The Spies That Bind
Page 1
The Spies That Bind
Book 11 of the NEVER SAY SPY series
By Diane Henders
Published March 2016 by PEBKAC Publishing
Smashwords Edition v.2
ISBN 978-1-927460-33-7
The town of Silverside and all secret technologies are products of my imagination. If I’m abducted by grim-faced men wearing dark glasses, or if I die in an unexplained fiery car crash, you’ll know I accidentally came a little too close to the truth.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are products of my imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Please respect my hard work by complying with copyright laws. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. You may not resell this e-book under any circumstances.
Thank you for reading!
Copyright © 2016 Diane Henders
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means—by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without prior written permission.
Books in the NEVER SAY SPY series:
Book 1: Never Say Spy
Book 2: The Spy Is Cast
Book 3: Reach For The Spy
Book 4: Tell Me No Spies
Book 5: How Spy I Am
Book 6: A Spy For A Spy
Book 7: Spy, Spy Away
Book 8: Spy Now, Pay Later
Book 9: Spy High
Book 10: Spy Away Home
Book 11: The Spies That Bind
More books coming! For a current list, please visit www.dianehenders.com
Or sign up for my New Book Notification list at
www.dianehenders.com/books
For Phill
Thank you for being my technical advisor and the most tolerant husband ever. Much love!
To my beta readers/editors, especially Carol H., Judy B., and Phill B., with gratitude: Many thanks for all your time and effort in catching my spelling and grammar errors, telling me when I screwed up the plot or the characters’ motivations, and generally keeping me honest.
To Rick and Sandy H. at Hand Crafted Images: Your talent makes my covers extra-special, and your sense of humour makes photo sessions fun even for a camera-hater like me. Thank you!
To Steve A. and the staff at The Shooting Edge: Thank you for lending us your excellent facilities for our cover photo sessions. You guys rock!
To everyone else, respectfully:
Canadian English is an unholy hybrid of British and American English, so I apologize if spellings in this book look odd to you. But if you find typos, please send an email to errors@dianehenders.com. Mistakes drive me nuts, and I’m sorry if any slipped through. Please let me know what the error is, and on which page (or at which position in e-versions). I’ll make sure it gets fixed as soon as possible. Thanks!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
A Request
Find More Books
About Me
Since You Asked
Chapter 1
The monitor on my wrist vibrated for the umpteenth time. Even though I was expecting it, my heart lurched reflexively and my casual glance at the wristband’s tiny screen was twitchier than I would have liked.
The image relayed from my surveillance cameras didn’t soothe my nerves. Glancing around, I laid a surreptitious hand on the lethal weapon sitting beside me on my back deck.
John Kane, the lethal weapon in question, returned a smile that crinkled the sexy laugh lines around his grey eyes. “Nice party, Aydan,” he said. His body heat radiated through my hand.
I hid my momentary breathlessness and squeezed his muscular forearm, wishing I could slide my grip up to that bulging bicep and go for a full-on fondle.
“It’s about to get less nice,” I warned quietly, and jutted my chin in the direction of the latest arrival.
Kane stiffened. “What the hell is he doing here? You didn’t invite him, did you? Or have you temporarily lost your mind?”
I sighed. “No; and no.” I tilted my chair onto its back legs, leaning against the safety of my house while I eyed Tyler Brock’s pierced features and supercilious sneer with distaste. “He’s with Tammy.” I nodded toward the small plump woman who clutched Brock’s arm with one hand and her white cane with the other, her round face beaming eagerly from behind dark glasses. “Spider invited her, but no handlers were available today and Brock is the only other person with a high enough security clearance to accompany her. And you know Spider; he’ll always give people a second chance, even a dickhead like Brock.”
Kane growled softly, a sound that sent shivers racing to parts of my body that had no business shivering in his presence. “Well, if he causes any trouble, I hope you have a good place to hide the body.”
I feigned serious thought. “Could be tricky. If it wasn’t August we could bury him in the garden. A little shitbag like him would do wonders for my vegetables, but I wouldn’t want to disturb them this late in the season. I guess you’ll just have to let him live.”
Kane shook his head in mock chagrin. “The things I do for you.”
Reluctantly removing my hand from his arm, I took a slug of ice-cold beer from the bottle sweating on the small table beside me. “Yeah, I know. I’ll have to find some way to reward you.”
That came out sounding more suggestive than I’d intended, and I cleared my throat and added, “It seems like everybody’s enjoying the party, though. Who’d have thought Spider’s generation would get as much of a kick out of Twister as we did?”
Eyeing the knot of bodies on the grass surrounded by cheering and heckling spectators, Kane chuckled. “Alcohol makes everything more fun.” He raised his own beer bottle in a toast before taking a swig.
