Spy High

by Diane Henders

  “Wait.” I caught his hand. “You don’t have to do that.”

  His gaze darted to Kane. “Yeah, I do.”

  I blew out a sigh and pressed his hand to my cheek before brushing a kiss over his knuckles. “See you later, then.”

  He nodded. “See ya.”

  As he strode out, Kane met my eyes with a bittersweet smile. “He’s the best friend we could ever ask for.”

  “Yeah.” I dropped my gaze to my bowl, concentrating on scooping up the last drops of gravy. “Did you get enough to eat?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  An awkward silence fell.

  I jumped up. “Well, I’d better get these dishes done.”

  “I’ll help.”

  Kane followed me to the counter bearing the dirty dishes and I focused on filling the dishpan, adjusting the temperature with intense concentration. We made short work of washing and drying the few dishes and I bustled around putting them away and avoiding his gaze.

  As I was wiping down the table for the second time Kane laid a hand on top of mine, stopping the rapid circles of my dishcloth.

  “Aydan, can we talk?” he asked quietly.

  I bit my lip to prevent a sigh from leaking out. “Okay. Let’s go back to my tent.”

  Chapter 29

  I stalled for a few more seconds, wiping out the sink and hanging up the tea towel and dishcloth, but the earth didn’t open and swallow me so I resigned myself to my fate and led the way.

  As Kane and I strode down the path side by side, he reached for my hand and held it in a gentle grasp. When I glanced up at him, he smiled, and the tension in my shoulders eased. I drew a deep breath and slowed my pace.

  “So. Tough one?” I asked.

  “Yes.” He walked on for a few paces in silence before adding, “I’m glad it’s finished.” He drew a deep breath of the moist cedar-scented air. “And I’m glad to be here. But I’m looking forward to getting home.”

  “I can imagine,” I agreed. “Me, too.”

  “It has been a long haul for you, hasn’t it?” Kane glanced around the deserted trail and lowered his voice. “What’s happening?”

  I briefed him quietly while we walked. We had just reached the path to my tent when a flicker of movement caught my eye on the main trail ahead of us and a moment later Moonbeam came into view. She smiled and beckoned when she saw us, and we waited until she drew abreast.

  “Welcome back, Sunstar Desert Hawk,” she said to Kane.

  “Thank you. It’s nice to see you again, Moonbeam Meadow Sky,” Kane replied with his usual urbane charm, gaining immediate brownie points for remembering to address her by her full name.

  Her smile brightened and she withdrew another bead bracelet from her caftan. I had a momentary vision of what the inside of that caftan might look like, lined with pockets like a bazaar merchant’s tent; but I quelled the thought before I could giggle.

  She tied the bracelet onto Kane’s wrist and took his hand in both of her own. “The blessings of the Earth Spirit are upon you,” she said softly. Her eyes took on the distant gaze of the seer, and her brow furrowed as she regarded Kane for a moment. Then she blinked her vision back into focus and stroked the back of his hand. “You are in better physical health than the last time I saw you. That dreadful shadow has faded from your ribs. But your poor aura…” She reached up to touch his cheek. “Please take time to let your spirit heal.”

  He offered her a small bow. “Thank you for your concern. I will.”

  “Good.” She smiled. “Have a pleasant evening, my dears.”

  “You, too,” we chorused.

  Inside my tent, I secured the flap behind us and lit a couple of candles against the deepening twilight. Kane stood still and silent, and when I looked up, the lines on his face were carved deep.

  For the first time I looked closely at him and realized that despite his superb muscular development he still looked thinner than before he’d been shot. The sprinkling of silver that frosted his short dark hair at the temples was beginning to spread.

  My heart squeezed and I sought his tired grey gaze. Wordlessly, I opened my arms and he stepped into them, burying his face in my hair. We stood locked together for a long moment before he spoke, his voice taut with pain.

  “There was a child,” he said into the crook of my neck.

  My heart stopped.

  “A little boy,” he added, the words barely audible.

  I had to swallow hard and clear my throat before I could force myself to speak. “D-Did he… Will he be okay?”

