"Are you two alright?" he asked. He wasn't even out of breath.
I nodded. "Someone took shots at us."
"The assassin who interrupted dinner?" Rex asked. Actually, that would make a great title for a book.
The moon came out from behind a cloud and illuminated the three of us in a silver spotlight.
"I guess that's not all he interrupted," I said, as I pointed to the imprint of red lips on the collar of Rex's shirt.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
We were drowned out by the sirens of what seemed to be the entire police department surrounding my house. Riley and I went in through the garage and let Rex in the front door.
Rex sent the patrol cars away and sat down with Riley and me in the living room. He ran his hands through his hair as if trying to figure out what to say. I wondered if he'd address the situation or the lipstick.
I decided to fill him in on what had been happening. It was long overdue. Riley ended the story by saying that the CIA was handling the investigation.
"I get that this is an agency issue…" Rex began. "But we can't have you breaking in wherever you want and holding shootouts in family neighborhoods and grocery stores."
Riley nodded. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
What? Riley was apologizing? And taking all the blame?
"I'm only going to let you have this one more time," Rex said. "I can report that a gun went off accidentally. But you'll have to promise me you won't fire that in public anymore."
"Absolutely," Riley swore.
"And next time your assassin shows up, let me know, and we'll bring him in," Rex insisted.
"You won't have to," Riley said. "Because he'll be in our custody or dead."
Rex narrowed his eyes. "Then do it outside city limits, because I don't want any more trouble."
The two men went a little cowboy, and I was fearing for a High Noon sort of standoff in the living room. Which was kind of sexy. But I was exhausted beyond words, and I wanted all drama gone. I wanted to go to bed and blot out the memories of Angela's betrayal at the restaurant, her lipstick on Rex's collar, and dumbasses shooting up my house.
"Knock it off, you two," I said, getting between them. "Rex, go home. I promise there won't be any more shooting tonight."
Rex gave me a pained look, but nodded. I waited until he was gone to talk to Riley.
"And you! How could you let him get away again? You seriously need some range time because your shots are way off."
Riley smiled. "What makes you think I let him get away?" He disappeared into the kitchen, and I followed him out to the backyard. Between the shed and hedges at the back corner of the yard, he dragged out our shooter's body. The hood still obscured the face.
"You got him? You got Bobb?" I stammered.
"Yup. I just didn't want the cops to have him." Riley knelt down and pulled the hood back, only to reveal a full ski mask.
I pulled the mask off and jumped backward. "Oh no!"
Riley stood up, frowning at the body. He shook his head as if it would change the circumstances.
"It's Angela!" I gasped. "You shot Angela!"
CHAPTER TWENTY
"Is she dead?" I asked as Kelly examined the woman on my kitchen floor. I'd called her, and she arrived in seconds. Whether she was still pissed at me or not didn't matter when there was someone bleeding on my kitchen floor.
"No. But I think she's in a coma. She really should go to the hospital."
"But Kelly! It's Angela! And she was shooting at us! And she tried to kidnap Philby!" I whined. "Maybe she'll die accidentally? Or maybe she's even brain dead?" A girl can hope.
Kelly shook her head. "I know you're thrilled with this outcome, but as a nurse, I feel she should get medical care, no matter who she is."
I stomped around my kitchen in full tantrum mode while Kelly probed the gunshot wound. Riley had hit her in the shoulder, but the bullet went straight through, weirdly hitting nothing. I figured Kelly would stitch up both holes and we could then have her…possibly for a human sacrifice.
"You're enjoying this." Kelly looked over her bifocals at me. She didn't need them but liked to use the glasses for needlework. I guess this qualified.
"Yes I am. You should've heard what that bitch said at dinner." I folded my arms across my chest like that actually proved something.
Riley was on the phone with Langley. He wanted to make sure the blood sample on his handkerchief would be compared to the blood sample in the grocery store.
"What did she say?" Kelly asked, pausing with her needle in midair.
