“I think a close-up inspection of your skin in the affected area,” he said.
“And would you kiss it better?” Damn, I mustn’t smile, it might give him ideas.
“Kiss it. Caress it. You name it.”
“Lick it?” Kramer asked, in as innocent a voice as she could manage.
He moved a little closer and put a hand on her thigh. “Did you spill any?”
“Want to go look?”
He put his fingers on the top button of her blouse before hesitating. “Are you leading me on?”
“What gives you that idea?” Kramer slipped down, so she no longer sat but lay on the bed.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe experience.”
She kept her eyes locked on his. He undid the top button of her blouse. Paused. Kramer didn’t move as he did the same to the second and third buttons. She saw his gaze drop down to her body as he loosened the fourth button. Enough skin was exposed now to have his full attention. Kramer reached up to brush her fingers through his hair. “Have you forgotten Emily already?” she asked.
Scarrett’s hand stopped its movement into her blouse, and he sighed. “Guess so, thanks for reminding me.”
Kramer smiled and pulled him down for a kiss. “I can see why you got distracted.”
“Yeah.” He lay on his side so he faced her, and put one hand on her stomach. “Emily?”
“When Jane and Pete said they wanted Emily to have time away from the DSI we couldn’t do anything but agree. She’s been through some shit for a twelve-year-old.”
“Tell me about it,” Scarrett said, his hand making slow circling motions on her stomach.
“But we weren’t about to abandon them. Pete and Jane have got a number to call at any time if they need help.”
“And they’ve called.”
“No. Stop interrupting and keep your hand still.” Kramer looked at him. “We set up a monitoring system to keep an eye on them.”
Scarrett went up on one elbow. “Monitoring system? What kind of military technobabble is that?”
“The kind you should recognise coming from the CIA.” Kramer started doing up the buttons on her blouse.
“You mean you’ve been spying on them?”
“We,” Kramer said, stressing the word, “have been monitoring them. Remember you do work for the DSI.”
Scarrett sighed. Kramer didn’t know for sure whether it was because of the monitoring or the fact she’d buttoned her blouse back up.
“Go on,” he said. “Tell me.”
“They received a phone call from England. It came from Daisy and Hannah.”
“They okay?” Scarrett asked.
“I guess so,” Kramer said in irritation. “Do you think I can tell you this without being interrupted every sentence.”
“Jeez, I’m sorry.” He moved away and lay on his back with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Right. So Daisy asked Emily about dream walking. You remember Alex? He helped Connor out when they were first trying to contact Emily. Alex went on a dream walk as part of an investigation they’re running over there, and I guess he never returned to his body. The Brits are trying to figure out what happened and if Emily could give them any advice.”
“And could she?” Scarrett asked.
“Not really.”
“Is this something we should be worried about?” He turned onto his side again.
“We’ve got a couple of people reviewing our psychics to see if any of them has sensed any issues in the spirit world. Otherwise, our relationship with the British has fallen apart since Chequers, so we don’t know what’s happening over there.”
Silence. Kramer thought about getting her coffee but she was comfortable now, and Scarrett seemed to be edging a little closer again.
“Why did we and the Brits fall out?” he asked.
“No idea. It was above us, and even Dawson doesn’t know for sure. I guess they blamed us for almost getting their Prime Minister killed.”
“There’s no credit for saving her life then?” his hand drifted back onto her stomach.
Kramer smiled. “No.” She waited. Scarrett’s hand moved, and he came close enough that their bodies touched. Kramer liked the warmth that came from him enough that she turned into his arms. “You were checking to see if I’d spilt any coffee,” she said.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “So I was.”
It didn’t take long to remove the blouse with Kramer helping. Scarrett had a way of making her tingle, and by the time he tugged the last item of clothing from her, she’d already made a start on his.
“Found anything?” she asked, as he trailed his tongue across a nipple.
“Still looking,” he mumbled.
