“Look, I’m so sorry, we shouldn’t have done this,” she said hastily, swallowing her pride and her dignity to maintain the ridiculous cover story Ryan had created for them. She was going to kill him with a dull, blunt weapon, something that would really, really hurt. “We should go.”
She started to walk toward the door, her head lowered. She tried to keep her breathing low, relaxed, although her heart tripped double-time in her chest. Adrenaline coursed through her body, her muscles tense—were Jeffrey and Margie the Maxwells? Would they see through their lies? Would she get a bullet in the back?
“Hey, why don’t you stay for a while?” Jeffrey offered nonchalantly. Vicky’s stomach muscles clenched like a corkscrew trapped in a cork.
“Jeffrey!” Margie protested.
“Come on, Margie, I’m sure we could have an interesting time.”
Margie paused, and gave them both a considering look. Oh, heck. Are they swingers?
“Oh, no, we couldn’t,” Ryan said smoothly.
Vicky shook her head. Hell, no. “Uh, no, embarrassment is a mood killer. Maybe next time.”
Next time? Uh-uh. She’d fess up to the real reason for their presence before there was a next time. She eyed Ryan as they left the cabin, apologizing profusely as they did so. He’d seemed quite comfortable with that particular excuse. Equally comfortable with proving it. It made her wonder—what else was Ryan prepared to do for a case? What had he done in the past, for the benefit of maintaining a cover?
Light from the cabin doorway spilled out, illuminating their path toward the woods. Snow crunched underfoot, and she just wished the light would wink out. But no. She didn’t look back, but she could feel Jeffrey and Margie’s eyes on them as they trudged away through the snow. Ryan caught her hand, and she squeezed it as they walked, listening for the shout that would call them back, expose them—maybe the crack of a gun, or the low whistling sound of a knife flying to her back in the darkness. Her breath gusted in front of her, hot and panicky in the cold air of the night.
As though sensing her rising panic, Ryan swung her hand a little, and his strong grip grounded her, settled her, just a little. They probably looked like a couple of teens, slinking off into the darkness after being caught in a hot make-out session. And it had been hot.
They eventually made it to the woods, and the light narrowed until it winked out completely. They’d closed the door.
“Oh, thank God,” Vicky said, her relief dousing the hot panic.
“Relax, Vic.”
“I’m trying to,” she muttered, and nearly tripped over a root in the darkness. Ryan caught her, his gloved hands warm bands on her upper arms, before he dropped them. He chuckled.
“I don’t know who’s reaction was funnier, yours or theirs,” he said as he resumed walking through the underbrush.
Her eyes narrowed as she fell into step behind him. “I can’t believe you said I like sex in public places. I’m going to get you back for that.” And her revenge would be wickedly delicious. When she finally figured it out. At the moment her brain was confused as to whether it should be relieved, panicked, or horny, after that little episode in the cabin.
Ryan shot a look over his shoulder. “You think telling them I like dressing in skirts isn’t revenge?”
Okay, horny it is. Visions of Ryan in a leather-pleated skirt, all muscular thighs and calves, preferably bare-chested, exploded in her mind. She tried to summon some anger to cover up her arousal.
“Of all things you could come up with, you came up with that? How am I supposed to act around them tomorrow?”
Ryan stopped and turned to face her, frowning. “What’s the problem?”
Vicky gaped. “What’s the problem? Those two, who could be our killers, by the way, think I’m up for any kind of sexual adventure now, thanks to you. Even if they’re not our killers, it’s embarrassing to have to face them again after that.”
Ryan’s hands rose to his hips, and he shifted the bulk of his weight on to one leg. “Firstly, they think Cassie Winthrop is up for anything in the sack, not Vicky Hastings. Secondly, after seeing that stuff in that drawer, what do you think would be more believable to that couple? ‘Oh, sorry, we thought this was our cabin’? Or something that they could possibly relate to, find believable—like sex games?”
Vicky mimicked his stance. “Would you have stayed there?”
