Kane handed me one from his pocket and withdrew to the kitchen, and I punched the speed dial reflecting that at least this part of our relationship was going to be convenient. A backup supply of secured phones, and no need to sneak away to use them…
When I reported Hellhound’s new information to Stemp, he asked, “Is your source certain about the meeting times?”
I shrugged even though he couldn’t see me. “That’s the best information I can get.”
“Hm. According to Brock, he was practicing with his band yesterday afternoon at one of the band members’ homes. He says he was at home alone on Wednesday evening. The analysts are attempting to verify that by checking his cell phone records. They’re also doing full background checks on all of Brock’s band members and their known associates.”
“So nothing conclusive one way or the other.”
“Not yet,” he agreed. “But unless Perkins was a band member or was visiting during the practice, it seems unlikely that what you overheard was a negotiation for a contract on your life. In any case, it shouldn’t be difficult to verify. I’ll notify you of any developments.”
I thanked him and hung up, then padded into the kitchen.
“How was Hellhound?” Kane asked as I dug into a waffle piled high with whipped cream and strawberries. My already-full stomach whimpered a complaint but I ignored it.
“Ohmigod, this is amazing,” I mumbled, and went for another big forkful while I composed my reply.
Kane was still watching me, so I gulped my mouthful and added, “He’s fine. He confirmed that the Brock lookalike was negotiating with both Mallard and Perkins…”
“Perkins was the name of last night’s attacker?” Kane interrupted.
“Yeah. Norman Perkins. Stemp confirmed that this morning. He’s putting an analyst onto the case, and the police will still be investigating, too. And he’s assigned Germain to protect Spider, just in case.”
“Good.” Kane hesitated. “Aydan, I’ll do everything I can to protect you, too, but have you considered going to a safe house? At least until we can gather some more data?”
Slicing into the perfect Benny on my plate, I avoided his gaze. “Stemp and I talked about it this morning. I might end up doing that, but not just yet. But…” I glanced up. “…remember, you might be at risk, too. Brock was pretty pissed off at you. If he’s behind all this he might decide to send an assassin your way.”
“I’ll deal with it if it happens.” Kane shrugged easily, but his hand clenched into a momentary fist and his gaze flashed around the kitchen as if verifying its safety. He covered his reaction with a grin. “Maybe you and I should go to a safe house together. That would make it far more fun.”
I managed a chuckle, and he hesitated before adding, “Did you tell Hellhound about… us?”
I busied myself with my cutlery. “No, he was in a hurry so we didn’t really talk. We can tell him together when he gets here tomorrow morning.”
“Aydan.” Kane reached over to still the clattering of my knife and fork. When I met his gaze reluctantly, he looked into my eyes. “Are you avoiding telling him? Are you afraid he’ll be upset?”
“Oh, hell, no.” My smile was as genuine as I could make it. “He’s been trying to push you and me together practically since the day I met him. He’s always telling me what a good guy you are and how I should settle down with you. He’ll be happy for us.”
“Oh…” Kane relaxed into a smile. “I didn’t know that. He really is the best friend we could ask for, isn’t he?”
I ignored the stab of pain in my gut. “Yes, he is.”
Somehow I managed to stuff in a respectable amount of Kane’s delicious brunch. Singing the praises of his cooking, I pled exhaustion and retreated to the bedroom, where I curled into a ball with both arms cradling my overstuffed belly.
My gastric distress held sleep at bay, and after an hour I gave up. When I padded sock-footed back to the kitchen, it was pristine and Kane was absent. He wasn’t in his office, either, and I hovered uncertainly in the hallway of the silent house.
A faint clank from the basement made my adrenal glands leap to attention, but a moment later I recognized the rhythmic sounds of weightlifting. Drawing a breath of relief, I headed for the basement stairs.
When I got downstairs and rounded the corner into the weight room, Kane jerked violently, the dumbbells in his hands crashing to the floor as he grabbed for his holster.