Kramer grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head up level with hers. “Stop looking,” she said. “And get on with it.”
They both got on with it and as usual, Scarrett ended up lying on his back. She paused long enough to say, “So how come I always end up on top?”
“It’s because you like to be in control,” he said, as his hands smoothed along her thighs.
Kramer leaned in close enough to kiss him and say, “Do you want to be in control this time?”
No answer other than his arms going around her and a little shift in weight that rolled them over. Kramer pulled him close at the same time her phone rang.
“Ignore it,” Scarrett said.
“I can’t.” Kramer reached out blindly and grasped the phone. She took one look at the Caller ID and said, “Dawson.”
She answered it as Scarrett pushed off her and lay on the bed. She tried not to meet his gaze has she listened to Dawson’s voice update her. He ended the call as abruptly as he’d started it. Kramer dropped the phone back onto the bedside table. “Pete Walsh called the emergency number,” Kramer said. “Emily is in hospital. We’re not sure why but police and social services were suspicious about her illness. Dawson sent a team to transfer them to a military hospital at Fort Bragg.”
“She going to be okay?”
“I don’t know.” Kramer sighed. “Sorry.”
“What for?”
“Taking the call.” She reached out to him.
“Can’t blame you.”
They found a comfortable place with Kramer lying in his arms. She knew she’d miss this if he resigned. But then the reward would be seeing him again every couple of weeks and catching up with him. Kramer waited a few minutes before she said, “My mom emailed and asked when I was going to visit again with that very nice young man.”
“Who was that then?” Scarrett asked.
“Amazingly enough, I think she meant you.”
“Your mother has got good judgement.”
“Yup.”
“Like her daughter,” Scarrett said, and gave her a squeeze.
Kramer laughed. “You reckon?”
“Well, apart from taking phone calls at the wrong moment.”
“Who said it was the wrong moment?” Kramer turned to face him. “Maybe it increases the anticipation.”
His eyes seemed to sparkle as he smiled. “Planning on any other interruptions?”
“No.”
This time, she didn’t need to tell him to take control.
***
In the morning, Kramer dragged Ben out for a run before they took separate showers and she called in to speak to General Dawson. They received the good news about Emily, although the medical team caring for her wanted to keep her under observation for forty-eight hours. Dawson wanted Kramer and Ben to come down to Fort Bragg. He’d been in touch with Boston P.D., and there’d been no advance on tracking the perpetrators of the MFA robbery. A team of DSI psychics were now at work trying to find any evidence on those behind the snatching of the statuette and also the disappearance of Alexander Hughes, the British psychic.
“You’ll be better off here where we can react to any information than swanning around New England like a couple of newly-weds,” Dawson said.
“Uh, sir.”
Kramer picked her words carefully. “We are working hard.”
He laughed, “I know. But I also see your expenses and if you ever spend a moment away from each other’s company I don’t know about it.”
Ben saw Kramer point at the phone as she mouthed the words ‘tell him’. Ben shook his head. Although he’d ninety-per-cent made up his mind about leaving the DSI, the remaining ten sat heavily on his shoulders. Kramer shrugged and told Dawson they’d get a flight down as soon as possible.
With the call finished, Kramer said, “Coward.”
“What?” Ben stared at her. “How can you say that?”
“It was the perfect moment to tell him you were thinking of resigning. He could then come up with an argument for you to stay and you could discuss things openly when we are down at Fort Bragg.”
“And what if he’d said ‘fine, I’ll have your paperwork ready to sign when you get here’? I’d be out.”
“Isn’t that what you want?”
They sat side-by-side on the bed again, and Ben couldn’t help but sigh and shake his head. “All I said was that I was thinking about resigning. I’d had one too many beatings and needed some time to get my head straight. Maybe a vacation would be the best thing.”
“Or a honeymoon.” Kramer nudged him. “You heard what Dawson said.”
What do I say to that? Ben smiled. “Your mom would be pleased.”