Ryan’s mouth snapped shut, and he blinked. “What?”
“Would you have taken them up on their invitation? You seemed to adopt that role so easily, I just wondered where you would draw the line? Are you prepared to sleep with the enemy?” She thought of all those cases he’d worked on, all of those bedroom situations he could have found himself in.
He shook his head, a smile of disbelief crossing his face that looked more like a grimace of pain. He took a moment before responding, advancing on her. “See, this is why you shouldn’t be in the field.”
She gasped, shock and hurt blasting through her at his words.
He gestured back to the cabin, now hidden behind the copse of trees. “You have to distance yourself when you’re on a case. I’m not here as Ryan Brennan, your friend. I’m here undercover to find two killers. You do what you have to do, to get the job done. The question is, were you prepared to go through with the lie? Were you prepared to do whatever it took to perpetuate your cover? To keep the mission on track? Sometimes in this job you deal with muck. You deal with dogs. And sometimes you have to lie down with them. You can’t afford to be precious about that, Vic.”
“Careful, Ryan. Lying down with dogs, you’re bound to pick up some fleas.” The pained words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and his lips tightened, as though he was biting back a sharp retort.
He nodded. “You’re right, Vic. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but I do them for good reasons. Remember the splash cash in the Philippines? Taking down that drug cartel in the Philippines also destroyed a human trafficking ring. I do this to save people, but the work is dirty. You either suck it up, Buttercup, and get on with it, or you get out.”
He lowered his hands and started walking, his shoulders an angry straight line against the mottled gloomy background of the snow-covered forest.
Vicky sucked in a shuddering breath as she watched him melt away into the darkness. She blinked back tears. She’d had no idea, and she didn’t know what to do. She thought she knew what he did, what the other MSA guys did. Hell, she’d told enough lies in her old job, but saying you carried a sales proposal when you were, in fact, carrying specs on top secret weaponry components just wasn’t the same. She’d always been convincing enough, had never really had a cover thoroughly scrutinized in those brief pauses at customs, or by curious security. How far would she be prepared to go to protect her cover? Her jaw ached, and she realized she was clenching her teeth. She thought she knew what her guys did. She was the one who gave them everything they needed to get the job done, right? From her ivory tower in Chicago.
She’d had no idea. Oh, sure, she knew he was no angel. Not celibate, either. Still, he’d given no indication of the price he paid to do his job. No complaints. No excuses.
And he didn’t think she had the guts to do the dirty work. That hurt. It angered her. More so because he might be right.
She wanted to run up and hug him. She wanted to run up and hit him. Damn, she didn’t know what she wanted anymore.
She plodded along in the snow, following in his footprints.
* * *
Jade Maxwell held the surgical mask to her face and nodded at the patrol officer sitting in the chair as she entered the hospital room. The man frowned, but relaxed when Jade indicated the hospital ID around her neck and returned to his paper. He didn’t even bother to really check it, just accepted that the homely woman on the badge and Jade were one and the same, part of the nights
hift at Chicago Mercy Hospital.
Pathetic.
She closed the door quietly behind her. Taxpayer’s money at work. It was the middle of the night, admittedly. She’d made her appearance at the games night, had left as soon as she could. Still, it was going to be a push to get back to the resort before anyone noticed her absence. Fortunately, Simon would cover for her.
She walked up to the bed, her scrub booties making soft scuffing noises on the linoleum.
Orla Kruger lay in the bed. Her face was heavily bandaged. Jade was almost sorry about that. She’d lost control. Again. Well, it was the woman’s fault, really. She’d questioned them, criticized her and Simon—as if she had any right to do so. So Jade had lost control.
For a moment, she’d wanted someone else to hate themselves as much as she did, to know the kind of pain she lived, the horror. Simon had finally stopped her. She was taking too long, he’d said. Just finish it. So she had. At least, she thought she had. She was stunned to hear the news that not only had Orla been rescued, but her prognosis for recovery was good.
