"Maria's missing," I finally said and explained what happened.
He frowned. "That's not good. What did Zeke say?"
"Riley, Maria is missing. I have no way to contact her. That's freaking me out right now."
"Maria is an exceptional agent, Merry." He moved closer to me. He smelled like soap. I loved the smell of soap.
"Don't worry about her. What did Zeke say?"
"That the CIA is convinced I did this." I filled him in on Zeke's investigation into the production company.
But all I could think about was Maria. My imagination was going crazy as I pictured her in a cinder-block cell, a bare lightbulb overhead. Yes, I know that's a cinematic cliché, but it just happens to be real.
"That's good," Riley said. "They don't know about me."
"That's good?" My blood pressure spiked. "It's good that I'm getting blamed for something you did? You selfish bastard!"
"Whoa." Riley held his hands up. "That's not what I meant. I meant they aren't any closer to the truth. That means they aren't ready to act. That means we have time to deal with this."
I shook my head. "You deal with this. My life is messed up right now because of you. I'd like things to go back to normal. Maybe I should just call Langley and let them know what really happened."
He rolled his eyes. He actually rolled his eyes. "I think you're overreacting."
"Oh yeah? Well, Maria has vanished, this town is overflowing with men in black suits, and I am probably going to prison for something I didn't do. Two men are dead over this. You still think I'm overreacting?"
I was shouting, so yeah, I was probably overreacting.
"It's going to be alright." Riley took a step closer and pulled me into his arms.
I pushed away. "Don't try to use your charms on me! I know you too well!"
"I was just trying to…"
I barely heard him because I was halfway down the hall. Once I hit the guest room, I scooped up the script.
"This—" I said as I held up the thick clump of papers, "is about my career. I'm taking it. You'd better start making some phone calls or something. I want you to have this solved tomorrow."
Pushing past him, I stormed out of my house and back to Rex's. After letting myself in, I slumped against the door. Why was I shaking? Was this outrage? Fear? Confusion? Riley was really doing a number on me.
Locking up, I moved through the house, closing curtains. Upstairs Rex was sound asleep. Philby and Martini gave me accusatory glares, as I looked through the door, before snuggling back against him. Gingerly, I closed his door and went into the guest room where I got ready for bed.
As I leaned back against my pillow, I started to read. The script was pretty much like what I'd seen on the screen. My guts twisted as I read about my own missions. It was hard to see myself laid out in black and white. And they had me making stupid decisions and screwing up. Was that from the screenwriter or had Riley done that too? I read quickly until I got halfway through the script.
A page was marked up with a red pen. It looked like they'd taken something out after all. Another character. Rigby.
My eyes narrowed. Riley had written himself into the story. Rigby was the main character's handler. She was blonde and hot, and the guy spy was completely in her thrall. That's when I realized I'd never noticed the spy's name. Throughout the script, he was just listed as Spy. That was weird. He should've had a name, right?
Oh well, what did it matter? It looked like they'd cut the whole story line about Rigby. At least they hadn't crossed it out.
Rigby is confident and smart. Spy understands he's being seduced but can't help falling in love with his handler.
What?
Then I read the most explicit love scene I'd ever read in a book or anything. Yes, I read, but not stuff like this. I could feel the heat rising from my toes to my face. It was far too personal. Too scorching hot. Too familiar…
I set the script down and stared into space for a bit. Then I re-read it.
That's why Riley didn't want me to see it. In his book and in this script, even though it was edited out, Riley had the characters engaged in a love affair that was exactly like the one he and I had had back in Japan. He hadn't just written about my career—he'd included my love life.
It almost hurt to continue reading. I bounced it off the wall. A few times.
In Riley's story he and I were madly, passionately in love. And we had a ridiculous amount of sex. That was all fiction. But we also didn't break up—like we actually had just a few weeks into our romance. In fact Rigby and Spy were planning to spend the rest of their lives together.
Why would he write that? Was that what he wanted? Was he still carrying a torch for me? And what was I going to do about that?
Nothing, that's what. This was just Riley's little fantasy. There was no basis in fact. And it certainly wasn't important. It wasn't what was in the script—it was that it existed at all. Besides, the Agency wouldn't give a damn about any romance. They were worried that the sensitive information regarding my past cases was out for all the world to see.
Oh no. Rex! Had he read it? If he had, why didn't he tell me?
A chill ran up my spine. Over the past two years Riley had inserted himself between Rex and me a few times. And while I was pretty sure things were over between us, I still had a little spark flickering in my stomach.
This wasn't getting me anywhere closer to the truth. It was just one more distraction. I still had no idea who had stolen Riley's book and made it into a movie. I still didn't know why I was being watched by a stoner pizza delivery dude, and I hadn't discovered why Tim Pinter had been in my house, or who had killed him or Dewey.
Argh!
And now I had to worry that Rex had read this and realized how Riley obviously felt about me. Wait. Did Riley still feel that way?
I shook my head to clear it. I had to stay focused. None of that mattered. I had more important things to worry about. Maria for one. The mud run for another. Why did solving this matter to me? Oh right. Because the CIA thought I was behind this.