Adrenaline punched into my veins and I spun and slammed my back against wall to face whatever threat he’d spotted behind me.
Chapter 39
A moment later Kane and I both let out a burst of shaky laughter.
“Sorry,” we apologized simultaneously.
“I’m not used to having somebody else in the house,” Kane said sheepishly. “I’m still a little on edge…”
“It’s okay,” I assured him. “I get it, believe me.”
“Did you get some sleep?” he asked as he retrieved the dumbbells and replaced them in the rack.
“No, I guess I ate too much.” I shrugged. “And it’s an unfamiliar bed. You know.”
He nodded. “Would you like to go home?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. I feel naked without my waist pouch.”
A spark kindled in his eyes. “Naked is a good look for you.”
I summoned a grin and gave him an appreciative up-and-down look. “Ditto. But don’t even think about getting me naked for at least an hour or two. I’m still so stuffed that if you squeeze me I’ll explode.”
True in more ways than one.
He slung a towel around his neck and moved closer, studying me. His shoulders loomed over me, and I gave in to my claustrophobia with a quick sidestep into the doorway so he couldn’t pin me against the wall.
“Aydan…” Kane’s fingertips lifted my chin so he could look down into my eyes. “You didn’t eat that much brunch. You fibbed to me, didn’t you? You really did eat a full lunch with Jack.”
I couldn’t quite prevent my gaze from slipping sideways, and he made a sound that was half-groan, half-chuckle. “Aydan, for heaven’s sake! You didn’t have to hurt yourself just because I cooked for you.”
“It was so good I couldn’t resist,” I mumbled.
“Well, next time tell me the truth. Trust me, I won’t be hurt.”
I was pretty sure he was fibbing a bit himself, so I reached up to kiss him. “Next time I’ll call you before I eat anything.”
“Deal.” He dropped a kiss on the end of my nose. “Ready to go?”
“I’m not in a hurry. Finish your workout.”
He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me toward the door. “I’m finished. I wasn’t really working out; just killing time until you got up.”
At my farm, I handed him the key and waved him toward the house with the best smile I could muster. “I guess we should’ve gotten a key cut for you while we were in town. Let yourself in; I just have to get my waist pouch from the garage. I’ll be there in a minute.”
He nodded and headed for the house, and I strode toward the garage. My steps slowed as I approached it.
At the door, my hand hovered reluctantly above the doorknob. The windows were still covered with tarps and cardboard. I couldn’t see in. What if somebody was waiting for me inside?
Or what if…
The hair rose on the back of my neck, cold sweat turning my skin clammy.
What if the tortured soul of Norman Perkins still lurked inside? Some half-seen phantasmal form struggling eternally against the implacable steel, broken body arched in agony, hands clawing the air…
“Cut it out!” My voice came out thin and shrill and I backed away, panting as if I’d run a mile. I swallowed hard and pitched my voice down to a menacing growl. “Get it together, chickenshit.”
Not giving myself time to think, I strode around to the nearest overhead door and punched the combination into the remote opener. Gun drawn, I spun to press my back against the outer wall as
the door began to roll up.
No earthly or unearthly intruders greeted me. I ducked around the corner, snapping a glance around.
Everything was as it had been the previous night. My vehicles were all in their accustomed places. The drawer of my big floor-standing tool chest was still pulled out, awaiting the return of the screwdriver that had been cleaned and laid on the floor beside my Chevy.
I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then another.
Then I holstered my gun and started removing the window coverings, averting my gaze from the rebar.
When everything was folded and stowed away, I clenched my teeth and turned slowly.
Look at it.
Just look at it.
Nothing to fear. Just ordinary reinforcing steel, waiting for a concrete pad.
When I finally managed to force my gaze toward it, the memory drove me back a couple of paces, my knees turning to jelly.
“It’s just rebar,” I ground out. “My rebar.”
I stooped and picked up the screwdriver, my fingers clenching on it so tightly my knuckles glowed phosphorescent.
