Ryan had perfected the art of hit-and-run. He hit the opponent hard, then ran before there was any time for recovery. Well, Fats had that number and he wasn’t felling for it again. What facts he needed and didn’t have, he’d make up.
“Kitty’s in Seattle,” he said, cursing that fickle piece of tail. “She’s holed up in a motel. With the photos. Of course, we know Flynn and the woman must have had a good look before she checked her bag, but they didn’t know what they were looking for, and if it’s there at all, it’s so damn subtle, no one’s ever going to pick it up.”
Ryan gave a passing waitress the eye. He winked at her, and she smiled right back. Worked every time, Fats thought. Ryan tossed tiny crumbs, and the birds came running.
The waitress came to the table and Ryan said, “I want another beer and some ice cream, a big bowl of vanilla ice cream. Can you arrange that for me, sweetness?”
“One beer and big bowl of vanilla ice cream coming right up.” She checked her hair as she walked away.
“Nice ass,” Ryan said.
“We don’t have to worry about Moody and Fish,” Fats said. “They’ll probably get themselves killed. If they don’t, they’ll hightail it back to London and pray they aren’t followed.”
“And they’ll start hatching another plot guaranteed to make my life hell. They’ll have to because you don’t play games with the kind of people they’ve been dealing with and hope to get away with it. They’re stupid, but they’re not that stupid.”
Fats rested an arm along the back of his bench seat. One-handed, he tapped a cheroot from a pack, pulled it all the way out with his teeth, and lit up.
“I thought you gave those up,” Ryan said.
Fats shook his head. “Nah, like ’em too much.” They made him feel sick, but he needed any help he could get to look tough. “It would sure help if I knew why you’re hiding out from those two guys.”
“I’m not hiding out from anyone,” Ryan snapped. “So drop that, will you? I don’t think you’ve told me what Kitty’s up to, other than waiting in a motel. What’s she waiting for?”
“For me to join her,” Fats lied, pulling on the cheroot. His palms were so wet, he couldn’t risk raising his bottle of beer. “With Flynn and his buddy Talon there, she’s afraid they might find her. She’s going to move to another motel. But she trusts me to get her out safely.”
“Is that a fact? So let’s go.”
This was what Fats had feared. He couldn’t have Ryan finding out that his partner didn’t have an idea in hell where Kitty Fish was at this moment. “I’m waiting for her to call with the name of the new motel and a room number. But I don’t want that you should put yourself on the line, Ryan. All it would take would be a slip from her, and Fish and Moody would know where to find you. They’d be all over you.”
Ryan stared at him. “Kitty knows what she wants, and Rupert Fish isn’t it. I say we make a start and get a flight to Seattle. Unless she isn’t there anymore. Is that the way it is? She’s taken the bag and moved on—because you were damn fool enough to put all the winning cards in her hands?”
“No way,” Fats protested. “Kitty wouldn’t do that. She’s too scared. I say we wait for her to contact me here. We don’t want to go out there blind.”
Ryan looked at his watch. “We’ll give it two hours. Then, if there’s no word, we go anyway. Her silence will tell us what’s in her tiny mind. She’ll be planning to take us, Fatsy, and I don’t get taken by anyone.”
“But we shouldn’t leave until we hear from her,” Fats said, desperate. “Seattle isn’t that small.”
“I’m not planning a sightseeing tour. Seattle’s waking up, and if you’re right she’ll be calling before long. I’ll be making a couple more calls to the precinct. Clear a few things. Check some stuff to back up my theories. Then it’ll be time to surprise Mrs. Fish again. Something tells me she’s going to be oh-so cooperative this time.”
Fats’s gut didn’t feel so good. “I gotta take a leak,” he lied.
“Beer,” the well-built waitress said, sliding the bottle in front of Ryan. “A big bowl of vanilla ice cream, and, just in case it isn’t quite sweet enough, some extra goodies to choose from.” The ice cream was joined by condiment dishes filled with syrups, nuts, and small candies. The waitress, whose nametag revealed she was Betty, bent low to Ryan and whispered, “The goodies are on the house.”
