Spy High

by Diane Henders

  “Maybe,” Hellhound growled. “But I still don’t like it. An’ what about Orion? I thought the tracker showed him around here, so where the hell is he?”

  We emerged from the trail and I made a show of settling onto the bench, peeking at my tracker in the process. “Back at the garage. Looks like he’s still avoiding us.”

  Hellhound sank onto the bench beside me and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close and pressing his lips against my hair.

  “Are ya sure the tracker’s workin’?” he muttered. “Maybe he found it an’ ditched it.”

  “Maybe, but it was working fine yesterday.” I sighed. “I guess we’ll find out. If it doesn’t move for the rest of the day, we’ll know what happened.” I stood and spoke at normal volume. “Come on, there’s a really nice view over the river from around the corner here.”

  I ushered him to the point that overlooked the renters’ land and we stood with our arms around each other, ostensibly admiring the view.

  Out of the corner of my eye I watched his gaze flick over the landscape, and I knew he’d be storing the layout of the commune and surrounding areas in his phenomenal memory. After a few minutes he turned to me with a smile.

  “Pretty nice, darlin’. Let’s walk down an’ ya can show me the rest.”

  Hand in hand, we strolled back via the garage, but Skidmark had vacated his chair and there was still no sign of Orion. When we arrived at my tent I led Hellhound inside and checked the tracker again.

  The red dot still glowed in the vicinity of the garage and my heart sank.

  I flopped down on the mattress. “Shit, maybe it fell out of his boot. It’s been in the same place all day.”

  Hellhound swung the pack down from his shoulders and joined me for a look at the tracker. “Well, like ya say, we might as well wait an’ see.” He eyed my wooden-crate shelves with a frown. “I got some gear in my pack that I don’t wanna leave where somebody could find it. Ya got a cache around here anywhere?”

  “Yeah, in the little pond I showed you from the viewpoint. I’ve got a waterproof box stowed under a log, but I don’t know if it’ll be big enough. What have you got?”

  Hellhound glanced around the windowless tent and dodged the question. “Fuck, I hate bein’ where I can’t see outside. Let’s go have a look at it.” He rose and slung his pack over his shoulders again.

  I was just getting up when my tent flap rustled. Our heads snapped around to face the incoming threat and Hellhound dropped into a combat-ready crouch.

  The air whooshed out of both of us in laughter when Peaches entered, tail crooked in a question-mark as she made straight for Hellhound and wound around his ankles. She sang a little melody of purrs and trilling meows, and his laughter changed from surprise to delight. He leaned down, stroking her with a gentle hand, and she pushed her face into his palm and purred extravagantly.

  “Who’s this?” Hellhound inquired, his expert fingers rubbing a spot on her jaw that made her eyes slit in bliss. “Looks like somebody needs to go on a diet.”

  “This is Peaches.” I smiled. “Careful, Hooker’s going to be jealous when he smells her on you. And she doesn’t need a diet, she only needs another week or two and she’ll be skinny as a rail.”

  “She’s gonna have kittens?” Hellhound knelt, cupping her bulging sides with the lightest of touches. “Hey, little lady.” His rasp softened to a tender sing-song. “You’re gonna be a momma-cat soon. Hey, little momma-cat.”

  She bunted his knee with her face before making her way determinedly up his thigh to press against his chest in the universal feline body language for “Pick me up and carry me, human.”

  Hellhound shot me a worried look, his hands hovering protectively near her. “What should I do? Will it hurt her if I pick her up?”

  “No, just keep her supported, the same way you pick Hooker up.”

  He placed careful hands under her chest and hindquarters and tucked her close to his body, his brow furrowed in concentration. When he rose, cradling his purring passenger against his massive chest as though she was made of spun glass, I had to swallow a lump in my throat.

  “Where can I take her where she’ll be safe?” he asked.

  I cleared my throat and stepped over to give Peaches a chin-scratch. “Just bring her along. We can have a look at the pond and then drop her off at the main building. There’s a nice warm cat-house there for her and the other commune cats.”

