“Why, darlin’?” Arnie’s gentle rasp threatened to shatter my veneer of composure, and I forced another laugh.
“Probably because he doesn’t swing that way, but I’m only guessing. Who knows, maybe he’s dying to hear about your big date with Rosy Palm and her five daughters.”
He chuckled. “Funny. But that ain’t what I meant, an’ ya know it.”
“I know. I just…” I drew a steadying breath. “Please… I don’t want him to know.”
“Darlin’, he already knows ya went through hell with your ex. Ya told him yourself.”
“But he doesn’t know…” I had to stop and swallow. “…any specifics. And I’d like to keep it that way.”
“But, Aydan…” Hellhound hesitated. “Look, darlin’, I know you’re just tryin’ to protect yourself, but I’ve known Kane since we were kids. He ain’t gonna do that stuff to ya.”
I blew out a breath and reined in my emotions. “I can’t let him have any more weapons to use against me.”
“But he ain’t-”
I kept talking over his protest. “Don’t you see? As an agent he’s trained to manipulate people. When he was my handler, he had full access to all my psych evaluations. If he decides to use that knowledge and those skills on me, I won’t have a chance.” I yanked shaking fingers through my hair. “Hell, he’s already doing it. I don’t have a chance. And if… when… he wins… I just…”
My voice choked off and the silence on the line expanded. Finally I drew a trembling breath. “As long as I think he doesn’t know exactly how to hurt me, I can keep believing he’s not doing it on purpose. It’s… It’s the only way I can get through it.”
The silence on the line felt too fragile.
I had revealed too much. Trying to protect myself from Kane, I had left myself completely vulnerable to a man who was, first and always, his best friend. Dark sickness consumed me.
“Aw, darlin’,” Arnie said at last, the tenderness in his voice making tears burn my eyes. “I wish ya could see how wrong ya are, but don’t worry. I ain’t gonna say anythin’.”
I swallowed hard, afraid to reach for the small gleam of hope. “P-promise?”
“Promise. I ain’t a shrink an’ I sure as hell ain’t gonna play Cupid.” His serious tone dissolved into playfulness. “’Cause I’m thinkin’ a diaper an’ a little bitty bow an’ arrow ain’t really a good look for me.”
I squeezed my eyes shut so tightly I saw stars. “Thank you so much…” I quavered before clamping down on composure to add, “…for a mental image no amount of brain bleach will ever erase.”
Hellhound laughed. “No problem, darlin’. What’re friends for?”
“You always hurt the one you love,” I quipped, suddenly feeling a hundred pounds lighter.
“Yeah.” The humour was gone from his voice. “An’ I wanna go lay a world a’ hurt on your fuckin’ asshole ex.”
“Don’t hurt him,” I said hurriedly.
A moment of silence quivered on the line. “Fuck, darlin’, that is some serious programmin’,” Hellhound rasped. “That was a total knee-jerk, wasn’t it?”
“Not really,” I semi-lied. “It’s just that I haven’t seen him for years, and I don’t ever want to again. And I especially don’t want to see him in a courtroom where you’re on trial for assaulting him.”
“I could just kill him,” Hellhound offered helpfully. “Or call up Weasel an’ get one of his slimeball buddies to arrange a little accident.”
I was pretty sure he was joking. But not positive.
“No, that’s…” I began.
Inspiration struck like a lightning bolt and I sprang up from my chair, excitement sizzling in my veins.
“…brilliant!” I finished, grinning. “Arnie, you’re a genius!”
Chapter 19
“Good. Gimme his full name an’ birth date,” Hellhound said with chilling efficiency. “Identifying scars an’ marks, his parents’ names, any brothers an’ sisters, friends’ names, an’ the place he was workin’ when ya saw him last.”
Gulp.
He hadn’t been joking.
“Uh, no, Arnie, I didn’t mean I wanted you to kill my ex,” I backpedalled rapidly. “I just meant you’d given me an idea for this case I’m working on.”
