“This is getting to be a bad habit,” the spokesman quipped. He glanced around. “Lights?”
“Yeah.” I flipped the switch and we stood blinking in the sudden brilliance. “I just turned them off until I could get the windows covered up.”
“Good thinking. Where’s the body?”
I led them past my vehicles, slightly surprised that neither of them oohed or aahed over the Corvette. Either they were extremely focused, or they weren’t car guys.
“Ooh,” the strong-but-silent Elmer Fudd said as he rounded the corner and caught sight of the body.
“Aah,” the spokesman contributed. “Nasty.”
I couldn’t help smirking at the thought that I’d gotten my oohs and aahs after all. Unfortunately, Elmer caught the expression on my face. He glanced from me to the body, looking disturbed.
I considered trying to explain the inappropriate humour, but mentally filed the effort under ‘probably doomed to failure’ and kept my mouth shut.
After a moment he turned back to the job at hand, and they unrolled the body bag and got to work. When they began to pry the body off the rebar I buried myself under the Chevy’s hood, where I stayed until they carried the bag away.
In a surprisingly short time, they were finished.
“Easier cleanup this time,” the spokesman said with approval. “Too bad you weren’t getting your floor poured tomorrow. Then we wouldn’t have had to do much at all.”
“Well, I’ll try to plan better next time,” I promised with perhaps a touch of sarcasm.
He grunted amusement and they left.
Bone-weary, I followed them to the door and locked it behind them, then stood staring at nothing while I tried to figure out a plan. Or at least a place to sleep.
Maybe I should just sleep in the house. I was probably pretty safe at the moment. It would likely take at least a day for this guy’s employer to figure out that another assassin had vanished with his deposit. Assuming there had been a deposit. Probably should’ve checked his wallet.
“Fuck it,” I said aloud. Stemp’s team would let me know.
Another thought occurred to me and I sagged against the truck to consider it. This guy hadn’t been an assassin. He’d started to say ‘Do as I say and you won’t get hurt’. Or that’s what it had sounded like, anyway.
So if he was just a kidnapper, whoever was expecting me to be delivered to them tonight already knew something was wrong.
And several hours had already passed. They might even be coming to see what had happened…
“Shit!”
I had thought I’d used up every ounce of adrenaline, but apparently I’d been wrong. Trembling, I lurched upright and hurried to the trunk of my Legacy to collect the night vision gear I had originally planned to return to Sirius before all this started.
My heart drumming an anxious tattoo against my ribs, I grabbed my winter survival backpack out of the trunk as well, then stuck the night vision goggles on my forehead and scooped up my sleeping bag before vacating the garage at a trot.
The rain sluiced over me again and I slowed to a halt halfway to the house, shivering. Where could I go?
A top agent like Kane would prepare an ambush inside the house and coolly wait for the kidnapper’s boss to show up, but I was fresh out of courage. The thought of being cornered inside the house or garage weakened my knees and made my stomach churn.
My exhausted mind crept sluggishly from one possibility to the next.
I couldn’t go to the hotel because I’d scream my stupid head off as soon as I fell asleep, and that was far more humiliation than I needed. Not to mention it would require a lot of explanations I wasn’t prepared to give.
Going over to Tom’s was out of the question for the same reasons, plus it would endanger him.
Same with Spider, or any of my friends. Too dangerous.
I could call Kane and ask to stay with him…
No.
He was battling his own demons. He didn’t need the additional stress of protecting me, and anyway, it was time I learned to live without him. No more using him for sex and protection. He deserved to have the life he wanted, unspoiled by my bullshit.
I could drive back to Calgary. Hellhound would keep me safe and give me multiple orgasms to boot…
The dark rain faded around me as I pictured the cozy warmth of his shabby but clean apartment. The sound of his guitar, the sexy rasp of his singing, Hooker purring on my lap…
I swayed on my feet and forced my eyes open.
Shit. Too tired. Phasing out standing here in the rain.
