God, I couldn’t deal with his fears tonight. My own were more than enough for me to handle.
I retreated behind my shield. “I honestly believe he won’t harm me, and my orders are to go through with this. That’s just the way it is.”
He stiffened, his scowl darkening. My old instincts leaped to barricade my emotional defences, hiding from the storm that was sure to come. I felt my face smooth into its indifferent mask.
His black look melted instantly. “Aw, darlin’, don’t…” His fingertips floated across my cheek. “I ain’t mad at ya, I’m mad at this whole fuckin’ bullshit situation.”
“It’s okay.” The worry on his face tugged at my heart despite my effort to stay detached. I sighed and pressed close to hug him. “Really, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I just…”
“Ya got no reason to be sorry, darlin’. It ain’t your fault.”
“Thanks.” I sat up to give him a kiss. “I’m still freezing. I’m going to head for the tub.”
He surveyed my face. “D’ya want me to stay?”
“Um, I… uh…”
“It’s okay, Aydan, ya ain’t gonna hurt my feelin’s. If ya want some space, just say so.”
“I… want you here, but I want space…” I wrapped my arms around myself. “To tell the truth, I’m a little weirded out by coming home to you. I mean, I want you here, I’m glad to see you, but… it’s just that it’s kind of too… couple-ish, you know? Like we’re married or something.”
He laughed. “Jesus, darlin’, bite your tongue!” I forced a chuckle, too, and he sobered and added, “I’ll go to the hotel tonight if you’re sure you’re okay.”
I blocked out the thought of the black nightmares swirling around my cold, empty bed. They were only dreams. They couldn’t hurt me.
I swallowed. “I’ll be okay.”
“Darlin’…” He studied my face. “Ya prob’ly ain’t gonna sleep for shit if you’re alone tonight. If ya want me, I’m here.”
His sweet, ugly face made tears prickle the back of my eyes. He looked so big and warm and safe on my couch. I only had to nod. He’d bring in his guitar and soothe me with his music. Comfort my aching body and hold the bad dreams at bay all night long.
And then what?
Ask him to stay the next night, and the next?
No. Never again. Dependence only sets you up for pain.
I stood, blinking back the burning behind my eyes. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”
He rose, too, and followed me into the kitchen where I stood with my arms wrapped around myself so I wouldn’t cling to him while he put on his boots and jacket. He pulled me to him and kissed me gently. “G’night, darlin’. Call me if ya want me to come back, even if it’s the middle a’ the night.”
I gulped, tears rising like floodwaters.
His face softened. “Aw, darlin’…”
I pushed him away and slammed the gates on my emotions, summoning up my easy smile and bantering voice. “You’d better get going. I’m freezing my butt off and there’s a hot bathtub calling my name.”
He hesitated. “Okay. G’night.”
When the door closed behind him, I switched off the lights and crept to the window. Shivering in the shadows, I watched until his SUV disappeared into the darkness.
The night went as I’d expected. Despite my warm bath and some relaxing pre-bedtime music, the nightmares swooped down on me in waves and I woke screaming again and again.
By morning, it was a relief to leave my churned-up bed. I stood for a long time letting the hot spray of the shower sluice over me, but twisting my stiffened arms behind me to fasten my bra was a torturous profanity-filled ordeal nonetheless. By the time I slumped into my chair at the breakfast table, I was mired in self-pity.
Listlessly swirling my spoon in my cereal dish, I contemplated the upcoming day. What the hell was I supposed to do now? Doytchevsky was still alive and well, a fact that filled me with both relief and despair.
If he had opened the door without a trank gun in his hand, could I have pulled the trigger in cold blood? And if I had, could I have lived with myself afterward?
I blew out a sigh, knuckling my aching eyes. Irrelevant. My priority now was to tell Stemp about the location change. I groaned and thumped my forehead with the heel of my hand. In the previous day’s trauma, I’d completely forgotten to get more secured phones.
