking and screaming.”

  “I wish you could have.” Kane rubbed his hands over his face and stood up. “I have to get back to Harchman’s. Now that I know how deeply Maria was involved, I’ll want to question her personally. And I need to check in with Webb. Can you and Hellhound take the Honda back to Calgary? You can pick up your car, and drop him off at home. And you can go home, too.”

  “Sure, no problem.” I got up, too. “I’ll just get changed. Oh.” I took off my watch and handed it to him. “You’d better take this.” I picked up my backpack and headed for the bathroom.

  Kane stopped me with an outstretched hand. “Thank you. For all you’ve done. I’ll likely be in touch again soon with more questions.”

  “Okay. You know how to find me.”

  Chapter 45

  By the time I stepped out of the RV in my leathers, Kane was gone and Hellhound was slouched in the folding chair with his eyes closed.

  He jerked upright at the sound of the door. “Ya ready to ride, darlin’?”

  I nodded, and he gave me a grin that did nothing to hide the bleakness in his eyes. “Seems to me, ya said once that the only way you’d double on a bike was if ya were drivin’. Ya wanna arm-wrestle for it?”

  “Not a chance. I know I wouldn’t win, and I wouldn’t be safe to double us anyway. You can drive.”

  “Good. ‘Cause I’m hatin’ to hafta ride a Honda. ‘Specially this pathetic little 750. If I hadta ride on the P-pad, too, my dick’d prob’ly just shrivel up an’ fall off.”

  I laughed. “Can’t have that. Let’s go, macho man.” I stopped. “Wait, what about your helmet?”

  “It’s back at home.” He picked up Germain’s full-face helmet and put it on. “This ain’t as cool as my brain bucket, but at least it hides my face so nobody’ll recognize me on this piece a’ shit.”

  I laughed. “You’re such a snob.”

  He chuckled and swung onto the seat, and I climbed on behind him. I hooked my boot heels over the passenger pegs and groaned. “We might have to stop halfway there so I can stretch my legs. Why the hell do they think all passengers are five-foot-nothing?”

  Hellhound reached back to run a hand down my leg. “Love those long legs of yours.”

  I wrapped my arms around him. “Let’s get out of here.”

  We arrived at the bike dealership just in time to return the motorcycle before they closed for the day. I dismounted stiffly and limped around for a few minutes, trying to get my knees working while the dealer filled out the paperwork. When everything was duly signed, I gratefully sank into the driver’s seat of my Saturn.

  Arnie climbed cautiously into the passenger seat. “This ain’t bad,” he said. “Usually I can barely get into these little tin cans.”

  “Watch your mouth,” I admonished. “Don’t talk that way in front of my car. And besides, it’s plastic, not tin.”

  He chuckled. “No offense. This is a fine car, darlin’.”

  I patted its dash. “Yeah, it is.”

  As I put the key in the ignition, Hellhound’s stomach let out a horrendous growl. I turned to him, counting back hours. “Jesus, Arnie, when did you eat last?”

  “Yesterday breakfast,” he admitted. “But I don’t need food the way you do,” he added quickly at my look of horror.

  “Yes, you do. Where do you want to go for supper? No argument,” I added as he opened his mouth to protest.

  He gave me a half-smile and leaned his head back, his eyes closing. “I don’t care. Surprise me, darlin’.”

  By the time I pulled out into traffic, he was fast asleep.

  I debated while I drove, and decided on a restaurant as close to his place as possible to prolong the drive. He’d been starving and in agony for a day and a half. At least he’d get nearly half an hour of sleep in the car.

  I pulled into the parking lot and spoke his name quietly. He started violently, fists clenching.

  “It’s okay,” I soothed. “We’re at the restaurant, that’s all.”

  He blew out a breath. “Shit, did I fall asleep?”

  “Yeah. You needed it.”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed a hand wearily over his face. Then he glanced up at the restaurant sign and turned to me with a slow smile. “Is this a hint, darlin’?”

  “Maybe.” I grinned back at him.

  We got out of the car and went into the tiny sushi restaurant we’d visited in the spring. As before, the sushi chef greeted him warmly, and we took our usual seats, our backs to the wall.

  We ate a leisurely meal, and I was glad to see some colour return to his face. We didn’t talk much but the silence was comfortable. As we sipped tea after the food, I reached for his hand.

  “Do you want some company tonight?” I studied his face, trying to read him. “It’s okay if you just want to be alone, though.”

  His fingers tightened on mine. “I’d like some company, darlin’,” he said quietly. “Might feel kinda empty at my place tonight.”

  I squeezed his hand in sympathy. “Maybe he’s hiding.”

  He said nothing, and we left the restaurant in silence.

