by Zoe Chant
It looked like she was going to find out now.
“We found one of his hideouts.” Mr. Elson dropped two slips of paper into her file. One had an address in New York City, and another had a plane ticket to New York made out to her fake name.
Her gaze once again strayed to the photo. Those dark eyes were so haunting. So haunted. They made her wonder if he ever smiled, and what he’d look like if he did.
She smiled at Mr. Elson as she closed the file. “He’s all mine.”
Fiona spent the entire plane ride to New York City wondering about her mystery man. Was he really a rogue agent? That could explain why he’d sworn her to secrecy, why he’d refused to let her take him to a doctor, and why he’d fled. Or was that a cover story to conceal the fact that he was still working for the government, maybe in black ops? That would also explain his behavior.
Either way, she was relieved to know that he was alive and well, or at least well enough to fight. He’d looked pale and thin and weary before he’d been shot, and had disappeared without even letting her bandage his wound. She’d been so worried that he might have collapsed somewhere in the vicinity that she’d returned later and prowled all over it as a snow leopard, but had found no trace of him.
If he is a government agent, I’ll tell him everything, Fiona thought. Maybe he can help me with my mission and I can help him with his. And if he still looks that bad, I’ll see if I can have a word with his handler about making him take a long vacation once he’s done with this job.
If he’s a rogue...
That would be a much more complicated situation. When she’d thought he was just another criminal, she’d meant to go ahead and try to recruit him, exactly like Mr. Elson wanted, in the interests of keeping up her cover. But that was before she’d known he was the man who’d saved her life. Now that she did know, she couldn’t bring herself to lure him into Mr. Elson’s criminal organization—and she doubted very much that he’d be interested.
Maybe she could tell him the truth. But if he was willing to go along and pretend to be recruited, she’d be putting him in danger. And if he wasn’t, her entire mission could end then and there.
I guess I play it by ear, she decided.
Trust your instinct, agreed her snow leopard.
But she wasn’t going to just walk up and wing it. All else aside, she was desperately curious about him. Who was he?
His hideout turned out to be in a neighborhood that looked like the set of a zombie movie. Minus the zombies.
So far, anyway, Fiona thought, glancing into a deserted, trash-lined alley. But it wouldn’t have surprised her if one had suddenly staggered out, maybe from behind the rusting dumpster.
It was a good location for a hideout. With streets this empty, literally anyone approaching would be noticed. So instead of trying to sneak up, which was clearly impossible, she clutched her purse in one hand and her cell phone in the other as she hurried along the sidewalk, casting nervous glances over her shoulder every few seconds. There. Now she was a lost tourist looking for a safe place to call a taxi and get the hell out of there.
She passed the hideout, a seemingly abandoned building, then ducked into the shadows of a dead-end alley. If he was home and watching, he’d lose sight of her there, but believe that she couldn’t leave without him noticing. The only way out was back the way she came or else over a concrete wall far too high and smooth for anyone to jump or climb over.
Anyone human, that was.
Fiona took off her black ballet slippers and popped them into her purse. Then she stripped off her pants, blouse, bra, and panties, folded them into a tight square of cloth, and sent them to join the slippers. They were all thin silk, which she’d bought on purpose because it compressed well.
She shivered briefly, standing naked and barefoot in the cold night air. Then she summoned her snow leopard.
To leap and pounce...
To hunt in the snow...
To be one with the night...
Her chill vanished. She was warm and comfortable in her coat of black-dappled white. Her senses sharpened, allowing her to scent the air. Trash, more trash, spilled beer, gasoline, the musty smell of pigeons, and the sharper odor of rats. But the only human scents were faint and faded. Her target wasn’t home.
All the same, she meant to be careful. She bent down and daintily gripped her purse strap between her sharp teeth. Then she crouched, tensing her powerful haunches, and leaped high into the air. She easily cleared the wall and landed lightly on the sidewalk, her purse swinging from her jaws.
And there was the back of his hideout, with the windows boarded up and a fire escape leading to the roof. Fiona leaped on to the fire escape, then padded up to the roof. She nosed the door to the staircase. It was locked.
She set down the purse, shifted back into a woman, put her clothes back on, and took out a set of lock picks. It was open in under three minutes. Now the hideout was all hers.
If she’d still been a leopard, she would have purred. As a human, she permitted herself a small grin.
Fiona moved soundlessly down the dark stairwell, all her senses alert. If he had been careless enough to leave a laptop here, she’d suck it dry of information. If he’d left any belongings, she’d learn something about him from them. She’d plant some bugs before she vanished as stealthily as she’d come. Then she’d observe him at her leisure.
At the bottom of the stairwell, she blinked until her eyes adjusted enough to see by the moonlight filtering through the few unboarded windows. She was in an abandoned warehouse cluttered with empty crates and the hulks of rusted machinery. Then she spotted a mattress in one corner, and a duffel bag beside it. Fiona hurried toward it.
A hand clamped over her mouth, and a strong arm clasped her against a man’s chest.
A voice began to speak in her ear. “Who—”
Fiona didn’t give him the chance to finish the sentence. Her heart was pounding with shock, but she reacted instantly, kicking backward to knock her attacker’s feet out from under him.