I stumbled forward aimlessly. I couldn’t make it to Calgary. I’d either fall asleep at the wheel and kill myself, or pull over for a nap and get captured while I was fast asleep by the side of the road.
Belatedly remembering my night vision goggles, I pulled them over my eyes and scanned around me, flipping between thermal-only and combined vision. No heat signatures showed, and I drew a breath of relief. Safe for the moment.
Okay, think.
I could sleep in my shed.
But it was windowless with only one door. Nobody could see me or shoot me through a window, but if they opened the door I’d be cornered like a rat in a barrel.
A shudder shook me. No fucking way.
At last an idea seeped into my aching brain.
Stashing my gear outside the visual range of my cameras, I headed for the house. At the back door, I straightened out of my tired slouch and waved at the hidden camera for the benefit of the surveillance analysts.
Inside, I peeled out of my sodden jacket and swapped it for a waterproof one. I was still shivering in my wet clothes, but the thought of getting caught in mid-strip while I put on dry ones negated any thought of changing. Instead, I jogged to the bedroom and rolled a T-shirt and underwear up in a clean pair of jeans. Stuffing the roll into the inside pocket of my jacket, I trotted for the stairs.
A trip to the basement unearthed my fishing tackle, and I detached the reel and stowed it in my jacket pocket. I hesitated. Did I need anything else?
My exhausted brain refused to disgorge any useful ideas, overwhelmed by my adrenal system’s relentless demands.
Get out. Get out fast. Get out now.
I hurried upstairs and was on my way to the back door when the blinking light of my answering machine caught my eye. Fighting down nervousness, I scurried over and pressed the button.
Spider’s anxious voice emanated from the machine, obviously trying to sound casual and failing. “Hi, Aydan. I just wanted to let you know I found something really cool on that website I was telling you about last night. Check it out when you get a chance, okay? Look for timestamp three-forty-five. I hope…” His voice cracked and he swallowed audibly. “…um, I hope you like it. Take care… ‘bye…”
Uh-oh.
I hesitated, torn between fleeing the confinement of the house and finding out what new threat Spider had discovered.
My need for information won and I hurried for the bedroom, Glock in hand.
Finding the data seemed to take forever, though I knew it was only a few seconds. When I opened the file Spider had tagged, the blast of discordant music from my speakers made me yelp and flinch.
Snatches of conversation were barely audible in the din, and I forced myself to listen closely despite my urge to turn the volume down.
Crash-bang-guitar-scream. “…job for you…”
Drum solo that sounded like a twenty-car pileup in progress. “…hate that bitch…”
More discordant screaming guitars. Then the garbled voice that might have been Brock spoke again. “…kill her…”
After a few more moments of musical mayhem, the clip ended.
I stood staring at my computer screen. Three forty-five this afternoon. Was that enough time to hire someone to come and attack me tonight?
Theoretically, yes.
But I could have sworn my attacker had only been trying to abduct me.
I wiped my clammy pa
lms on my jeans. Who knew; maybe he’d been planning to take me somewhere more convenient before killing me. It didn’t really matter at this point. I was alive and he wasn’t, and I intended to keep it that way.
I made for the back door. Locking it behind me, I did my best decisive stride until I was out of camera range. Fatigue dragged at every limb, and I stifled a whimper.
Move your ass. Almost there.
Plodding back to where I’d left my gear, I let numb detachment take over. When I scanned around me with the night-vision headset, a long breath leaked out.
Nothing.
Thank God.
I dragged my backpack and sleeping bag onto my shoulders before trudging for the trees.
Just keep moving. One foot in front of the other.
It was only a short walk to my favourite fallen log but the rain was still pouring down and I was shivering violently by the time I got there.
Should’ve taken a chance and changed in the house.
Too late now. Too tired. And soon I’d have my shelter up anyway.
This particular clearing held hot memories of Kane but they seemed distant, as though it had been someone else wrapping her legs around him and screaming her climax into his iron shoulder.