Ryan gave her the long, serious, I-want-to-know-you look and squeezed her hand briefly.
The woman was fair. She turned pink and said, “You’re very welcome.”
Once she’d moved away, Ryan ignored the “goodies” and wolfed the ice cream down plain. He used the beer as a chaser, wiped his hands, and said, “Watch this and learn.”
All Fats saw was Ryan sitting back in his seat, inclining his head, and looking weird.
Betty arrived beside them at a breathless trot. “You’re fast,” she said.
“Not unless I want to be,” Ryan said in a voice he’d never used around Fats before. “I wish I didn’t have to go, but I’ve got an appointment.”
Betty nodded.
Ryan stood up, wiped his hands on a clean napkin, and threw a wad of bills on the table.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, moistening her lips.
“I want to.” Ryan congratulated himself on being a perfect judge of character. The lady was horny. “What time do you get off?” he said.
Her eyes sparked. “Late.”
“The later the better for some things,” he told her. “I’ll be back, babe.”
Fats caught up with him outside. “Are you off your rocker?” he said. “Drawing attention to yourself like that? If someone comes looking, she’ll be able to give a perfect description.”
“I sure hope so,” Ryan said.
Twenty-five
Olivia stood before the Talons’ window and looked over Lake Washington. A layer of fog hid the surface of the water, but the sun struggled to appear. Chris had left half an hour earlier promising that the fog would “burn off,” and the mountain would “come out.” According to Sonnie, he meant Mount Ranier.
“Try and relax a bit,” Aiden said very quietly, coming to stand beside her. He put an arm around her waist. “Chris will be getting back to us just as soon as he can.”
“Yes.” She ought to be thinking of nothing other than clearing her own and Aiden’s names—that and getting themselves out of danger. Olivia had much more on her mind.
“I’ve got bruises,” Aiden said. “On my tush and probably in other places, too.”
She looked at him sharply, then smiled. “Evidently your balance beam days are over. Better choose another event.”
“I was thinking about the trampoline. What d’you think? Could lead to some high-flying experiences.”
Olivia scrunched up her face. “Sounds like a good way to break something, and I think it might hurt you—a lot.”
“Breakfast,” Sonnie said. “C’mon, sit down. I’ve got to.”
Olivia and Aiden gave Sonnie their full attention at once. “You sit down,” Aiden said. “You don’t have to wait on us. Sit there.” He pointed to a chair.
Sonnie sat, sighing as she did so. Promptly, Anna left her quiet game with a hairless doll and climbed on her mother’s lap. Sonnie kissed the top of the child’s head.
“I love muffins,” Olivia said, sitting down, too. Watching Sonnie brought a rush of feelings, warm, sweet, and longing feelings. “Have a muffin, Aiden. This is going to be a busy day. Better top up, as my father says.”
They ate, and drank very good coffee. Anna stroked Sonnie’s belly and frowned while she pressed an ear there to listen.
Each time Olivia looked up, she found Aiden watching her. No eyes should be that blue, or that capable of disconcerting a woman.
“All those earrings and things you wear,” Olivia said, desperate to lighten the mood, “they just clip on really?”
“Sort of,” he said.
“Wally Lo
der, master of disguise,” Sonnie said and chuckled. “You should have seen him the first time I met him as Wally in Key West. He came into the bar Chris’s brother and his partner own. He was so surly, he scared me. After that Wally Loder was everywhere, getting into all kinds of places in all kinds of disguises.”
“You’re giving away trade secrets,” Aiden said around a mouthful of cinnamon muffin.
“I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to see all of his cars, have you, Olivia?”
She cleared her throat. “I had the pleasure of riding in a beautiful chartreuse Cadillac.”
“Aiden! You did it? You had that thing painted chartreuse?”
He looked pained and reached for Anna, who went willingly into his arms. “It was your husband who said chartreuse would be a good color. He never appreciated my pink Mustang. Vanni always calls it the Pink Panther.”
