Night Watch--A Novel

by Iris Johansen

  “I’m not joking. After what happened tonight, I’m sticking close. At least until we can figure out what the hell is going on. I think we’d be a lot more comfortable at my house, and you might even find it less intimate. Plus we both know it can withstand a military bombardment. But if you insist on going back to your condo, I’ll be there with you.”

  “My spare room is filled with boxes and junk. There’s no place for you to sleep.”

  He tilted his head. “Oh, we can work something out.”

  “Really?” she said sarcastically.

  “I was referring to your living-room sofa. It’s a stronger line of defense than anyplace else in your condo.”

  “I really don’t think—”

  “I’m an excellent house guest. Magnificent, I’ve been told.” He started back toward his car. “I’ll follow you.”

  “We need to discuss this.”

  “We already have. You’re just too tired and beat-up to realize it. I’ll order Chinese on the way.”

  She was clearly going to lose this one. “Don’t you even want to pack a bag?”

  He pointed at his car. “I keep a suitcase packed in the trunk. I can never tell when I’ll be called to Lisbon or Shanghai on a moment’s notice.”

  “You think you’re impressing me again.”

  “Not really. Traveling sounds glamorous, but it almost never is. I do have an unbelievable number of frequent flyer miles, though. Want to go to Dubai tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Chinese food it is. See you at your place.”

  He climbed into his Ferrari and started the engine.

  * * *

  “YOU DIDN’T STOP FOR CHINESE,” Kendra said as she watched Lynch set his leather suitcase down in the corner of her living room.

  “They’re going to deliver.” He checked his watch. “In about fifty minutes. Which should give us just enough time.”

  “Enough time for what?” she asked warily.

  “For me to get you taken care of.” He slipped off his jacket. “Take off your shirt.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me.” He was heading for the kitchen. “That son of a bitch hurt you. You jumped when I touched your back at the parking lot. Then, when you got in your car, you flinched again. I’m going to take a look at it and see what I can do.”

  “It’s a bruise. It will go away.”

  “I’ll take a look at it,” he repeated as he opened the freezer. “I’ve had my share of wounds and bruises. I know how to get by with as little pain and discomfort as possible. Take off your shirt.”

  She hesitated, then unbuttoned her shirt and took it off. The painful motion caused her to flinch again.

  “See?” He was coming toward her with a large bag of frozen green beans in his hand. “He hurt you. Sit down on the couch and let me take a look at it.” He sat down beside her and gently turned her so that he was facing her back. “Shit,” he muttered. “You’ve got a bruise back here that’s almost a foot long. Nasty.” He undid her bra fastening and pushed it off so that it fell on her lap. “It’s going to hurt.”

  He gently pressed the frozen bag to her back and held it there.

  She inhaled sharply.

  Ice-cold plastic on top of that bruised flesh.

  “It will get better in a minute. Hang in there.”

  It did get better. The ice was causing a numbness to spread over the inflamed bruise.

  “Why ice and not heat?” she asked.

  “Ice is better for the first twenty-four hours. Heat tomorrow.” He was carefully moving the ice bag around the bruised area. “Do you have any Arnica?”

  “Don’t think so. Should I?”

  “It might help. I’ll call a drugstore and have them send a bottle.”

  “You do know about bruises.”

  He chuckled. “Did you doubt me? Hell, yes. I remember one time I was beaten so badly by a tribal leader in Nairobi that I could barely walk. But the next day I knew I had to escape, or it wasn’t going happen. So I learned very fast how to lessen the pain and make it bearable.”

  “How long do you have to do this ice therapy?”

  “Another five minutes or so. Then I’ll massage it for another fifteen.”

  “Massage it?” The idea of rubbing that painful area made her shudder. “I don’t think so.”

  “Trust me. I’ll make it work for you.”

  She was silent, letting the numbness grip and take the pain away. “Why was that tribal leader beating you?”

  “His daughter decided she couldn’t do without me, and he didn’t like the idea of me as a son-in-law.”