Her foot met empty air as the man holding her shifted his weight, avoiding her attack.
He’s fast.
But his grip loosened. Fiona dropped down, slithering out of his grasp and diving away.
She rolled, then immediately leaped to her feet. The man before her stood in a slight crouch, like a cat ready to pounce.
Even in the dim light, she knew him immediately. The moonlight transformed him into a black-and-white image like the one in the photo: black pants and shirt, white skin, black hair falling across his forehead and casting a shadow that made his eyes vanish into darkness. But he moved with a grace that no photograph could capture, as beautiful and deadly as a leopard in the jungle.
When she’d met him a month ago, she’d thought he looked too thin. He’d lost more weight since then, and the lines in his face were deeper. He moved his head slightly to get a better look at her, and the moonlight illuminated his eyes. She’d seen them before, but they were still startling. They were wells of darkness, and not just because of their color. Something about them made her think that he’d seen things no one should ever see.
He looks like he’s been through hell, she thought.
He has, hissed her snow leopard. You need to help him.
Fiona had no idea how her snow leopard knew what he’d been through, since Fiona sure didn’t. She pitched her voice low and calming as she said, “I won’t hurt you. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried.” He also spoke calmly—no, flatly. The total lack of emotion in his voice was unnerving. She couldn’t even tell if he recognized her. “What are you doing here?”
Fiona was rarely caught off guard, but she hadn’t prepared anything to say for what to do if he’d caught her breaking into his home when she still didn’t know anything about him. Finally, floundering, she asked, “Do you remember me?”
His expression didn’t shift. “Of course.”
She had no idea what to say, but she had to
say something. Hoping it would come to her before she had to finish the sentence, she began, “Well...”
A flash of light moved across the floor.
It was the kind of reflection that would shine off the barrel of a rifle.
Fiona instinctively lunged to shield him. At the same instant, he dove toward her. They collided hard and painfully, knocking each other down.
As they fell, the crack of a gun sounded, and the window they’d been standing by shattered. Glass tinkled to the floor. A split second later, another gunshot blew a tiny crater in the concrete floor, two inches from Fiona’s face.
They grabbed each other and rolled together. Their combined strength sent them into the opposite wall. More shots were fired, thudding into the walls and ricocheting off the floor, as they scrambled into the safety of the stairwell.
They bolted up the stairs together. With the strange attention to detail that sometimes comes with an adrenaline rush, Fiona was very conscious that they had somehow ended up holding hands. He had a strong grip, and with his longer legs, he was practically hauling her up the stairs, even though she could run faster than most men.
“The shots were coming from the west,” she gasped. “We could get down the fire escape—it’s on the other side.”
“Maybe we’re meant to think that,” he replied, his voice harsh and ragged. “Maybe there’s a second sniper.”
They stopped at the door that led to the roof. It was pitch black. Fiona couldn’t see him at all. She couldn’t even see her own hands.
“Is there another way out?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He was standing so close that she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. “I have a rope hidden up there. We could cross our fingers we’re not surrounded on all sides and climb down.”
“If you have a cell phone hidden too, I could call for backup,” Fiona suggested. She’d lost her purse in the warehouse. “Or the police...?”
“Tell you what. You stay here. I’ll climb down. If I don’t get shot on the way down, I’ll make the call, then run. If I do...” He shrugged. “Well, they weren’t shooting at you. You were just in the way. And you never saw their faces, so you’re not a witness. I think if you waited a bit, they’d go away and you could leave safely.”
Do not let him go into danger alone, hissed her snow leopard. You must protect him!
I’m on it, Fiona replied silently. She’d felt an instinctive horror at his lack of concern for himself.
“I don’t know about that,” she retorted. “Don’t be so sure they’re after you. They could just as easily be after me.”
There was a brief silence. Then he said, “Really?”
“Really. I have enemies too. And if we stand here talking much longer, someone will come inside to finish the job. If rope is what we have, we’d better start climbing.”
Another silence. Then, with what sounded like reluctance, he said, “All right. But stay here till I get it set up.”
He opened the door, letting in a flood of moonlight, then flattened himself down and swiftly belly-crawled across the roof. She saw him pry something up, then reach down and remove a backpack. He wriggled to the edge of the roof, took a coil of rope from the backpack and tied it around a sturdy pipe, then turned back and beckoned to her.
Fiona crawled to him. “Ready?”
“I was about to ask you that.” He tossed the rope over. “I’ll go first. Don’t start climbing till I’m all the way down.”
“In case you get shot?”
He shrugged. “My rope, my rules.”
She bit her lip, hating the thought of it. “Got another gun in there? I could cover you.”
“Oh, sure.” He opened the backpack again and handed her a pistol in a shoulder holster, then slung the backpack over his shoulders and took hold of the rope.
Don’t let him get away, her snow leopard urged her.
“Wait!” Fiona grabbed his wrist. “One more thing. Don’t run off on me.”
His eyes flickered, but she couldn’t read his expression.
