Apparently that was a big enough ‘secret’. Holt’s lantern jaw sagged. “Holy shit.” His scowl came back. “Those fucking management bastards. They put us out there with our asses on the line and then they won’t back us up when we have to get our hands dirty. But that might change soon. Keep your fingers crossed.”
I was about to ask what he meant when he spoke again. “You shot a guy’s face off?”
“Seven rounds. Point-blank.”
He winced. “That’ll leave a mark. So they figured you were serious about doing Stemp.”
I grimaced. “I was.”
Holt followed me into the lunchroom and leaned against the counter, eyeing me with interest while I filled the kettle and rummaged for a cereal bar. “You probably shouldn’t say that out loud,” he offered after a moment.
“Too late. I threatened him in front of General Briggs.”
“Jesus.”
“There were extenuating circumstances.”
“Fuck, I hope so. You’re lucky they didn’t double-tap you right on the spot.”
“Yeah.” I turned to him, cradling my mug and wishing I’d just braved his fury and told him to bugger off. “So don’t tell anybody, okay? I just have to get through this.”
“No problem.” He offered me a fist bump. “Team. We’ll get through it.”
Chapter 22
At a quarter to eight, I slid into my car and dialled Kane’s cell phone. He answered on the first ring.
“Hi.” I hesitated. “How’s it going?”
“Fine. I’m at the bowling alley.”
“Oh, that’s good.” I couldn’t hear the clatter of the pin-setting machines, so he must be parked outside. Only a few blocks away from the drive-in, thank heaven.
I carefully tucked the burner phone into my jacket pocket. “Can you still hear me?”
“Yes.” Kane’s voice crackled out of the tinny speaker.
“Okay… Well, I guess maybe I’ll see you later?”
“Count on it.”
I withdrew the phone and deactivated its speaker before easing it back into my pocket. Now, as long as I didn’t bump my pocket and accidentally hang up, everything should be fine…
Putting the car in gear, I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Nothing to worry about. Parr still needed me, so I shouldn’t be in any danger from Sharkface. And Kane was only minutes away.
I’d be fine.
Really.
Nothing to worry about…
Apparently my stomach was unconvinced. It knotted around the cereal bar that had served as my supper, gurgling so loudly I was afraid Kane would hear it over the phone.
A few minutes later I pulled up in front of the drive-in, its serving windows boarded up, its colourful picnic tables floating like bright islands in the monochrome snowscape under the streetlights.
No other vehicles.
I glanced at my illuminated dashboard clock. I was right on time.
So where the hell was Sharkface?
Then I spotted the fresh tire tracks in the snow beside the kiosk, disappearing into the trees of the small campground behind it.
Shit. He must be waiting in the year-round picnic area behind the drive-in.
Following the tracks, I drove into the trees. A cheerful orange glow beckoned from one of the picnic sites, but he surely would have avoided the rowdy teens who hurriedly concealed their beer cans as I rolled by.
Sure enough, a single set of tire marks continued past the party site. I followed the tracks deeper into the campground, my headlights barely piercing the blackness. Spruce trees extended dark menacing arms over both sides of the trail.
I eased my sweaty grip on the steering wheel and gulped at the dryness in my throat.
Nothing could go wrong. Parr needed me…
How long would it take Kane to find me out here in the woods if something went wrong?
Suck it up. I had a gun. I could shoot Sharkface if I had to…
I rounded a bend in the narrow road and braked to a halt.
Shit.
“Barrier across the road,” I murmured for Kane’s benefit.
I eyed the log that lay across the trail. The tire tracks continued beyond it, disappearing into the darkness. Footprints and drag marks showed the log had been deliberately placed there.
“Asshole,” I muttered, not exactly certain whether I meant Sharkface, Parr, or myself for being dumb enough to go out in the middle of nowhere alone.
Then again, that was my job now.