“Except that Spider doesn’t drink,” I pointed out.
Kane’s strong square features softened into an indulgent smile as he gazed across the lawn at Spider’s beanpole figure, Coke in one hand and his other arm around his diminutive fiancée. As we watched, Linda pressed closer to Spider, flashing her sparkling smile up at him. He stooped to kiss her, oblivious to the catcalls that rose from the crowd of young people scattered across my back yard.
I was turning back to Kane when my attention snagged on a middle-aged man who had trailed B
rock and Tammy into the yard. The man’s dress shirt and slacks were incongruous among the casually attired party-goers, and my pulse ticked up. Was he an invited guest? Or something more sinister?
That worrisome thought was interrupted by Kane’s chuckle. “I swear Webb looks closer to seventeen than twenty-seven,” he said. “I keep feeling as though I should ask for his ID whenever there’s alcohol around.”
Pulling my mind back to our conversation, I laughed. “Yeah. He’s such a sweet kid.” My smile turned to a grimace, and I slugged some more beer. “Since when did twenty-seven become ‘a kid’ to me? God, I’m old.”
Kane sobered. “Forty-seven is nowhere near old. You’re in better shape than most twenty-year-olds.” The breeze wafted a strand of long hair across my face, and he reached over to tuck it behind my ear with a smile. “See? There’s still more red than grey in your hair. And you’re far more vibrant and desirable than any of these younger women. They’re like cardboard cutouts by comparison.”
“Thanks.” A hot shiver chased down my spine, and I was about to topple into the warm grey of his eyes when good sense reasserted itself. Gulping another largish swallow of beer, I tore my gaze away from him to watch the well-dressed man talking to Brock.
They exchanged a few words, but the man was apparently turned off by Brock’s attitude. After a short exchange he turned away, then crossed the yard and greeted Spider’s parents with warm handshakes.
I sucked back another swallow of beer. Jeez, woman, take a pill. It’s a wedding shower, not an undercover op.
But something about that guy set off my alarm bells…
Across the yard, Linda’s Granny Lola caught my eye with a cheery wave before turning to say something to the two gray-haired women with her. They smirked and studied us avidly, and I waved back with a smile and muttered to Kane out of the corner of my mouth.
“I love her to death, but I’ll never understand why anybody believes Lola’s sweet-little-old-lady act.”
Kane grinned across the yard at the tiny wrinkled figure with neon-pink hair, silver-studded black leather bustier, mini-skirt, and biker boots. “She’s one of a kind. And you can’t deny she’s got style.”
“No kidding. She should look ridiculous, but that outfit totally suits her.”
My wristband buzzed again and I jerked it up to scan the surveillance image before letting out a breath. “Just some of the guests going down to the creek.”
Kane nodded, stretching out his legs and reaching for his beer bottle. As he drank, his gaze flicked over the party with the habitual keen evaluation of a top agent, and I let out a small sigh. If he was on the alert, too, was that good or bad?
I hid a grimace behind my beer bottle. It likely just meant we were both paranoid freaks. I glanced over again, but the well-dressed guy was still visiting and looking like he belonged.
Let it go. Nothing to worry about.
Kane said idly, “Hellhound hasn’t shown up. Is he coming?”
I snorted. “Are you kidding? Spider asked me to convince him, but as soon as Arnie heard ‘wedding shower’ he said he was allergic to weddings and started to back away. I tried to explain it was only a big backyard party, but he was already babbling something about having to wash the cat and then he turned and ran.”
Kane guffawed. “Wash the cat? What kind of lame excuse is that?”
“I’m pretty sure it was just blind panic talking at that point. It was pretty funny to see Mr. Big Tough Biker running scared.” I snickered into my beer.
Kane shook his head, still grinning. “He’s one of the bravest men I know, but everybody has their limits.” He drank some more beer before continuing, “It was good of you to host the party.”
“I wanted to.” I drew a deep breath, regarding my happy guests and letting the laughter and music wash over me. “I thought…” I swallowed. “I thought it was time to make some good memories on this farm.”
His voice softened. “Yes. Long past time, I’d say.” He hesitated. “How are you doing?” He nodded toward my wrist. “You still seem a little jumpy.”
“I’m okay.” I reached for my beer, decided against another swallow, and picked at the label instead. “It’s just that I’m not used to quite so much activity on the monitor.”
“But it’s working well?” Kane inquired, eyeing my wristband with interest.
“Great!” I held out my wrist for inspection. “If there’s movement anywhere on or around my yard it sends a picture to the screen, and I can switch to full-video if I want. It uses a satellite link so I never have to worry about getting out of range, and it doesn’t affect my bug detector. And it’s got a panic button linked to Sirius Dynamics.”