Anyway, that was all over now. That ship had sailed.
I let the memories fade into the pale icy bubble of detachment expanding around me.
Forcing myself into motion, I set up a rudimentary shelter with the mylar blankets from my survival kit. The rain rattled against it, but I hoped it wouldn’t be audible more than a few paces away.
Apathy weighted my shoulders. Who cared? It was all I had. It would have to do. Stooping against the stiffness of cold overworked muscles, I unrolled my sleeping bag under the mylar.
My eyelids drooped and I fought the urge to just fall into my sleeping bag and hope for oblivion.
One more thing to do.
I extracted the reel from my pocket and paced several yards out from the clearing. Fixing a trail of fishing line a couple of feet off the ground, I made a complete circuit, pushing through the sodden undergrowth and barely flinching when the water-laden leaves tipped their icy burden onto my soggy jeans. What the hell, I wasn’t going to get any wetter now.
I made wraps at knee, hip, chest, and throat height. It wouldn’t stop anybody, but it’d give me some advance warning when they walked into it. Even in my night vision the transparent glint was barely visible. No two-legged or even four-legged intruder would see it.
Dragging myself back to my shelter, I gritted my teeth against their chattering and stripped as fast as possible. Wrestling the dry clothes over my damp icy skin took the last of my strength, and I fell into my sleeping bag. My eyes closed and I slipped straight into hell.
A hunched form rose from the black abyss. Straightening slowly, the figure turned to face me, grinning with Weasel’s yellowed teeth. A bloodstained stake protruded from his belly, but below it his giant erect penis was sheathed in glittering spikes. His grin widened as he uncoiled the black whip in his hand and cracked it with a hissing report.
I tried to flee but my arms and legs were bound. Silent screams tore my throat, futile whispers of sound. Weasel advanced, laughter rolling from his bloody lips like thunder. Thrashing frantically in my bonds, I screamed and screamed…
Another thunderbolt jerked me awake. Rain mixed with snow pelted my face. My struggles had pulled my shelter down and my sleeping bag was soaked, clinging to my body and increasing the horrible trapped sensation.
Hysterical whimpers fell from my lips while I flailed free of my soggy cocoon to sprawl gasping on the ground. Thunder rolled again, but in the silence that followed it I felt rather than heard a new nightmare approaching.
The fast rhythmic thud of rapidly-approaching footsteps.
Chapter 32
I jerked into a crouch, night-vision goggles in place and Glock at the ready. Now that I wasn’t pressed to the ground anymore, I couldn’t hear the footsteps over the wind and rain and thunder. Flipping to thermal-only, I scanned a fast three-sixty.
There.
A flicker of heat signature moving between the trees.
Man-sized.
Coming fast.
I fumbled the goggles back to night-vision. Even my tournament-shooting reflexes couldn’t overcome the violent shivering of adrenaline and bone-deep cold. I trained my shaking Glock approximately where the centre of body mass would be.
Any second now…
A large figure burst out of the undergrowth.
My finger convulsed on the trigger at the same time as recognition jerked my aim off-target.
Kane hit the ground and rolled, his Sig jerking up to point at my muzzle flash.
“Don’t shoot!” My ravaged vocal cords barely overcame the din of the storm. “It’s me, Aydan!”
“Aydan, what’s happening?” He was wearing night vision goggles, thank God. If I could see him, he could see me. He stayed down, his gun steady.
I holstered my Glock and waved, the gesture taking the last of my strength.
“I’m sorry I fired. I didn’t know it was you. It’s safe.” My voice shook, a thin thread of sound against nature’s fury. A livid flare of lightning made me flinch even though my goggles compensated for the brightness. The clap of thunder followed it almost instantly. The storm was right on top of us.
I tried to stand but my trembling legs wouldn’t hold me. The rain and sleet bucketed down and I groped for the waterproof jacket I’d taken off when I’d changed earlier. It wouldn’t do much good now that I was soaked to the skin all over again, but at least it was another layer. I was shaking so hard I could barely stuff my arms into the sleeves.