I suppressed a groan and rested my throbbing forehead against the cold steering wheel for a moment before turning off the headlights to plunge myself into inky blackness. Waiting for my eyes to adjust, I stared wide-eyed into the night. My heart banged like a kettledrum in the profound silence.
Should I follow the tire tracks on foot? Or just wait for Sharkface to show up? He had obviously planned to stop me here…
What if this was just a ploy to get me out in the middle of nowhere so he could shoot me? He could have a night-vision scope trained on me right now…
I resisted the urge to curl into a ball under the dashboard.
If he’d wanted to shoot me, he could have done it last night. Parr still needed me…
The crunch of approaching footsteps in the snow made my pulse hammer in my throat. Homing in on the sound, I made out a dark shape approaching from the black-on-black landscape.
A moment later a flashlight blinded me.
“Ugh!” I flung up an arm in protest and shouted, “Turn it off!”
The beam bobbled as the flashlight tapped sharply on my side window.
I powered the window down an inch and snapped, “Turn off the fucking light!”
A grunt that might have been amusement came from behind the glare, and the light flicked over the interior of my car while I blinked away glowing spots.
“Open the trunk.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
Heart pounding, I reached for the door handle instead.
“Keep your hands on the wheel and stay in the car or I’ll shoot you right where you sit. Now open the fucking trunk.”
I returned my clammy hand to the steering wheel. “I can’t open the trunk with both hands on the wheel.”
“Don’t. Piss. Me. Off.” His growl raised icy gooseflesh on the back of my neck. “Open the trunk, then put your hands back on the wheel. Do anything else and I’ll blow you away.”
Swallowing hard, I inched my hand over to press the trunk release before resuming my deathgrip on the wheel.
“Sit still.” The footsteps crunched around to the back of the car, the light still trained on me.
What was he doing back there? Putting a locator device in my trunk? Or a bomb?
The light disappeared behind the trunk lid for only a second. Then the trunk slammed and the footsteps came back.
“Good, sweet-ass, you came by yourself. You’re smarter than you look.” He laughed. “Or dumber. Out here in the middle of nowhere all by your lonesome.”
“What the hell do you want?” I demanded, not bothering to hide the fearful quaver in my voice.
“Aw, don’t worry, sweet-ass, you’re safe with me. Even if you came out here stark naked and gave me a nice little lap-dance, I wouldn’t lay a finger on you.” I could hear the grin in his voice. “You can try it if you want.”
“Fuck off.”
His voice went as cold as the black winter air. “When you stop being valuable to Mr. Parr, I’ll make you regret saying that to me.”
My sweaty hands slipped on the steering wheel and I tightened my grip. “Enough with the threats. Tell me what you want.”
“Two things. A white ceramic bottle from Yana’s luggage. And a picture of George Harrison.”
I couldn’t help it. Nervousness popped the words out before I could stop them. “The Beatle?”
My window exploded and a huge hand clamped around my throat, slamming me back against the seat. Fireworks ignited
behind my eyes as the blood flow to my brain dwindled.
He shoved his face so close his breath fanned my cheek. “George Harrison. From Sirius Dynamics. And the bottle. You have two days. Or you and I are going to have a little party. You won’t enjoy it. Clear?”
I managed a fractional up-and-down movement of my chin and his grip loosened enough to ease the roaring in my ears.
“Now get your ass over to Kane’s place tonight and get that bottle. Or else.”
He let go and I collapsed forward, sucking big shuddery breaths. The icy air pouring in my broken window carried the receding sound of his footsteps.
Leaning my forehead against the steering wheel, I concentrated on breathing.
Slow, even breaths. In, two… three… four. Out, two… three… four…
After several minutes, the faint sound of an engine drifted back on the still air. I tracked its progress around the remainder of the camping loop before it faded into the dark silence.
I sat trembling for a few moments longer before peeling a hand off the steering wheel to open the door and force my quivering knees into standing position. Leaning over, I shook broken glass out of my hair and off my jacket, then staggered several yards away from the car before pressing the trunk release button.