Sonnie held her tummy and laughed. “Maybe Vanni gets muddled up between pink panther and pink pony.”
“Oh, sure he does.”
Olivia was aware of the history these people shared, a history in which she had played no part. She wanted to be part of the history Aiden would make in future.
The phone rang and Sonnie pushed herself up from her chair. She picked up on the third ring, listened, and said, “Love you, too, honey. Nothing yet. Okay. Aiden, it’s Chris for you.” Aiden went to the phone, and Olivia couldn’t sit still. She followed and stood a few feet from him, watching the expressions on his face.
“Got it,” he said after listening for what seemed to Olivia an eternity. “No, I sure don’t have any better ideas. I’ll have to be on that plane. Of course you can’t come, I know that. You’re doing everything you can here. Nothing on Ryan or Fats? Where d’you think Fish and Moody went in New York? No. Vanni can take over there. He’s chewing his fingernails down waiting, anyway. Yeah, see you at the airport tonight.”
“What plane?” Olivia said as soon as he’d hung up.
“A Kitty Fish is booked on this evening’s flight to London. Chris thinks, and I agree, that she intends to run for safety there, then hold up her husband and his partner, and Fats and Ryan. She’s grabbed the evidence and taken off—that’s obvious.”
Olivia touched the scars on the back of his right hand. “Couldn’t they all just be allowed to get on with it? Perhaps they’ve lost interest in us now.”
“Dreamer,” Aiden said. “Ryan Hill’s got the most powerful police force in this country looking for us. Where would we hide? It’s my turn to go after them now. I’m going to help Ryan put a noose around his own neck. Then we’ll have a chance to clear ourselves. I want my job—and my reputation— back.”
He was right and Olivia knew it. “Of course that’s what must be done. Fiddlesticks. We’d better get reservations on that flight.”
“You’re not going. Sonnie and Chris will keep you safe here.”
When Vanni finally called, Aiden had been playing with Chris’s computer in his study, and trying for an hour to get the courage to go downstairs and find Olivia. He knew she was down there because he’d seen her return from a walk.
Olivia was angry with him.
“What made you call Margy?” Vanni said.
“I wanted to get hold of you. She wouldn’t listen to a word I said.”
Vanni sighed. “It’s the pits here, partner. I’m steering a course through an ocean of people who think you’re Public Enemy Number One. Ryan’s got ’em brainwashed, including Margy. Use your head and don’t call the station again. Risk my cell phone, if you want to, but don’t give anyone here a clue about where you are.”
“I thought Margy would be on my side. I thought she’d believe me.”
“She will when we can tell her everything. Listen, Ryan’s in the Chicago area. He checked in and didn’t even bother to cover up the fact. He reckons Fats has turned rogue on him and he needs to pull him in—only he doesn’t know where he is. Evidently Fats didn’t tell him you’d left for Seattle because he didn’t mention it.”
“That’s something,” Aiden said. Through the study door, he caught sight of a shadow on the wall at the top of the basement stairs. Olivia was listening, and there was nothing he could do about it. He filled Vanni in on Kitty and what he intended to do about her.
“I’m going to join you,” Vanni said.
“No,” Aiden said, grimacing. “Absolutely not, Vanni. You disappear now, and they’re going to figure out it’s because of me.”
“This is taking too long. It’s driving me nuts.”
“How’s Pops?” Maybe he could shake Vanni out of it, Aiden thought.
Too much silence followed before Vanni said, “Touch and go. If you feel like praying, we can use all the help we can get.”
Olivia detached herself from the shadows and moved around to sit on the foot of the stairs.
“Stay put,” Aiden said to Vanni, looking at Olivia’s profile. It was too late for him; he didn’t just want her body anymore, he wanted the woman. “Vanni, you can help me most by staying where you are and letting me know everything you find out. Fish and Moody have headed back to New York. Chris said he was getting the flight details to you.”
