I looked down at Riley and nodded again. We didn't speak. There's no point in doing so if you can communicate nonverbally. If anything was monitored, they'd only have visual. We weren't about to volunteer information that the authorities didn't need. Riley had done a good job removing the plates from the SUV sometime before I woke up. He had standard issue black stocking caps in the glove compartment. We all carried those on a mission to avoid leaving hair at a site, and they were quite useful when it was cold outside.
Riley dragged the suitcase over to the wall and gripping the handle, began to spin in a circle. As he turned, the case lifted off the ground. It was heavy. He was going to hurl it up here, like those hammer-tossers at Scottish Highland Games.
He was pretty strong. I noticed his biceps bulging as he spun. That man had a nice body. If he wasn't such a douche, I'd…
The suitcase came flying through the air and hit me in the stomach. I fell backwards onto the grass, the case on top of me. It started to slide down, but I grabbed it before it fell back down the wall, and hoisted it and myself up into the woods. I lay there gasping like a fish for a few minutes. The case hadn't knocked the wind out of me, but it did knock me down.
"Hey!" I whispered to Riley as he joined me. "That really hurt!"
"Sorry. You really should pay more attention to what I'm doing." The wicked grin on his face told me he'd seen me checking him out. My face grew hot.
"That's not…I wasn't…and you know it!" I stammered.
Riley winked at me, then scrambled up to the suitcase. I followed him as he dragged it a little farther into the trees and then watched as he wiped it down completely with a rag to remove our fingerprints. I found a branch with leaves on it, and as we headed back to the wall, I brushed our footprints and the drag marks away.
Back in the car, Riley drove out of the parking lot and up the street. About two miles away, he stopped at a closed gas station and put the plates back on the car. I handed him my shoes, and he took off his boots. We drove a few more miles before dumping our muddy footwear in a random Dumpster.
"That went better than I thought it would," Riley muttered as we cruised back toward the interstate.
"Except for you hitting me with the bag, yes." I was a little pissed about that.
"You need to learn to get out of the way." Riley chuckled. "You didn't used to be so distracted." I noticed he'd put an emphasis on distracted.
There was no way I was giving him the satisfaction of thinking I was staring at him. "I was just trying to figure out what our next move should be."
"Right." Riley arched an eyebrow. "That's what you were thinking."
The bastard. I showed him by not talking at all on the way home.
CHAPTER EIGHT
We arrived back at my house a few hours later. Riley pulled into the hidden alley. He stopped the car and looked at me. I was furious with him and his pretty blue eyes. For him to imply that I was checking him out was…was…totally true—but he didn't need to know that.
Stupid, smug, gorgeous man.
"That was fun," he said with a smile. "Let's never do it again."
I laughed out loud—which made me mad at myself. Great, now he thought that I thought he was funny too. And I needed that like I needed a gunshot to the shoulder. I touched the scar on my right shoulder to remind myself.
Riley reached up and cupped my chin in his hand. I stopped breathing. His skin was warm and sent little shockwaves of heat through my body. What was he doing? He leaned closer, and I could smell his cologne. It was subtle—masculine and clean. The scent went well with his surfer looks—it reminded me of an ocean breeze.
His eyes locked onto mine. He really was hot. I closed my eyes automatically, and then I felt his lips brush…my cheek.
"Good job kiddo." My eyes flew open as he leaned back in his seat. He looked amused. I felt totally exposed.
Anger flared inside of me. I struggled to open the door—my fingers seemed to stop working correctly. I shook the handle, but it didn't budge, so I started swearing. The more I jiggled and failed, the louder and more creative my swearing got. Finally I got it open and, because I wasn't expecting the door to open, fell sideways out onto the gravel. It took a few seconds to get back on my feet.
"Just search the agency records on these guys!" I hissed as I slammed the door and turned on my heel to walk away. For a second, I thought I heard him chuckling. I kept on walking, never looking back until I got to the back, kitchen door. I fumbled with my keys until I finally got the door opened, then closed it behind me and leaned back against it.
I was a wreck. I was shaking. I was furious. And I had gravel in my shorts.
