Elizabeth walked to the bar tucked into a far corner at the front of the restaurant. The driving rhythm of the B-52s’ “Love Shack” greeted her—Aidan had a boombox on the polished surface of the mahogany bar and was rocking along, his arms and hips moving to the beat. She couldn’t help admiring his grace and the sexy shift of his body to the music. It reminded her of her earlier observation that exotic dancer might well have been his previous employment.
When he realized he had been caught in mid–hip grind, he stopped dead. “In honor of the day you hired me,” he explained, but quickly added, “It’s not too loud, is it?” Hot color rode on his defined cheeks as he crammed his fingertips into those tight jeans’ pockets and shot her an embarrassed grin.
“Not at all. It’s just a little different from our usual musical fare,” she said and motioned to the sound system tucked onto a low shelf behind the bar.
With a quick look at the stereo, Aidan shrugged. “Didn’t want to mess with anything until I was familiar with things. It’s okay that I came early to get acquainted, right?”
Getting acquainted, huh? Elizabeth told herself not to read too much into his choice of words. He was, after all, someone who would eventually leave, and getting acquainted with him could cause nothing but problems. “Feel free to familiarize yourself with the liquor stock and other supplies. The music selection is generally a bit more sedate. When you’re ready, I’ll show you the wine cellar.”
Great, Aidan thought. A wine cellar meant another list with which he would have to deal. In his ear, Lucia advised, “I’m on it. Make sure to bring home copies of the wine list and menu.”
“I’ll let you know when I’m ready for the wines,” he said to Elizabeth, and then continued. “In the meantime, I’ll see if we’re low on anything.” After he finished, he examined Elizabeth’s face, trying to gauge whether she had overheard Lucia. There was nothing there but interest of a different kind.
Or at least that’s what his guy radar was telling him. He hoped it wasn’t wrong because it might make the task of getting close to the Sparrow that much easier, although he was a little disconcerted about how someone supposedly as elusive as the Sparrow was apparently so easy to read.
Unless she’s a very good actress and is stringing you along?
“Thanks,” she replied and pointed with one finger to the back of the restaurant. He noticed then that she wore just clear polish on short, blunt-cut nails. No rings or jewelry of any kind. The hands of someone who used their hands to earn a living. Either chef or assassin.
She continued. “I’ll be in the kitchen. If you need limes, cream or anything else, it’s in the large fridges. Jeremy, the old bartender, would keep some supplies handy in the fridge beneath the bar.”
“Got it,” he replied with a quick salute and his most engaging smile as a way to see if his earlier read had been wrong.
Elizabeth delayed briefly, seemingly unsure of whether to go or stay. Then with a shy wavering smile, she bolted from the bar and to the kitchen.
Aidan waited until he was sure she was gone and not returning, and then went to work.
From a well-worn knapsack he had tucked beneath the bar, he pulled out what looked like four fat sewing needles and slipped them into the back pocket of his jeans. Stepping from behind the bar, he scoped out where he could hide one of them, but still get a clear shot from the fiberoptic cameras built into the ends of the thick needles.
He settled on easing one into the stopper on a commemorative liquor flask sitting on the top shelf behind the bar. The empty flask was obviously kept for decoration and would not be moved often. That camera should give Lucia a clear shot of anyone in the anterior part of the building.
“Are you reading this signal?” he said softly and when Lucia confirmed the view was good, he moved to the other side of the dining room. On an end table tucked into a corner, a candlestick, flower basket and brass lamp in keeping with the restaurant’s traditional-style décor had been placed.
Dark woods and floral wallpaper graced the walls of the room. Landscapes of the Silvershire countryside were scattered here and there, and at one end of the room, a large stone fireplace held logs ready to be lit if the weather called for it. The curtains at the windows were sheer, offering gorgeous views of the gardens and the shore beyond.
The flowers on the end table were fresh and sure to be discarded shortly and while the candle was newer, it, too, would be subject to regular handling and replacement. He settled on working the camera into the top edge of the ivory-colored lampshade, focusing it on the dining area.
