I hesitated over the tiny sink for a few moments, contemplating the dirty clothes in my backpack and trying not to look at my hair. Clean clothes and a shower were beginning to take on an attraction of mythic proportions. I rinsed out a few pairs of panties, cursing my lack of foresight. If I’d done this last night, they’d be dry by now. Dammit.
I regarded the cold, wet handful with irritation. They were clean, but I didn’t know whether we’d be coming back to the truck or not. No point in hanging them to dry here. I pondered for a few moments before sticking my head out the door. “Hey, Dave!”
“Yeah.”
“Have you got a tool kit?”
“Yeah, what do you need?”
“Wire, if you’ve got it.” I climbed down as he extracted a box, and we surveyed the contents together. “There, that’ll do.” I pointed to a small roll.
“What’s it for?” he asked as he handed it to me.
“Don’t ask.” I popped the hood on the Caprice.
Naturally, both men ambled over to take a look. Hellhound guffawed and Dave blushed when I strung my panties on the wire and carefully secured them in front of the radiator.
“Is that a good idea?” Dave mumbled.
“It should be okay. It’s a cold morning. They don’t take up too much area, so it shouldn’t overheat on the highway. I’ll take them off before we get into city traffic.”
Hellhound leaned against the bumper, still grinning while he surveyed Dave’s red face. “Maybe the car won’t overheat, but Dave might. ‘Specially when ya show him your skimpy panties an’ start talkin’ about takin’ ‘em off. Ya tryin’ to get his jeans sticky, too?”
Dave scowled and his flush deepened as his fist clenched.
“I was talking about taking them off the radiator, smartass,” I said. “Just ignore him, Dave.”
Dave seemed disinclined to let it go. His normally cheerful face was hard as he turned to Hellhound. “Time you started showing Aydan a little respect.”
Arnie sobered and heaved himself off the car. “Ya know I respect ya, don’t ya, darlin’?” he asked, eyeing Dave.
“Of course. Dave, it’s okay, he’s just joking around.” When he didn’t respond immediately, I laid a hand on his arm and made the most convincing appeal I could think of. “Dave, I really need you guys to get along. You’re all I have right now.”
He glanced down at my hand and covered it with his own. “Okay. For you.” He shot another hard look at Arnie. “Clean it up from now on.”
Hellhound’s shoulders seemed to expand. Leather creaked ominously.
I hastened to intervene. “Dave, I know you’re looking out for me, but Arnie and I have been friends for a long time, and I like him just the way he is. If you guys turn this into a pissing match, I’m going to end up dead. So stop, okay?”
Dave dropped his gaze. “Okay. Sorry,” he mumbled.
“It’s okay.” I turned quickly to intercept Hellhound’s expressionless stare. “We need to get going. Arnie, what’s your plan?”
He eyed Dave for a second longer before turning to me. “Head into town. I’ll tell ya where to drop me off, an’ we’ll set up a pickup point.”
We got under way with only a brief moment of tension when the two men faced each other beside the passenger door. “I’ll need Arnie in the front to give me directions,” I said, trying for a casual tone. Dave grunted and got in the back, and Hellhound remained impassive as he slid into the front seat.
Once in Calgary, I followed Arnie’s directions and pulled over beside the curb in one of the seedier neighbourhoods, thankful for the camouflage provided by the rusted-out Caprice.
Arnie nodded. “Pick me up here at one. If I ain’t here, keep comin’ back every hour. If I ain’t back by four, leave without me.”
“But…”
“Trust me,” he interrupted. “If I ain’t back by four, I ain’t comin’ back.”
Anxiety chilled me. “How dangerous is this for you, anyway?”
He shrugged. “Dunno. Guess I’ll find out. See ya.” He got out of the car.
“Wait!”
He paused on the sidewalk. “What, darlin’?”
I hopped out of the car and came around to hold him. “Don’t go. It’s not worth it. We’ll find another way.” I tried to guide him back to the car, but it was like trying to move a boulder.
He leaned down to drop a kiss on my lips. “It ain’t gonna be a big deal. See ya at one.”