  “Okay, good. Lead the way, darlin’.” His gaze didn’t leave the furry bundle in his arms, and as I went out the tent flap, his rough-edged croon followed me. “Hey, little momma-cat…”

  He managed to tear his attention away from Peaches long enough to evaluate my cache at the pond and nod approval. “Okay, that’ll work. I ain’t gonna get at it in daylight, though. Let’s go drop off my little lady, an’ then I wanna go for a walk an’ scout the renters.”

  “Oh…” I frowned. “I don’t think we’re supposed to go over there. When I got here Moonbeam and Karma were pretty clear about the extent of the commune’s land.”

  Hellhound grinned. “Lucky I’m just a dumbfuck an’ don’t know any better.”

  I grinned back. “Damn tourists.”

  “Fuckin’ right.”

  With Peaches safely delivered to the main building, we set off toward the river, hand in hand once more. On the bridge, Hellhound drew me to a halt about a third of the way across and pulled me into his arms to kiss me unhurriedly.

  I sighed contentment and leaned into him. “I wish I didn’t know you were just using this as an excuse to scope out the bridge,” I mumbled against his lips.

  He chuckled and guided me to the railing, where we leaned overlooking the river with his arm around my shoulders while he surreptitiously studied the structure below us. “Fringe benefit, darlin’,” he murmured, and leaned closer to hide his lips in my hair. “This bridge could hold a fuckin’ tank.”

  “Yeah.” I dipped my head to let my hair swing down like a curtain between us and the renters’ side. “They’d need to bring in supplies and stuff, so it’d have to hold a vehicle’s weight. That’s probably why Ratboy has been so cranky. They’re probably waiting on the truck so they can make a supply run.”

  “Why wouldn’t they just use the station wagon?”

  “No idea.” I hesitated. “Unless they need to bring in something that wouldn’t fit in the station wagon.”

  Hellhound grunted agreement, then added, “How many guys d’ya figure are over there?”

  “I don’t know for sure.” I leaned over for another kiss. “I saw between thirty and thirty-five in their assembly, but there might have been more in some other part of the encampment. And I don’t know if they’re all guys. I’m just assuming.”

  “Hm. Well, let’s go see.” Hellhound straightened and together we ambled across the bridge.

  As we neared the other side, I scanned the forest without seeing anything but trees and ferns. My skin prickled with the uncomfortable recollection of the marchers and their glinting weapons. I really hoped those hadn’t been bayonets.

  We stepped off the bridge and strolled down the gravelled road, and I tried not to let my head swivel anxiously. My palm began to sweat in Hellhound’s light clasp. If the rest of Ratboy’s group hated women as much as he did, this might be a really bad idea for me.

  Hellhound leaned down to brush his lips across my cheek. “Ya okay, darlin’?”

  “Yeah…” My voice came out sounding unconvinced. “Maybe we should-”

  “Halt!”

  Adrenaline spiked into my veins as Hellhound and I wheeled to face the challenge behind us.

  Oh shit, those were bayonets all right.

  Two of them. One for each of the glowering men who were blocking the road back to the bridge.

  The crunch of gravel yanked my attention in the opposite direction in time to see two more armed men step into the road to box us in.

  Chapter 26

  Clinging to composure with all my m
ight, I stared at the four bearded men surrounding us. Their bayonets gleamed in the sun, the dark abyss of each gun muzzle gaping behind the silvery threat.

  Hellhound wrapped his arms around me, placing as much of his bulk as possible between me and the weapons. “Hey, now,” he said mildly. “Think we got a bit of a misunderstandin’ here. We’re just out for a walk. Musta taken a wrong turn or somethin’. We’ll just go back the way we came.”

  “You’re trespassing,” the nearest one snapped.

  “Sorry ‘bout that,” Hellhound agreed. “We ain’t from around here an’ we didn’t know. We’ll just go now, an’ we won’t bother ya again.” He began to ease us in the direction of the bridge.

  The crunch of rapidly approaching boots on gravel made us all stiffen.

  A moment later a tall man in a military-looking tunic strode around the corner. When he took in our little tableau his brows snapped together. “What is this?” he demanded.

