Spying With Sir

by Judy Jarvie

  Her usually full lips are a thin hard line. “Hard to trust someone who’s got me into all this via lies. One thing’s clear—somebody really mustn’t like you.”

  “Don’t think I like them either.”

  “There’s no way you can even guess how bad I think you are right now.”

  “Actually, think I can.”

  And it has nothing on the bad thoughts racing through my mind. Was Tavi tailed? Has Andreas’ identity as a plant in the Katsaros lair been sprung, or what? Are we about to be ambushed again?

  Earlier, I was counting down to debrief—to shaking off Kate’s questions, thinking she’d have enough on her mind when she was inducted into the mission proper. Now Tavi’s dead, the mission’s blown and Kate is my problem.

  I knew this mission was off—felt it like a premonition read from a seer’s old tome of prophecy. Knew it when I nicknamed her Kryptonite Katie. But now, I just have to wear the hero suit and tights, and act like the shit’s not hit the fucked-up fan for both of us.

  I screw up an eye as I dab my head, thankful the wound isn’t full gush—I’m seizing the positives popsicle and sucking the damn thing dry. It’s all I’ve got when faced with getting a woman with the shakes, in stilettos, who hates my guts, to comply and get to safety over a blacked-out assault course.

  “I can guess how much of a shithead I am to you right now. Listen, honey…”

  “Don’t dare honey me!” She spits pure fury, then the tears start afresh.

  I hold out a hand and gently grasp her wrist. “Please understand it was above my jurisdiction to brief you. Only, the bad guys improvised with an all-action demo, to set the scene without permission.”

  Sensing she’s either gonna cry again, hit me or verbally abuse me more, and knowing time’s the thing that’s hemorrhaging here, I leave her and go to the driver’s seat to study the sat nav. Looks like we’re as close as we can get to the trail. The caves link underground to Villa Missori by labyrinth tunnels, but they’re accessible via woodland paths—they offer a storage base facility and an emergency billet for personnel.

  I see the mistrust in her eyes but proceed anyway. “You’ve a right to be pissed. But we still need to go—to hide out in the caves. It’s night, it’s gonna be a task. Boss orders us to wait for help—so save discussions ‘til we regroup. Two miles on winding wooded track in the dark ahead.”

  “Two miles? In heels? Do I have time to grab a change?”

  Typical woman, typical civilian. I’m pissed enough to want to point out my colleague and buddy Tavi is dead until she adds, “I have a scarf for your head bandage and water. Running shoes too. We’ll need them.”

  Inside, I warm up and curse my nasty-ass assumptions. She’s not a mall bitch—her head’s on straight. The fact that she had my mind doing somersaults earlier, thinking about her when I shoulda been focused on taking out the bad boys, almost makes some sense now.

  Kinda. On Planet DoucheBrain. Where the crapola cops hang. Fuck.

  “Good thinkin’,” I answer. I re-load and replace weapons pre-expedition and grab as much spare ammo as I can fit in a rucksack along with scant supplies we may need—maps, more water, a spare shirt and blanket from the car.

  “Wanna get moving quick. They mean business. I’d rather we were farther out of harm’s way than this.”

  My mind’s occupied with thinking, what if they’re lying in wait at the cave? What if they know we have this island rigged with covert bases and surveillance hideouts in our arsenal? They’re fighting back ‘cause some fuck’s snitched and they’re wise. If they’re waiting we could be next.

  Kate’s stopped crying, but her face is ashen and she shakes like a cold turkey junkie. Guess that’s natural for a gunfire virgin. Sadly, I’m way past first times.

  I feel for the kid, but a voice in my head is pissed—worst job ever. Civilian bodyguard and a head wound. Feelin’ like a beat cop—demotion all the pissing way.

  Then I can my dickassed complaints. Remembering the Mexican blow-up, I count my blessings. The jettisoned job that caused everyone to question if I’m worthy to wear the badge. A shot nails my heart at the mind-blast of losing my partner Nathan on my fucking watch. I was captured, Nathan shot dead.