“Uh-huh, and your sister.”
Seconds ticked by, Ben’s head full of one-hundred-and-one thoughts that he never quite caught hold of. They never broke eye contact until Kramer said, “Best we sort out flights.”
“Yeah.” Ben wanted to be brave enough to continue the conversation but facing down ravenous demons seemed an easier task than talking wedlock with Joanne Kramer. They still didn’t move.
“Oh, boy,” Kramer said.
“I’ll check the airline websites.” Ben popped off the bed to hunt for his tablet.
“I’ll start packing,” Kramer told him.
They ignored each other for a couple of minutes until Kramer said, “Shit, but we need to talk.”
They sat on the bed again, facing each other. Kramer said, “Well?”
“It would be better if I left the DSI,” Ben said. “Working together is one thing, but being... you know... is another.”
“Married,” Kramer said. She looked away. “Holy shit. Married.”
“Look,” Ben said. “We’ll finish this mission. I’ll quit the DSI and then we’ll talk about it.”
“No.” Kramer’s eyes returned to his face, and she held up a warning finger. “We finish the mission, you quit and then we do it.”
Ben tried not to smile. “Are you proposing?”
“No.” She reached out and slapped his leg, hard. “That’s your job, find a nice romantic moment and ask me. Okay?”
“Romantic moment?” one of Ben’s eyebrows rose. “You?”
“Be careful, Scarrett.” Kramer grinned. “Dawson might start seeing our expenses claims showing we use separate rooms.”
“But we still need to sort out flights,” Ben said.
“And we still need to pack.”
Neither of them moved. Ben couldn’t get enough of her blue eyes.
“Are you going to kiss me?” Kramer asked.
Ben moved to her. He kissed her. “Is this a romantic moment?” he asked.
“No,” Kramer smiled. “This is a moment when I know that being involved with a guy that I work with is a bad thing because he should be booking flights and I should be packing.”
“Is that an order?”
“I think it might have to be.”
“Damn,” Ben said.
Kramer sighed. “Book the flights, okay? Otherwise, we’ll never leave this room.”
Ben figured the smile on his face was one of those soppy ones that people got when they lost control of their emotions. Kramer looked at him and shook her head.
“Make sure you book our seats so we sit apart from each other. I don’t think I could stand seeing that smile on your face for more than ten minutes at a time.”
Ben picked up his tablet. “Whatever you say, just be aware that romantic moments tend to creep up on you and surprise you.”
“I can’t wait,” Kramer said, with a grin.
***
The sound of birdsong woke Itzel. A squirrel cuckoo, native to her homeland, wheeping and whistling as she struggled to come awake. Her body had grown stiff on the cramped rear seat, and it took a helping hand from Yancha to bring her upright.
An ash-grey light surrounded the car. The dashboard lights still gave an ephemeral glow that painted Yancha and Ramon like ghosts in the night. She rubbed her eyes as she tried to focus them, the rocking motion of the car not helping. “What time is it?”
“Just gone six a.m.,” Yancha said.
A cloying glue filled Itzel’s mouth as she fought the urge to lie down and go to sleep again. The squirrel cuckoo still called, and she dug into the pocket of her jacket to retrieve her phone. The brightness of the screen dazzled Itzel as she swiped ‘Accept’.
The High Priest sounded far enough away to be on the moon. His voice came and went in whispers of static as the phone signal jumped from mast to mast. Itzel listened without speaking. When the High Priest called, he always had either a question or order. This call came with an order. When he finished, Itzel said, “I understand.”
The call ended. Itzel rubbed her dry eyes before saying to Yancha, “Where are we?”
The two men looked at each other as if seeking inspiration. Neither could seem to remember the last sign they’d passed. Itzel sighed and said, “We stop at the next big town. We need to buy cell phones.”
Neither man asked why. Ramon stared forward and said, “There is a sign coming up.”