  Our captors didn’t exactly snap to attention, but they straightened respectfully. “Trespassers,” the spokesman rapped out.

  “I see.” The tall man scowled at us for a moment before bursting into laughter. The armed men exchanged a glance and regarded him warily. A moment later he stopped laughing as though a switch had been thrown. He waved a regal hand at the men, his mouth still smiling without diminishing the coldness of his eyes. “Good joke. Well done. Dismissed.”

  Our captors let out nervous laughs and shouldered their weapons to march away, casting uncertain glances back at us.

  When they had disappeared around the corner, our rescuer chuckled again and slapped Hellhound on the shoulder with a display of teeth that fell short of a smile. “Sorry if you were scared. We’re just running some war games today and we weren’t expecting visitors.”

  His arm chummily across Hellhound’s shoulders, he steered us toward the bridge, still holding onto his mirthless smile. “Here you go, then, no harm done. But you should stay on your side of the river. Our members take their sport quite seriously and I’d hate to see anyone frightened or… hurt.”

  “Yeah. Ya wouldn’t want that.” Hellhound’s voice came out in a hard rasp, but I squeezed his hand warningly and he said no more.

  “Sorry,” I babbled, making no attempt to hide the quaver in my voice. “We’re so sorry, we didn’t mean to trespass. Thank you for coming to get us. We won’t bother you again, I promise.”

  “No harm done,” he repeated. “Have a good day.” The cordial words were so incongruous with his chilly eyes that I might have laughed if I hadn’t just narrowly avoided becoming a shish kebab.

  “You, too,” I piped brightly, and towed Hellhound across the bridge at a considerably brisker pace than we’d used earlier.

  I kept up our hurried retreat until trees blocked our view of the bridge. Then I trailed to a halt and half-collapsed against Hellhound.

  His arms enfolded me, strong and steady as ever, and he passed a gentle hand over my hair. “Okay, darlin’?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I mumbled into his chest.

  “Well, that was interestin’,” he said reflectively.

  “That’s one word for it.”

  “So I guess ya were right, they’re some kinda paramilitary club.” I looked up to see him frowning, his gaze focused on the ghosts of the past. “I’ll never figure out why the fuck anybody’d wanna pretend they were in combat,” he muttered.

  “Because they don’t have a clue what it’s really like,” I guessed.

  “Mm. They oughta join up for real an’ do some good, ‘stead a’ marchin’ around in the bush with toy guns like a buncha fuckin’ overgrown kids.”

  “Yeah…” I suddenly caught his meaning and gave him a sharp look. “Wait, toy guns?”

  “Yeah.” Hellhound dragged his gaze out of the distance to focus on me. “Those carbines were just replicas.”

  “Shit.” I drew a deep breath and eased it out slowly. “I didn’t even look at their guns. I was too busy watching their bayonets. Don’t tell me those were fake, too.”

  “Nah, they were the real thing. M9s. That’s what the U.S. military used to use before they switched to the OKC-3S.”

  I attempted a grin. “How smart am I to pick a weapons specialist for a lover?” My grin didn’t last long as the memory of the shining steel slipped back into my mind like a cold blade between my ribs. “I’ve never seen a real bayonet up close before. They looked like big survival knives.”

  “Yeah, ya can take ‘em off an’ use ‘em for that. The OKC-3S looks a lot like a Ka-Bar knife,” he replied absently, his brow still furrowed in thought. “Ya said they had dummies in their training field,” he added. “So they musta been usin’ ‘em for bayonet practice.”

  “That’s creepy.” I shuddered. “God, I can’t imagine stabbing somebody with a bayonet. Brrr.”

  Hellhound regarded me with bemusement. “Darlin’, I watched ya shoot a guy’s face off. Seven rounds, point-blank. I’ve seen ya kick an’ punch an’-”

  I waved a hand to silence him. “I know, but that was different.” At his frown of incomprehension, I tried to explain. “I can shoot a person if I have to, but sticking a knife in somebody…”

  I trailed off at the memory of my knife plunging into flesh. The heavy drag of the blade slicing through muscle. The spurt of bright arterial blood…

  The horror gripped me as if it had been yesterday and I shuddered again. Only Stemp and Dr. Rawling knew about that. No need to share.