  “Lynch.”

  “I thought that sounded pretty good. Much better than his wanting to know where I’d hidden a cache of diamonds he’d stolen that we were planning to use to ransom hostages being held by pirates from his village. Boring.”

  “It depends on how you look at it.”

  “True.” The ice was gone, and she heard him move away from her. “Lie down flat on your stomach now, and I’ll get to the massage.”

  She stiffened.

  “Do it, Kendra. I won’t say I’ll never hurt you. But I won’t do it if it’s not necessary. And it’s not what you’re thinking it’s going to be.”

  She hesitated, then slowly stretched out on her stomach. “It just seems weird and definitely not medically approved.”

  “I won’t touch the bruise itself. I’ll just go around the edges in gentle circular motions.” He was doing it even as he spoke. “Breathe deep and relax. Massage helps your body’s normal lymphatic process to clear it away.”

  “This better not be bullshit, Lynch.”

  He chuckled. “Suspicious woman. You do have a fantastic back, but this isn’t my idea of foreplay.”

  And it wasn’t hers either, but his fingers were skilled and gentle and infinitely soothing. She felt … treasured.

  But she was beginning to feel something else, too, that was not at all soothing. She was acutely aware of her naked breasts pressed against the soft pillows of the couch, his warmth above her, the sound of his breathing.

  “How … long?”

  He went still. “A few more minutes.” Then he continued to massage. “I’m not stopping while I know it’s helping. You wouldn’t want that.”

  “No.” Her voice was muffled in the pillow.

  But that few minutes was a long time.

  Then his hands were gone. “That should do it. Now go get cleaned up while I set the table. It’s almost time for the food to get here.”

  “Right.” She grabbed her bra and shirt, jumped up from the couch, and hurried across the room. “Thanks. You must have done a good job. I hardly felt a thing.”

  “Didn’t you? I did.” His quiet voice followed her. “And if I can make a suggestion? When you change for dinner, why don’t you put on that sloppy sweatshirt you wore at breakfast. I believe we both might be more comfortable.”

  CHAPTER

  7

  “CHINESE FOOD” WAS A VERITABLE feast whipped up by the Szechuan chef who owned one of the most popular restaurants in the city. He delivered the food himself and even insisted on cooking part of it in Kendra’s small kitchen.

  After he left, Kendra stared in amazement at the spread on her dining-room table. Dry-fried chicken with chiles, hot glass noodles, Fei Teng fish, and multiple other delicacies she couldn’t even identify. “This is astonishing. I’m stunned that you were able to get him to do this. I once saw that chef’s picture on the cover of San Diego Magazine.”

  “He’s one of the best.”

  “Okay, so how did you get him to do it? Let me guess … You once rescued him from the clutches of a Macau crime syndicate?”

  “No.”

  “You sprung a family member from one of China’s notorious ‘black jails?’”

  Lynch laughed. “Afraid not. I got Huang here the old-fashioned way. I offered him an obscene amount of money.”

  “You didn’t have to d
o that.”

  “You’ve been through a lot today. I figured you deserved it.”

  She eyed his leather suitcase in the corner. “You’re serious about staying here.”

  “I am. Unless I can change your mind about coming to my place.”

  Kendra thought for a moment, then nodded toward the living room. “The couch isn’t so bad.”

  Lynch smiled. “It’s a nice night. Let’s load up our plates and take these up to the roof. There’s a sundeck up there, isn’t there?”

  She nodded. “It was one of the perks that made me buy the condo.”

  They toted their dinners and a bottle of wine to the table on the rooftop deck, which was illuminated only by the downtown city lights. After eating a plate of the most delicious Mapo doufu she had ever tasted, Kendra leaned back contentedly with her glass of wine. It was good to gaze out at the lights and just let herself relax. Lynch was always disturbing, but tonight he had turned down that high-powered appeal to low voltage, and she felt almost comfortable with him.

  “This feels wonderful. I can almost think.” She paused. “You know, I was pretty scared today.”