  “I got him out. He’ll live.” Kane’s arms tightened around me, his voice scraped bare. “I don’t know if he’ll ever be okay.”

  “Oh, John.” Tears stung my eyes and my words came out in a choked whisper. “I’m sorry.” I rocked him gently, stroking his hair and murmuring soft nonsense.

  After several moments he spoke again, hoarsely as though the words were being wrenched from him under torture. “That shouldn’t happen, Aydan. It just… shouldn’t happen.”

  “I know.” I tightened my embrace, my heart breaking for him and for a little boy’s shattered innocence. “I know.”

  He drew a deep shuddering breath and straightened. When I looked up at him his eyes were dry but his face looked carved from bone, seared brittle-white as if by heat fiercer than flame.

  The phrase ‘fires of hell’ entered my mind unbidden, and I shivered.

  “I’m sorry,” Kane said quietly. “You didn’t need to hear that.”

  “Don’t apologize. Some things are just… too much to carry alone.” I laid a hand on his arm, feeling the tension thrumming in his muscles. “You’re tied up in knots. Lie down and I’ll give you a back rub.”

  He drew a breath as though glimpsing an oasis in a hostile desert. “Would you? That would be great.”

  “Of course…” The words got stuck in my throat as he stripped off his T-shirt, unveiling massive shoulders tapering down to a corrugated midsection. I’d forgotten just how spectacular his body was…

  I tamped down the rush of heat and kept my hands to myself while he got comfortable face down on the mattress. Now was not the time. He needed the caring touch of another human being, nothing more.

  Rummaging in my bag for something to use for massage oil, I discovered the little pot of face cream Nichele had given me for Christmas in her eternal but doomed hope of turning me into a girl. I had forgiven her because the gift had also included a delicious assortment of craft beers, but right now the cream was exactly what I needed. As I smoothed it on and began to knead Kane’s back, a smile tugged my mouth at the thought of Nichele’s expression if she found out how I’d used her gift.

  At least it was being appreciated. Kane let out a long breath and the knots under my hands slowly eased.

  On his upper back I worked carefully through the puckered network of scars that marked the devastating exit of the bullet that had nearly ended his life several years ago. On his side I avoided the still-reddened marks of the bullet wound only a few months old. In between, my fingers glided over other scars fading into near-oblivion, silent testament to a life risked over and over to save others.

  In the soft glow of the candlelight I worked with my eyes half-closed, ignoring the expanding ache from my arthritic thumbs while my hands searched out and soothed his taut muscles in a slow hypnotic rhythm.

  I startled when Kane spoke, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Aydan?”

  “Mmhmm?”

  “I had really hoped we’d have some time to talk a couple of months ago, but I guess I’ll just have to come right out and ask you now.” He twitched his head on the pillow in a gesture that could have been resignation or annoyance. “Since we seem destined to never communicate unless there’s some crisis or another.”

  I gulped, trying not to let my hands betray my sudden tension. “Uh… okay…?”

  Keep the hands moving in gentle circles. Slow, easy rhythm. Breathe. Some little part of my mind yammered ‘oh sh
it oh shit’.

  Kane blew out a breath. “Aydan, when we were in Vegas before Christmas and I… got married…”

  He hesitated. I wasn’t the only one tensing up. I could feel the tightness creeping back into his muscles.

  “I… felt as though that upset you,” he finished. “Is that true, or was I just imagining it?”

  I abandoned the pretense of rubbing his rigid muscles with my suddenly-wooden hands, and he turned over to study me. Since I had been straddling his hips to reach his back I ended up astride him, summoning blazing-hot memories.

  I sucked in a breath. Maybe if I seduced him he’d forget the question…

  Something in his expression told me he wouldn’t and he’d be hurt if I tried.

  I dismounted and plopped down to sit tailor-fashion on the mattress beside him.

  Just be honest. How hard could that be?