Fear squeezed my heart, and I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold him when he tried to pull away. Discomfort flickered in his eyes, and I understood immediately. I quickly pasted on a grin before I kissed him thoroughly and groped his ass with both hands. “Get your ass back here in one piece. I’ve got plans for it later.”
He grinned and relaxed. “See ya, darlin’.”
I made myself turn away and get into the car. He was vanishing into an alley by the time I turned to look again.
Dave climbed into the passenger seat with a grunt and surveyed my face. “He’ll be fine,” he said gruffly. “Let’s go.”
I put the car in gear and drove blindly away, my mind racing. God, what if something happened to him? Because of me. I endangered everybody. Everywhere I went. Everyone I met. The horrible responsibility crashed over me.
I hadn’t realized I’d whimpered out loud until Dave’s hand closed over mine. “Hey, Aydan, it’ll be okay.”
I looked into his faded, concerned eyes and felt even worse. Because of me, he was on the run from the law and his livelihood was parked out in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere. He might end up in jail, or dead, just because he was a nice guy who was trying to help.
“Jesus, Dave, I’m so sorry,” I choked.
He frowned. “Pull over for a second.”
I obeyed, steering into a convenience store parking lot. When I put the car in park, he took my hand and looked into my eyes. “What’re you sorry for?”
“I’m sorry you’re involved in this. You’re in deep shit because of me, and I feel so bad, and I don’t know how we’re going to get you out of this…”
“It’s not your fault,” he protested.
“Dave, it’s all my fault. You could end up in jail, or dead, Arnie could get killed…” I tried to swallow the tremor in my voice. “Nichele might die because I was too damn stupid and selfish to warn her off…” Guilt suffused me as I remembered my drunken decision to give up trying to convince her to dump James.
“Hey.” His hand tightened on mine. “Hey, Aydan, this was my idea, remember?”
“I know, but you didn’t know what you were getting into…”
“Yeah, I did,” he said firmly. “You told me right from the start. Look, we’re in this together, okay?”
“Yeah, that’s the whole problem…”
“It’s okay.” He pulled me into an awkward hug and patted me on the back. “It’ll be okay.”
I dropped my forehead onto his shoulder in resignation. He thought I was exaggerating. He thought he was being a hero, and he didn’t have a punched-out clue.
The smell of ripe armpits brought me back to practicality, and I pulled away. Too late to worry about what we couldn’t change.
“Thanks, Dave. We’ve got a few hours to kill. Let’s go get a shower.” A flush crept up his neck. “Separately,” I added.
“Where?” he asked. “Thought you said we couldn’t go to a hotel or a truck stop. Campgrounds are all closed by now, too.”
“But the gyms aren’t. If you were hunting for a fugitive, would you think to look in a gym? Who in their right mind would go and work out when they were on the run?”
“Guess you’re right. Good idea.”
At the YMCA, we paid our cash drop-in fee and parted ways in the lobby. The bored clerk paid us no attention, and I strode into the women’s change room trying to look nonchalant, backpack in hand.
When I emerged blissfully clean from a long hot shower, I poked through the contents of my pack with distaste, sele
cting the cleanest of my dirty T-shirts. At least I had clean underwear.
I hesitated for a few moments, then shrugged and tossed my remaining T-shirts into the sink to wash. If I spread them out in the car, they’d dry eventually.
It was nearly noon by the time I stepped out of the change room again.
I spotted Dave immediately, in conversation with a heavyset, balding man at the edge of the lobby. Both men looked up as I approached. Dave gave me a nervous smile, and the other man eyed my snug T-shirt and jeans with interest when I joined them.
“Jane, this is Randy,” Dave introduced me. “We drive for the same outfits a lot of the time. Randy, this is my girlfriend, Jane.” He slid an arm around my waist, and I leaned into him and tried to act natural as I greeted Randy. Shit, what were the chances that Dave would be recognized here of all places?
“You’re putting me on, right?” Randy demanded. “No way you’re going out with him.”
I felt Dave stiffen, and I ran my fingers through his still-damp hair. “Of course I am.”