“Oh.” He sounded slightly disappointed, and I made a mental note never to wish anybody harm in his earshot unless I was serious about it. “Well, that’s good, I guess,” he added. “But why does that give ya an idea? D’ya think your ex’s behind this case you’re workin’ on?”
“No, I’m sure he’s not. I had just forgotten about Weasel and his contacts in the underbelly of society. Could you do me a favour? Could you please ask him if anybody’s been sniffing around looking for a cheap assassin lately? Or a kidnapper,” I added after a moment’s thought. “I’m not really sure which.”
“Sure, darlin’. Who’s the mark?”
“Oh…”
Shit. Me and my big mouth.
“Uh… me.” Tense silence vibrated on the line and I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for his explosion. “Actually Arlene Widdenback,” I added nervously into the void.
After another moment of silence, Hellhound spoke, his voice tightly controlled. “Okay. What d’ya want me to do if I find out somebody’s gunnin’ for ya?”
I dropped back into my chair, trembling with relief. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
A little humour seeped back into his tone. “Just last night, so don’t do it again for a while or you’ll freak me the hell out.” The killing-machine voice returned. “So what d’ya want me to do?”
“Nothing, just let me know anything you find out. A name would be ideal, but times, dates, descriptions of the people involved, places; anything at all would help. And remember, Weasel thinks my name is Jane.”
“Yeah, I remember. Ya wanna tell me the whole story now? Is this the ‘back-to-work bullshit’ ya were talkin’ about?”
I sighed and capitulated. “Yeah. Some idiot blasted his way through my front door with a shotgun Thursday morning. He didn’t survive the experience so I couldn’t question him, but he had my picture and stats, and some nylon zip-ties in his car. He was strictly small-time, so we’re waiting for the next one to show up so I can trank him and interrogate him.”
“Waitin’ for the next one…” Hellhound trailed off incredulously. “Shit, Aydan, no wonder you’re so fucked up right now.” I took no offense as he went on, “Ya shouldn’t be dealin’ with this shit straight off your last mission. Why doesn’t Stemp put ya… in…” His words slowed to a halt.
“A safe house,” I finished wryly. “So you see my problem.”
“Shit. Yeah. Okay, darlin’, I’ll talk to Weasel an’ see what the word is on the street. Tell me about your shooter.”
I gave him all the details, confident that his infallible memory would store it and relay it with perfect accuracy to Weasel.
“…and that’s all I know so far,” I finished.
“Awright. Soon’s I hear anythin’ I’ll let ya know. But lemme come up there an’-”
“No, Arnie. Thanks, but no.”
He blew out a breath. “Okay. Same thing goes, if ya need anythin’, call me right away.” He hesitated. “Don’t take this wrong, but… I love ya. ‘Bye.”
“Thanks,” I said, but he had already hung up.
Smiling, I turned back to my computer only to be confronted by Kane’s email again.
“…reply to this email with the word ‘no’…” The words stood out in the message as if rendered in blood.
I seized the sand-filled rubber stress ball that sat beside my keyboard and mangled it left-handed while I browsed for specialty hinges, ignoring the email as hard as I could.
My search was half-hearted while my mind circled, darting fearfully toward a decision only to break off at the last instant and shudder away.
The kindest thing for everybody would be to simply reply ‘no’. It would be a clean break for Kane, and h
e could go on to find the relationship he deserved.
I tortured the stress ball a little more.
But if I believed Kane deserved a good relationship, didn’t that mean I thought he was a good person? And if he was a good person, why should I avoid being with him? My fear was far out of proportion; I knew that. I should just be reasonable. Give him what he wanted…
A tiny terrified voice yammered, “No-no-no-no!” in the back of my brain, and I tried to shush it long enough to finish my train of thought.
Kane had made it clear that he was giving me space. Didn’t that prove I was safe with him?
My knuckles began to ache and I switched the ball over to my right hand. A sudden thought drove my fingertips deep into its rubber in a deathgrip that jabbed a spear of hot pain through my arthritic thumb.
No. It only proved he knew how to manipulate me effectively. It was the only message that could have made me second-guess myself. Threatening, cajoling, demanding; none of those would have worked. But this…
I stared blindly at the computer screen.