  I met his eyes with a sigh. “You’re right, I was upset, but…” I held up a hand to stop him from speaking. “…not because I wanted to marry you myself. It was just that you’d been going on about how much you wanted me and then as soon as your old girlfriend showed up I was nothing but chopped liver. As though everything you’d said had been lies…” I trailed off and addressed the mattress instead. “And when you begged me not to spoil it for you, that… It was like you didn’t believe I was a good enough friend to be happy for you. Like even our friendship was a lie.”

  I summoned every ounce of my courage. “That… hurt,” I whispered.

  “I’m sorry.” He took my hand, caressing the back of it. “I didn’t want to hurt you. Holding onto my cover that day was the hardest…” He trailed off, the fresh and brittle pain twisting his face again. “Almost the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “It’s okay,” I said hurriedly. “You don’t need to apologize. It was okay as soon as I realized it was only part of your cover.” I gave him a grin, going for the joke. “Mind you, it helped that you killed her a few hours later.”

  The strain melted from his face and he chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I don’t think it’s a sustainable strategy for the long term.”

  “Mm. Probably not.”

  Kane tucked his arms behind his head and let out a breath. “All right. Thank you. That’s all I wanted to know.”

  “That’s all?” I eyed him warily.

  “Yes, you can relax now.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’ve seen you look less terrified under live fire.”

  I gave him a tentative smile. “Actually, I prefer live fire.”

  He sighed. “That’s not funny.”

  “I’m not joking.”

  “You’re not, are you?” He frowned at me. “For heaven’s sake, Aydan; a firing squad over a simple personal question?”

  “I didn’t say ‘firing squad’; I said ‘live fire’,” I grumbled. “Under live fire you still have a chance of surviving. I’d probably pick the relationship question over an actual firing squad.”

  “Probably?”

  I picked up the tub of face cream and studied it. Almost empty. I moved some folds of the blanket aside, looking for the lid. “Bullet wounds heal,” I mumbled at the mattress. “Or they kill you. Either way, it’s good.”

  Kane’s voice softened. “I didn’t mean to sound critical. I know how your emotions were used to hurt you in the past. Thank you for trusting me enough to answer my question.”

  “You’re welcome,” I muttered, still searching for the elusive lid.

  “Wait.” The note of incredulous amusement in his tone made me stop rummaging among the blankets to look at him. He reached over to take the small gold-trimmed jar from my hand. “You used Christian Dior face cream on my back?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  He laughed. “So I assume you didn’t buy it for yourself. This little jar probably cost over a hundred dollars.”

  “Oh, shit.” I gulped down my chagrin. “Don’t tell Nichele. I thought it was just a little stocking-stuffer and the beer was my real present.”

  “The beer?”

  I nodded. “A dozen different bottles of craft beer from micro-breweries around Calgary. They were great.”

  He pulled a solemn face but his eyes sparkled with wicked humour. “I’ll keep your secret, but it’ll cost you.” He rolled the little tub between his fingers and the wickedness spilled over into a grin that warmed places I’d been trying to ignore for the past hour.

  “I’ve been having a lot of tension in my chest lately,” he rumbled. “You could pay your debt by massaging it for me.” He patted his hips, framing a breathtaking denim-clad package. “You can sit right here.”

  Apparently the afternoon’s debacle with Hellhound and Orion wasn’t going to be an issue, at least not tonight. Behind Kane’s sexy smile I could sense his need to put aside the horror of his mission, if only for a little while.

  “Hmm. Blackmail.” I grinned and swung astride his ankles, leaning forward to place a hand on either side of his legs. “You do realize blackmail is illegal and now you’re under arrest. I’ll have to strip-search you…”

  I dragged a slow fingernail up the inner seam of his jeans.

  “…to make sure you don’t have any…”

  Higher, watching the hunger flare in his eyes.

  “…dangerous weapons,” I breathed as my fingertip glided over the denim-sheathed weapon in question.

  “Ah…” His syllable floated out on a gasp and he tucked his arms behind his head again as if to prevent himself from reaching for me. Muscles rippled in his chest and abs. “Good idea…” He sounded distinctly breathless. “You can’t be too careful…”

  “Especially with a…” I bent down to brush my lips over his stomach as I undid his button. “…hardened criminal…” My fingertips drifted lower and discovered exactly how hardened he was. “…like yourself…” I eased his zipper down.