Jade shifted her gaze past the gauze bandages on Orla’s face. The woman’s chest rose and fell with deep breaths aided by medication. Tubes entered her body, and there was a life-giving, blood-filled drip attached to the back of her hand, the skin pinched by the adhesive tape holding the cannula in place. Jade soothed the wrinkled skin. She felt a reluctant admiration for the woman. She’d survived something she wasn’t supposed to. Orla had fought hard, and if anyone could appreciate a fighting spirit, it was Jade.
Jade knew her own strength, knew what she was capable of. For this woman to withstand her attack, to survive, she had to be nearly as strong as Jade, herself. Still, Jade would triumph. She always did.
“That’s why I’m here,” she whispered.
Chapter Nineteen
Jade pulled the syringe out of the pocket of the white lab coat she’d stolen from the doctors’ lounge. She gazed down at the sleeping patient as she pulled back the plunger.
Orla had put up a good fight. It had taken both her and Simon to subdue her. She hadn’t really wanted to hurt the woman, but she could identify them. She could stop them, and after all these years, after all the crap they’d gone through, the pain of the operations, not to mention the cost, neither she nor Simon were prepared to let a surgeon’s assistant spoil their grand plan. There was too much at stake, too much invested in their plan, and they’d never get another opportunity to do what they had to do. She’d tried to explain it all to the woman, but Orla couldn’t seem to accept the logic.
She eyed the IV. Oddly, she didn’t want to kill Orla Kruger. She was an innocent in all of this. Dr. Kruger could try to argue that position, but in helping them he’d lost all claim to innocence. He was an accomplice, whether he knew it or not. He was helping them achieve their plan. And what he was aiding them in doing was in no way innocent. He was one of them, yet not. He’d started to see them, really see them as they were. He’d seen what was behind their faces. She’d noticed it in the last few consultations: his tremulous smiles, his shaky fingers. You can’t trick a trickster, and he couldn’t fool them. He would tell, and all of their plans, all of their pain would be for naught. Justice wouldn’t be served.
And there was the crux of it. The injustice that was done to them. The others would pay, and they would pay dearly. Orla, though...Orla was collateral damage.
“Karma’s a bitch,” she said softly as she inserted the needle into the port and depressed the plunger. An air bubble. Simple. Quiet. Old school. Painless. After all Orla had suffered, she deserved to die in peace.
And I can give you that peace. Take away that pain. Satisfaction warmed her. She’d taken another life. She had the control. Jade. Satisfaction morphed into a dark pleasure, something she’d almost forgotten, an inky rush.
She removed the needle and placed it in the bin marked for sharps, then returned to Orla’s side. She brushed the hair back from the dying woman’s forehead.
“Your sacrifice is appreciated, Orla. I hope you understand.” And if she didn’t... well, Jade could live with that. She’d had to live with far worse.
She left the room, nodding again to the newspaper-reading cop at the door before scuffing her way to the elevator. She was just entering the lift when the alarm sounded at the nurses’ station. She turned and watched as, down the hall, the police officer dropped his newspaper and rose from his chair.
Her heart pounded with excitement. She’d taken another life, yet the almost euphoric satisfaction didn’t swamp her. It wasn’t as thrilling as the doctor’s death. She couldn’t see the blood slow, the life drain away. She felt a little...removed. Next time she’d do it herself, and not let a pesky little air bubble steal her rush.
The surgical mask hid her satisfied smirk as the doors closed on the rushing nurses, the frazzled police officer.
Pathetic.
* * *
Jade drove the car quietly into the garage, lights off, and coasted along the aisle until she found a vacant spot, and pulled in. Damn, she was tired. It had been a long, long drive. She had an hour or so before she had to paste that smile on her face and deal with the others.
Locking the car, she strode quietly to the door, a satisfied smile on her tired face. Mission accomplished.