Fine. Just fucking fine. I’d go straight to Stemp’s office this morning to give him my report, and I’d ask him for phones at the same time. And report Doytchevsky’s latest threats, for all the good it might do.
I poured the soggy cereal down the garbage disposal and headed for the door.
Trudging through the snow with my eyes downcast, I almost missed it. My peripheral vision barely caught the flutter from the front of the garage as I approached the side door.
What the hell?
I detoured to the main door where a sheet of paper was taped, its corners lifting in the breeze. The first glance froze me in mindless denial.
This couldn’t be happening.
In the next instant, my brain rebooted and I spun, clawing at my jacket for the gun I’d stupidly tucked inside it, under my goddamn sweatshirt.
Gun in hand, my frightened panting emitted bursts of steam in the frosty air while I scanned my yard, eyes and ears straining.
Nothing but the usual silence of my remote country home.
A line of footprints in the snow led from my gate to the garage door and back again. He must have left his car outside the gate and sneaked in here sometime in the night.
“You filthy fuckwad sonuvabitch …”
My mouth continued to spew the foulest insults I could muster while I yanked the paper off the door, my heart stuttering against my ribs in sick dread.
I ran a shaking fingertip over the tuft of purple hair taped beside the photo of Lola bound and blindfolded in a chair, her face contorted with fury or terror. The plain laser-printed font somehow made the four words even more horrible: ‘You talk, she pays.’
Chapter 33
I crushed the paper into a ball and hurled it at the ground with all my strength before dashing for the car. Tearing a fingernail on the door handle, I flung myself inside, pitching my gun onto the passenger seat beside me. In moments, I was barreling down the snowy road, the steering wheel jerking in my hands as the tires hit the drifts.
I’d kill him. I’d fucking kill him.
I couldn’t kill him. He had Lola.
Where?
I jammed on the brakes at the highway, cursing and hammering my fist on the steering wheel. Why the hell hadn’t I brought the photo? I should have looked more closely at the background. Was that Doytchevsky’s apartment, or somewhere else?
Idiot, idiot, goddammit…
Too late for that.
I stomped on the gas pedal and yanked the car around the corner, tires spinning and whining on the still-slippery pavement.
Somehow the all-wheel drive kept the rubber on the road all the way to Silverside. I shot a fast glance at the main intersection as I raced toward it. No cars at all.
Fuck the red light.
Moments later, I slid to a halt in Doytchevsky’s alley. I had snatched my gun up off the seat before the first shred of logic wafted into my brain. I froze with my hand clenched on the door handle.
Slow down. Don’t be stupid about this.
Find him. Kill him. Find him. Kill him. My pounding pulse drummed the words in my brain.
I forced myself to take a slow, deep breath.
Kill the fucking bastard!
Shut up.
Another calming breath.
The other residents of the apartment might be up and heading for work by this time in the morning. Now would be a bad time to get caught waving a gun.
And anyway, that method hadn’t exactly gone well for me last night.
I had to talk to him. But I didn’t dare phone him. Damn unsecured phone lines. I had to go up there.
Okay
. Just stay calm. Stay smart.
I stuffed my gun into my holster and pulled my sweatshirt down over it before getting out of the car and forcing my quivering legs to stroll into the building. Climbing the stairs, I twisted my stiff lips into a smile to return the cheerful ‘good morning’ from a woman shepherding two small children. Thank God I hadn’t come charging in here like Rambo on uppers.
I tapped on Doytchevsky’s door before standing back, both empty hands held at shoulder height where he could see them easily through the fisheye lens.
My heart thundered as though I’d run all the way from the farm.
“What do you want?” Doytchevsky’s voice was muffled by the closed door.
“I just want to talk.” I hoisted my trembling hands a little higher.
The door swung open on an empty room.
Shit, he must be standing behind the door. I walked in slowly. No sudden moves. Stay calm and Lola would be fine.
The door clicked closed as I began to turn.
A small, flat report.
The floor rushed up to meet me.