I told her about the encounter in the bathroom, what she'd said at the table, and about the lipstick on Rex's collar. I'm not sure if it was my imagination or not, but it looked like Kelly was rather fiercely punching the needle through Angela's skin after that.
"Langley's sending a medical team from Chicago. They'll take her to a hospital under our control and analyze the sample," Riley said.
I was only half listening because I was taking pictures of Angela with my spy camera.
"Why don't you have a real camera?" Riley asked.
"I'll get one tomorrow." I said as I clicked the shutter a couple more times. "When will they be here?"
"In half an hour," he said.
I looked up. "It takes two and a half hours to get here from Chicago."
Kelly muttered, "Oh, so you are worried about her well-being?"
I shook my head. "No. I just hoped I could run out and pick up a camera and take some more pictures before they got here." I thought they'd make a nice 8x10 to shove under my cheating boyfriend's nose.
"They're flying," Riley said. "We'll have to take her to the airport."
"Well, can I pick up a camera along the way?" I asked, now using my cell phone to take selfies of me smiling next to comatose Angela.
"Stop that!" Kelly swatted me away.
"No. We have to go in 10 minutes. As soon as Kelly's done stitching her up."
I pouted. It's not every day that your nemesis turns out to be an assassin. You had to celebrate moments like this.
Kelly finished both stitches and helped us take Angela out to the garage to put in Riley's SUV. We drove to the airport, and Riley got us to the private hangars with his badge. A small private plane with two EMTs took Angela away.
"I don't remember those bruises on her face…" Kelly murmured.
"That's weird," I lied. "I don't either." Okay…okay, I might've accidentally hit her face on the doorframe to the garage once or five times…
We stopped at the yarn shop and picked up Philby, who seemed happy to see me or constipated. When we arrived home, Kelly had to leave. She was working third shift. She reminded me yet again that I owed her before she walked out the door.
I sat on the couch with Philby while Riley brought us two glasses of wine. He started to set it on the coffee table, but after studying the crooked mess I'd made putting it together, decided the glasses were safer in our hands. Philby sat between us and purred.
"So Angela is the assassin? She must've impersonated me at the prison. It's pretty easy to fake a video," I said as I pet my cat.
Riley shrugged. "We won't know for sure until the blood work comes back, but it looks that way."
"She was conveniently in town for all of this," I said with more than a little glee.
"So it's just a coincidence she knew Rex?" Riley asked. "I don't like coincidences."
I thought about that for a moment. "I don't think Rex is involved. But I do wonder if she and Bobb are working together."
"That's possible, I guess. But I don't know. Bobb's an excellent shot. Why didn't he do all the shooting?"
I shook my head. "No idea. That doesn't really make sense."
"Neither does the fact that they both seemed to be looking for your cat." Riley scratched under Philby's chin, and the cat went limp.
"You killed him!" I wiggled the cat's head, trying to get it to regain consciousness. "Bobb!" I shouted.
Philby hissed
himself awake and looked at us like he was ready to tear our heads off.
"B-O-B-B certainly has a connection to your cat," Riley said. He scratched Philby's chin again, and the cat once again passed out.
"It's like those fainting goats. Too much stimulus and they lose consciousness." I said. The cat was still breathing. He just wasn't awake.
"Weird." Riley examined Philby's chin. "I wonder what the guy who can't be named wants with him?"
"You know, even though we've nailed the hoodie shooter, we're still no closer to the truth." My head hurt. Probably from all the wine. "Why don't we call it a night?" I stood up and stretched.
Riley was still staring at the cat. "Okay. Mind if Philby crashes with me tonight?"
"Why? Do you think I can't protect my own cat?" I asked a little defensively. Okay. A lot defensively. It also bothered me a little that he didn't want me to crash with him. But then, I was tired. Sex is always better when you're rested.
"No. It's not that." Riley scratched between the sleeping cat's ears. "I just think maybe if I spend a little time with him I could figure all this out."