  His lips tightened. “I know you were.”

  “And I’m still trying to understand what happened.” She took a sip of wine. “And why.”

  “Are you working on anything else?” Lynch asked. “Any other open cases?”

  “No, it’s been months. I have to think it’s related to what happened to Waldridge.”

  “I can’t disagree. And it’s significant that they wanted you alive. In my experience, people only do that if they think you have something they want.”

  “Like what?”

  “Information.”

  “What information? I’m still trying to figure out what the hell is going on.”

  “Those men might not know that. And you were the last person to see Waldridge. Maybe they think he told you something or gave you something.”

  “But he didn’t.”

  “If they don’t know that…” He leaned forward, gazing down at the wine in his glass. “We might be able to use it.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Nothing at the moment, but it’s always good to keep our eyes peeled for any kind of leverage we can exert.”

  She smiled. “And it’s always interesting to see how the Puppetmaster’s mind works.” She amended, “When it’s not being used to manipulate me.”

  He quickly veered away from dangerous waters. “It’s not half as interesting as watching yours at work. What are you thinking about all this?”

  She shrugged. “Right now I’m wondering about my Fusion-Lei-boots-wearing savior.”

  “So am I.” He grinned. “I’m a little peeved. Swooping in for last-minute heroics is my job.”

  “Yeah, sure. Not likely. Well, maybe on occasion.” Kendra stood up and looked out at the shimmering, twinkling lights of the city. “Was she following me or them? Or did she somehow know about their plan in advance? She said something about things she’d heard about me.” She made a face. “It wasn’t complimentary. But right now, she’s the one I want to talk to.”

  “And you’re sure she’s the same person we were chasing in Big Bear last night.”

  “Positive. Designer riding boots aside. I recognized her voice from the 911 tape we heard at the Big Bear police station. It was definitely the same woman.”

  “But no one you’ve ever met before?”

  “Never. I’m sure of that even though I couldn’t see her face behind that helmet visor.”

  Lynch stood up and came over to stand beside her. “But I’m sure that hasn’t stopped you from picking up some useful information about her. Am I right?”

  Kendra shrugged. “I’m pretty sure she’s from California. Maybe up in the Central Valley around Bakersfield. She’s around thirty, but she’s already traveled a lot in Western Europe. Maybe even lived there for a while. She’s ex-military.”

  Lynch’s lips quirked. “You couldn’t tell which branch?”

  “Sorry. She was riding the same motorcycle as she was last night. She didn’t ride far, though. She’s either staying nearby or more likely she’s driving a truck or van that she uses to tote the motorcycle around.”

  “Really?”

  Kendra nodded.

  “Okay, curiosity won’t be denied. I’m not letting one more second pass without some explanations. I’m assuming the geographic data came from her speech patterns.”

  “Simple linguistics.”

  “Not so simple, but go ahead.”

  “Central Valley residents have a slight but unmistakable twang. It’s a carryover from the Dust Bowl migrant days. I’d say she’s from north of Bakersfield. She’s picked up a few vowel suppressions that are associated with exposure to Romance languages. It can be acquired from a relative or spouse, but more likely to come from longer-term travels.”

  “Very good. But what about the military background? Was she wearing her dog tags?”

  “No. When she came at the guy who had me, she had a distinct forward fighting stance. Front knee bent, weight evenly distributed on the balls of her feet. She probably had military training. She’s in great shape, but she’s no kid. There’s a maturity in her movements. She’s at least thirty, but almost surely under forty.”

  “How about the motorcycle?”

  “Her odor. Or her lack of odor. Anyone riding for any length of time on a warm, sunny day like today should be giving off a distinctive smell … Perspiration evaporated by the sun and wind leaves behind a stale scent. Add automobile exhaust fumes, and it’s a recognizable combo. I didn’t pick up anything like that from her although I recognized the sound of her motorcycle starting up on the street and leaving. She either lives close by or transported the bike here using another vehicle, probably one where she could hide it. That’s why the police weren’t able to find it on any of the roads out of Big Bear.”