Holstering his gun, Kane rose to his feet and moved forward only to jerk to a halt, his arms flailing in some complicated martial-arts move.
“It’s okay, it’s just fishing line,” I croaked, my voice all but gone.
“I noticed,” he said as he came toward me, and I realized he had a knife in his hand and the ‘martial arts moves’ had actually been him slashing his way through my makeshift fence.
My brain slowed to a crawl. How could he be holding a knife? He’d just been holding a gun…
“How many hands do you have, anyway?” I muttered.
“Aydan?” He crouched in front of me, his head swivelling to take in the disarray of my erstwhile campsite. “What are you doing out here?”
Explaining was too much work. My thoughts faded to garbled static behind one simple truth.
Kane was here.
I was safe.
I slumped, my muscles melting like sugar in the rain.
I was finally starting to warm up. And I was tired as hell. Maybe I could catch a few zees…
“Aydan!” Kane’s sharp voice made me drag open eyelids that felt like they weighed two pounds apiece. His hand cupped my cheek, so hot that I giggled sleepily at the thought of the rain sizzling and evaporating under it.
“Aydan! Talk to me.” The hot hand patted my cheek firmly and annoyingly. “Aydan, come on. You’re hypothermic. Talk to me. Why are you out here?”
I leaned into the hot hand. “Safe.”
“What? Did you say we’re safe?”
I nodded dreamily, letting my eyelids slip closed.
“Come on, then.” An arm around my shoulders roused me again. “Let’s go back to the house.”
“No.” I shook my head, fighting the warm sleepiness. What had he said?
Hypothermia.
That was bad.
Stay awake.
House. He’d said ‘go back to the house’.
He was lifting me, and I struggled free to balance precariously on rubber legs. “No. Not the house.”
“Why not?”
I shook my head again. My thoughts crept forward, stalled, lurched into motion again, bumping into each other like drunken caterpillars.
Too hard to explain.
“Not safe,” I mumbled.
He was strippi
ng. That was nice.
I watched with remote appreciation while he peeled off his waterproof jacket. In seconds his T-shirt was soaked and plastered to his massive chest and shoulders.
Nice indeed.
He wrapped the jacket around me, the last vestiges of his body heat making me shiver.
“We’ll go to my place then,” he said. “Can you walk?”
“Uh-huh.”
I wasn’t really sure if I could, but what the hell. I put one foot in front of the other, slithering precariously on the snowy ground while his arm supported me.
The snow had stopped, but rain still fell mercilessly and a cold mist rose from the ground. Staggering through the woods and ducking involuntarily each time the lightning flashed, I could feel him shivering against me.
That was probably bad.
I hugged him tighter, but that didn’t seem to help either of us. My steps slowed.
“C-come on, Aydan,” he said through chattering teeth. “Almost there.”
I nodded and concentrated. One foot in front of the other.
When his SUV loomed up out of the darkness I blinked at it without comprehension. He bundled me into the passenger’s seat and buckled me in before hurrying around to the driver’s side.
Then we were moving, the heater fan roaring and blasting too-hot air on me. It rushed by my skin without warming me, and the shivers came back.
“Stay awake, Aydan,” Kane commanded.
“’M awake,” I mumbled.
“Talk to me. Why were you out in the rain?”
I sighed. Talking was so much work.
“Come on, talk to me. Why were you out there?”
I fought off the lethargy. “Long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
I glanced over to see the muscles bulging in his jaw, but he didn’t look angry. More likely he was trying to keep his teeth from chattering. His hair and clothes were soaked, water trickling down his neck.
I fumbled guiltily at his jacket, still wrapped around me.
“What are you doing? Keep that on.”
“You n-need it. You look f-frozen.”
Kane let out a breath, the hard lines easing from his face. “You’re back. Thank God.”
Spy Away Home (The Never Say Spy Series Book 10) Page 24
