Spy Away Home (The Never Say Spy Series Book 10)

by Diane Henders

  “Not great. John, Spider, and I just got suspended without pay for two days.”

  “Shit, what happened?”

  “Long story.” I heaved a sigh. “I’ll tell you about it later, but right now I’ve got something else on my mind. Can you call Weasel and tell him I can beat him up this afternoon if he promises to try to find some more information?”

  “Jesus, darlin’, your day just keeps gettin’ worse.”

  “Yeah, if somebody actually managed to kill me, my day would be perfect. So will you call Weasel?”

  “Yeah…” Hellhound hesitated. “But can ya do it tomorrow instead? I got stuff I gotta do today.”

  “Oh, that’s okay, Arnie, I don’t need you to come with me.” I grimaced. “In fact, it’s probably better if you don’t.”

  “I dunno about that, darlin’. I’d rather be there just in case.”

  “Just in case what?” I demanded. “I thought you said Weasel was harmless.”

  “He is, but…”

  He didn’t complete the sentence, and after a moment I said, “Look, if you think something’s going to go wrong, tell me. As far as I know I just have to go down there, hit him a few times, and leave. Five minutes, tops. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “Nah, darlin’, I ain’t holdin’ out on ya. But… I dunno, I just don’t feel right about ya goin’ there alone.”

  “I have my Glock and a trank pistol if he gets out of hand. But if he wants this and you’re sure he’s harmless anyway, I don’t see what the problem is.” I shuddered. “Other than the fact that the whole thing totally creeps me out.”

  “Well, yeah. That’s why I wanna be there.”

  “Thanks, Arnie, but I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you afterward, okay?”

  He hesitated again. “Uh, actually, that’s the problem. I just shipped outta town on a job. Dunno how long it’s gonna take, but prob’ly mosta the night.”

  I laughed. “Is your ‘job’ blonde or brunette?”

  “Huh? Oh.” His gravelly laughter tickled my eardrum. “Hell, darlin’, I wish. If it was a chick, it’d be no problem; I’d just set her up for another night. But this’s somethin’ I can’t blow off.”

  I read between the lines. He had said ‘a job’, not ‘P.I. stuff’. That meant the Special Forces needed a sniper. Someone would die by his bullet tonight.

  I dragged my attention back to Hellhound’s voice. He was saying, “…well, that ain’t exactly right. If I thought ya were in trouble, I’d be there no matter what, but I know ya can take care a’ yourself with Weasel. I just… I hate knowin’ ya gotta do somethin’ ya ain’t comfortable with.”

  I snuggled the phone closer to my cheek, warmed by his concern. “Thanks, Arnie. You’re sweet to worry, but there’s no need. If you’re busy, why don’t you just give me his number? I’ll call him myself.”

  “Nah, that ain’t happenin’. Far’s he knows you’re just Jane; no last name an’ no phone number. I didn’t tell him your real name or your cover names, an’ I didn’t tell him the hit was anythin’ to do with ya. The only way he can get to ya is through me, an’ that’s how it stays. I’ll call him. What d’ya want me to say?”

  “Just see if he wants to do it today.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to think about what I was negotiating. “I can be down there by three, so any time after that. No later than seven, though. I’m tired and I don’t want to drive home in the dark.”

  My eyes popped open at a sudden thought. “Hang on. If I have to do this, tell him there are ground rules or I walk. I’ll hit him, but he doesn’t get to touch me. And no nudity. If he’s missing any of his clothes when I get there, or if he tries to take them off while I’m there, the deal’s off. And if he touches himself at all while I’m hitting him, I’m done and gone.”

  “Good thinkin’, darlin’. Ya might wanna set a limit on the beatin’, too. Like maybe you’ll only hit him a certain number a’ times.”

  “Ugh.” I swallowed nausea. “I don’t know if I can just hit him in cold blood.”

  “He likes it, darlin’. Ya know that. Ya already beat him unconscious once, an’ he came back for more.”

  “Yeah, I know, I just… bleah.” I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. Tell him I’ll hit him twenty times or until he tells me to stop, whichever comes first.”

  Hellhound chuckled. “Twenty? That’s big of ya.”