"Whatever," I yawned. "See you two in the morning. Don't stay up too late."
I got ready for bed and climbed between the sheets. My brain was pulsing with questions. If I've learned anything from years of spying, it's that you can't think on a busy brain. Also, you can't think on an empty stomach, a train ride through India, or when you are drinking absinthe in Paris.
I'd wanted to talk to Riley about all this kissing and worrying about me stuff. I needed to know what it all meant. But did I want to know? What would he say anyway? Maybe he was just toying with me?
No, it didn't seem like that. And he was having trouble with the case—losing the guy he was chasing, forgetting stuff he should remember. I'd seen this before. When spies got personally involved, the case always suffered. You couldn't focus on an assignment when you were romantically involved with the person next to you. Instead of the mission coming first, the well-being of your partner came first. It wasn't a good combination.
Riley had been the agency representative sent when the shit hit the fan with me recently. Did they send him, or had he volunteered because he cared about me? I shuddered just thinking about it. If Riley was interested…when did he first feel that way? Had I been blind to it all those years we worked together? Or was it new?
Was he confusing things? Did he just miss working with me and translated that into an affection for me? My head was splitting now. Riley could have feelings for me. Wow. Just…wow.
So why didn't I talk to him about it? That's what you did—you worked through things that jeopardized the mission. And yet, I was afraid to broach the subject. It was possible I was reading this all wrong.
Uh, yeah, I was misreading the kiss. That was the kiss a man gives when he's into a woman. There was no misunderstanding that. Obviously, Riley had a thing for me. When this had all started up, months ago, I'd thought my former boss was acting like this to get me to comply with his orders and agree to his involvement.
It didn't seem like that was the case this time. I wanted him here for extra protection for Philby…to keep the press away when Lenny Smith had showed up dead on my doorstep…but did I want him here also for something else?
Clearly, my body was interested. No wait, I couldn't totally blame my body on this one. I kissed him back. I liked it. No…I'd loved it. So what did it all mean?
Oh, for crying out loud! Now my life was even more complicated. Two men were interested in me. Well, I assumed Rex was still interested in me, and since I didn't know for sure, I was going to believe it.
Two men. I did not need two men fighting over me. Okay—I wanted two men fighting over me a little. But that was bad. I should be more adult about this. Bad, bad, bad.
So what was the answer? Rex or Riley? I hadn't talked to either of them. I'd been avoiding the very subject I wanted answers on. I let that thought stick in my head for a moment.
This was not the way to handle this. I needed to ask Rex what was really going on with our relationship. That was the mature thing to do. And I needed to ask Riley what he was thinking. And I needed to choose between the two.
But who would it be? I fell asleep, wondering.
* * *
I woke up at 11:00 the next morning. Clearly I'd needed rest. Riley's door was still closed. I very carefully opened it to see him and Philby snuggled up forehead to forehead. That had to be a real meeting of the minds. After taking a few pics with my spy camera I let them be, and after taking a shower, I poured a bowl of Lucky Charms, threw in some chocolate chips, and chased it with a Diet Coke. What?
My cell rang. "Hi Dad," I answered with a mouthful of sugar.
"Hey Pumpkin! I've got some orders for you."
My dad had done really well. He'd sold over 400 boxes, and the names on the list read like a political Who's Who.
"And your mom wants some shortbread," he finished.
"How is Mom?" I asked, knowing she was fine and fabulous as usual. Geneva Czrygy was a force to be reckoned with. Beautiful and smart, I'd always felt her talents were wasted on DC society. But then, what did I know?
"She's at a Red Cross fundraiser right now. She sends her love," Dad said as we finished the call. I transferred the orders to the forms the Council had given, wondering if they'd believe that the White House Chief of Staff really ordered 100 boxes of lemon cookies.
Because of this, I was feeling better and a bit sugar-buzzed half an hour later when the doorbell rang. It had to be Kelly, I imagined, convinced she wanted to read me the riot act about the night before.