Lucia confirmed that the signal was clear, and, satisfied with what he’d done, Aidan paused for a moment to consider how to approach bugging the kitchen. That area was busier than most and usually occupied. Plus, he really had little cause to go in there, except for those supplies Elizabeth had mentioned earlier. Deciding to use that as an excuse to inspect the area, he hurried back to the bar and was thankful that the fridge Elizabeth had mentioned was empty of anything other than an old-fashioned glass bottle of cream.
Quickly striding to the kitchen, he pushed through the door to find Elizabeth and another young woman standing before a table, glumly looking down at something.
“It’s okay, Natalie. It just takes practice,” Elizabeth said, laid a hand on the other woman’s shoulders and gave a comforting pat.
He moved behind them and with his greater height, peered over their shoulders to examine the dish sitting before them. Whatever it had once been, now it was a pile of stuff colored a muddy shade of brown. Blackened edges tenaciously gripped the sides of a white cooking dish. The center had sunk down, creating a network of cracks in the surface that revealed something gooey and unappealing beneath. “What is that?”
With a sniff and a quavery voice, Natalie replied, “My final exam.”
“Oh.”
“It’s a chocolate soufflé,” Elizabeth corrected with a glare over her shoulder and once again patted Natalie’s back in a reassuring gesture. “We’ll work through it together, Nat. By tomorrow, you’ll be an expert and ready for the test.”
Natalie sniffed one last time as she picked up the dish with oven-mitted hands. “Let me dispose of this mess.”
When she walked away, Elizabeth faced him, clearly annoyed. “She’s just learning,” she explained, defending the younger woman.
Aidan held up his hands to ward off further comment. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just came for some supplies.”
Elizabeth accepted his apology and gracefully motioned with her hands to the spacious and orderly kitchen. “Well while you’re here, I may as well lay out the rules for this area. One—don’t annoy the chefs and two—don’t touch the chefs’ knives. You’ve already broken rule one.”
Great. He’d pissed her off. As for her knives…“Your knives being—”
She slipped past him to go to one of the work tables. On its surface was a cylindrical leather pouch tied with a ribbon of leather. He followed Elizabeth and watched as she nimbly undid the tie, grabbed one side of the pouch and with a quick toss, unfurled it to reveal a collection of about a dozen different blades. “My knives,” she said and held her hand out to emphasize the point.
Before he could say anything else, she whipped one large knife from its holder and with a batonlike twirl of the handle through her fingers, she then slipped the blade into a holder on the belt riding low on her hips. A practiced move done with ease. Too much ease, he thought, replaying in his mind how quickly she had taken the knife—one that was easily about eight inches long—and gracefully maneuvered it onto her belt.
Had she gutted Mitch with as much skill?
He bit back his anger and said, “Neat trick. Where did you learn it?” Even as he said that, he was reaching for another knife, but she slapped his hand away.
“Remember—Don’t touch the knives. As for where—in cooking school,” she explained, one hand resting on the table near the pouch, the other just above the knife at her be
lt. Her hip was cocked to one side, like a gunslinger ready to draw. He wondered if she was getting ready to use the knife on him. If he had pushed too far.
When he met her gaze—that sherry-colored, drown-in-me gaze—he realized she was almost testing him. Seeing if he’d follow the rules she’d laid down, as if thinking he wouldn’t or that maybe he was the kind of guy who liked to touch—and not just knives. Her jaw was set in a determined little jut, confirming his read wasn’t all that wrong. “I get it, Elizabeth. Don’t touch.”
Elizabeth nodded and realized that Aidan had gotten the dual message in her words. It both pleased and disappointed, but she told herself not to be disappointed since Aidan was just passing through.
“Glad you get it. It will keep things simpler. Do you want to see where the wines are kept?” She motioned to an old wooden door, made from a few hand-hewn planks, at the far side of the kitchen.