They watched the overhead gantry sign grow big enough to read the lettering. At last, Itzel read Roanoake. She had no idea where that fell on their route home. Resting back and letting Ramon make the turns as directed by the signs she checked Google Maps on her phone. They’d been driving for ten hours or so and hadn’t made much impression on the whole journey home. Itzel lay her head back against the seat and rocked with the motion of the car. She needed to go to the bathroom. Plus a few other things as well like brushing her teeth, washing her face and changing her clothes. No doubt there would be a service area to do things like that. She leaned forward and told Ramon to look for one of those first.
Like the good boy that he was, Ramon found them a place to stop and freshen-up off the first cloverleaf junction. Itzel spent longer than the men in the restroom. Her brief conversation with the High Priest told her enough to make sure she would be as presentable as possible for the next few hours. Once finished, Yancha took over the driving and filled the car’s tank up before they took Highway 220 towards Roanoake.
Itzel sat up front now, with Ramon trying to catch some shut-eye before they reached the city. She kept an eye out for stores that would sell cell phones. Ideally, she wanted three, so each of them could make a separate purchase. Staff were less likely to remember one cash purchase, but three in the same store in a short space of time by people who were obviously Mexican or at least Hispanic would stick in the assistant’s head. She spotted the first one and gave Yancha enough warning that he could make the turn.
Itzel smiled as the entered the parking lot. The Best Buy shared space with a Walmart, and beyond that, she could see another mall, and there were bound to be other stores selling phones in there. Once Yancha parked, she gave them their instructions. A cheap phone, with a sim-card but off-contract. Pre-load it with thirty dollars of call-time. Pay cash and give the fake name and address they’d used since travelling north.
Yancha waited in the car for the Best Buy to open. Ramon gave Itzel a smile and a nod and led her towards the mall. If no stores were open yet he offered to buy her coffee. Itzel agreed. She needed some down time to work out exactly why the dream had come to her last night. She blamed events in Bosto
n and their rush to get away from the city. Given a chance, Itzel would have told the High Priest about the dream. But the High Priest had other events on his mind and would not want the distraction. Itzel, with Ramon trotting along beside her like a lovelorn puppy, needed to work out for herself what was going on.
They found a coffee shop and bought muffins to go with their drinks. Ramon sat across the table from her and before Itzel could even take a sip of the strong coffee he said, “I’m glad I’ve got you alone at last.”
“Why?” Itzel asked, even though she could make an accurate guess.
“I think there is a growing bond between us. Do you feel it yourself?”
“No,” Itzel said. “And I think you imagine it.”
“Really?” he smiled. “I know the position you are in. The High Priest trusts you to lead us into the heartland of our enemy and succeed in a mission of critical importance. The others, Yancha and poor old Ciro, don’t like to be under the command of a woman but I do. You are strong, fearless and deadly. I am happy to be led by you and even happier that you have noticed me.”
Itzel rubbed her eyes. She drank some of the coffee and ate some of the muffin. Ramon still gazed at her in adoration. She didn’t like that. She wanted her men to be soldiers, ready to react to any order, willing to lay down their lives for the mission. Not some lovestruck twenty-something who would think of her safety first before any mission. When her gaze returned to Ramon, he nodded, like a puppet.
Oh, gods, what am I to do?
And the dream? She had forgotten the dream. Blood and ash. And her gods, coming to her and calling her child. What did that mean?
“Itzel?” Ramon asked. “What are you thinking about?”
“The mission,” she said. “Something has changed. The High Priest wanted the goddess recovered and taken home. But now it’s changed. He called and asked us to buy these cell phones, ones that the authorities can’t trace back to us.”
“Maybe the police are closing in and he wants to send us a message?”
“Maybe.” Itzel looked around. The coffee shop was filling up. Some older couples, some younger ones. Some black, most white. She shivered.
The Tomb (Scarrett & Kramer Book 3) Page 11