  I nix the recriminations. Kate’s non-stop shaking is freaking me out enough to want to move pronto. I pull on a black-ops sweater, hand her a spare and shove my leather jacket at her.

  “C’mon, wear it. Nix the chills with layers. Times up. Let’s go.”

  * * * *

  It takes two hours to travel the two miles to our cavern sanctuary. Two freakin’ miles. We have multiple twig scratches, foliage abrasions and Kate has jarred ankles, even in sneakers. Kate also took a lash in the moosh from a tree branch and yelped in pain. Kinda figure it was payback for the crap she’s dealt me for too long.

  And the fact I was treated to a reporter gone wild question-fest en route.

  “So you’re not our company chairman? It was all lies and a smokescreen.”

  “Nope to being chairman. Not so much smokescreen as mission rules.”

  “And…”

  “And I’m not here to get a story. I’m here to catch a bad guy.”

  “So you’re police?”

  “FBI. Interpol. I said already. Can we can the questions?”

  “What does that mean? Are you going to keep giving me minimal answers?”

  “Yup.”

  “Very funny, Dan. I deserve way better than that.”

  “Hardy friggin’ har. That’s me. Comic genius as well as Interpol stud and patience-sapped police pro.”

  “Just let me in on some of it, can’t you? This is way too big to cover up and deal with later.”

  I sigh and my chest’s tight, opening this worm can up for full inspection. “Interpol Sex Crimes Protection Division. Let’s just can the interrogation ‘til later. We’re not just alerting any following snipers to our presence, we may as well have a frickin’ marching parade band and a pony mascot, for shit’s sake.”

  “God. You are so self-centered.”

  She huffed half the way, but we hung in and found the cave mouth—hidden so cleverly we could’ve missed it. The red crosses on trees every ten paces and pebble bed markers helped. The cascade of steps to the pool-filled caverns was a welcome sight and the ‘spa scene’ is a mirage, because taking center-stage are three vast, state-of-the-art speedboats and a mini-control room built into rock.

  I don’t put on the lights. Figure we don’t want to advertise our arrival. I take her to the back of the caves, and we find a spot at the darkest point.

  “Time to sit it out, Katie.”

  “Sit? And wait? That’s it?”

  “We made it. Let’s just sit and regroup. Get strength back in case we need to move fast again.”

  “Some place,” said Kate. “Think we could sleep on the boats?”

  “If you think you could. Sleeping, I mean.” I add the last bit in case she thinks I’m talking about bunking with her and seeing where it leads. Perish that thought. “After what you’ve been through, sleep may be hard to nail for a while. Kind of a perk of the job.”

  I’ll wager that for the foreseeable she’ll be reliving the Tavi thing on a nightly basis. I know—been there and worn the wardrobe of insomniac side-effects. I’ve probably just summoned a fresh mental portrait of Tavi lying bleeding for her right this minute—nice work,- Draven. Top of the dip-shit class. I’m so playing this like a second grader.

  “I’m so cold, that’s why I thought of the boat, for heat,” she replies, and her teeth are chattering in sync with every word.

  “Come here.” I press the blanket I’ve brought in my rucksack into her shaking hands. “Want me to wrap you in it?” She’s still in my leather. Which makes her look sexy, badass and childlike all at once. Bad news for my anti-Lolita ethics and my anti-boner defenses.

  “I can manage. So. Get to it, you were about to tell me all. Now we’re here and there’s no excuse not to,” Kate prompts.<
br />
  I take in a sigh to sustain me. “So I’m not the CEO of Your News Today. But my dad does own companies—hotels actually. On that much I wasn’t lying. Useful cover.”

  “Okay. And the rest.”

  “Katsaros and his henchmen are nasty-ass bastards. We need you on this case because you’re the double of someone who may just have the power to be the Achilles Heel of the big guy. They’re way worse bastards than you even realize.”

  “Nice. Shame nobody thought to let me choose.” She nods. But when I don’t say more, she probes me with a gaze that drills like an oil rig. “The whole story. Surely I deserve more than scraps from your fit-up table. Full explanations are the very least I deserve.”