  His reply was an inarticulate rumble. His eyes blazed, his gaze riveted on my mouth while I kissed my way unhurriedly down the valley between his washboard abs toward the landing strip of hair below his navel.

  I had almost reached my goal when a low urgent voice from outside the tent flap startled me out of my absorption.

  “Hey, Aydan! Cap! Are ya decent in there?”

  I sat up and frowned at my wristwatch. Two hours on the dot.

  “Trying not to be,” Kane growled. “Can you give us a little longer?”

  “Sorry, Cap.” Hellhound really did sound sorry, but there was a tense note in his voice that made the back of my neck prickle. “We gotta talk.”

  Kane must have heard it, too. He did up his jeans and snapped, “Come in.”

  Hellhound slipped through the tent flap and secured it behind him. The look on his face made my prickle of apprehension turn into a chill.

  “What? What is it?” I demanded.

  He crossed the tent in a couple of strides and we leaned close to hear him mutter, “The bridge. It’s got explosive charges under it. The whole thing’s rigged to blow.”

  Chapter 30

  “What?” I stared at Hellhound. “Why would anybody want to blow up the bridge?”

  “I dunno, but the way those charges are placed, they ain’t messin’ around. An’ it’s a professional job. Nobody’d spot ‘em unless they knew what they were lookin’ for. By the cobwebs on ‘em I’d say they been in place for a while so I gave ya the two hours I promised, but I didn’t wanna wait any longer.”

  Kane pulled on his T-shirt with sharp movements, all the good work of my massage lost in the renewed tension of his shoulders. “There are only two reasons to blow a bridge,” he said. “To destroy something on it, or to cut off a position for tactical reasons.”

  “Nothin’ on it,” Hellhound pointed out.

  “And nobody from the commune ever goes across it,” I added. “Except Orion, but I can’t see somebody blowing up that huge bridge just to get rid of him. If there are thirty guys with bayonets over there, it would be easy enough to take care of one man wi
thout attracting attention with an explosion that size.”

  “So it has to be a tactical objective.” Kane frowned at me. “What’s on the renters’ side of that bridge?”

  “Nothing. No other access, no exit. I checked the satellite map online when I was at the internet café. That chunk of land has rivers on two sides and mountainous terrain on the rest. It might as well be an island. The only road to civilization goes over that bridge and through the commune to Port Renfrew. It would be stupid for the renters to cut themselves off.”

  “Unless they were lookin’ for a place to dig in,” Hellhound said slowly. “It’d be a fuckin’ nightmare to try an’ take ‘em out once the bridge was gone. Hell, even with the bridge there. No good fightin’ through a choke point like that.”

  “Access only by air; heavy forest cover and rugged terrain,” Kane agreed. “So what are they hiding or protecting over there? Why would they want to cut themselves off from everybody else?”

  “Maybe they’re just one of those nutso doomsday cults,” I offered. “Maybe they’re getting ready to protect themselves from the zombie apocalypse.”

  Hellhound snorted. “Too fuckin’ late for that. World’s full a’ dumbfuck zombies already.”

  I blew out a breath between my teeth. “Well, maybe Stemp can get the analysts to dig for some information on who that group is or what they might be planning. And I’ll need to report the explosives, too, and see what he wants to do.” I eyed Hellhound. “What do you think it would take to disable them?”

  Hellhound shrugged. “Explosives ain’t really my best thing, but I’ve done a bit. I could prob’ly disable ‘em but I’d hafta get closer to see for sure.”

  Kane frowned at him. “Speaking of seeing, how did you spot them in the first place if they’re concealed? It’s dark out.”

  “Yeah.” Hellhound patted his ever-present backpack. “I got some gear with me. Caught ‘em with my night-vision scope.”

  I drew a breath of relief. “Good, you’ve got night-vision. What else have you got?”

  “Thermographic, too, in a headset. My rifle an’ scope. Sidearm. Climbin’ gear. Survival gear. Camo. An’ I got the bike stashed out by the road.”