A Covert Affair

by Susan Mann

  “Quinn! It’s me!” James hissed in her ear.

  She stopped struggling and went limp. He set her on her feet, and when he released her, her fear swiftly morphed into adrenaline-induced ire. She spun around and pounded his chest with her fists. “Holy crap, James! You scared the living hell out of me!” she said in a furious whisper.

  He gripped her wrists and stopped the pummeling. “What the hell, Quinn? What are you doing?” At the sharp edge she heard in his whispers, her anger ebbed. Her eyes snapped up to his face. Even in the dimness of the corridor, she saw the worry and confusion.

  Both heads whipped toward the doorknob when it rattled and turned. James released Quinn’s wrists, caught her up in his arms, and smashed his mouth on hers. She knew the kiss was to give them cover for being in a dark hallway, but she immediately felt something underneath. It was unyielding and passionate and desperate, as if trying to convey to her the tumult roiling inside him.

  Quinn gave into her own raft of emotions. She didn’t care about the angry voice spewing at them in a harsh tone. She tilted her head and opened her mouth. James thrust his tongue into it, eliciting from her a guttural moan.

  And then James broke off the kiss, ending it as quickly as it had begun. His head swung sluggishly toward the voice. Heavy eyelids blinked slowly over unfocused eyes. “Do you mind? My wife and I are trying to have a private moment,” he slurred.

  The amritdhari man yelled at them again in indignant Punjabi.

  Quinn closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, following James’s lead to act drunk. When she opened them again, she tried to make her eyelids look as heavy as Pot Roast’s when ready for a nap.

  She looked at their accuser. “Hey, man. What’s your damage?” Her head wobbled as if it was too heavy for her neck.

  The amritdhari man’s eyes blazed with disgust and condemnation, clearly incensed by James and Quinn’s inappropriate and shocking behavior. The woman’s face pinched in a deep frown. Pink Shirt Guy stood by silently with his arms crossed over his chest. Quinn noticed the barest hint of a smirk.

  The woman spoke directly to the furious man. Whatever she said shut him down. He still glowered at them, but at least he wasn’t verbally attacking them anymore. Quinn was even more grateful his kirpan had remained sheathed through it all.

  Quinn had a problem. Given she and James were trying to sell the idea they were drunk and in the hallway engaged in a lusty make out session, her phone gripped in her hand seemed a bit incongruous. If James released her, they’d see it.

  She slid her hand down his back and ran her fingertips over his butt. As she searched for the back pocket of his trousers, his arms tightened around her.

  James listlessly wagged his head from side to side as she found the opening and slipped the phone into his pocket. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re saying.”

  The Pink Shirt Guy said, “They say no kissing in public.”

  “Yeah, yeah, public. Whatever.” James let go of Quinn and took her hand. “C’mon, baby. Let’s not be in public.” They stumbled into the room the three had just left and closed the door, plunging them into cavelike blackness.

  The latch had barely clicked when Quinn pressed an ear to the door. The voices in the hallway quickly faded.

  James cracked the door open and peeked through the slit. “Clear,” he whispered. Quinn expected him to open the door wider so they could leave. Instead, he found the light switch on the wall and closed the door again. With a click, the darkness was overcome by harsh fluorescent light, revealing black chairs surrounding a long wooden table in the center of the room.

  James stepped away from the door and faced her. He wafted his upturned palms through the air in utter bafflement. “What the hell, Quinn? You said you were going to the bathroom. But instead, I find you lurking in a dark, off-limits hallway.”

  “I noticed they were acting suspicious, and I recognized the woman from a photo of a pro-Khalistan protest, so I decided to follow them and check it out. They snuck into this room and started arguing. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, so I recorded it for Ravi to translate later.”

  “Did it ever occur to you to tell me about this beforehand?”

  “I’d already screwed up once this evening. I didn’t want to send Ravi off on another one of my wild goose chases.”