  When we arrived at his door, Hellhound squared his shoulders as he pushed his key into the lock. His foot went automatically to the crack of the door as it swung open, but no furry face appeared. I put my arms around him, feeling his pain as if it was my own.

  We were about to step into the apartment when a lock clicked behind us. We swung around, tensing reflexively.

  A wizened face with birdlike black eyes regarded us through the crack of the neighbouring door.

  “Arnold! Good heavens, young man, what have you done to yourself?” demanded a high, cracked voice. “You look like something the cat dragged in.”

  I winced inwardly at the unfortunate choice of w
ords, but Hellhound gave a tired smile. “Hi, Miz Lacey. I just got in a bit of a scrap. Nothin’ to worry about.”

  “Didn’t I warn you that you’d come to grief some day? All the music and drinking and fast women.” The door didn’t open any further, but the sharp black eyes raked him through the narrow gap. “Well?”

  “Well, what, Miz Lacey?”

  “Where are your manners, young man? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  “Miz Lacey,” Hellhound said patiently. “I’d like you to meet Aydan Kelly. Aydan, this is Miz Emma Lacey.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I said.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” she replied. The eyes rose a couple of inches as she drew herself up proudly. “I’m a retired schoolteacher. I’ll be eighty-nine years old in September. Arnold drives me to my appointments and takes me out to buy groceries. And I look after John Lee while Arnold is away.”

  A spasm of pain crossed Hellhound’s face, but his voice was even as he said, “It was nice talkin’ to ya, Miz Lacey. We gotta be goin’ now.”

  “Not so fast,” she snapped. “I have something of yours. I’ll give it back if you promise not to be so careless with it in the future.”

  Hellhound looked puzzled. “Sorry, Miz Lacey, what’ve ya got?”

  “This.” The door swung open, and a large furry body darted into the hallway, bumping up against Hellhound’s legs and purring like a tractor.

  Hellhound fell to his knees and scooped Hooker up. The big cat squirmed up his chest and wrapped both front paws around Hellhound’s neck while the purring redoubled.

  My knees let go, too. I threw my arms around both of them and buried my face in Hellhound’s shoulder. It took a few moments for me to regain my composure. Finally, we both stood, and I furtively wiped my eyes.

  “Thanks, Miz Lacey,” Hellhound said gruffly, his face hidden in Hooker’s long fur. “Where’d ya find him?”

  “Wandering the halls,” she replied tartly, but her face was soft as she watched the reunion. “You should be more careful about leaving your door open.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Hellhound agreed. “I will. Thanks again.”

  “You’re welcome, Arnold.” The door clicked closed, and we stood for a moment in the hallway, listening to the purring.

  Hellhound turned toward his own apartment like a sleepwalker. I followed him inside and locked the door behind us.

  “Do you want me to make some coffee?” I headed for the kitchen to give him a minute.

  “No, thanks, darlin’. But I could sure use a beer. Grab one for yourself, too, if ya want.”

  I took my time getting the beer. By the time I returned to the living room, Hellhound’s face was split by an enormous grin. He muttered fond abuse into the twitching ears while he roughly massaged the big cat’s scruff. Hooker tucked his scarred nose into Hellhound’s beard and rumbled with purrs.

  “He musta slipped out the door when those two dirtbags came in,” Hellhound said. He ran his hand tenderly over the long fur. “Goddammit, ya big dumb-ass hairball, ya scared the shit outta me.”

  I set the beer down beside Hellhound’s favourite chair and curled up on the sofa opposite. As Hellhound sat down, Hooker apparently decided he’d been sufficiently welcomed. He jumped down, wove through my ankles once as I petted him, and then padded into the kitchen. His demanding meows informed us that his dish was empty.

  Hellhound chuckled as he got up again, and I heard the tinkle of dry cat food hitting the dish. Water ran as the water dish was refilled, too, and then Hellhound rejoined me in the living room.

  He collapsed into his chair with a sigh that sounded like it came from his toes, and took a deep swallow of his beer. Then he reached down beside his chair for his guitar. I drank some beer, too, watching him while he held the guitar.

  His hands caressed it like a lover, and I smiled. He always referred to the guitar as “she”. He’d once told me she was the most faithful relationship of his life, and I had no difficulty believing it.

  He glanced up and returned my smile. “Don’t feel much like singin’ the blues tonight, darlin’.”

  He bowed his head over the instrument and his fingers danced over the strings. An intricate classical piece made me catch my breath. I surreptitiously dabbed my eyes again at the sight of his beautiful, uninjured hands.

  I sat spellbound, my beer forgotten while he finished the piece and began another, utterly absorbed in his music.

  My beer was warm and Hooker was asleep on the sofa beside me by the time Hellhound looked up as if waking from a dream. He smiled. “Ya ain’t drinkin’ your beer.”

  “Neither are you.”