  “I guess I’m just not the stabby-slashy type,” I finished lamely.

  Hellhound chuckled. “Okay, darlin’, if ya say so.”

  The queasiness still clung to me like a clammy shroud, and I tamped down another shudder.

  Time for a distraction.

  I summoned a smile. “Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”

  A slow answering smile curved Hellhound’s lips. “Sounds good. I’m ready to see anythin’ ya wanna show me.”

  My next smile came easier, and I nudged him in the direction of the main building. “You’re going to like my surprise, but sorry, it won’t give you a hard-on.”

  His grin widened. “I dunno, darlin’, it doesn’t take much to do that when you’re around.”

  “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll test that theory later.” I slid an arm around him, bumping gently against him as we walked. “God, it’s so good to have you here.” My words came out on a long sigh. “It’s been a hell of a long four months.”

  His arm closed around my shoulders. “Glad ya don’t mind that I came.”

  “Mind? Are you kidding? I’ve been hoping for months that you’d come for a visit.”

  “…oh.” His word held an odd intonation, and I halted to frown up at his unreadable expression.

  “What do you mean, ‘oh’?” I demanded. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking you for a commitment or anything. I just missed you, that’s all. Friends do that.”

  He smiled and dropped a kiss on my lips. “That ain’t what I meant. I missed ya, too. I just thought…” He hesitated, studying my face. “I knew Kane was visitin’ ya, an’ I thought maybe… well, I didn’t wanna show up an’ mess up anythin’ between ya.”

  “Arnie…” My heart squeezed and I reached up to cup his face in my hands. “Why do you always think you should take second place to John?”

  “He’s my brother, an’ I owe him.” He shrugged, avoiding my eyes. “But it ain’t just that, I just… I don’t figure I got the right to spoil things if the two a’ ya can make a go of it together. I can’t give ya a commitment. He can.”

  I planted my fists on my hips. “No, he can’t. His job has to come first. Remember how he had to get married to maintain his cover at Christmas?”

  “What?” Hellhound’s incredulous bark morphed rapidly into indignant sputtering. “What the… That fucker! Got married an’ didn’t tell me… To who? Who the hell did he marry? Why didn’t he-”

  “No, no!” I waved him to silence. “No, so
rry, he’s not married. I didn’t realize you hadn’t seen that part of the mission report. Sorry. No. I mean, yes, he got married as part of his cover, but it didn’t last a day. She tried to take us out with that death-ray thing and he had to kill her.”

  Hellhound gaped at me for a moment before erupting in a bellow of laughter. “Just like Captain Fuckin’ Kirk! Never marry the captain; it’s a fuckin’ death sentence.”

  I grinned. “Yeah, something like that. Anyway, how many times do I have to tell you I don’t want a committed relationship, with you or with anybody?”

  He sobered. “Yeah, darlin’, I know, but sometimes things change, an’ I don’t wanna be in the way if they do.”

  “Arnie…” I blew out a breath of frustration, trying to find a way to make him understand. “Look, do you think I’m the kind of person who’d cheat on a guy if I was in a relationship?”

  “No!” He frowned. “Fuck, Aydan, ya wouldn’t even ditch that asshole ex a’ yours when he was abusin’ ya. No fuckin’ way you’d play around. Who the hell said that about ya?”

  “You just implied it.”

  Hellhound scowled and shook his head, but I laid a finger over his lips before he could speak. “Listen, Arnie. If I ever decide I want a relationship with John or anybody else, it won’t matter what you do or say, you won’t be able to come between us.”

  He stared open-mouthed for a moment. “Shit, I never thought about it like that.”

  “And in the meantime,” I added, “I want you as a friend-with-benefits whenever you’re available. If that changes, I’ll tell you. Got it?”

  A slow smile illuminated his face. “Hell, yeah, darlin’. I finally got it.” His smile widened to a rakish grin. “An’ I’m gonna be gettin’ it. Right-fuckin’-on!”

  I mirrored his grin. “Literally.”

  He laughed and pulled me into a kiss that made me forget my own name.