by Nico Rosso
Mercifully, Albuquerque broke through the seemingly endless desert. Conversation started again as April tracked their progress on her phone and gave directions to the CPA office. The wood-and-stucco building wasn’t too far off from the mental picture James had constructed. He pulled into the parking lot and stopped the car in the last space before the exit.
It was bloody good to move his legs again. He and April walked from the parking lot to the front of the building, where the staircases stretched up to the second floor. Some of the office doors on both levels didn’t have any names on them. Dead quiet. April hung at his side, following his lead but keeping her eyes alert. He saw her tracing different elements of the building, especially where the electrical conduit snaked over and into walls.
“Anything?” he asked under his breath.
She searched. “I... I... Nothing definitive.”
The paint on the building was old, but he couldn’t find any areas that were unusually worn or chipped away. And there were no recent repairs to spots that might indicate retrofitted wiring. Everything seemed tight so far.
He paused at the bottom of the stairs and stood next to her as he continued to scan the building. “Breathe like yoga.”
She drew a long breath through her nose and released it through her mouth. Her body settled after she did it again.
He looked in her eyes, then glanced up to the second floor. She nodded, and the two of them headed up. They headed right at the landing and stopped at the door to the CPA office. Chipped gold letters were painted across the steel: Ashford, Bell & Jones.
Before reaching for the handle, he indicated he wanted April to stand on the other side of the doorway. If someone fired from inside, the bullets would most likely fly in his direction, and he had more experience getting shot at. The anxiety wound her up again. Her shoulders climbed toward her ears. He took a breath as an example. She nodded and followed, loosening up a little.
He grabbed the handle with his left hand, keeping his right free to draw his pistol. It was only recon, but he couldn’t take chances with April so close. She chewed her lower lip. He calmed the buzzing nerves that were growing and tried the handle.
It was locked.
April let out a disappointed sigh and checked her phone. “It’s not even four. I guess they don’t get a lot of walk-in business.”
He checked up and down the catwalk and patted his front breast pocket. “I have picks. We could get in now.” The whole building seemed to have gone home early.
She put a hand on his forearm and spoke under her breath. “We’re not even sure this is the goldmine. What would we say if someone catches us?”
His urge for action had clouded his judgment. She was right. He let the tension drain from his legs and shoulders and promised himself that he wouldn’t be hasty at any point forward on this mission. “You’re right. Thanks.” He moved his arm out from under her hand and patted her on the shoulder. “We’ll get them in the morning.”
She stilled. Had she not thought about what the timeframe he’d laid out really meant?
“That’s right.” Even when they weren’t directly tracking the hackers, this op was bloody complicated. “We’re spending the night.”
Chapter Four
Maybe she should’ve gone to the safe house. All her reasons for needing to be personally on the hunt for the hackers were real. Pride and stubbornness and the need for revenge hadn’t clouded her judgment. But she hadn’t considered spending a night at a hotel with James. When he’d talked about the mission taking more than one day, she’d vaguely imagined having a cot at a barracks or another impersonal space. Nothing like the richly appointed Valdez Hotel.
James did the talking at the broad, marble-topped front desk. Ornately carved dark wood accented the space, in contrast to the modern adobe look to the lobby. Lively conversation poured out of the bar/restaurant in one corner and echoed against the tile floors of the new hotel.
“Simon Pandya.” James spelled the last name for the woman behind the desk, then handed a credit card over. “Two queen beds, if you have.” His accent smoothed out, higher class.
“Let’s see what we have.” The woman typed and watched her computer screen. April had wanted to book a room via the internet and not have to deal with any face to face, but James didn’t trust any online security. It was a good point. And her concerns of human contact making them easier to track were calmed when James took on this Simon persona to check them in.
Nothing else in her was calm. She kept reminding herself to breathe slow, but the nerves always came back like steady ocean waves. She was in over her head. James was an SAS spy guy with a gun and lock picks, and she was just stumbling her way forward, trying to fix something that might be broken beyond repair.
The woman looked up from her computer and glanced between “Simon” and April, who remained quiet. She imagined this woman had seen it all in the hotel business. April smiled back at her. Nothing shocking going on here. Just a webmaster and a special forces soldier who met at a parking lot fight this morning and are now chasing the hackers who sent the hit men and may or may not even be in the country.
“We do have a room.” The woman fixed her polite gaze on James. “How many nights?”
“One.” His deep voice spread the word out like satin sheets under a full moon. Rare, excited tingling ran up her legs. Or maybe she was imagining his long hands up her bare skin. Her knees weakened and she leaned as casually as she could against the front desk for support.
Her nerves were fried from running so hot and cold with James. He was there to protect her, but that meant he’d been watching her without her knowledge. His care was never in doubt, and he didn’t talk down to her. They almost felt like partners on the hunt. The power balance was in his favor, though. He was armed, capable of violence. That was his world. Separate from hers.