“I’ve got them,” Vanni said. “I’m not worried about those two. I am worried about you.”
“I’m thinking about Pops,” Aiden said. He didn’t like using the old man to distract Vanni. “Will you tell him that? Tell him I expect to drown in Mama’s gravy and his best Chianti when I get back to New York. Got that?”
Vanni didn’t sound convincing when he said he’d got it, but he hung up the phone.
This was one of those times when a guy had to wait for the woman to come to him. With very little of his mind on the task, Aiden idly logged back on to his own e-mail account. He’d done so several times that day and found nothing but junk mail.
More junk mail had shown up.
Olivia got up and walked slowly into the study. She leaned on the wall just inside the door. “It’s nice outside,” she said. “Even if it is cold.”
Aiden smiled at her, grateful that she was talking to him again, and more than grateful that she was accepting the wisdom of his going to England without her.
He got up and quietly closed the door.
Olivia put more distance between them.
“D’you think that will stop me?” he asked. Without taking a step, he shot an arm around her and hauled her against him.
He bent her backward and kissed her, and his body stiffened. She tried to resist him by refusing to respond. Holding her limp form only whipped him up more. He wrapped her in both arms and kissed her until she gave in, crossed her forearms behind his neck, and kissed him back.
As abruptly as she’d responded, she summoned enough strength to leave him in no doubt that she wanted to stop.
Aiden released her, but couldn’t wipe away his smirk. He wasn’t alone in this growing obsession. “I’ll be back for you, Olivia,” he said. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. I wouldn’t go at all if I didn’t have to.”
Meaning what? Olivia wondered. “Why are you going?”
“The action’s moving that way. I think Ryan and Fats will go to England, too. Sooner or later I’ll get my chance to bring them in. Then I’ll prove our case.”
I, I, I. He was excited now, excited about the chase, but he didn’t think she could be of any help to him, even though she had every bit as much to win or lose as he did.
“Is that something you want to read?” Olivia said, indicating Chris’s screen.
Aiden saw Vanni’s address and moved the cursor to click and open the post. “He’s not missing an angle,” Vanni wrote. What followed was an excerpt from a post supposedly written by MustangMan, alias Aiden Flynn, and addressed to Ryan Hill: “Nice of you to send some company along. I hate being lonely. I get bored. Now I can entertain myself, unless you can think of a reason why I shouldn’t. You know what I want.”
In a post using his own e-mail address Ryan had written: “I’ve
got to move fast. I hope I’m not too late.”
And Vanni added a postscript: “I only wish I was sure what angle he isn’t missing this time. The guy is giving me the creeps.”
Aiden looked at Olivia, who said, “Any idea what Ryan’s up to?”
“Nope.”
“Ryan pretended to be you. He excerpted something you supposedly wrote and sent it to—”
“Yeah, I know.” He studied the screen. “He’s setting something up. It’s important to him to grind down any scrap of credibility I might have left—not that I appear to have any.”
Lunchtime came and went. Olivia couldn’t bear sitting around, pretending she was going to be a good little girl and do what Aiden had said she must. Chris had called several times to check on Sonnie and to talk with Aiden, who had moved into his own grim space that didn’t include room for any extra baggage. He’d closed her out.
Olivia went to the basement again. She’d arrived with very little, and since Kitty Fish had stolen the suitcase, leaving with just as little was guaranteed.
She let herself out onto the boardwalk, and Boswell came around the side of the house to join her. He grinned. Some might argue that dogs couldn’t grin, but he definitely did.
“Come along,” Olivia told him. “Can you swim?”
He trotted beside her to the water’s edge. She freed a stick that protruded from beneath a long piece of driftwood, then hesitated. “It’s awfully cold, Boswell.”
“That won’t bother him,” Aiden said, making her jump. “He loves to swim.”
She watched his deceptively casual approach. His strides were long, and he covered a great deal of ground very quickly.
Olivia turned back to the water and threw the stick. Boswell waded after it, showing no sign of discomfort.
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