"Finny!" A familiar female squeal caused me to open my eyes. Lana sat at the breakfast bar. To my surprise, she'd changed out of her slutty clothes and into khakis and a T-shirt. Her voluminous, shiny hair was swept up into a pony tail, and I could swear she wasn't wearing any makeup (although she still was stunning, damn her).
"Lana." I stared at her. "How did you get back in?" I'd forgotten to give her a key.
Lana waved me off and got up, walking to the fridge. She pulled out the bottle of wine and poured two glasses, handing one to me. I took it gratefully and slumped onto one of the stools. I downed it like a shot. If I was going to drink wine like that, I needed to buy cheaper wine. There was no point in slamming the good stuff. Not that I knew what the good stuff was.
"I'm good with locks, Finny." Lana grinned and poured me another glass.
I nodded. "That's right. I remember that. By the way, nice job with the media assholes." I meant it too. For as much as she drove me crazy most of the time, she'd done well, and I wanted to praise her. It kind of felt like praising a dog. As if she could read my mind, Lana grinned and wiggled her butt with happiness. I struggled to control my gag reflex.
"It was so much fun! And then I got to meet Robert and go to the hospital with Kelleeee!" She giggled. "She had me go around with magazines for the patients. They were all so happy to see me!"
I'll bet. "Well thank you anyway."
She raised her eyebrows as she drank her wine. "Did you take care of the problem?"
I nodded. "Yup. All done. Where we put her, she won't be found for a long, long time. That gives us some room to figure things out."
"Midori was a beeeeetch. I hated her." Lana's usual one million watt smile was gone.
I straightened up, alert. "You knew Midori?" I guess that was possible. I mean, Japan was pretty close to Russia, and there'd been rumors for years that the Yakuza and Russian mob worked together now and then.
Lana nodded. "She haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaated me. I think Kelleeee hates me too." She set her glass on the counter and gave me her full attention. It was like staring into the sun. A blinding, bright sun with a 34 DD cup.
"Why do women hate me, Finny?" she asked, her lips in an adorable pout.
Hmmm…what to do here. I decided, perhaps a little meanly, on the truth. "Well, you fling yourself at every man around. You're more beautiful than any Hollywood starlet, and you dress like a tramp."
Lana stared at me for a long, terrifying moment. I thought I could see the synapses connecting in her brain. Did she really not know this? Did she really have no idea how she affected people? Had I gone too far?
"Do you hate me Finny?" Her eyes with the impossibly huge pupils searched my face.
"No." I slammed the other glass of wine and set the glass back on the table. "I'm getting used to you. But if you don't start calling me Merry, we might have a problem."
Lana responded by hurling herself into my arms. I stood there, stunned for a moment, before wrapping my arms around her and hugging her awkwardly. I guess this was better…
She pulled back but kept her hands on my arms. She grinned like she'd just invaded the Crimea and they made a postage stamp in her likeness. "I knew you and I would be best friends!" Lana squealed. Then she hugged me. Again.
I gently extricated myself from her grip. "I'll be your best friend forever if
you can help me get out of this mess," I said jokingly.
Lana's eyes grew wide, and her mouth opened into a charming O. "You mean it? I will help you! I will solve this, and we will be best of friends forever!" She smiled like I'd never seen her smile before. This smile was…more genuine? It wasn't the smile she gave corrupt Russian politicians or even the media horde in front of my house. This was the real thing. I couldn't help falling for it. It reminded me of bunnies and freshly baked cookies.
As she bounced off down the hallway to go to bed, I wondered. Had Lana ever really had a friend before? And then I realized, besides Kelly, I didn't have other friends. Being a spy is a very lonely business. Are we so starved for attention that we'll do anything for any kind relationship?
My mind went back to Riley in the car—how I thought he was going to kiss me. Kiss me romantically. Was I that desperate and lonely that I'd let his charms overwhelm me? I felt a rush of humiliation at the idea.