I kissed Dave, and he pulled me closer and took his time. Apparently he’d had a chance to think about the tongue action. He was considerably bolder, and he was only blushing a little when he pulled away. We were smiling at each other when Randy snorted.
“Nice try, Dave. How much did you have to pay her?”
Dave reacted so fast I didn’t even have a chance to stop him. He bunched Randy’s shirt in his fist and shoved the other man back against the wall. “Now you’re going to apologize to Jane,” he snarled, his scowl inches away from Randy’s alarmed expression.
“Jeez, relax,” Randy stammered. “I was just kidding around.”
“Apologize,” Dave grated, jerking Randy’s shirt for emphasis.
“Sorry, I’m sorry, Jane,” Randy babbled. “I didn’t mean anything by it…”
“Dave, sweetie, it’s okay, let’s go.” I glanced around at the interested bystanders and the clerk, who was reaching for the phone.
Shit, shit, shit!
I pried Dave’s fingers loose and tried to drag him away as unobtrusively as possible while he glowered back at Randy.
“Dave, come on,” I hissed in his ear. “You’re attracting attention. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Dave shot one more venomous glare at Randy’s pale face before he turned and put his arm around me again. “Nobody calls my girlfriend a whore,” he spat.
I hustled him out the door. “Calm down,” I whispered. “And hurry up.”
Once in the car I drove rapidly, taking as circuitous a route as possible. With a safe distance between us and the gym I pulled over, shaking, and blew out a long breath. I stared through the windshield for a few moments, trying to summon up some tact.
“Jeez, Dave, what were you thinking?” I burst out. “What if that clerk had called the cops?”
Oops. Failed at tact. As usual.
He scowled and crossed his arms as he slouched down in the passenger seat. “Nobody calls you that. Nobody.”
“Dave, I don’t give a shit. They can call me frickin’ anything they want. We can’t afford to attract that kind of attention.”
He gave me an obstinate glare. “Not gonna apologize for that. You don’t talk that way about a lady.”
I stared back at him in frustration, teeth clenched to prevent me from saying something I’d regret. It wasn’t worth the trouble to point out that I was about as far from being a lady as I was from being his girlfriend. He clearly wasn’t in the mood to listen to reason.
“Just don’t do that again, okay?” I gritted finally. “No matter what.”
Dave said nothing, just stared out the windshield with his lips pressed together.
I blew out another breath and steered the car toward our pickup point.
Chapter 22
I shifted impatiently in the seat and looked at my watch for the sixth time in about ten seconds. The clanging of the warning bells at the train crossing matched the jangling of my nerves while the train dragged its interminable ass across the road.
I looked at my watch again. “Jesus Christ!” I burst out. “Could you go any fucking slower, buddy?”
Dave shot me a worried look. “It’s okay, we’re only a couple of minutes late.”
“Yeah, but what if he needs us? Or what if he’s waiting, and he decides we’re not coming, and then he goes away for another hour…” I realized my voice was rising rapidly and bit off the rest of the sentence. And glanced at my watch. Again, for chrissake.
At last, the train cleared the crossing and the guard-arms lifted. I bumped over the tracks a little more quickly than absolutely necessary. “What the hell were they thinking putting a train track through the middle of a residential neighbourhood, anyway?” I muttered.
Dave wisely made no response.
I pulled in at the curb, gazing anxiously around. There was no sign of life except a ragged elderly man shuffling along in the next block, pushing a shopping cart full of bottles and cans.
Heart pounding, I glanced at my watch, then around the neighbourhood again.
“How long are you gonna wait?” Dave asked.
“Just a bit longer. Just in case he’s running late.” I caught sight of my glowing white knuckles, and peeled my fingers off the steering wheel.
“We better go,” Dave muttered after a few minutes.
I was just reaching for the shifter with a shaking hand when a bulky figure limped out of the alley toward us.
“Oh my God!”
I bailed out of the car fast. Hellhound swiped a hand across his eyes and squinted at me. “Hey, darlin’, let’s get outta here,” he mumbled.