“My screwdriver.” I carried it to the tool chest and pried my fingers loose with difficulty to lay it in the drawer. “My tools. My garage.” My voice rose to a shout. “My life! My dream, dammit, and I’m not letting you take it!”
“Aydan?”
I wish I could say I yelped or swore, but the truth is I spun around with a scream that would have made a slasher-movie actress proud, and damn near shit my pants.
Kane slammed his back to the wall, hand on holster and head snapping around in an attempt to identify the threat.
I slumped against the fender of the Chevy, clutching my chest with one hand and flapping a feeble calm-down gesture with the other. “Sorry,” I quavered. “Everything’s okay. You just scared the hell out of me.”
“Oh.” He let out a breath and came over to hug me. Under my ear, his heart thudded almost as rapidly as mine. “I’m sorry I scared you. I was coming out to see what was taking you and I thought I heard yelling.”
“That was just me.” I grimaced up at him. “You didn’t realize what a nutjob I am, did you? If you want to call it off, I’ll understand.”
My faint hope was dashed when he stared down at me, frowning. “Aydan, I hope you’re not serious. I love you. And I understand better than anyone what you’re going through right now. For better or worse; that’s the deal.”
I pressed my face into his chest so he couldn’t see my expression, and his arms tightened around me.
I fought the panicky smothering sensation for as long as I could before pulling away. When I did, I detected that tiny flash of disappointment in his eyes again.
Shit. I should have reciprocated.
I pushed a smile onto my face. “I love you, too. And I’m in it for the long haul, just like I promised.” I turned away. “There’s my waist pouch.” I hurried over to retrieve it and then turned back to him, trying not to look as though I was barricading myself behind my workbench.
The trapped sensation gnawed at me, and I forced another smile onto my aching face. “I’m feeling so gross, I think I need to go for a run. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in the house? Or if you’ve got things to do today, you can head back into town and I’ll meet you later.”
“No, I’ll run with you. I don’t want you unprotected.”
“Oh…” I tried not to look as though I was gritting my teeth. “Thanks…”
The waist pouch vibrated in my hands and I yelped and flung it away as if it had bitten me. The instant after it left my hand I realized what had happened. Growling obscenities, I chased after it to retrieve my phone, which was fortunately still vibrating.
At the sight of Spider’s home number I hurriedly pressed the Talk button. When I said hello, Linda’s worried voice made my heart clutch.
“Hi, Aydan, it’s Linda…”
“What’s wrong?” I demanded.
“Oh…” She attempted a laugh, but it trembled into silence. “It’s that obvious?”
I pushed back my fear. If it was an emergency she would have just blurted it out.
“Well, you do sound upset. What is it, Linda?” I asked in a gentler tone.
“I’m calling because…” She hesitated and lowered her voice as though afraid to be overheard. “I’m worried about Spider. He’s so down, and all he can tell me is that it’s a work thing. I was hoping he’d cheer up now that Carl’s staying with us, but if anything he seems more worried. I can hardly believe he got suspended but he won’t tell me why, and… I just… I know you can’t tell me, either, but Tyler has been making it sound as though Spider got caught doing something really bad…”
“Don’t listen to Brock,” I comforted. “He’s the one who caused the problem in the first place. Spider hasn’t done anything wrong and the only reason he got suspended was because he got caught in the crossfire between Brock and me.”
“Oh.” The word came out on a breath, and she added, “Oh, thank goodness! I just couldn’t imagine him doing anything bad enough to get suspended.”
“Don’t worry, Linda, he hasn’t done anything wrong and I’m going to figure out a way to fix things at work so this doesn’t happen again.”
The already-taut muscles in my neck and shoulders tightened up even more at the thought of yet another problem, and I kneaded them fruitlessly with my free hand.
“I’ll come over and talk to Spider,” I promised. “Is it okay if I come in about half an hour?”
“Oh. Um, thanks, Aydan, but we have plans. We’re going down to Calgary to see a sci-fi movie at the IMAX this evening. I’m hoping that will cheer him up.”