Time to call it a night. I could worry about everything else in the morning.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Hey you!" Rex kissed me as he came into the kitchen, being far more chipper than the situation warranted.
I'd been sitting at the kitchen table for an hour, staring into space. And I still wasn't any closer to knowing what was going on.
"Any big plans for the day?" Rex asked.
For a second his eyes darted toward the living room, which I took to mean my house and its obnoxious guest. Oh, he'd read it alright.
"I'm going to go for a jog." I stretched my arms up over my head and immediately regretted it because it hurt. Two years out of the field and I was seriously out of shape.
"You alright?" he asked when I winced.
"Oh yeah. Just a little leg cramp."
"Leg cramp when you're stretching your arms?"
"Sure. What else?" Covered that like a boss!
"Okay." He saw that I'd made him coffee and took the cup from the machine. "Just be careful."
I promised as he left. The second the door was closed, I took three ibuprofen. Too bad the stuff didn't work instantly.
It was a fantastic day with an early autumn warmth that made me feel a little better. Okay, now I was outside. Where would I go? The mud run was only one day away, and as I started running, I instantly regretted signing up for it. I can run short distances, and I'm a track star when I'm being chased by anyone with a chain saw. But jogging didn't appear to come naturally to me.
Two blocks away, I was bent over and panting. Why didn't I start getting into shape when we first knew about this? Well, nothing for it now. The girls were counting on me. I stood up and decided to power walk instead.
Now this was more like it. I could do this for at least four blocks. As I moved, my muscles started to loosen up. Could I power walk the course? From what Soo Jin said, there was going to be one long run down to th
e lake.
The terrain in camp would be in my favor because, as I remembered it, that route was all downhill. Surely I could run downhill easily enough. That was just gravity. It'd be more like falling down a hill while upright.
I stopped again. This time I panted a little less, and I took that as a small victory. I was at least six or seven blocks from Rex's house. Someone else was out running. In the distance I saw a man running toward me. No way could I let someone see me like this, so I propped my leg up on a little rock wall and pretended to stretch.
The man was getting closer, although still a couple of blocks away. He appeared to be smiling. Great. It was Riley. That was all I needed. I finally got a little alone time, and he came along.
With the sigh of a thousand martyrs, I straightened up and pasted a smile on my face. Not sure if it was even remotely sincere, but that was how I was feeling. Riley slowed down to a walk, not even out of breath, dammit.
I waved, indicating it was okay for him to join me. This whole jogging disaster had lasted only a few minutes. Riley's expression began to change. He was frowning—and he didn't like doing that because it encouraged wrinkles. He suddenly started speeding up and running toward me.
Rough arms grabbed me from behind, and I smashed the back of my head into the front of the head of whoever had grabbed me. I heard groaning, and another guy stepped in front of me. I was just about to knock him senseless when the whole world went black.
* * *
"Wake up, princess," a deep voice growled.
"It's a little tough to do when tied to a chair and blindfolded," I responded.
Seriously—tied to a chair? Is that the best these guys could do?
"I think we'll keep the blindfold on a little longer," the voice said. "And the ropes too. You broke my nose, you know."
The throbbing in the back of my head was worth it.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" It was really a long shot to ask that. Any smart bad guy wouldn't tell you anything. That was just in the movies.
"The script," the same man answered.
"The script? I'm not sure what you're talking about."
"The one your boyfriend brought home from work."
Oh. That script. As far as I knew, it was still there. Unless Rex had it hidden on his person when he had left this morning, and judging from the fact that he was wearing khaki slacks and a fitted shirt, I was pretty sure it was still there.
"Why do you want it?"
Why didn't they just break in and get it after I'd left? It's not like I'd taken it jogging with me. And what did they want it for?
"Is it back at the house?" the voice asked.
I shook my head. "Rex took it back to the station with him this morning. The feds didn't want it out of their sight."
There was a fair amount of swearing, but I heard two distinct voices.
"Did you steal Riley's book?" I asked. "And then you wrote the script? It was all onscreen, so why do you need it?"
One of my captors cleared his throat. "We just do."
His voice was high and squeaky. It took all I had in me not to laugh.
"You'll have to go to the police and plead your case, then, because that's where it is."
Why did I lie? Because I hadn't finished reading it yet and didn't want them to go to Rex's house. A chill ran through me. What if they did anyway? Would they hurt my cats? Because I'd have to take a finger for every hair they harmed on Philby and Martini.
"Did you read it?" The guy sounded like he'd inhaled helium.
I shook my head. "I was going to. But Rex said he had to get it back. The CIA wants to take possession."
There was the scrape of a chair on concrete, and I thought I detected a slight echo. We were in some warehouse or barn or something. There were a lot of those around, with this being a farming community and all.
"So good luck with that," I added.
An argument broke out between the two men, and I tried to wriggle my wrists. Not zip ties. These guys used actual scratchy rope. I heard snippets of "you idiot!" and "everything screwed up!" And I thought I heard something about llama milk, but that might have been wrong.