She searched for something he’d find persuasive. It was so hard when she knew so little about him, not even his name. But he’d risked his life to save hers when they’d first met, and jumped to shield her when the shooting had started. Whether he wanted to help her specifically or whether he was just the protective type, she didn’t know. But either way, she could use those instincts to keep him by her side.
“I need your help,” she said. Making sure he could hear the truth of her words, she said, “If you disappear on me now, I’ll be on my own. I could get killed.”
“If you need me, I’m not going anywhere,” he replied instantly.
I knew it, Fiona thought. He’ll stay with me if he thinks he needs to protect me. And that gives me the perfect excuse to stay with him so I can protect him.
As soon as she had that thought, she wondered about it. Why was she so set on protecting him?
Well, he had saved her life. Twice. She owed him. That was all.
“If I get down, I’ll cover you,” he said.
“If?” Fiona echoed. “I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent shot. You will get down.”
“That’s true, you are. I remember from the last time we met. You fired three times fast with an unfamiliar gun and made all three shots.” His comment seemed sincere, but he didn’t seem reassured by his own belief that she could cover him. Nor did he sound worried. He spoke flatly, as if he didn’t care one way or another. Then, without warning, he swung over the edge.
She watched intently, searching for any telltale movement or glint of light that might be a sniper, but saw nothing. He climbed the rope with catlike agility, and had his feet on the sidewalk within seconds. He drew his gun with a lightning-fast move, then melted into the shadows.
Fiona replaced the pistol in its holster, slung it over her shoulder, and followed him down, hoping he’d just taken cover and hadn’t vanished for real. But when she reached the alley, he stepped out of the shadows and beckoned to her. He quickly led her through a maze of dark and narrow alleys, sometimes scrambling over fences, until she saw the moving lights of a busy street at the end of an intersecting alley.
“Hold on,” she said. “I’m sure we’ve lost them by now. Let’s get a cab to my hotel. I’m staying at the Ritz Carlton.”
He gave her a dubious glance. “The Ritz, as in the most famous hotel in New York City? Not very stealthy.”
“I didn’t check in under my own name,” she said. “And we won’t take the cab right there, just close enough to walk. Like you said, it’s famous. That means it’s got good security. Anything happens there, it’ll be swarming with police within minutes. And if someone got murdered there, it’d be a huge news story. Even if we get tracked there, which we probably won’t, no one will try anything till we leave. It’ll give us some breathing room.”
She could see that he had qualms about the idea, but no real arguments against it.
“Unless you have a better place to go?” she asked.
“No. You’re right, anywhere I’d go would be like the place we just came from. There’d be nothing stopping us from getting ambushed again. Hold on a second. Let’s see if I can get less conspicuous.”
He opened his backpack, took out a tightly folded suit jacket, and buttoned it over his shirt. Fiona turned her back when he pulled out a pair of suit pants and polished shoes.
“I’m done,” he said after a moment of rustling.
She was startled by how different he looked when she turned around. It wasn’t just the clothes. He’d also put on a pair of black-rimmed glasses. As she watched, he slumped a little bit, ruining his perfect posture. He couldn’t completely disguise his striking features or catlike grace, but he now looked much less dangerous: a handsome professional athlete, maybe, rather than a lethal weapon in human form.
And where did he learn to do all that, I wonder? Fiona thought.
She watched, fascinated, as he unzipped some closures on his back
pack and re-zipped them in a different configuration, transforming it into a small duffel bag of the sort a businessman might carry for an overnight trip. She passed over her pistol and holster, which he tucked away in it.
“Did you lose your wallet?” he asked.
“Yeah, but I have my credit card and room card in my pocket,” Fiona replied. “I can cover the cab.”
“I’ll do that,” he said. “I assume you already paid for the room.”
The room. She’d forgotten about that part. If they were staying together, they’d be in the same room; if they wanted to attract the absolute minimum amount of attention, they couldn’t ask to add another bed. That could make people wonder why she hadn’t asked for one when she’d booked the room, and what relationship they had. Whereas if he simply showed up with her, everyone would assume they were a couple on vacation.
Which meant they’d be staying in a room with just one bed.
If Fiona was the blushing type, she’d have blushed. In fact, she did feel a little warm. The thought of sharing a room with him—sharing a bed with him—made a shiver of... something... go up and down her spine. It wasn’t fear; she’d never feared him and certainly didn’t now. Excitement? Anticipation? Not desire, surely. He was a handsome man and he intrigued her, but he was too strange and distant for her to want him that way...
Well, maybe it was desire. Just a little bit. A side effect of the combination of his stunning looks, the fact that he’d repeatedly saved her life, and the lingering traces of her adrenaline rush. A purely instinctive reaction, not something real. She didn’t know him well enough for that. She didn’t even know his name.
She wanted to at least find that out, but if she asked now, he’d probably just give her an alias. Still, she had to call him something if they were going to impersonate a couple.
“What name is on your ID?” she asked.
“Andrew Wright. What’s on yours?”
“Anne Burns.”
“Anne and Andy. What a coincidence. I assume you’re my girlfriend?” He sounded completely unruffled by the idea: not excited, not flustered, not anything but maybe mildly amused.