  “I’m trying to build a little goodwill. I really need that information.”

  “Okay, darlin’. I’ll call him an’ then call ya back. I’ll tell him you’ll meet him at his shop.”

  I sighed. “Thanks.”

  “An’ Aydan?” His normally cheerful rasp was serious. “Rent a car so he can’t ID your car or plates. An’ don’t go home with him. Do it at his shop an’ then bug out soon’s ya can. An’ if anythin’ feels off to ya, anythin’ at all, shoot first an’ ask questions later.”

  A shiver tracked down my spine, but I kept my voice steady and confident. “Thanks, Arnie. I’ll be fine.”

  “I know ya will. Talk to ya soon.”

  True to his word, Hellhound called back five minutes later, but he didn’t sound happy. “Okay, darlin’, it’s set up. Go to his shop at six. His safe word is ‘banana’.”

  “Safe word?” A squirmy sensation twisted my stomach. “This isn’t sex play. I promised to beat him up and that’s all I’m going to do.”

  Hellhound sounded grim. “It ain’t sex play for you, but it is for him. An’ I feel like some kinda fuckin’ sick pimp for settin’ it up.” He paused before bursting out, “Fuck this shit! Listen, Aydan, forget the whole thing. I’ll call him back an’ tell him it’s off. I’ll lean on him a little harder an’ he’ll gimme the information.”

  “No, Arnie, don’t.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’ll be fine. And anyway, I promised him. He’s right, I owe him already for looking out for me.”

  “Bullshit. Ya don’t owe him fuck-all. He’s just a slimy little car thief an’ he wouldn’t know honour if it bit him in the ass. I know how much your promise is worth, darlin’, but there’s times to keep your word an’ times to break it. This’s a time to break it.”

  I squared my shoulders and sat up straight. “No, Arnie, I promised, and I’m going to deliver. And that’ll get me the information without making him mad at you.”

  Silence hung on the line until at last I heard the sound of his exhalation. “Okay. I don’t like it, but it’s your call, darlin’. I told him the rules an’ I told him you’re gonna call me right after, an’ if everythin’ ain’t peachy when I talk to ya, I’m gonna give him a beatin’ he sure as hell won’t enjoy an’ he won’t ever forget.” He hesitated. “Problem is, I was bluffin’. I’m gonna be off-grid by then. But call me anyway an’ leave me a message so I know you’re okay.”

  “I will. Thanks, Arnie.” I hugged the phone closer. “Be careful tonight. Stay safe. And don’t freak out, but… I love you.”

  His rasp softened. “Thanks, Aydan. I love ya, too. But don’t say it again for a while, or I’ll hafta run for Tijuana.”

  I laughed. “Okay. How about if I just say I’m looking forward to polishing your flagpole.”

  “Mm. Love gettin’ my flagpole all shined up…” A crackle that sounded like a radio command interrupted his words, and he added, “Gotta go. Be safe, darlin’.”

  “You, too,” I said, but he had already disconnected.

  I sent a heartfelt prayer skyward.

  Please keep him safe.

  Chapter 29

  The hours crept by as though they were just as reluctant as I was. I dawdled over Lola’s books before dragging my heels over to Eddy’s for a late lunch.

  I had just finished slurping the last of the hot-wing sauce off my fingers when my phone vibrated. The call display showed Spider’s home number, and I punched the Talk button with a blip of worry.

  “Hey, Spider, how are you doing?” I asked in lieu of a ‘hello’.
r />   “Oh… I’m okay,” he mumbled. “I just wanted to let you know that our friend is heading for Calgary.”

  “Oh.” Afraid to ask any more questions on an unsecured line, I said, “Thanks, maybe I’ll see him there. But are you really okay? Do you want to meet me at Blue Eddy’s? I’ll buy you a Coke. And lunch, if you haven’t already eaten.”

  “Thanks, Aydan, but… I’m not feeling very well.” He sighed. “I think I’ll just stay home.”

  “Oh.” My heart squeezed at the misery in his voice, but I couldn’t think of any way to fix things for him. “Well… I hope you feel better soon,” I said awkwardly.

  “Thanks. ‘Bye.”