He wouldn’t manipulate me like that.
Would he?
No. I knew he wouldn’t. I was almost certain.
Well, mostly certain…
I hissed out a breath and rotated my head in a futile attempt to ease my knotted neck muscles.
But suppose he wasn’t trying to manipulate me. Suppose he truly wanted a loving, healthy relationship. It would be unspeakably cruel to keep him hanging on and hoping for something I couldn’t give. To let my aloofness slowly corrode his heart and soul until he was just as damaged as I was. The thought made me sick.
Don’t be a cold selfish bitch. Set him free.
I switched back to the email and hit Reply. Stress ball locked in a frozen grip, I watched my trembling left forefinger press the ‘N’.
Then the ‘O’.
Hovering over the Send button, my hand began to shake so violently that I snatched it away from the mouse before it could do anything irrevocable.
The ‘no’ glared accusingly from the screen.
How could I shut him out now, while he was still reeling in the aftermath of his hellish mission? A transfer would force him to abandon his cozy house here in Silverside; force him to leave behind any familiar contacts and routines that might give him comfort. And it was easy for me to say he could find another relationship, but there would be lonely days and nights until then. And even when he did find someone, she couldn’t possibly understand what he was going through because he couldn’t reveal his identity as an agent. He would be utterly alone in his torment.
Because I was a cold selfish bitch.
“Shut up!” I shouted at the ceiling only to wince a moment later, glad there was nobody around to witness that little lapse into crazy.
Shit, I was definitely losing it.
Relinquishing my grip on the stress ball, I laid it beside the keyboard again and carefully backspaced away the ‘no’.
“Goddamn you,” I mumbled. Sudden anger took me by surprise and I sprang to my feet. “Goddamn you!” I yelled at the screen. “You said you wouldn’t make me choose right away and now you’re forcing me to choose! You asshole!”
Snatching up the stress ball, I hurled it at the wall with all my strength. My aim was off and it struck the corner of my filing cabinet, exploding into a sandstorm of fine grit.
“FINE! FUCK YOU, TOO!”
I stormed out of the office before I could destroy anything else and made a beeline for the front door, where I laced on my running shoes.
Pounding down the gravel road at a too-fast run a few minutes later, I savagely wished the best of luck to any assassins who might be lurking around my farm.
Go ahead, assholes. Shoot me. Put me out of my goddamn misery.
They didn’t, of course.
Limping back to the house nearly an hour later nursing the half-healed ankle I’d twisted a week ago, I muttered imprecations with what little breath I had left. Slamming my new steel door behind me, I kicked off my shoes and stomped directly to my office, where I brought up my email program.
I deleted Kane’s email without a second glance.
Then I grabbed the phone.
Chapter 20
Kane answered on the third ring. His ‘hello’ was reserved, and my bravado nearly deserted me.
But not quite.
“It’s Aydan,” I said. “I just deleted your email.”
“Oh.”
He sounded completely emotionless. His stony cop-face hovered in my mind’s eye.
“If you were trying to manipulate me, congratulations,” I went on. “It worked.”
“Aydan, I swear to you I wasn’t-”
“It doesn’t matter.” I swallowed hard and forced the words out. “No matter what you say or how many times you deny it to me, the truth is that you’re a spy. I’ll never be able to trust anything you say without wondering whether you’re sincere or just playing me. Your entire career is built on lies and manipulation.”
Silence stretched between us, impossibly brittle.
“But you’re also a friend.” My voice trembled, and I fought back the fear. “Or at least I choose to believe you are. Maybe I’m wrong, but I have no way of knowing. You said I didn’t have to make a decision right now, so I’m not. If you still want to have anything to do with me after the things I said, I…”
The words didn’t want to come.
The small terrified voice inside my head shrieked, “Danger! Abort! Abort!”
I squashed it.
Locked my trembling fingers around the phone and squeezed my eyes shut.
“I’d still like to be friends.” The phrase fell from my lips in a voice that didn’t belong to me.