  Lynch smiled. “Excellent, as usual. This may be better than a composite sketch.”

  “I’m not sure about that. It’s as close as I can come. But I’m thankful for her, whoever she is.”

  “So am I.”

  She turned to see that Lynch was staring intently at her and had moved even closer. Almost unbearably close.

  He lowered his voice. “You scared the hell out of me today, you know that? When you called and told me you were going back to that place … I couldn’t get over there fast enough.”

  “Not necessary. I’m a careful girl.”

  “Not always. One of the most fascinating things about you is that you’ve made mistakes, and you’ve learned from every one. Yet there’s still that streak of recklessness in you that makes me wonder what would happen if we ever came together. I believe it could be … mind shattering.” He moved still nearer. “What do you think?”

  She wasn’t thinking at all. She could only stare up at him and feel. “I don’t know where you’re going with this, Lynch. I don’t believe you do either.”

  “Maybe. I’m acting purely on impulse. I’ve been doing that all day ever since you called me. But I do know where I’m going. And I know I’ll never get there if you don’t stay alive.” He reached out and took the wineglass from her hand and placed it on a planter at the rooftop’s edge.

  “What are you doing? I wasn’t—”

  He pulled her close and kissed her.

  Hot. Wet. Erotic.

  Full-impact. Just like everything else Lynch did.

  She went still. Then she realized that she was kissing him, too.

  Not enough …

  She pressed forward against him, opened her mouth, and took his tongue.

  She couldn’t breathe. So close … She felt full of him … But not full enough. Her entire body was aching, readying to take more of him. This was Lynch. The center of how many moments of sexual tension that she’d ignored or pushed away? There was no way she could ignore it now. She felt as if she’d been starved, the hunger growing so intense that it had to b
reak free.

  His hands were cupping her buttocks, bringing her into him.

  She arched and cried out as she felt him against her. Then she was frantically rubbing against him, making sounds deep in her throat.

  “Yes.” His eyes were glittering wildly. “Kendra … It’s going to be—” His hands were on her sweatshirt, pulling it up, then off her. “Let’s get downstairs. You won’t like it if your neighbors decide to—”

  “I don’t care.” All she cared about was his hands, which were now on her breasts. “Why should I? This is all that matters. Just do it.”

  “Oh, I will.” His mouth was on her nipple, his teeth tugging. “I don’t know why it took me this long. I’ve been crazy to do this since I first saw you. Things kept … getting … in the way.”

  She knew that, and she’d been the one putting up barriers against Lynch. Crazy. There didn’t have to be reasons when there could be this pure eroticism, when she could have him inside her.

  Reasons.

  She’d told Lynch she had to have reasons. That anything else wasn’t good enough for her anymore.

  That was crazy, too. Not when they could have this moment. Sex was everything, wasn’t it?

  “You’re backing off,” Lynch muttered. “Stop it. Dammit, I can feel it.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You are.” He pushed her away. He was breathing hard, and his eyes were blazing. “You’re thinking, and you’re wondering about what happens next. Do you think I don’t know you by now?”

  “I know you’re not screwing me,” she said fiercely. “And I know I want you to do it.”

  “Shit!” He whirled away from her. “I’ve got to be the stupidest son of a bitch on the face of the Earth.”

  “Come back here.”

  “No, I’m not screwing you.” He was breathing hard. “Because when you woke up in the morning, you’d still be wondering if you’d made a mistake. You’re comfortable with what we have now. You don’t know who the hell I am, and I intimidate you a little.”

  She couldn’t believe this, she thought desperately. She wanted him to shut up and touch her, to come inside her. She took a step closer. “No, you don’t.”

  “Oh, yes. And I knew you’d be vulnerable tonight because you felt frightened and helpless. I even tried to back off. But I still moved too fast. Because I wanted it too damn much. Because I know it’s going to be fantastic.” He violently jerked open the door that led downstairs. “Shall I tell you what would happen if I screwed you tonight?”