  He huffed an exasperated breath and dragged his hands over his face. “You can’t just go off and do stuff like this by yourself. We’re partners. We should know what the other’s doing, watching each other’s backs. How am I supposed to do that if you go off and pull some crazy stunt like this?”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “It turned out okay this time.” He started to pace. “Did you at least have an exit strategy?”

  She nodded vigorously. “I did. If they came out all of a sudden, I was going to claim I got lost on the way to the bathroom. Actually, I was about to leave. From the way their voices had calmed, I figured the conversation was wrapping up. You coming up behind me threw all that off.”

  “Don’t blame this on me,” he said, scowling. “If you told me what you were up to from the start, I would have handled it differently.”

  “You’re right. I should have let you know what I was up to. It won’t happen again.”

  He stopped pacing. “Knowing you, I doubt it,” he said with a wry smile that quickly disappeared. “I’m sorry for busting your chops. I know you’re new at this and still learning. But I love you, and the thought of you vanishing into thin air and me not having a clue about why or how because you took off half-cocked . . .” One shoulder lifted in a slight shrug. “It freaks me out.”

  She went to him and took both his hands in hers. “I’m sorry, James. I really am. Now I know better. I won’t do it again. I swear.” Raising her eyebrows, she held his gaze. “Okay?”

  His shoulders dropped. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” she said with finality.

  The tension in his body seeped away. “In case news of our little dalliance in the hallway makes its way around the reception, we should probably clear out. Are you okay with leaving?”

  She turned the previous events over in her mind. “I am. There doesn’t seem to be anything else for us to follow up on.” Then a question dawned. “Why did you come looking for me in the first place? There wasn’t any reason for you to be worried. I’d only been gone for a few minutes.”

  He glanced off to the side. “Our, um, moment in the reception hall kinda got to me. I went looking for you so we could sneak off somewhere and, uh . . .” His gaze slid back to her. “Mess around a little.”

  It was like a solar flare erupted in her chest. “Yeah?” She stepped closer and fiddled with the knot of his loosened tie. “That thought crossed my mind, too. As luck would have it, we’ve ended up in a place where we can, um . . .” She shot him a coy look. “Canoodle.”

  One side of his mouth pulled up in a lopsided smile. “It’d be a shame not to take advantage of it now that we’re here.”

  “It would.” She went up on her tiptoes and left a trail of soft kisses along his jawline. “And don’t you think it would look kind of suspicious if we went right back to the party after giving the impression we were trying to have a ‘private moment’?”

  “Mmmmmm.”

  She smiled and nipped his earlobe. “I’ll take that as a yes. We have to stay in here for a while to sell the cover.”

  His breathing turned shallow as she continued to kiss him down his neck and across his throat. She slowly, methodically worked her way up to his chin.

  “For the cover,” he whispered.

  When she reached his slightly parted lips, she tantalized him by keeping hers mere millimeters from his. Their hot breath mingled as Quinn let the tension build. Heart hammering in her chest, she finally bridged the gap and pressed her lips to his.

  They indulged in a long, leisurely kiss. Gradually, their breathing grew heavier as their kisses turned hungrier and more urgent.
His hand slid up under the back of her blouse while hers cradled the side of his face.

  Engulfed in James’s embrace, his scent, his kiss, Quinn lost all sense of time and place.

  James stilled his wandering hands and lessened the pressure on her lips. Feeling the change in him, she let up as well. He lifted his head and said, “We have to stop. I’m about to burst into flames.”

  She gusted a breathy laugh. “You and me both.” They had to go. She understood that. But not before she said what was on her heart. “I love you.”

  His smile softened. “I love you, too.” He kissed her forehead and said, “Ready to head back to the reception?”

  “I am. I actually do need to make a pit stop before we go, though.”

  “Right.” When he released her, Quinn was happy her wet-noodle legs didn’t give out from under her.

  James peeked out the door. He opened it wider and whispered, “Let’s go.”