She gathered her legs when the woman handed James the room key. He held his shopping bag of clothes and rolled April’s bag, and she carried her computer case to the elevator where they waited. The polished brass doors reflected them back. Him tall and lean, rugged in his jacket and close beard. She was shorter, her body undefined in her coat. At least her boots looked cool. She tried to detect any signs of his gun or other weapons, but he was perfectly stealth.
The elevator was taking a long time for five floors. “It’s like we’re having an affair, Simon.”
He turned to her, but she kept her eyes on the reflection. “Simon’s a perfect gentleman.”
“But you’re not Simon.”
He looked back at the doors. “James is a...” No definition.
“At least you took me someplace nice.”
The elevator finally arrived, and they went to their room on the third floor. James put their bags down and immediately went to the window. The sun had set. The lights of the city blinked in the cold night until he blocked them out with the curtains. He stood at the edge and peered down, his stance ready.
She closed herself in the bathroom, took care of her needs and splashed cold water on her face. Hunger for dinner started to gnaw into her. What had her plan been for tonight? A simple fish dish and vegetables. TV, then tracking whatever leads she could find on the computer. All that was behind the locked front door of her house, hundreds of miles away. Plans and routines were gone, and with them safety and comfort. She already didn’t recognize herself in the mirror.
Her eyes had to adjust to darkness after exiting the bathroom. Nervous fear swept along her limbs. She was alone with James in the shadows. Had he seen her secret thoughts about him? Was this his move? But when she was able to see, she spotted him sitting in an armchair near the window, face focused on his phone as he typed.
Relief grounded her. And an edge of disappointment lingered, where her body was still curious about how he might feel next to her, arm wrapped around
her, mouth on the side of her neck. But no. Not at all. That wasn’t him, and that wasn’t her. Not after all this time. Not after Mark.
She cleared her throat. “I thought we weren’t supposed to contact anyone.”
He didn’t look up. “This is a secure connection to my people. I’m updating them.”
“How secure?” She navigated around the shadowy furniture toward him.
His eyes glittered in the dim light. “I’m sure I couldn’t explain it well enough for you. But the tech people know their business.” He returned to his phone. “Besides, I’m not the one the bad guys know about.”
“That’s reassuring.” She sat on the foot of the bed farthest from him. “My friends online, they’re going to be worried about me. We look out for each other.” Her phone was in her purse, close by.
He completed his task and put his phone down. “In a few days, you’ll show back up and tell them all you got swept off to an exotic locale by a mysterious Brit, Simon.”
“They won’t believe it.” Neither did she. “They know me too well.”
He stood. “Would they believe you were here now?”
“Not at all.”
“But you are.” There it was again, that low, seductive voice. Warmth tumbled up and over her shoulders. Like he was draping a fur coat on her back. Was he doing it on purpose? Or was it his attempt to comfort her?
“I feel like the wheels will come off if I think about it too long.” Her determination waned, and she considered having him take her back to the safe house.
“Then keep moving forward.” He strode toward the door. “To dinner.”
The wake of his energy caught her up, and she followed him out of the room. The elevator arrived quickly this time. She took advantage of the last bit of privacy they’d have before they hit the lobby. “You’re getting the room, I’ll pay for dinner.”
He brushed her comment away with his hand. “Simon’s taking care of everything.” His accent returned to the usual lower British. “And you’re not leaving a trace.”
It wasn’t worth arguing against that point. “So what does Simon do for a living?” She jumped in before he could answer. “I’ll guess, antiquities dealer.”
His chuckle sounded like pouring whiskey. “Custom stereos and infotainment systems for the discerning motorist.”
“High-end.”
He adjusted his jacket crisply. “Very.”
“And I am?” She didn’t know anymore.
“What do you want to be?”
The elevator arrived on the ground floor, forcing her to think fast. “Reclusive and mysterious modern artist.”
“So you’re slumming.” The doors opened, and he held his arm out for her. She curled a hand around it and felt how incredibly strong he was, even in this calm moment. He took her with him out of the elevator and into the lobby. They navigated toward the social sounds coming from the hotel restaurant. “I hope you don’t mind eating local.” His gaze swept over the space and he whispered, “It allows us to control the environment.”
“The food smells good to me.” The aromas of bright spices and charred meats drew her closer.
They reached the hostess, and James held up two fingers. The woman immediately swept them into the restaurant, past the busy bar and to a secluded table in a corner. Two large potted palms added to the privacy. Perfect for a liaison.
Which this definitely wasn’t. She took a deep breath to erase the thought from her mind and scatter the growing heat on her neck and down between her breasts. But seeing James standing by his chair in the moody light only pushed the flush higher onto her cheeks. He waited to sit before settling in across from her. The hostess handed them menus and drifted away.
The shadows seemed to gather like a shell around them. The dark wood and light adobe details of the restaurant beyond their table faded. Golden Edison bulbs dripped small pools of light. One was close enough to illuminate James’s diligent eyes, assessing the space, watching any person who walked by.