“Good idea,” I agreed. “What movie are you going to see? And is Carl going with you?”
“Yes, he’s the one who suggested it…”
I drew a silent breath of relief. Thank God for Germain. They’d be safer away from their house.
“…and, um…” Linda giggled. “Actually, I don’t remember the name of the movie. I’m not really into sci-fi. It’s Galaxy Something… or no, um… Something-Something Universe…”
I laughed. “It’s okay, Linda, I’m sure Spider will tell me all about it the next time I see him. And you’re right; a new movie will definitely cheer him up. Don’t worry; and tell him not to worry, either. Everything will work out.”
“Thanks, Aydan. At least I know nothing really bad is happening. That helps a lot. Talk to you later!”
As I hung up the phone, Kane gave me an inquiring look.
“Linda,” I explained. “She’s worried about Spider.” I drew a deep breath and rolled my shoulders, trying to ease the heavy weight of my promises. “Let’s go for that run.”
The afternoon dragged on. After our run I retreated under the hood of the Chevy, and Kane insisted on helping.
With a couple of beers and some therapeutic wrenching I finally eased into the soothing rhythm of automotive work. We lapsed into a comfortable silence broken only by the clink of wrenches, the quiet slosh-fizz of our communion with the beer bottles, and an occasional muffled expletive when one of us sacrificed some knuckle-skin to the god of backyard mechanics.
When the crunch of wheels on gravel drifted from the lane, we jerked upright and exchanged a single wide-eyed glance.
I hadn’t heard an engine, and we’d closed and locked the gate…
Chapter 40
Hands hovering over our holsters, Kane and I sprang to press our backs against the wall next to the man-door. My heart banged hard enough to shake my entire body while the sound of crunching wheels drew closer, interspersed with muffled thumping.
“Aydan! Hello! Anybody home?”
“Shit,” I growled to Kane. “It’s Tom.”
We let out a simultaneous breath and I shook the tension out of my hands before opening the door to emerge blinking into the sunlight. Kane stepped out behind me, and we both stopped short.
A matched pair of gigantic brown horses
stood patiently side by side, swishing long white tails and occasionally shifting hooves the size of dinner plates. Behind them, an old-fashioned wagon was crisply painted in red and black and piled with bales of golden straw.
But it was Tom’s sudden grab for the shotgun that made us freeze.
He didn’t quite point it at Kane. But he didn’t lower it, either.
“Hi, Tom,” I chirped with frantic gaiety. “Wow, what a beautiful team and wagon! And are these your grandkids?”
Apparently realizing that two sets of round eyes were watching his every move from the wagon, Tom gave me a thin smile and replaced the shotgun in the bracket beside the driver’s seat.
“Hi, Aydan,” he said. His voice hardened. “Kane.”
Kane nodded, his body tense beside me.
“Aydan, this is my son, Cory.” Tom gestured to the driver beside him with visible pride. “Cory, Aydan Kelly.” A younger version of Tom transferred the reins to one hand and tipped his cowboy hat with a smile. “And this is my daughter-in-law, Charlene,” Tom went on, indicating the plump smiling young woman sitting on the bales. “…and my grandkids, Jackson and Emily.”
“Hi!” Jackson swung tiny cowboy boots over the edge of the bales and jumped down. Straightening his small cowboy hat with dignity, he marched over and offered us each a manly handshake.
Tom swung down off the driver’s seat to hover protectively behind him, casting a hard look at Kane.
Kane ignored Tom, stooping to accept Jackson’s handshake with gravity. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Kane said. “I can tell you’re the man of the house.”
“Wight.” Jackson planted his feet apart, hands on hips. “Daddy and me takes caew of Mommy and Emmy.”
Kane nodded seriously and straightened, and Jackson’s gaze travelled up and up to track Kane’s full height and the breadth of his shoulders.
“Wow,” he said. “Aw you Soopooman?”
Kane chuckled. “No, I’m not Superman.”
Spy Away Home (The Never Say Spy Series Book 10) Page 30