  In a hurried tiptoe, she bolted out the door and stole down the corridor with James on her heels. Once over the velvet rope and in the light of the lobby, they slowed their steps and sauntered toward the hallway leading to the bathrooms.

  “Hey, how did you know I was in that corridor?” she asked. “It’s in the opposite direction of the bathrooms and it was so dark, you couldn’t have spotted me from the lobby. You couldn’t have known I wasn’t in the bathroom.”

  “I would have known if you’d informed me, like a partner is supposed to.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I know, I know. I got the memo.”

  “Just making sure I made my point.” He paused. “And to answer your question, I tracked your phone.”

  “Of course.” She held out her hand. “Speaking of phones, can I have mine back, please?”

  He took it from his pocket and placed it in her upturned palm. “Warn a guy the next time you go hunting for his pocket, would you?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” She turned on the screen and stopped in her tracks. “Oh crap.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s been recording this entire time.” Her eyes widened at the thought of the rustling noises, moaning, and heavy breathing it had logged during the previous ten minutes. She touched the off button and put it in her pocket. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Admit it,” she said with a smirk. “You’re a little proud, aren’t you?”

  From under hooded eyelids, he said, “Maybe.”

  “You’re such a guy,” she said with a laugh. “You want to wait here? I promise I’ll be back in a few minutes and not go anywhere else.”

  “We’ll see about that. And I’ll be here.” As she left him in the middle of the lobby, she heard him say, “Waiting.” Just as she turned into the corridor, he said in a louder voice, “Patiently.”

  She smiled and marveled at how funny and charming and sexy he was. Pushing through the door into the ladies’ room, she ignored the stares she instantly garnered and headed into the stall with the Western-style toilet. Did the other women stare at her because she was an American? Or had they heard about her and James’s tryst and now she was in their minds the Debauched American? Scandalous news did tend to spread like wildfire. Unable to do anything about it now, she pushed away the thoughts and went about her business.

  Mission accomplished, she exited the stall, washed her hands, and checked herself in the mirror. After drying her hands and applying sanitizer from a small bottle on the counter, she fixed her smudged lipstick and swiped a fingertip under each eye to remove bits of flaky mascara. Her hair was tousled, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, so she let it be. Now ready to face any judgment, real or imagined, she straightened her blouse, threw open the door, and marched out.

  True to his word, James hadn’t moved from the spot where she’d left him. At her approach, he smiled and offered her his elbow. She returned his smile and took his arm.

  Inside the reception hall again, Quinn scanned the room. The three from the hallway were nowhere in sight.

  She also noted all eyes were on the performance taking place at the center of the dance floor. It was clearly something special, so leaving now would be rude. Quinn and James had no choice but to take their seats and watch.

  Mr. and Mrs. Sandhu were the sole occupants of the dance floor. As a recording of a man and woman having a sung conversation played from the speakers, they circled around each other as if engaged in a kind of dance-off. Mrs. Sandhu pantomimed at her husband as the woman sang. At one point, she wagged her finger at him.

  It was Mr. Sandhu’s turn when the man’s voice filled the room. He dropped to his knees in front of his wife and pressed his hands to his heart. Everyone in the room was completely spellbound.

  Quinn leaned over to Ravi and whispered, “What’s this?”

  “Don’t act all innocent with me, Quinn,” Ravi whispered back. “You and James disappear for twenty minutes and then waltz back in like nothing happened. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out you two were going at it in a supply closet.”

  “It was a conference room, and it’s not exactly what you think.”

  He gave her a flat stare.

  “Okay, it is what you think, but there’s more to it than that. We’ll explain later.” She jutted her chin at the couple on the dance floor. “Seriously, what are they doing?”

  Ravi squinted at her, sighed, and relented. “It’s a Punjabi folk dance called ‘Teri Kanak Di Rakhi.’ It’s kind of a battle-of-the-sexes song. He’s offering her his heart but she won’t take it. When he asks her why, she answers, ‘You say I can go sit by the well. And then it’s, Oh, and while you’re there, you can do my laundry.’”