He gave her the go-ahead curtly. “May as well get it over with. I can collect my supplies later.”
Elizabeth walked to the door, which led down into the cellar, Aidan close behind her. She opened it, flipped a switch on the wall, and then went down the flight of stairs to a large space that ran beneath the entire restaurant. As she reached the bottom step, she pointed to the far wall where a series of racks held her collection of wines. “We keep the stock first by color and then by region. Whites closest to the floor where it’s cooler. Reds along the top.”
She continued walking, too conscious of Aidan behind her, but as they moved to the racks, it wasn’t the wine that seemed to get his attention.
“What’s that?” he asked and as she turned to look at him, she realized he was looking at the far side of the cellar, where there was a home gym, boxing bag, mat, lockers and a safe.
“A gym. You’re welcome to use it during the hours the restaurant isn’t serving meals. The equipment is too noisy otherwise.”
A hard look came to his face, but he schooled it and gestured with his hand to the racks of wine. “Anything I can’t touch down here?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “While all the wines are excellent vintages, they’re generally moderately priced. No sense gouging the customers.”
He walked to one of the racks, ran a finger along the bottles as he seemingly inspected the labels. He moved from one rack to the next in that fashion, perusing them intently.
She walked to stand by the end of one rack and clarified, “Italians and local wines are in the first two racks, Californian in the middle, some Australian, Chilean and French in the final section.”
Pausing by the rack of Italian vintages and removing one bottle for a closer inspection, he said, “How do you choose which wines you’ll carry?”
Elizabeth joined him, took the bottle from his hands and examined the label. With a nonchalant shrug, she said, “Tasting trips. Some are recommended to me by others. Like this one.” She returned the bottle to him and continued. “I was in Rome a few years back and someone said I might like it.”
This time his reaction to her statement was quite physical. His shoulders tensed and a muscle ticked ominously along his jaw. “Rome, huh?” he asked as, with almost exaggerated care, he placed the bottle back onto the wooden rack.
“Yes. A beautiful city. Have you ever been there?” she asked, wondering if there was something about that city that bothered him.
He faced her, the hard set of his jaw relaxing a little, and shrugged. “No. I tend to stay to the coasts since I like the water.”
“Surf much?” Her question coaxed back that little-boy smile.
“Surf. Swim. Fish. I’m an ocean kind of guy.”
“Leonia’s a good place for all of that,” she said and headed for the stairs once more, needing to get to work.
“I’ll keep that in mind while I’m here, as well as the gym,” Aidan said and followed the attractive sway of her hips all the way up to the kitchen level. The lady had a nice ass and being a guy, he wasn’t about to ignore the view.
Once they were back in the kitchen, she made a beeline for the prep table, where Natalie and another young woman were busily laying out a variety of ingredients. Elizabeth joined them, suggesting one thing or another and giving instructions. Her tone with them was patient and friendly. Despite her easy demeanor, however, her mind now seemed totally on the work that needed to be done.
Which was perfect for him. He strolled to the large refrigerators in the kitchen, checking out the surroundings to see where he could place a camera. A speaker up at one side of the kitchen caught his eye after he had removed some limes and lemons from the fridge and was returning to the bar.
Perfect, he thought. He’d have to wait for a lull in activity in the kitchen first, but since they were all so busy there now, it gave him a perfect opportunity in the cellar. Grabbing a menu and a pad of paper as if to take notes, he went back down to the cellar unnoticed and once there, walked to the farthest part of the room, near the safe and lockers.
The lockers were like those you would find in a gym or a school. He opened the first few to find some empty and some holding assorted clothes and bags, possibly belonging to Elizabeth’s staff. The last one had an ordinary combination lock that might not take much time to pick. He noted the make, model and serial number to see if there was a way to get a master key to simplify things.