The trunk clicked open obligingly and I flinched, half-expecting an explosion.
None came.
After a few moments I crept close enough to look inside. My usual winter survival gear looked undisturbed. And I hadn’t heard him messing with anything. A glance at my bug detector indicated all clear. He must have just been checking to make sure I hadn’t hidden anybody in my trunk.
I sighed and used the snow brush to flick the broken glass out of the driver’s seat before sinking into it again. Hopefully I’d waited long enough to be sure Sharkface wasn’t coming back.
I pulled out a secure phone and punched the speed dial.
“Stemp.” His voice crackled over the line after the first ring, and I swallowed a small sob of gratitude at the reassuring sound.
I held my voice steady with an effort. “I have two days to deliver a white ceramic bottle from Yana’s luggage and a picture of George Harrison. From Sirius,” I added. “Not the Beatle. And Sharkf… Barnett wants me to search Kane’s house for the weapon tonight.”
In the momentary pause, I imagined Stemp calculating all the possibilities. “Very well,” he said. “We’ve confirmed Kane’s house is under surveillance, so coordinate with him to get into his house tonight and make it appear you’re following their orders.”
“Okay,” I said, but he had already hung up.
Easing out a sigh, I pulled the burner phone from my pocket. “John, are you still there?”
“Yes. Are you all right? What was that crash I heard earlier?”
“Just Shit-for-Brains breaking my car window. Did you hear the conversation with Stemp?”
“Yes. I’ll go home now. Call me there using your personal cell phone and we can arrange something plausible. Assume they have the phone line tapped.”
“Okay. I’ll give you ten minutes.”
“Good. Talk to you soon.”
I hung up.
Ten minutes to wait. I could do that.
I leaned my head against the headrest. Distant laughter and whoops indicated the teenagers’ party was warming up, but the only other sound was the whisper of the breeze through frozen spruce trees.
Willing my clenched muscles to relax, I stared out at the darkness. Now that I knew Sharkface was gone, the silent blackness seemed peaceful, and I closed my eyes and breathed the cold spruce-scented air.
Ten minutes later, I turned the ignition key again, shivering. Communion with nature was all fine and dandy, but it’d be better if it was above zero.
I cranked up the heat and pulled out my phone to dial Kane.
It rang a few times on the other end, and I was beginning to wonder if I’d called too early when he answered with a cautious ‘hello’.
“Hi, um… it’s Arlene…” I let the sentence trail off. When he didn’t reply immediately, I added, “I was just calling to see how you were doing… after, um…”
He sighed, and when he spoke again my heart clenched with automatic sympathy even though I knew he was faking the weary sadness that infused his voice. “I’m… all right, I guess… How are you?”
“I’m okay… Um… I wondered… Do you feel like some company tonight? Would you like to have a drink over at the hotel bar?”
“Not really…” He hesitated as if changing his mind. “Well, all right… Yes. If you’re free.”
“I’m free. And I’d like to see you.”
“Oh. All right. Good… When?”
Christ, we sounded like a couple of teenagers arranging a first date.
“I’m heading over there now, so whenever you get there.”
“All right, I’ll see you in a little while.”
Chapter 23
Shivering, I pulled into a parking spot at the Silverside Hotel. Damn Sharkface. I was going to freeze my ass off driving on the highway with a missing window. Maybe I could borrow some tape and a garbage bag from Kane for a temporary repair.
I hurried across the parking lot and into the hotel lobby. As soon as I stepped through the door the din of the sports bar assaulted my ears, and I squared my shoulders to prepare myself.
Sidling into the dingy cavern, I squinted through the gloom at the usual mix of rowdy oil-rig workers and mummified old-timers whose only movement was the mechanical raising and lowering of beer bottles. A moment later I spotted a broad-shouldered figure backlit by the giant-screen TV, and I wove between the tables to slide into the chair beside Kane, our backs to the wall.
His lips quirked. “Nice place. Do you come here often?”