My heart flung itself against my ribcage over and over, desperately trying to escape.
The hiss of exhaled breath on the other end of the line did nothing to reassure me.
Silence expanded to smother everything. The ticking of the wall clock faded into oblivion.
“I’d like that,” Kane said hoarsely.
My tension burst like a helium balloon, driving my voice up to cartoon-character pitch. “You would?” I cleared my throat and tried for a more normal tone. “Oh, well, that’s good, then.”
“Yes.” Apparently Kane was having trouble with his voice, too. “That’s good.”
Another silence descended.
“So…” I drew my first deep breath in about a century. “I’m going to go and hide in the closet and have a panic attack, and then I’m going to Fiorenza’s for pizza. Do you want to come?”
A chuckle rewarded me. “For the pizza or the panic attack?”
“Pizza. Or both, if you want. It’s a big closet.”
He laughed, strong and deep. “I’ll meet you at Fiorenza’s. In about half an hour?”
“See you there,” I agreed, and hung up before I could say anything stupid to spoil it.
Then I realized it was only four o’clock and I’d just eaten a couple of hours ago.
“Well, aren’t you the smooth one?” I said to thin air, and headed for the bedroom to change my clothes.
I managed to resist the temptation to hide in my closet, but eyeing my nervous-looking reflection while I brushed my hair, I began to second-guess my decision.
What was Kane feeling right now? Relief? Triumph? Evil satisfaction? Hope? Fear? Or was he wishing I’d said no so he could leave behind my particular brand of fucked-up-ness and find a normal woman?
“And why am I worrying about how he feels?” I demanded of my reflection. “I don’t even know how the hell I feel.”
That was a bald-faced lie. Terror still fluttered dark wings inside my chest, but my reflection tactfully refrained from pointing that out.
I sighed and made for the door.
Bolstering myself with lavish mental praise for not driving as fast as possible in the opposite direction, I pulled into Fiorenza’s parking lot right on time. Kane’s black Expedition was alre
ady there, and as I parked he swung out of the driver’s seat and strode over.
Too late to run.
I squared my shoulders and got out of the car.
“Aydan.” His grey gaze searched my face. “I… It’s good to see you.” He reached as if to take my hand at the same time as I opened my arms to hug him, and we succeeded in rapping each other’s knuckles smartly.
“Oops.”
“Sorry.”
Our words came out simultaneously as Kane switched and went for the hug while I tried for his hand, stymying each other again in a display of awkwardness that could only be rivalled by a pair of drunken dancing bears.
A smile crinkled the corners of Kane’s eyes and he held his arms out from his sides and stood still. “I’m just going to stand here while you do whatever you want,” he said.
Nerves pushed a smartass rejoinder out my mouth before I could stop it. “Really? Anything?”
His smile hooked into a wicked grin as my face went fiery.
“Well, I don’t promise to stand completely still,” he rumbled. “Depending on what you do.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, and gave him a quick hug before pulling away.
“Don’t apologize.” His arms captured me and held me close. “I’m sorry you felt manipulated,” he murmured into my hair. “I didn’t realize the physical part of our relationship meant anything to you. You always say ‘it’s only sex’, so I was trying to keep it from complicating the way I feel-”
“It’s okay,” I interrupted. “I was a little too stressed. It wasn’t that big a deal, and I’m sorry I overreacted.”
“Shh.” His arms tightened before releasing me to look down into my eyes. “No more apologies. Let’s start with a clean slate. Just friends going out for pizza; no baggage, no agenda.” He held out his hand. “Shall we?”
I took it, easing out a breath. “Okay.”
Hand in hand, we headed for the entrance. Just as we reached it, Eddy emerged.
“Hi, Eddy,” I greeted him. “It seems so weird to see you outside the bar. I keep forgetting you actually have a life.”
He laughed. “Hi, Aydan; hi, John. Yes, I like to get an early supper so I can let my serving staff go home. It’s so dead on Sunday nights, I can handle all the serving and bartending myself.”
Spy Away Home (The Never Say Spy Series Book 10) Page 15