I woke lying on Doytchevsky’s bed, my throbbing arms pinned behind my back again. All the terror of the previous night rushed back and I twisted frantically against the knife-like pain of another nylon tie around my wrists. He had tied my ankles together, too. I jerked and thrashed, the bed thumping against the wall.
“Lie still!”
An open-handed slap caught me across the temple, and I lunged toward Doytchevsky as he leaned over me. My teeth snapped together a fraction of an inch away from his leg.
“Bitch!”
His fingers dug into my shoulders as he flung me back. A moment later, he ground his knee into the centre of my chest, agony stopping my lungs.
He leaned closer, breathing heavily through his teeth. “You stupid bitch!”
I drew the shallowest of breaths under his weight, my heart pounding as though it would explode. “Fuck… you… dickhead...” The words ghosted out of my mouth.
He grabbed my throat, iron fingers crushing the bruises from the previous night, his face snarling inches from mine. “I should kill you right now!”
I slipped into that state beyond fear.
Christ, that hurt. Grabbed me in the same damn place.
Don’t. Pass. Out.
A shallow inhalation, pain blasting through my ribs. “You… need… me...”
Another wisp of breath. “Asshole…”
A sharp backhand snapped my head sideways, but at least he let go of my throat. The star-spangled blackness cleared from my vision in time to see his lips twist in a sneer.
“Stupid bitch. Do you like pain? I’ll oblige.”
He rocked forward, grinning when the last of the air crushed out of my lungs in a squeak of agony.
His hateful face receded into a slowly darkening tunnel.
I had been wrong. He was going to kill me after all. Should have called Stemp. Or Arnie.
Kane.
Anybody…
My mind floated hazily up to the ceiling, the pounding of my heart deafening me. Too late.
My lungs strained for air that wouldn’t come.
Too late…
Then I was breathing again, sucking in sobbing gasps of air that burned like liquid fire.
Doytchevsky scowled down from beside the bed, my waist pouch dangling from his hand. “Now I want you to listen very closely. I’ve placed a bug in your…” He eyed the pouch with distaste. “…purse. I’m talking about a listening device and not an insect, in case you’re too stupid to know that.”
I wheezed in another breath. “Fuck you.”
“Shut up!” He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back and shoving his face close to mine. “Your little granny is in a secure place. There’s a bomb under her chair. The bomb is connected to a detonator wired to a cellular phone. If I dial that phone number, the circuit will complete and the bomb will explode. And that will be the end of your little friend.”
He threw me back and pulled a phone out of his pocket, poising a finger over one of the buttons. “I have it on speed dial. Would you care to provoke me some more?”
Terror froze me.
He smiled. “That’s better. I was expecting you this morning, but I had hoped you’d be reasonable. This whole melodrama was really quite unnecessary. Now, as I was saying about the bug. You will carry it all day. If you say anything ill-advised...” He shrugged. “Boom. Also, if the bug goes off-line, or if for some reason I can’t hear what you’re saying, or if you don’t follow my instructions down to the last detail, I’ll push the button and blow her to bits. Are we clear?”
The pain in my chest wasn’t just from bruises. “Clear,” I whispered.
“Good. When you leave here, you will go to Sirius and act as if nothing happened. When you’re finished there, you’ll leave your cell phone in your desk drawer, get in your car, and drive to Calgary without communicating with anyone. You’ll go directly to the address I gave you, and you will drive around to the loading bay. You will wait there until the door opens, and then you will drive in. You will stay in your car with both hands on the steering wheel until I give you further instructions. If anyone approaches you in the mean time, get rid of them. If I think you’ve set me up, or if I feel threatened in any way, I’ll detonate the bomb.”
His eyes gleamed with triumph. “And don’t think you’re going to pull any cute moves like slipping a note to somebody. I’ve hacked every surveillance system inside Sirius. I’ll have eyes on you at all times.”
He reached into his pocket and tossed a key onto the bed beside me. “Lock up when you leave and push the key under the door. And don’t mess up my apartment. That would annoy me.”