“Smart-ass.” I leaned closer to put my lips to his ear. “I didn’t want to go to Eddy’s tonight. I’m planning a grand seduction scene to justify going home with you, and I didn’t want to have to do the walk of shame in front of Eddy tomorrow.”
He drew back, laying an aggrieved hand over his heart. “What, you’re ashamed to be seen with me?”
I grinned. “Oh, shut up. Where’s the waitress? If I don’t eat something pretty soon I’m going to pass out. And that’ll totally spoil my plans.”
“You have plans. I like the sound of this.”
Even competing with the blaring of the hockey game, that sexy rumble sent a hot shiver to places I’d been trying to ignore.
I ignored them harder. “Only if I don’t starve to death first… There she is.” I beckoned to the waitress and she slouched over.
“Whaddaya want?”
“A glass of water and an order of poutine.”
Her lip curled. “We only have bottled water. It’s two-fifty. And it’s a ten-buck minimum order.”
I held onto my patience. “I thought the poutine was eight bucks. That makes ten-fifty with the water.”
“Minimum drink order.”
“I’m driving…” I began.
“It’s all right,” Kane interrupted. “We’ll get some beer. You can have a couple of sips and I’ll drink the rest.” He turned to the waitress. “We’ll have two bottles of Corona.”
She eyed him up and down, blatantly ogling his arms and shoulders before batting her eyes. “Sorry, hottie-cakes, we only got Canadian, Coors Light, and Kokanee in the bottle. Canadian on tap.”
“Two Kokanees please.” Kane returned her scrutiny, feigning appreciation of the tattooed spiders crawling over her bountiful cleavage as she bent in front of him, ostensibly to put a coaster on the table.
At least I was pretty sure he was feigning. But what the hell did I know? Maybe he had a thing for inked arachnids. Or more likely, bountiful cleavage.
I successfully resisted the urge to glance down at my own chest, which wasn’t looking bountiful at all under my baggy sweatshirt. Maybe I should’ve gone home and put on a V-neck T-shirt. With that tiger print push-up bra…
Kane shot me a teasing grin. “Jealous?”
“Yes.” I pushed my lips into a pout. “Don’t forget who’s seducing you here.”
“I won’t.” His fingertips traced the line of my jaw and he pressed his lips to my ear. I forgot how to breathe as he murmured, “Just playing the part. If I was the kind of guy who’d go out on a date a few days after my new wife died, I’m probably not the epitome of class.”
Those bad-boy words in that velvet voice generated all sorts of naughty thoughts. And even naughtier sensations.
I sucked in a breath as he drew back, smiling.
Be cool. For chrissake, at least wait until the drinks arrive before you fling yourself at him.
“I’m sure you were just angling for good service,” I said. “Your noble sacrifice is duly noted.”
He gave me a slow smile. “I’ll look forward to my reward.”
Christ, I’d been trying to forget how devastating he was when he turned on the charm. It wasn’t fair, dammit. His business persona was hard enough to resist.
Sudden realization brought a smile to my face.
I didn’t have to resist. This was all in the line of duty.
Game on.
I glided the tip of my tongue over my lips. “I have a suitable reward in mind.”
Kane’s mouth opened, and the waitress chose that moment to slap the bottles down on the table, adding a stink-eyed glare as a bonus before flouncing away.
Kane groped for one of the bottles, his eyes never leaving my lips while he took a long swallow. Then he placed the bottle back on the table and leaned closer.
“Do that again, and we won’t be here long enough for you to get your food.”
The huskiness in his voice ignited sparks of bright lust that completely obscured my better judgement.
“What makes you think you’re in control here?” I purred. I traced his lower lip with my fingertip before letting it drift down his chin.
Over his throat.
Slowing while I trailed it down his chest.
Bumping over the hard contours of his abs, watching his eyes dilate.
Lower still to make slow circles around the button of his jeans…
Spy Now, Pay Later Page 17