  I’m chastened by her directness. I realize I continue to underestimate her.

  Slam dunk to Kate.

  “He’s not only a fraud and a thief—he’s big-time nasty pimp. A fully-fledged scum of the earth human trafficker of the worst kind. Young girls—for porn rings and massage parlors. Kids in their teens from poor families, taken from their homes, sometimes in broad daylight or lured with fake promises and never seen again.”

  “Shit.”

  “And that’s a nice word for him. They farm them out to his client base of perv bastards and serial rapists. Oh yeah, this one’s a real peach.”

  I figure I’ve gone from weak frothy cappuccino not enough information to a dozen shots of pure Columbian espresso, too strong, with tequila on the side. Sex trafficking is one of the worst kinda plagues to humankind.

  Her face reads pure Shut-the-Front-Door snapshot.

  And maybe ready to shock-vomit or faint right about now.

  “You okay?”

  I jump forward to grab her arm in case she passes out. I have to keep reminding myself that Kate’s no agent. She’s not hardened to this murky underbelly world. She’s a stranger to the scummiest sides of the worst kind of lowlifes ever to pass themselves off as humans.

  Is it too late to retrace steps and ask her to summon her ‘happy place’?

  “Sorry. Too much, too soon. Shoulda censored that.”

  “No. I want the truth. No point in evading when I’ve just seen a man die. So why do they want us dead?”

  “Honey. I don’t actually know all the answers yet. But I’ll damn well work to make sure they don’t achieve it, and I’ll get to the bottom of why things have turned, too. Count on it.”

  She goes to rise and move away, but she slips, almost, over-balancing, and she could have nearly fallen into the water, which is only a step or so away. I catch her with a firm hand. Steady her and don’t let go. She’s still shaking as if she’s been hugging ice.

  “You need warming up. Want a hug? A purely platonic, professionally initiated hug for warming purposes alone? Ain’t got no heat pads.” Who am I kidding? There’s a part of me that’s heated up just fine at her scent and her proximity. But I try with self-deluding lies.

  She shakes her head, still driven by her thoughts. I can hardly blame her. “Why me?”

  “My superiors will explain and show you photographs. You’re a double for a key contact. You were hand-picked.” This is all I’ve been told to pass on.

  “Isn’t impersonating somebody a stretch too far?”

  “Not for what we had planned.”

  She searches my face. “But didn’t I deserve the right to sign my consent first?”

  She has a point. I’m flailing on how to answer, but I’m so damn travel-jaded my brain’s seized and Kate’s weary from events too, so I can’t do either of us justice.

  “That’s for my bosses to justify. I’m following orders to get you here for debrief—‘til the guns got in first. I give you my solemn oath you’ll be protected every step. These are my orders.”

  “Wow. Big thank you on that, Dan. Doffing my cap. So not worthy.” Her irony makes me feel like a cock and a half. With no balls or idea of how to salvage her respect.

  We sit in the cave listening to the solemn echo of water dripping steadily, and neither of us have further words, beyond what’s going on in our heads. If this water stuff continues we’re both gonna need to pee, and that could be awkward.

  “You need to bathe your wound,” she tells me, and turns to the task with perfunctory calm, removing my bandage with only slightly shaky fingers. Surprising me with her leap into the mundane.

  “Leave it. It’s cool.”

  “Let me clean it at least. You’re the one who’s made all the calls so far.”

  “Okay. If it makes you ease up.” I move closer as she inspects my head.

  “A nasty gash on your forehead—left side, but you’ll live. Bled quite a bit but it’s stopped. I’ll fetch clean water.”

  I hear her ramped breathing and pretend it doesn’t give me a semi-erect dick. What’s up with this? No idea. Never had a boner from a Florence Nightingale offer before. Shit. Though I kinda blame the book she read on the plane for starting things. Hadn’t pegged her as an erotica chick—was that Mummy Porn? The cover caused my dick to press against my pants fly uncomfortably, and it hasn’t accepted the ‘go to sleep you’re not welcome’ edict yet. I’m even summoning images of my female ancestors looking pissed off in historical garb to tame it.