She walked to the rear of the main building, and let herself into a door that led directly to the basement. She didn’t turn on the light, choosing her steps carefully until she reached a second door and stepped into the large area. It ran almost the entire length and width of the main building, bare bulbs sporadically lighting areas separated by chain-link fencing. The heating system and generator were in one corner, and the large industrial freezers were located further along, nearer to the entrance that led up to the kitchens. She headed toward the kitchen stairs. She liked this place. Dark, lonely, with heat at one end and ice bracketing the other. Like life, bookended with its own Yin and Yang.
A figure stepped out of the darkness, and Jade’s smile faltered as the maid crossed her arms. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Darn, she couldn’t remember the woman’s name.
“Where have you been?” the woman inquired sweetly.
Jade forced the smile back on to her lips. “I just had to duck down into town for something,” she replied, infusing her tone with warmth and light, and giving nothing away. They both knew nothing was open at this hour in the sleepy town at the bottom of the mountain. It was the darkest time of the night, past midnight but before sunup. And this maid stood in her way.
The maid cocked her head, and the weak light from one of the bare bulbs caught the badge on her chest, along with her expression of suspicion. Jade read the name badge.
Mandy.
“Why are you dressed like that?”
Jade glanced down. She was still wearing the scrubs and lab coat. It had been a mistake not to change immediately, but she’d thought at the time that wearing a doctor’s outfit would work for her, if she was stopped. Chicago was a long drive away. It had worked. It had seemed entirely reasonable for an emergency doctor to stop for fuel in the wee hours of the morning. She hadn’t bargained on this nosey maid, though.
“Oh, I thought tonight was a fancy dress,” she said, laughing.
Mandy’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t fool me, you know.”
Jade lifted her gaze from the blue scrubs, a calm settling over her. “Oh?” She shifted to her right. She stood in front of the freezers. This pesky little maid wasn’t getting the message.
“I know a liar when I see one. All the whispering. The disappearing. The spying. You see, nobody ever notices the maid. But I tell you, this maid notices everything. I know what you’re doing.”
Jade arched an eyebrow as she calmly took a step over to a workbench trolley. A pulley system had been built into the basement ceiling, the bare tracks carving a trail from t
he freezer and up the stairs. The chef and his staff merely had to hook a carcass and lift it onto the track and press a button, and the system hauled it up into the kitchen. There was a similar system to transport the linen from the bins at the bottom of the chute to the laundry area.
“And what is it I’m doing, Mandy?” Jade asked, her tone mild as she turned her back on the woman, obscuring her view of the wheeled workbench—and the meat hook lying on it. She could feel her pulse start to quicken.
“You’re dealing, and it has to stop. I know all of your tricks, I’ve been watching you. And I’m telling you, there’s only room for one of us here at Ultima. Stop it, or I will destroy you,” Mandy vowed.
Jade’s lips lifted in a smile as she grasped the meat hook. Dealing. The stupid woman thought she was dealing. The cretin had the audacity to presume she could stop her. Jade turned to face the maid, hiding her hands behind her back as she stepped closer, a disarming smile on her face. God, this felt so good, feeling the predator inside her awaken.
“You’re right. There is only room for one of us here.” She brought her arm up from behind and swung it down.
Mandy’s eyes widened as the subdued lighting caught the gleam of the meat hook as it descended. She flung her arm in defense, but not fast enough. The wickedly curved end pierced her body, bones breaking, muscle tearing as it entered her chest.
She fell back under the attack, her eyes widened, her mouth open as she screamed, only it came out as a gasping wail.
“No, please!”
“You would have destroyed me,” Jade said in a sing-song voice. “So now I’m destroying you. Ain’t Karma a bitch?” She laughed, her heart racing, exhilaration flooding her veins, her limbs, her very essence.
Jade could feel her features twist as she bore down on the woman, pressing the hook in deeper, dragging it down. This was harder than she’d thought it would be, cleaving through bone and sinew. Mandy stared in horror, trying to push the woman away, to kick. She shook her head, trying to roll away. Jade smiled, her lips curling as she felt the hook slide deeper still. Yes, oh, God, yes!
For Her Eyes Only (McCormack Security Agency) Page 16