I recycled the empty bottle of wine (Yes, I'm that awesome.) and washed the two glasses (And I'm domestic—how am I not a total catch?). It was nearly two in the morning. I needed to get some sleep.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out. Kelly was ending her shift at the hospital and had left me a message. I pulled it out of my pocket and checked it out. What I read made me more terrified than when I found out I'd accidentally eaten the wrong part of the blowfish.
Don't forget we have a Girl Scout meeting tomorrow!
Damn.
The troop was meeting at the state park about ten minutes away. We were going to work on knots and making fires. A month ago, this had seemed like a terrific idea. We'd planned for a full afternoon in the great outdoors. I'd even been looking forward to it.
But now…
It was too late to call Kelly or the girls to cancel. I'd have to go through with it. And worse yet, I'd have to bring Lana. What else could I do with her? Riley wanted me to keep an eye on the blonde bimbo.
This was going to be a disaster. Lana would be useful only if we were working on a How To Sleep Your Way Through The Kremlin merit badge, and I was pretty sure the Girl Scouts didn't have one of those. I imagined all sorts of scenarios—Lana screaming at the sight of a daddy longlegs spider…Lana breaking a nail just looking at the outdoors…Lana getting poison ivy on her… Well, I guess it wasn't all bad. I'd just have to make her stay out of the way. It was going to be hard enough as it was with the fire and knots and any dads in the area standing there like brain-dead mouth breathers.
Damn it. Instead of being an afternoon of awkward quality time with my girls, it was now going to be a tense babysitting session with me trying to keep Lana out of trouble while trying to teach something I was terrible at. I was angry and worried, which meant I wasn't getting any beauty sleep tonight. Sigh.
* * *
I woke up early and stumbled through the shower. After digging out my rope supplies from the garage, I got Lana up and dressed without killing her. The park was only twenty minutes away, so we didn't have far to go. Lana and I snuck out the back and using the back yards of my neighbors, made it to Kelly's house unnoticed by the slowly dissipating media mob. I knocked on her sliding glass door at 12:30pm. She did not look happy to see us.
"What's she doing here?" Kelly folded her arms across her chest.
Lana piped up cheerfully, ignoring the insult. "I was Girl Scout back in Russia! Fifteen years!"
What? Lana had been a scout? I imagined the blonde as a Brownie with long, lustrous hair and huge boobs. I'd bet she sold more cookies than anyone. If they sold cookies, that was. What else would they sell? Vodka and borscht?
I gave Kelly a weak smile. "Come on. We're doing knots and making fires. We'll need all the help we can get." It was an okay argument. Not my best, but I just needed Kelly to buy it. Fourteen second-graders were about to be dropped off in a park, and we had to make sure to send them home without third-degree burns or partially strangled by rope.
Kelly narrowed her eyes and studied Lana. I'd dressed my roomie carefully—T-shirt, khakis, tennis shoes, and a baseball hat with her hair in a ponytail behind it. I didn't even let her wear makeup. She still looked like a super model, but it was the best I could do.
"Fine," Kelly said finally, "she can help." She turned and went into her house, and we followed meekly. My argument had worked. It had taken all my talents as a persuasive spy to convince my best friend. I was exhausted.
The drive was agonizing. Kelly didn't speak to me, not once. I could feel her hostility with every bump in the road. In fact, I was pretty sure she was hitting every bump in the road just to get back at me.
I had a tiny, fragile sense of hope that maybe Lana would be okay. I didn't know what Russian Girl Scouts did—maybe just evaded wolves or wrestled bears or sent Boy Scouts to gulags—but there had to be a shred of skill there, right? Maybe it would be kind of okay. And by that I meant that maybe I could keep Kelly from killing her.
My fears and concerns—the ones that kept me up all night, I might add—dissolved the minute we arrived. At the campsite we'd rented for the afternoon, Lana jumped into action. She met each car as it drove up and dazzled the parents, men and women alike, before shepherding their daughters to Kelly and me. The girls looked at Lana as if she was a living Barbie/Fairy Princess. They were hypnotized. Lana apparently liked kids.
"I've got to admit," Kelly grumbled, "she's pretty good at this part."