  He laughed and raised the bottle in a toast. I matched it, and we each chugged back the rest of our respective bottles. Hellhound lay back in his chair and let out a thunderous belch.

  “Oh, yeah?” I demanded, and let fly with one of my own. I joined in his laughter, giddy with euphoria.

  I sobered. “You should probably check the place over and make sure nothing’s missing.”

  He shrugged. “Nah. I don’t give a shit. I got the only two things I care about, right here.” He caressed the guitar again, and nodded toward Hooker. “Well.” He paused. “Three things.” He gave me a slight bow from his seated position. “Sorry, darlin’.”

  “It’s okay.” I chuckled. “I’m honoured to be included in such illustrious company.”

  “Ya should be.” He played a blues riff on the guitar and looked up with a wicked grin. When he started to play again, I recognized the lead-in. His raspy voice teased my ears as he began to sing. “I want a long-legged red-head woman, oh, but she won’t treat me right…”

  I got up from the sofa, and he laid aside the guitar. I slid into his lap and whispered against his ear.

  “She’s going to treat you so right tonight.”

  Chapter 46

  I woke in the morning to a heavy weight on my chest. Hellhound mumbled and made a sleepy grab for me as I lifted his arm and slid out of the bed.

  “Back in a flash,” I whispered, and headed for the bathroom, smiling at the memory of the night. Even in his sleep-deprived state, he’d still been amazing.

  By the time I returned, Hellhound was reclining against the headboard, sheets thrown back. I stopped in the doorway to appreciate the view. He might not have a handsome face, but his newly muscular body was all that he’d promised.

  “Like what ya see, darlin’?” he growled in his rough morning voice.

  “Oh, yeah,” I breathed. “Like what you see?” I stretched and tossed back my hair, running my hands down my body.

  His growl got deeper. “Come on over here, an’ I’ll show ya how much I like it.”

  I prowled toward him, pointedly eyeing an outstanding portion of his anatomy. “I can see how much you like it.”

  “Come a little closer.”

  When I neared the bed, he lunged and grabbed me around the waist, pulling me on top of him. I squealed and pretended to struggle, rubbing against him.

  His eyes got hotter as he rolled over and pinned me to the bed. “Now I got ya right where I want ya.”

  His lips traced my collarbone, then drifted down to my breast. As his tongue teased me, I arched against him, opening my legs to beg for his body. One of his hands glided down to begin a leisurely exploration. The hot, sweet tension began to coil up inside me.

  He moved up to kiss me again, just the right amount of tongue while his hand continued its magic.

  I moaned and reached for the tantalizing hardness pressing against my thigh. He caught my hand gently.

  “I wanna pace myself, darlin’. Lemme do a little somethin’ for ya first.”

  Those fabulous fingers did their work, and every muscle in my body tightened as my breath came faster.

  “Ya got such a hot body,” he growled in my ear, his raspy voice caressing my eardrum while his hands caressed my body. “D’ya like this?”

  I gave myself up to his touch. “Oh, y
eah… Oh, Hellhound… Oh… baby…!”

  He chuckled. His hands moved knowingly. “D’ya like this?”

  I gasped wordlessly, teetering on the edge.

  Through half-closed lashes, I saw him watching me with dilated eyes. His adept fingers never faltered. My breath came faster, rising moans on each exhalation.

  “D’ya like this?” he growled as he did something truly exquisite.

  The dam burst, and I bucked against him in helpless, mindless ecstasy. As the spasms slowly subsided, he propped himself above me and leaned down to kiss me slowly.

  “D’ya like this?” he whispered as he slid hard inside me. The world contracted to pure sensation and the sound of my own cries as he rocked into that perfect rhythm again.

  The sun was blazing through the cracks in the blinds by the time I opened my eyes again and flopped over limply. I propped myself shakily up on one elbow and twisted around.

  “What?” Hellhound croaked, his face still half-buried in the pillow.

  “I’ve got a condom wrapper stuck to my butt.” I held it up as he laughed.

  He plucked it out of my fingers and tossed it down beside the bed. “I’ll pick ‘em up later.” He rolled over and pulled me on top of him. “You’re gonna break me with the cost of condoms alone, darlin’.”

  I leaned down and kissed him. “Hey, a love machine like you, I figured you’d get them for a bulk discount or something.”

  “I think you’re overestimatin’ me,” he laughed.

  I did some exploration of my own. “No. Definitely not overestimating you.”

  He groaned, beginning to move to the lazy rhythm of my stroking. “Keep doin’ that, an’ we’re never gonna get outta this bed.”

  “Sounds good to me. But I won’t keep doing that if you don’t want me to,” I teased. I trailed my lips down his chest, then lower. “What if I do this instead?”

  His body tensed under me. “Jesus, darlin’,” he gasped. “If ya do that, it’ll be over in seconds.”