His face was a mask of blood, and his hands and shirt were so blood-caked I couldn’t tell whether he had other injuries or not. Dave opened the back door and I guided Arnie toward it. He pulled his arm away from me impatiently.
“Get drivin’, darlin’,” he muttered as he stumbled to the car and fell into the back seat. Dave and I exchanged frightened glances, and I dove back into the driver’s seat and got us out of there.
Hellhound hauled himself upright and slumped against the door.
“Where are you hurt?” I demanded. “Dave, look him over, find out where he’s hurt.”
“I’m fine, darlin’,” Hellhound mumbled thickly. “Just a busted nose. No big deal.”
I eyed him worriedly in the rear-view mirror. “That looks like a gash in your forehead, too.”
“Yeah, I got a couple little bumps and bruises.”
Dave peered over the seat at him. “Head for the hospital,” he advised. “Gonna have to get that nose straightened out.”
“Nah,” Hellhound disagreed. “Don’t wanna attract attention, an’ I been able to fix that since I was a kid.” He wiped some more blood out of his eyes and scrubbed his hands against the torn T-shirt before reaching for his nose.
“Since you were a kid?” Dave demanded.
“Yeah.” Hellhound snorted, sending a fine spray of fresh blood over the grisly T-shirt. “First thing I ever remember about Jim, that fuckin’ asshole. Him tellin’ me to shut up an’ yankin’ on my nose. Learned how to do it myself after that.”
He positioned his hands, and Dave and I both flinched at the unpleasant crunching sound that followed. A fresh cascade of blood poured down. Arnie wiped his hands on his T-shirt again and extracted a switchblade knife from his jacket pocket, flicking it open to slice strips from the cleaner part of his shirt.
I chose to ignore the illegal weapon. “How old were you?” I asked.
“Dunno. Mom was still alive, so maybe three or four.”
“Jeez, how many times did you break your nose when you were a kid?” Dave gaped at him, eyes round.
“Coupla times.” Hellhound began to methodically pack his nostrils, stopping to swipe away the steady trickle of blood from his forehead as it ran into his eye.
“Didn’t your folks take you to the hospital?” Dave persisted.
“Nah. Mom tr
ied to fix my face…” He shrugged and smeared his hand through the seeping blood again.
I pulled the car into an alley and parked so I could get into the back seat beside him. “Where else are you hurt? Let me see.”
“Told ya, I’m fine,” he muttered. “Keep drivin’. We gotta get ya outta here, fast.” He cut off another chunk of T-shirt and pressed it against the torn skin of his forehead. I winced at the sight of his swollen, gouged-up knuckles.
“We go nowhere until I’m sure you’re okay.”
“Aydan, get in the goddam seat and get fuckin’ drivin’! Jim’s got a fuckin’ contract out on ya. No tellin’ who’s after ya now. Move!”
A fresh wave of fear washed over me, and I swallowed it with difficulty. “No. The sooner you let me look at you, the sooner we’ll get on the road, so cooperate.”
“Fuck, Dave, take over!” Hellhound commanded. “Get us the hell outta here.”
Dave swung out the passenger door with alacrity and froze, half doubled over, hissing through his teeth.
“Aw, for chrissakes!” Hellhound snapped. “Don’t tell me ya put your fuckin’ back out again!”
“It’s fine,” Dave gritted, and hobbled around to the driver’s side, still canted over. He sank slowly into the car, the muscles in his jaw bunching as he clenched his teeth. Seconds later, we were in motion.
I turned to Arnie. “Now, tell me where you’re hurt. Or I’ll strip you naked and find out for myself.”
His teeth flashed in a lopsided grin through the gory mess. “Sounds good to me, darlin’. Come an’ get it.”
“You asked for it.” I leaned close and pulled his hand away from the gash on his forehead. “You should probably have stitches.”
“It’ll heal up.”
“But not well.”
He shrugged. “It ain’t gonna hurt my modellin’ career any.”
I examined the rest of his head and face. His left eye was swollen half-shut, but the skin didn’t seem to be broken. Hard to tell under the layer of drying blood.
Tell Me No Spies Page 18