I nodded. Usually parents just dumped their kids and left, sometimes complaining that this was inconvenient for them. I was pretty sure the parents hated us most of the time. But now, many of them parked and came back to join us. Of course, almost all of them were men…
I started to talk to the girls as they sat on the ground, waiting. But Lana interrupted me.
"We need tinder, kindling, and fuel!" She bubbled enthusiastically as she held up examples of the three that were so perfect I had a hard time believing those twigs actually existed in nature.
"And we need a lot of all three of them. Who wants to help me gather the tinder, kindling, and fuel?" Lana asked.
Every single hand shot up into the air. And that included the parents who were with us. For a second, I thought I saw Kelly's hand twitching. I put my hand on her arm to keep it down, just in case.
Lana divided the girls into teams, each with strict orders to bring back one of the three kinds of sticks. Then she marched them into the woods with storm trooper precision and led them off to collect the wood. I was not surprised to see the dads following her.
"Who's that?" One of the Kaitlyn's moms asked. Her eyes were glazed, and she was certainly in Lana's thrall. No real shock there. Lana had that effect on women, if they didn't have their men around, that is. I tried to remember this mom's name, but to be honest, I really didn't interact with the parents much.
"Her name is Lana." I looked at Kelly and she shrugged. "She's with WAGGS—the World Association of Girl Guides." Which wasn't totally a lie, necessarily. "She's in the U.S. to work with different scout troops."
The mom nodded, her eyes still trained on the woods. "That's nice. Gives the girls access to someone from another country…" she said absently.
I nodded, making the lie true. The mom stood there, gazing at the woods while Kelly and I set up the ropes for knot tying. To be fair, it was kind of nice having an extra pair of hands even if they were Lana's. Kelly and I usually felt like we were in over our heads. Fourteen girls was a lot to work with. Maybe between the three of us, we could actually get through a whole meeting minus the usual chaos and bleeding.
"Come on girls!" Lana shouted cheerfully. She emerged from the woods, followed by the girls in two perfect lines, each carrying a load of wood.
My jaw dropped open. The girls weren't chattering. They weren't goofing off and trying to hit each other. They didn't try to eat the sticks. They were listening. What alternate universe was this? Lana didn't even have to use the universal quiet sign. Not even once!
We stared in awe
as the girls followed Lana to the fire pit and unloaded their wood into three neat piles—one for each size stick. Then she selected two of the Kaitlins to fetch a bucket of water and find a rake. I noticed the mom next to me was grinning with pride that her daughter had been selected for this seemingly amazing honor.
Lana somehow wordlessly got the girls to surround the fire pit in a perfect circle. No girl was left out. Every girl was spaced completely evenly. And none of them spoke. It was like watching a Soviet propaganda movie on manners.
We watched in gaping silence, Kelly, the mom, the random dads, and me were all hypnotized by Lana's performance.
"She's really good," the mom murmured to me.
On a cue that I didn't see (or that happened under some sort of collective group mind control), every girl picked up in an orderly manner, a handful of tinder, kindling, and logs and took them to her spot in the circle. Each girl then knelt down and under Lana's instructions, built a perfect teepee-framed base.
Kelly and I looked at each other in shock. We couldn't even speak.
Lana reviewed fire safety with the girls as if she was Smokey the freakin' Bear. The girls listened in a way second grade girls never listen, and I wondered for a moment if they'd been secretly replaced with Russian little people. I've seen a lot of bizarre things throughout my career as a spy, from a man being killed by his own elbow to an otter that delivered secret messages, but I'd never seen anything like this.
"Okay girls! Now we start the fire! Katelynn! You first!" Lana enthused. She knew the girls' names already! She even pronounced the kaitlins in a way that somehow reflected how you'd spell their names. I don't know how she did it, but it was completely obvious that she did.
One by one, the girls came forward as she called on them to help build the main fire. Then each girl lit a match without setting her clothes on fire and held it to the tinder. It was like watching a surreal movie that you knew couldn't be true, even though you were watching it with your own eyes. I expected that George Lucas would walk in at any moment and yell, "Cut!"
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