  He hung up, and I glumly surveyed the denuded chicken bones on my plate. Finding no inspiration there, I heaved a sigh and retreated to Eddy’s office, where I checked over the past four months of the substitute bookkeeper’s work.

  At last I trailed out to my car at three o’clock. After another bomb check I hit the highway, promising myself a nice meal in Calgary before I had to do the dirty deed. It wasn’t a particularly inspiring promise since my stomach was churning, but it was all I had. Gritting my teeth, I tried to concentrate on the stark beauty of the empty fields slipping by outside my car.

  Two hours later I pulled into the outskirts of Calgary, fighting a tension headache and distinct feeling of nausea.

  How and where should I hit him? And how hard? I didn’t think I could bring myself to really hurt him, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be satisfied if I just socked him on the shoulder and called it a beating.

  What if I just hit him so hard the first time that he yelled out his safe word? Then I’d be off the hook.

  Should I kick him in the nuts? That would end it for most guys.

  My stomach heaved. God, that was just sick.

  And besides, Weasel had been turned on even when I drew blood and knocked him unconscious. What if I took my best shot and he didn’t use his safe word, just demanded more? And what if I accidentally killed him? I cringed at the thought of having to explain that my latest dead body was the result of sadistic sex play that got out of hand.

  Maybe I could just kick him in the ass. I definitely felt like doing that.

  But not twenty times. I wouldn’t have the heart to hit him in the same place over and over. I shuddered at the thought of the bruises.

  What the hell had I been thinking? I should’ve said five hits, not twenty.

  Maybe I could just slap his face. That might work.

  But still. Twenty times?

  God, I couldn’t do this.

  But I needed the information. And dammit, I should stop worrying about hurting Weasel. He wanted it. He was the one forcing me to do this.

  I pulled to a stop at my favourite Italian restaurant and sat staring at its door. I’d feel better if I ate something.

  But I couldn’t sit there and eat, pretending everything was fine. And the fine food would be utterly wasted on my queasy stomach.

  Letting out a breath of resignation, I put the car back in gear and headed for the nearest fast-food joint. I had to go in to use the washroom after my long drive anyway, but I couldn’t bear to stay in the bright noisy restaurant. Clutching my burger and fries, I retreated to my car and forced myself to swallow the food despite my nausea. It sat like a rock in my stomach, but at least my hands stopped trembling.

  A small fee at the nearest big-box building-supply store netted me the use of a half-ton truck for ninety minutes, and a short time later I was heading toward the semi-industrial area that housed Weasel’s automotive shop.

  In the parking lot I turned off the ignition, then closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing.

  In. Out. Slow like ocean waves.

  I was not going in there to beat a frightened, helpless victim. I was going to fulfill a man’s fantasies. He could tell me to stop anytime. This was what he wanted. I was doing him a favour, dammit.

  I opened my eyes and straightened my spine.

  Don’t let him see weakness. He expected hard and tough; give it to him.

  Besides, this was Weasel, not somebody I actually liked. I summoned up the memories of his disgusting stale-cigarette stench, his foul innuendos, his public masturbation, and his incredibly irritating habit of invading my personal space.

  And I’d had to drive four hours round trip for this.

  That little shit.

  I’d kick his ass, all right.

  I slammed the truck door behind me and marched across the parking lot.

  When I shoved open the door to the front office and strode inside Weasel jumped up from behind the grubby desk, his unattractive face splitting into a grin that displayed nicotine-yellowed teeth. His stringy shoulder-length hair didn’t look as though it had been washed since the last time I’d seen him months ago, and the do-rag that covered it was so caked with black grease that its pattern of grinning skulls was barely visible.

  “Jane Crazy-Bitch! I didn’t think you’d come!” He hurried over to push his face close to my neck, inhaling deeply.

  “Back off,” I snapped. “If you touch me, I’m out of here.”

  “Mm, you still smell crazy good!” Weasel withdrew a few inches, but not far enough to make my skin stop crawling. “Goddamn, Jane Crazy! I’ve been whacking off all day thinking about you and I’m still hard as nails…”

  His hand drifted toward the conspicuous bulge in his dirty jeans and I barked a warning. “Touch it and I’m gone!”