The report of the trank gun was the last thing I heard.
I woke crumpled awkwardly on the bed, my wrists and ankles free but my arms still crushed by my own weight. A moan leaked out between my teeth as I hauled the deadened limbs out from under me. Pins and needles seared my arms while my entire upper body throbbed with bone-deep pain.
Holding fast to self-control, I pushed my emotions away and breathed slowly for a few moments, fighting the jerky breaths that wanted to become sobs.
Crush the fear. Reach for anger.
“You fucking prick.” I spoke aloud for the benefit of the bug, my voice scouring my aching throat. “At least when I tranked you I laid you out comfortably and put some blankets on you. Dickhead.”
I clenched my teeth on the urge to shower him with more abuse. Now wasn’t the time. I patted my numb hands against the bed, trying to encourage more circulation into them despite the pain.
Think.
Lola would be safe as long as I cooperated. I held tightly to that knowledge while my mind swooped in dizzying arcs, unable to find a solid perch.
My fault. I had called his bluff on the rape and torture, so he’d switched to something he knew I’d believe.
Why the hell hadn’t I told Stemp yesterday about the address change for the meeting? Oh, yeah, because I’d had all that spare time.
What if I had gone to Stemp this morning instead? But the outcome would have been the same. Doytchevsky would still have Lola. Stemp would still refuse to intervene. He’d just tell me to carry on with my mission as planned.
Stop rambling. Concentrate.
I fought the residual confusion of the tranquilizer. I had to find a way to transmit the new address to Stemp today. If I couldn’t…
Well, who the hell cared? It wasn’t like I owed Sherman anything. Tammy’s memories wrenched a shudder out of me. So Doytchevsky killed him, so what? No loss.
My only responsibility was to get the wireless network generator from Sherman. That shouldn’t be a problem. Doytchevsky hadn’t shown any interest in obtaining it for himself.
I hauled myself slowly upright, ignoring the vertigo that whirled the room momentarily. Breathe through the pain. Just relax into it. Don’t tense up. My muscles quivered on the edge of spasm.
&
nbsp; I twisted carefully. Right, then left. A loud pop from my back administered an electric shock of pain followed by blessed relief, and I drew a deeper breath.
Bearable now.
I leaned over and spat on Doytchevsky’s pillowcase. Leaving rusty stains on the white cotton, I cleaned the blood off my wrists before turning the pillow over to hide the mess.
So I have a passive-aggressive streak. So sue me. Asshole.
I dragged myself up off the bed and staggered into his bathroom to clean the shallow wounds properly. A quick survey in the mirror assured me he’d considerately avoided leaving any marks on my face, and I adjusted the turtleneck I’d selected in the morning to hide the livid bruises on my throat. The long sleeves would hide the new damage on my wrists as long as I didn’t reach for anything.
Fine.
I left, locking up behind me and sliding his key under the door as he’d instructed.
Wrapping the protection of numbness around myself once again, I strode into my office and wished Spider and Jack a convincingly cheerful ‘good morning’. Doytchevsky offered me a sardonic smile, which I didn’t acknowledge.
You can’t break me, you piece of shit.
I was just sinking onto the small sofa trying to look as though my body wasn’t a glowing knot of pain when Stemp stuck his head in the door.
“Kelly, our analysts have identified some important communications that need to be decrypted. Those will be your top priority this morning. Webb has obtained floor plans of the Knights’ office, and he’ll give you those along with the access codes and a dossier on Sherman. I’ve requisitioned a trank gun and nylon restraints so you can apprehend him. Report to my office at noon for briefing.”
He paused only long enough to receive my nod before vanishing down the hall.
“Oh.” Jack looked relieved. “I guess you won’t need me today. That’s good. I’ve been neglecting my own research lately, and I was going to be away this afternoon anyway. I’m meeting with Brendan’s teacher.”
I feigned warm interest. “How does he like kindergarten?”
A Spy For a Spy Page 25