She distracted herself with the southwestern food on the menu and became so engrossed that James had to repeat what the waiter had asked. “Would you like something to drink?”
It took a moment to come back to reality; even then, she didn’t know which one was currently in operation. “I... Um... What’re you having?”
He answered patiently, “Sparkling water.”
“I’ll have the same.” The waiter almost left, but she held up a hand. “With lime?”
He nodded and departed. She tried to gather herself. “What else did I miss?”
James peered past her. “Couple of blokes are two pints past any good decisions. A woman with another group is taking pictures of them and posting to social media. No trouble for us.”
The sounds from the bar confirmed what he said, allowing her to picture it all without turning around. “The food looks good.”
He flipped through his menu. “It does. I’m still learning what all this means. My business partner’s from Texas, so I’ve got a good instructor.”
“The man with red hair.” The only detail she remembered from the parking lot. Which, unbelievably, was that morning.
“Raker.” He nodded.
She locked the name in her memory, along with Corporal James Sant, SAS. All the other Automatik details were meager. But James became more and more complete before her eyes. “I imagine you don’t cook much with a job like yours.”
He sat up straighter. “High-end automotive infotainment?”
She winced inwardly and reminded herself not to get too comfortable in their corner of the restaurant. “Those clients must be very demanding.”
“They are.” He smiled at her with their secret.
It hit her in the chest, a tight ache around her heart. The sensation was almost painful, like dead nerves coming back to life. Her body wanted so much for this to be real, but she knew the intimacy was a trick of being thrown together with James in the crucible of this crazy mission. Guilt thickened through her and crushed the storm in her chest. She wouldn’t allow herself to entertain any of these thoughts, even as a private thrill.
“Do you cook?” he asked, still peering at her. “Or is it only takeaway when you’re working on your sculptures of gigantic bird feet?”
They waiter returned with their water and poured for them before taking their orders. After he left, she picked up on the conversation. “It’s always very simple now. I used to be more...experimental.” The guilt hardened to concrete as she remembered trying different recipes she’d found online with Mark when he’d been home from deployment. He was always game and never complained if they didn’t turn out exactly the way they looked in the pictures.
James studied her and frowned. “I bolloxed that. I’m sorry if I...”
“I know you didn’t mean to...” Neither could put words to her past.
They stewed in awkward silence until he lifted his glass of water. “Cheers, then.”
“Cheers.” She clinked against him and drank. The cool water and bright bubbles lifted some of her gloom.
“If you’re ever in San Diego, I have friends who run a Russian/Mexican restaurant.” He placed his glass down noiselessly. “I haven’t been there, but I hear it’s excellent.”
“I’ll put it on my list.” For a long time after Mark’s death, planning ahead had been impossible. She’d lived moment to moment, getting by. Creating the website and meeting the women on the forum had changed that. But now, with all she’d built in doubt, it was hard to look into any future.
James didn’t let her sink too deep into her thoughts. “Where else is on the list?”
“I’d like to see more of California. I hear the coast up north is dramatic.” She dug deeper into the quiet hopes and inspirations she’d kept hidden. “Florence. Barcelona. Marrakech.”
“Been to all three.” But he didn’t light up with the memories.
“How was the food?” Always the best way to dive into a new culture.
“Don’t remember.” His long fingers scratched absently along his jaw through his beard. “I was working.”
“So a client doesn’t always bring their car to you.” She imagined him blending in to any environment he walked into. “You go to them.”
“At this level of service, I’ll go just about anywhere.” He smiled, but it was only on the surface. Was he hiding something, or just weary from running around the world, protecting the innocent?
“If you ever want to give up some of your frequent flyer miles, I’ll take them.” The bottom dropped out of her stomach with the thought of getting on a plane. Leaving El Paso in a car today had been difficult enough.
“I’m sure you’d put them to good use.” His smile grew warmer. “Find inspiration for your sculptures.”
“So far,” she improvised, “all the giant bird feet have been white. I want to experiment with color.”
“I can’t wait to see your next evolution.” Was that genuine warmth in his eyes as he looked at her? He was too skilled at this game of masks. She didn’t want to let herself bask in the admiration, yet her pulse kicked a beat faster.
Their food arrived, making her realize just how hungry she was. James began eating, but she hesitated, the fork awkward in her hand. She switched to a different grip, but that didn’t feel natural either. The normal process of feeding herself seemed very foreign. Was it the robust spices wafting up from the plate, stronger than the seasonings she used for herself? Or was it the fact that it wasn’t just her at the table? James, a man, sat opposite her, outlined in amber light and dark where the shadows gathered.
“Is the food alright?” He leaned away from the table, ready to flag down the waiter.
“It looks great.” She relearned how to use a fork and gathered roasted corn salad onto it. “I’m used to eating alone.” She whispered it and wondered if he’d even heard.