The ropes were too coarse and tight. These guys knew what they were doing. My ankles were a little more loosely tied to each of the front legs of the chair. I strained to touch the chair to figure out if it was wood or metal. Metal. Damn. And me without my portable blowtorch.
The air changed around me as someone moved in close and slapped me hard against the face. I didn't cry out, just straightened my head.
"You moron! Don't hit her in the face!" Squeaky said.
There was a brief pause before I heard the other guy ask why not.
"Because she's our only way into the station. And she's going to steal it for us. And if her face is all bruised up, the cops will know something's up before she even says anything."
"You want me to go into the police station and swipe the script? Is that right?" I asked.
This would be my method of escape. These guys were rubes.
"Sure. I can do that," I lied. "I even know where Rex is keeping it. I can have it in your hands in five minutes."
Yeesh. Bad guys sure weren't what they used to be. The second I was in there, I'd be better protected than Fort Knox.
Laughter broke out. Sinister laughter. Like the laughter in a James Bond movie.
"I'm thinking you are thinking that this is your ticket out of here," Gruff said.
He was close. I could smell sweat and bad breath. As much as I wanted to smash my forehead into his nose, I wouldn't do it. There was no point in doing anything that might change the plan.
"You think we're stupid?" Squeaky asked. "We've been watching you and your house."
Yes, I did.
"No."
And that's when I heard it. A low meow. It sounded familiar, but how could I be sure?
"Bobb!" I shouted, repeating the name of a man who a while ago had tried to kill her.
The hiss practically shook the building. Damn it. They had Philby. I guess they weren't so stupid after all.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"You hurt my cat," I snarled, "and you'll regret it. I'll hunt you down and destroy you."
"We won't hurt your cat, if you bring us the script," Squeaky said.
This was a no-brainer. As far as I'd seen, there wasn't anything in the script. Besides, I didn't care if these guys had it. Sure, I wanted to know why they needed it but not bad enough to jeopardize Philby.
"So let's do this," I said evenly.
A familiar object jabbed me in the shoulder. These guys had a gun. Of course they did.
"Don't try anything stupid," Gruff said as someone untied my ankles.
"Don't worry, I won't. Take off the blindfold, will you? I won't be able to walk."
"No, sweetheart," Squeaky said. "We're keeping the blindfold on. At least till we get to the station."
Fine. Whatever. Now I had a different problem. In order to save my cat, I had to give them the script. Right now these guys thought it was at the police station—because that was what I'd told them.
Except it wasn't at the police station. It was at Rex's house. And that was where Martini was. These guys were either lying about having the cat, or they searched the house and were too stupid to find the script.
Regardless, if I told them the truth, I ran the risk of something happening to Martini, or I'd get roughed up because 1) I'd lied and 2) they didn't need my pretty face anymore.
However, sticking with the lie meant I'd have to figure something out once I got into the station. Was it possible that they'd made a copy of the script? I wasn't sure I should pin my hopes on that.
And where the hell was Riley? He'd witnessed my kidnapping. He knew what they looked like and had probably chased their car a ways. Why isn't he breaking down the damn door with an Uzi?
I was on my own. I could stall and wait for the aforementioned rescue, but it might not come for a while. Besides, I wanted to give tho
se jerks what they wanted so that I could take my cat and go home.
"Now that I think about it," I said slowly, licking my dry lips. "I didn't see Rex take the script this morning. It's probably back at his house."
I didn't flinch in anticipation of a punch in the face. But I didn't care. It was more important to me to get Philby back by giving them exactly what they wanted than to keep my pretty face intact.
Silence. I figured it would take them a moment to realize I'd lied. No matter. I'd been hit in the face before. I knew what to expect, and I didn't want these guys to think I was scared.
"Are we going or what?" I asked. "Philby needs her medicine."
Someone helped me to my feet while jamming the gun into my ribs.
"Let's go. Remember, be cool."
"No problem. Philby comes with. I give you the script, and you leave me and my cat alone."
"Fine," Squeaky said.
I was hustled to a car and shoved into the back seat.
"Let me see my cat so that I know you're going to live up to your end of the deal," I snapped.
The weight of a furry bowling ball with legs was tossed onto my lap. As usual, Philby curled up and went to sleep.
At least one of us wasn't worried.
I guesstimated the time it took to drive to the house. I figured about ten minutes. That meant we'd still been in town when they'd slapped me around. My mind worked furiously. Did Rex keep a gun in the house? It wasn't too far-fetched. Lots of law enforcement, military, and ex-feds did.
The problem was, I'd never seen one. Now if we were going to my house, I'd be able to get to the Glock in the kitchen behind the wineglasses or the shotgun behind the couch. But we weren't going to my house. And once I delivered the script and saw that Philby was safe, I wanted to shoot them.
"Who's the guy?" Gruff asked.
"The guy?" I asked.
"Yeah, the handsome blond guy who chased us down the street. The one you were smiling at before we grabbed you."
Squeaky asked, "You thought he was handsome?"
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