  Quinn giggled. “I like her. She’s sassy.”

  “Yeah. And then she teases him by saying she can’t water the fields, not because she’s not strong enough, but because it will ruin her mehndi, the henna designs on her hands.”

  “The Punjabi equivalent of breaking a nail.”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  By the end of the song, the two danced in concert. “Looks like they got together.”

  “Yeah, but he’s going to have his hands full,” he said.

  “Nothing wrong with keeping a man on his toes.”

  Ravi gave her a side-eyed stare. “I’m not even gonna ask.”

  “That’s probably wise.”

  The crowd applauded as the Sandhus bowed and left the dance floor.

  Quinn said, “Also, James and I need to get out of here.”

  The shift in Ravi’s demeanor from laid-back to alert was subtle, but Quinn noticed it nonetheless. He turned to Amarjit. “James and Quinn must leave. I came with them in the same car, so I must go as well.”

  “Oh! Yes, of course,” Amarjit said. They all stood and she looked at Quinn. “I have enjoyed spending the day with you.”

  “I have, too. Thank you for hanging out with us and being my cultural advisor.”

  “It was my pleasure. Will I see you again before you leave Amritsar?”

  “I hope so. We’ll be here for at least a few more days.” In reality, she had no idea how much longer they’d be there. Quinn gave Amarjit a quick hug. “I’ll keep in touch.”

  Amarjit gave Ravi a shy wave before moving off to sit with her friends.

  They offered their thanks and farewells to the Sandhus. Mr. Sandhu’s affability and Mrs. Sandhu’s graciousness toward them had not changed. They’d either not heard about James and Quinn’s “reckless” public display of affection, or if they had, didn’t care, much to Quinn’s relief.

  As an added bonus, no one lobbed insults at them as they walked to the car.

  Quinn considered it a win.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Quinn’s phone lay on the coffee table in her and James’s suite. She sat on the edge of the couch and stared at it, rubbing her sweaty palms over her thighs. What if the voices were garbled and indecipherable? What
if it hadn’t recorded anything at all? It would expose her incompetence and prove she had no business thinking she could ever be a covert operative. She consoled herself with the fact that if she washed out, she still had her job as a librarian.

  “We’ll never know what’s there if we don’t turn it on,” James said. He glanced at Ravi and asked, “Are you ready?”

  From his seat in the armchair, Ravi nodded. “Fire away.”

  James tapped the screen and sat down next to Quinn.

  Thanks to the CIA-developed high-quality recording app, the voices coming from the phone sounded exactly as they had when Quinn heard them from the corridor. When she expelled a huge sigh, James rested his hand atop hers and gave it a squeeze.

  Ravi bowed his head and stared at a spot on the floor as he listened. “ ‘I can and I will,’” he said, translating the first man’s voice on the fly. “‘And don’t you go all judgmental on me. The gurus’ teachings are clear on this. You’re the one going against them, not me.’”

  The second man’s voice was thunderous in his reply.

  “‘Do not question me. Who are you to lecture me on the teachings of gurus?’” Ravi said in a much calmer tone than the one coming from the phone. “‘While you live your life of wretched Western decadence, I have dedicated my life to prayer, study, and meditation.’” The voice dripped with disdain. “‘You do not even cover your head.’”

  At least now she knew which voice went with which guy.

  “‘And you think that makes you better than me? It does not. I don’t give a crap what you think of me, you asshole.’” Ravi glanced up at them. “I’m giving you the Americanized versions of a couple of those words.”

  The man Quinn dubbed in her head as Captain Sanctimonious exploded with a vitriolic, spleen-venting response. She could practically see him spewing spittle all over Pink Shirt Guy.

  Ravi smirked. “I’m not gonna bother translating that. You get the point.”

  Pink Shirt Guy spoke again. Ravi said, “‘If we weren’t already neck deep in this, I would tell you to find someone who is pure enough to help you. But it is too late for that now. The next part of the plan is already in motion.’”