  “Aw, Jane Crazy…” He thrust his hips at me. “Look how big it is! Let’s fuck. I’m good, you’ll like it, all the bitches do-”

  Without even thinking, my hand flashed out. My palm connected with his cheek with a sound like a rifle shot, and he reeled backward, clutching his face while his eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

  “I love you, Jane Crazy!”

  “One,” I snapped.

  That focused his attention. His eyes widened. “Aw, Jane, that didn’t count! I didn’t even get ready yet…”

  “One,” I repeated implacably.

  His cocky demeanor vanished. “Wait!” he yelped as I advanced on him. “I have to get ready. Wait right here. Don’t go away. I’ll only be a minute. Or, no, do you want a beer? I’ll get you a beer. You can go sit on the couch in the back and have a beer…”

  “No beer,” I growled. “No waiting. We’re doing this now.”

  “Okay. Okay. Come into the back.” He beckoned me anxiously toward the filthy door that separated the front office from the automotive bay.

  I eyed him suspiciously. “No tricks, or I’ll hurt you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

  His eyes drifted half-closed and he groaned. “Goddamn, you’re gonna make jizz in my pants before you even hit me…” He ground his crotch against the door frame, moaning.

  I recoiled. “Cut it out! The deal was ‘no masturbating’.”

  His eyes popped open. “I didn’t touch myself! I just… it was an accident, I swear!”

  “Get in the back,” I ground out.

  “Okay. Okay, Mistress Jane, whatever you say.”

  The sudden change from obnoxious to obsequious was profoundly disturbing. I followed him into the automotive bay with even more distrust than before, but I couldn’t see anything threatening.

  A half-stripped car occupied one end of the bay and the grungy sofa and chairs looked as though they’d acquired an additional layer of grime since the last time I’d been here, but other than that everything looked the same.

  “Please sit,” Weasel said, and my jaw dropped at his use of the word ‘please’.

  I held back a shudder at the state of the chairs. “I’ll stand.”

  “Okay.” He nodded vigorously. “That’s cool. Whatever you say, Mistress. I brought my favourite whip. I hope you like it.” He pointed toward the couch, where a vicious-looking black leather riding crop lay half-camouflaged by the dirty cushions.

  A wave of horrible memories crashed over me and I stiffened my kn
ees to keep from staggering back a step.

  “I don’t do whips.” My voice came out half-strangled.

  Suddenly Obnoxious Weasel was back. “I want the whip. That was our deal. You promised.”

  “I promised to beat you up,” I gritted through clenched teeth. “I didn’t promise anything about whips.”

  “No, you promised to whip my ass. That’s what you said in the Hogback.”

  I couldn’t argue. I couldn’t remember exactly what I’d said, but I’d been so terrified I would have agreed to almost anything. It was just sheer luck I hadn’t promised him something worse.

  Weasel planted his fists on his hips, looking as immovable as a boulder despite his puny stature. “If you don’t whip my ass like you promised, the deal’s off and you can find somebody else to get your information.”

  A rush of hot irritation mercifully broke the icy paralysis of the flashback. “Listen, you little shit, if I didn’t know you’d enjoy it, I’d kick your ass from here to…” I bit off the words as his eyelids fluttered closed with a beatific gasp.

  Since his eyes were closed anyway, I allowed myself the luxury of a whole-body shudder.

  “More,” he begged, thrusting rhythmically at me. “Please, Mistress.”

  I averted my gaze from the repulsive sight and gnawed my lower lip. Dammit, I needed that information. And I’d driven all the way down here. It’d be stupid to back out now.

  I could do this. I only had to hit him nineteen more times. I could do it fast and get out.

  “Fine.” My voice came out harsh. “The whip it is, then.”

  He shivered and his hand dipped toward his crotch, but he quickly aborted the movement when I growled a warning.

  “Thank you, Mistress Jane,” he babbled. “I’ll go and get ready. I have my nipple clamps and…”

  My mind mercifully zoned out while he described pain-inducing paraphernalia I didn’t even want to imagine.

  “I don’t care what you do, but you’d better be fully dressed when you get back here,” I snapped. “If I see any more skin than I’m seeing right now, the deal’s off.”