“Good system.” Kane nodded approval before returning his disturbingly observant gaze to my face, his voice gentling. “And does it make you feel safer?”
“Yeah.” The word came out on a sigh, and I added, “I’m a lot better. I haven’t had a flashback for quite a while, and I don’t usually expect bullets flying through my walls anymore. How about you?”
“I’m doing better, too.”
When I looked into his eyes I could see it was true. Instead of the haunted look of four months ago, now the ghosts only lurked at the edges of his clear grey gaze.
I smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’m glad.”
“Me, too. It’s been a difficult time.”
We went back to watching the party in companionable silence. The afternoon heat was diminishing as the sun’s rays lengthened to evening. Fading traces of barbeque scent mingled with crushed grass, warm hay from the surrounding fields, and the coconut aroma of suntan lotion. The air was soft on my face and arms, and even the holster concealed at my ankle seemed less sweaty and constricting.
Brock and Tammy had concluded their brief conversation with Spider and Linda and now they stood apart from the crowd. Tammy was still chattering at Brock and Brock was still sneering, incongruous in the happy crowd with his multiple piercings, skinny orange jeans, man-purse, and obvious personality defect.
And speaking of incongruous…
The well-dressed man shot a glance my way but didn’t approach, joining a different group to shake hands and chat instead.
I should go over and introduce myself. Say hello and find out he was somebody’s favourite uncle, and then I could get over my irrational suspicion.
But what if my instincts were right?
My heart thudded a little faster. I didn’t even want to think about the potential carnage if he pulled a gun…
My wrist monitor vibrated and I jerked so violently that Kane twitched, too. When I glanced at the display, dread tightened my throat.
“Oh, shit. This doesn’t look good.” My voice came out tight.
“What?” Kane demanded, his hand hovering near the holster concealed by the loose summer shirt he wore open over his T-shirt.
“Police car coming in my gate.” I rose and hurried into the house with Kane on my heels.
Switching to full-video mode, I kept my gaze glued to the tiny screen while I fumbled a secured phone out of my kitchen drawer one-handed and pressed the speed dial button.
“Stemp.” The brusque toneless greeting of the director of clandestine operations made me draw a breath of relief.
“There’s a police car coming up to my house,” I rapped out. “Are they legit?”
“Yes, I sent them. Please cooperate fully.” His emotionless tone somehow managed to become even dryer. “Without revealing anything classified, of course.”
“Right,” I muttered.
“Have Kane call me immediately afterward. Was there anything else?” he asked as the doorbell chimed.
“No,” I growled, and disconnected as I headed for the door. “Stemp sent them,” I said over my shoulder to Kane. “He says to cooperate without revealing anything classified.”
I swung open the inside door and regarded the two uniformed RCMP officers through the screen.
The female officer shuffled her
feet, looking uncomfortable. “Hi, um… Aydan Kelly, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Hi, Officer Peters,” I replied warily, resisting the urge to look away and shuffle my feet, too. Considering that she’d strip-searched me the only other time I’d met her, I wasn’t quite sure of the proper etiquette.
“This is, uh, Officer Glen Birch from the Drumheller detachment,” she went on, and the uniformed man beside her nodded a greeting. “We’re looking for John Kane. His boss said we would likely find him here.”
Fear constricted my throat. Oh, God. Had something terrible happened to John’s father? Or worse, to Hellhound, for whom John would be listed as next-of-kin?
Oh, God, no. Police only came in person if somebody died…
“C-Come in,” I managed through cold stiff lips, and pushed the screen door open.
Chapter 2
“Hi, John,” Officer Birch greeted Kane with a strained smile.
“Glen.” Kane’s face and voice were in cop mode, controlled and expressionless. He nodded to the female officer. “Sandra. What’s this about?”
“Uh…” Clearly uncomfortable, the two officers exchanged a glance before Officer Peters drew a deep breath. “Why don’t you sit down, John?”
“I’ll stand.” Kane straightened into a parade rest that might have looked relaxed if not for the spring-steel tension vibrating in his shoulders. “Spit it out.”
“It’s, uh… it’s about your ex-wife.” Peters squared her shoulders.
Pain flared in Kane’s eyes, crimping his mouth into a hard line. “Alicia’s dead?”
“Uh? Oh, um, no…” Peters drew a deep breath. “When was the last time you saw Alicia? And would you please describe your movements today?”
“I last saw Alicia on Tuesday, June 22, 2004, at approximately four-fifteen in the afternoon at the house where we used to live in Calgary.”