Next, he turned his attention to the safe. Big, gray and old. A bit of rust along the edges, likely as a result of the sea air and dampness in the cellar. Despite that, the lock spun freely and the safe was in generally good condition. Again, he noted the information on the safe in the hopes of getting inside next time he could.
He suspected the safe would hold what most businesses would safeguard—important papers, cash and the like. But he wondered what else it and the locker might hold that wasn’t related to the restaurant. The Sparrow’s records and weapons?
A noise from above reminded him he had to get moving. Shifting back to the first locker, he found a spot for the camera.
“Lucia, come in Lucia,” he said after he had finished positioning the surveillance equipment.
“Perfect shot. I can see the entire cellar.”
“Did you see the label on the wine?” he asked and walked back over to the racks, where he once again pulled out the bottle he had been inspecting earlier.
“A little unclear,” Lucia advised.
A harsh sigh escaped him before he said, “It’s clear to me. This was one of Mitch’s favorites.”
Chapter 4
Elizabeth stretched a kink out of her back. Just a few hours to go until the start of the dinner service and everything was in order and ready. Which meant that she’d better take her afternoon break.
Natalie and Susanna, another of her assistants, had already left for some rest. Both young women lived nearby, as did most of the staff she employed. Which made her question where Aidan would drift?
She ambled toward the front of the building, but he had already departed. Not out of the ordinary, but she got a sense of something not right with him. It made her wonder if he was in trouble. If that was the reason he moved from place to place, never putting down roots. She made a mental note to ask him for some references if he survived his first night on the job.
Closing up, she went to her cottage, changed into jogging clothes and checked out the tide. Low enough still that she could run along the shore instead of the hard asphalt road toward the center of town.
Even though she stayed on the wetter hard-packed sand, her heels dug deep with the force of her strides and so she pushed a little harder. Her arms pumped as she ran, passing behind the main buildings in town and the public access ramps to the beach. As she skirted a protective stone jetty close to the old Roman bridge before turning around, a fine sweat glistened on her bare arms and legs from her exertions.
“Elvis has left the building,” Lucia called out from the central area of the suite.
Aidan put down the microchip he had been laboring over and walked out to view th
e now-empty rooms of the restaurant from the monitors Lucia had set up in the common space of their quarters.
Grabbing a set of binoculars, he rushed to the corner of the hotel room, grateful that Corbett Lazlo had thought to rent a space with windows that faced the shore and the restaurant. Scoping out the area with the high-powered binoculars, he tried to locate the Sparrow, but couldn’t.
“Damn. I’ll have to get something in the cottage so we can monitor her better.”
Lucia joined him at the windows, another pair of binoculars in hand. “Is that where you think she is?”
Aidan looked at his watch. “It’s only three, so she’s got a bit of time until she needs to get dinner going. She could be anywhere, but my money is on the cottage. She strikes me as a homebody.”
“When she isn’t busy being an assassin?” Lucia tossed out.
“So you’re finally convinced it’s her?” he asked and glanced over at his colleague.
Lucia shook her head before bringing up the binoculars once again. “Either that or there’s a hell of a lot of coincidences.”
“Hmm.” He turned his attention to searching out the grounds of the restaurant and the cottage, but he could see nothing.
A moment later, however, Lucia chuckled loudly. “A homebody, huh?”
Aidan stepped to her side and tracked the line of sight of Lucia’s binoculars. He caught the blur of movement along the shore. Training his binoculars on the area, he increased the magnification until he could finally identify Elizabeth.
She was running. He couldn’t call it jogging since the pace was too fast. Almost punishing. Her arms pumped smoothly while the hair swept up in a pony tail bounced in rhythm to her long and graceful strides. A cropped dark-maroon T-shirt was plastered to her body by a combination of sweat and a breeze.
She was cold.
He grew increasingly interested as he noticed even more about her. The firm muscles at her midriff and legs shifting and bunching. The running shorts she wore weren’t scant, but her legs were long for her height. Very long, which brought disturbing visions of what she could do with those legs.
More Than a Mission Page 3