  A cold shower would be next on my agenda, but isn’t possible. We’re in a cave. Together and alone ‘til hell knows when, and no chance of dick control without a scene. Though, when I get the passcodes for the adjoining bunk rooms built into this place, at least we’ll have a wash-room and privacy.

  My erection is all the more poignant, as for two years I’ve battled dick issues—a by-product of the messed-up Mexican job. Being tortured by a drugs cartel and having your career and life blown apart with the consequences can do that to a guy. Mexico left scars, and not just the ones on my body. So I’ve had to be creative in terms of sex. A lot of strict madam action with candle wax and whip play with a series of mistress whores has done the trick, where vanilla has failed.

  So having a wild hard-on pushing its presence now isn’t just damn inconvenient, it’s a big freakin’ surprise. Trust my dick to come back to work with shit timing. Kate could file for harassment if I get a boner whenever she’s near.

  She slides away to the water below us. I watch her graceful, quiet moves. I like that she gets on and does things without flap or fuss. On that, we’re aligned.

  She returns, then hunches down and gently dabs my forehead—her breathing close, her scent subtly discernible.

  “There, better already,” she tells me.

  “Am I decent?”

  “After the lies you told, you’ll never be that. So—we’re staying how long?”

  I shrug. “They’re coming for us. Guesstimate they’ll handle the villa situation and reassess our men at Katsaros’ place.”

  “So we stay put. You’re my bodyguard now?”

  “Don’t make me sound such a bad room buddy.” I watch as she moistens her lips. “I don’t snore. I’ll keep watch for as long as I’m guarding you. Go lie down now. I won’t encroach on your personal space if I can help it—well, not unless you want me to.”

  She doesn’t move to go. Her gaze lingers on mine. “Thanks for what you did in the car. I may be pissed off at the situation. But you saved my life. If you hadn’t been there to fire at them and keep me safe, I’d be with the driver too.”

  I gulp when her gaze travels over me. It feels positively needy, and it blows me away because I really did not expect that from this woman. But it’s hero complex. Nothing more. Drill that into your brain, buddy.

  But my swelling dick ain’t listening and it’s making me horny. This close contact, sensing chemistry, feeling her need is the cause. The passion that’s under the surface and could go boom with the merest spark is volatile. It’s causing me untold heat and sparks jive around my body like thrill-seeking missiles.

  “Shit, Katie. I don’t know if I’m getting things wrong, but I think I need to back off and you need to have some space.” I have to moisten my mouth by
sipping from my water bottle because my brain isn’t functioning on thoughts beyond sex.

  “You’re frightened of being around me?”

  “You affect me. In ways I find hard to control.”

  And I just admitted that out loud. Fuck.

  Sweet Jesus—happy place where are ya?

  She stands up—she’s demure, yet a sumptuous, sexy feast all at once. I realize that from up there she’s gonna get a prime view of me sitting here with a growing dick.

  And that’s with three layers of clothes on.

  I stand up. “Go. Get some rest. Do you good.”

  I’d do her good.

  But she’s not listening. “Why do I scare you, Dan?”

  I move closer and cup her face in my hand. The other slides over her ass. Her peachy ass curve makes my dick cry out in exquisite torture.

  “Because I want to kiss you. And fuck you. But I’m only here to do my job. But I’m a big boy. Trust me—I can restrain my urges. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re not in an ideal situation for getting it on. Anyway—thought you hated my guts. What’s changed?”

  I remove my hand. As difficult as that move is, I have to.

  Her eyes say she’s not quite ready to quit yet.

  “Maybe realizing life can be more fleeting than you know alters things.” Her eyebrows draw together as my pulse fires into the crazy palpitation mode that happens when you’re near to something hot and lethal, and it’s a scary place called attraction. I know it and can feel it in my bones. But it’s exciting scary. Especially when she looks as if she’s challenging me to grab her and cease the talk, via the best human use of tongues.

  Her hands creep over my chest and my boner’s in full-on party mode.

  “Would a kiss and a hug be out of the question?” she asks.

  “You really know how to make an impact,” I whisper.