But no, it was Rex darkening my stoop. He wasn't in a suit. Must be the weekend.
"Is it Saturday?" I asked as I opened the door.
Rex looked at me funny. "Strange way to answer the door, but yes. It is Saturday."
"Oh. Okay. Come in," I said. How was I missing what day it was? I didn't have a normal job…or any job…that must be it.
"Actually, I just stopped by to see if you're free tonight."
I frowned, "Do you have another ex-girlfriend you want me to meet?"
"No." Rex scowled. "I can't even get Angela to return my calls today."
I didn't feel bad about that. But it occurred to me that at some point, I'd have to give him the bad news. I'd have to make an effort to do it without skipping and screaming Yay! over and over.
"I was going to see if you wanted to come to my house for dinner. I think we need to talk."
And just like that, my mood crashed to the floor. I haven't had a lot of experience dating. But I'd watched enough Dr. Phil in the last year to know that "we need to talk" is bad.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I went back to my Lucky Charms, but my heart wasn't in it. Riley joined me in the kitchen, setting Philby on the counter.
"You're eating that?" he asked, pointing to the sugary goodness.
"I'll have you know, it's got multivitamins in it and is part of a complete breakfast." I shoved the bowl aside. Philby walked over and started to lap up the rainbow colored milk.
Riley made some toast with jelly and joined me. "I think I know what the secret is with this cat."
"What secret?" I asked.
"What B-O-B-B wants with him," Riley said.
Philby looked up at him suspiciously. I was beginning to think he could spell. But the cat just lowered his face and was back at the milk.
"What does he want?" I was starting to sound like a broken record.
"We both talked about this but must've forgotten. Remember that Dr. Rye scanned him for a microchip?" Riley pointed to the back of Philby's neck. Philby ignored him.
"But he didn't find one," I said.
"Right. But just before he didn't find one, he said he felt something strange."
I nodded. "He said it was a fatty tumor or something."
Riley put his fingertips on the back of Philby's neck and rolled a bit of skin between his thumb and fingers. "Feel this."
Philby didn't seem to notice.
I did as asked, and I did feel something. "Oh, wow. It's a mini SD card! Like the one in my spy camera!"
Riley looked at me. "I didn't even know you knew about those. You'd always given me the camera."
"I tried to have some photos made at Walgreens with it the other day…"
"You what?" Riley's voice was loud. I didn't like it. "You showed someone a sensitive, covert piece of technology?"
"Forget it," I waved him off. "The girl there was possibly lobotomized as a child. She had no clue."
"I really need you to turn that in." Riley held out his hand.
"Turn what in?" I feigned innocence.
"The camera," he snarled.
"What camera?" I batted my eyelashes like Angela had at dinner. It seemed to work for her.
"I'll get it later. Stop distracting me." He pointed at the cat again. "I think Lenny put something in your cat's neck. Something with state secrets. That's what Bobb wants."
Philby hissed violently at us, spraying multi-colored milk everywhere.
"I can never have a friend with that name now," I sighed.
"So do you think Kelly can do it?" Riley asked.
I froze and stared at him. "You want Kelly to operate on my cat? No way! She can stitch up comatose bimbos any time, but I won't let her cut into my pet!"
Riley scratched his head. "I was hoping to avoid Dr. Rye finding out."
"You don't have a CIA veterinarian?" I asked. "We've had issues involving animals before. Remember that weird goose that ate the microfiche in Honduras?"
"We didn't use a vet for that." Riley glared. "We killed and ate the goose, if you can remember."
"Oh, yeah," I said, staring off into space. "It was pretty good too."
"I don't want to take Philby to DC. We're running out of time. Maybe if we can look at the intel, we can figure out what's going on." Riley said.
"So we do have a CIA vet?" I asked. I'd always wondered. Maybe Lupe the goose didn't have to die.
Riley dialed his cell. "That's classified. I'm calling Rye. Maybe he can see us today."
Mint Cookie Murder Page 13
