Spy, Spy Away

by Diane Henders

By the time I finished shaking his hand, I thought I might be able to trust my voice. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting me. It’s a lovely party.” My voice rang false, but I hoped he’d chalk it up to the ‘sweetie’ I was supposedly missing.

  He accepted my polite lies with an equally polite smile. “I noticed you talking to Lawrence earlier.” His predatory gaze dissected my face. “He looked upset.”

  I nodded and kept my voice easy around the knots in my gut. “We have a joint business venture. I had to deliver some bad news.”

  A slow smile softened his sharp features. “Lawrence can be rather high-strung. Sometimes he needs careful… handling.”

  I couldn’t prevent the twitch at the corner of my mouth. Parr’s smile broadened into a rakish grin, and I smiled back automatically.

  “So where are the cameras?” I murmured.

  His eyes glinted amusement. “Everywhere. And I see you know John Kane, too.”

  My throat tightened. If Parr and Harchman were friends, Harchman would probably tell him exactly how I knew Kane. “That’s a long story,” I muttered. “Oh, excuse me a moment…” I fumbled into my purse and peeked at my phone as if checking a text message while I stalled, thinking furiously.

  No point lying or denying.

  As I slowly closed my purse again, I realized this could work. I wanted Parr to believe I was Arlene Widdenback, fraud artist. What better way than to let Harchman vouch for my identity? And that might save Kane, too. Especially if Parr thought Kane and I were running a scam at Sirius.

  I met his eyes again, ready to trot out my ‘confession’.

  “Do you know George Harrison, too?” Parr’s question derailed my train of thought.

  “Um… the Beatle? Isn’t he dead?”

  Parr laughed, a generous laugh from deep in his belly. “No. Well, yes, George Harrison the Beatle is dead. I meant George Harrison, the friend I was hoping to contact at Sirius Dynamics. I called to invite him to the party…” He inclined his head graciously. “…and thank you for providing his number. But I didn’t receive a reply.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” The platitude rolled out while my brain ticked over all the people I knew at Sirius. Stemp had said it was safe to disseminate all the names on the list. But who the hell was George Harrison?

  “I’m sorry,” I said at last. “I can’t put a face to that name. But I don’t know everyone there.”

  Parr accepted that with a philosophical nod. “Unfortunate.” He offered me a charming ‘duty calls’ grimace. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time to chat tonight. I have to make a short speech, and then I have another engagement. But I would very much like to have a longer conversation with you. I’m booked solid for the rest of the week, but I’m flying down to Las Vegas on Thursday, and I hope you’ll join me on my private jet.”

  He obviously noticed my instant of paralysis. “I’m sorry, I phrased that badly,” he added hurriedly. “I’m not making an improper suggestion. My wife would undoubtedly take a dim view. Let me try again.”

  He smiled. “My wife and I are leaving on Thursday for our annual gambling holiday. Las Vegas is our first stop, after which we’ll pop over to Ibiza and Monte Carlo. We…” He emphasized the pronoun. “…would be pleased if you would accompany us on our flight to Las Vegas. You and I can talk during the flight, and we will part company at the airport. I’ll arrange for accommodations for you at the Venetian, and the jet will be available to return you to Calgary the following day.”

  Yeah, unless he figured out who I really was and realized what I’d just heard. Then ‘parting company’ would mean something a little more permanent.

  I hesitated.

  He glanced at his watch. “I’m sorry, I must go. My assistant will contact you on Monday. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Widdenback.”

  Relief nearly melted my knees. Nearly two whole days to figure out what to do.

  “Please call me Arlene.” I shook his extended hand.

  “Thank you, Arlene, and I hope you’ll call me Nick.” He gave me another charming smile and strode back down the corridor in the direction he’d come. His silent companion offered me a polite nod and followed.

  I let out a shaky breath and collapsed against the wall, hauling out my faithful phone in an attempt to look as though I had another call. When I was capable of walking again, I hurried gratefully back to the bustle of the ballroom and made a beeline for the bar.

  Nobly restricting myself to another non-alcoholic beverage, I turned to discover Kane in conversation with another man only a few yards away. For the first time since I’d arrived, my pulse rate slowed below crisis level. Thank God. I had survived a meeting with Nicholas Parr, and I wasn’t on my own anymore.

  I hid my relief and strolled casually in his direction. He excused himself from his conversation to give me a friendly nod, and we drifted to a relatively unoccupied spot in the room.

  I raised my glass to my lips to murmur, “Cameras everywhere.”

  He nodded, apparently unsurprised. “So Harchman knows Parr.” He didn’t bother to conceal his lips, and I decided after an instant of panic that this was a perfectly plausible conversation for us to have.

  “Yes. He’ll probably tell him about that scam we tried this summer.”

  Kane nodded.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” Parr had taken his place in front of a microphone on a raised dais at the end of the ballroom. “Welcome! I promise to keep this short, but before I begin, I’d like to introduce some of our distinguished guests this evening…”

  I raised my glass to my lips again. “I think Harchman’s new wife is another plant from Fuzzy Bunny.”

  “Makes sense.” Kane took a sip from his own drink. “They’d want to continue to manage him subtly…”

  He froze, his gaze riveted to the stage.

  “What?” I hissed. I shot a look over to where several of Parr’s ‘distinguished guests’ were filing onto the dais, nodding and smiling to the applause. I didn’t see anybody I recognized, and I snapped my attention back to Kane’s rigid face. “What? What is it?”

  He reached out blindly as if to place his drink on the nearby table. He wasn’t even close. It fell to the carpet with a sharp tinkle of ice and breaking glass, but he didn’t spare it a glance. He was already forging through the crowd toward the stage.

  Chapter 32

  Adrenaline slammed into my veins and I hurried after Kane, muttering ‘Excuse us’ and ‘Sorry’ to the disrupted party guests.

  Goddammit, what was he doing? I thought the whole point of being undercover was not to attract attention. And he was sure as hell attracting attention.

  Parr’s speech stumbled to a halt, and the guests on the dais turned to stare. The security guards at the door stiffened and began to push toward Kane, their hands diving into their lumpy suit jackets.

  I ground my teeth and scurried to close the gap opened by his long strides. If he was going to attack somebody, I couldn’t imagine what I might do, but maybe I could help somehow…

  At the end of the row of guests on the stage, a beautiful dark-haired woman’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her throat. In the sudden silence of the ballroom, the single word she uttered carried easily to every corner: “John!”

  Kane shoved free of the crowd and vaulted up on the stage to crush her in his arms. Their passionate kiss left no question as to Kane’s motives.

  I trailed to a halt, my jaw sinking along with my heart.

  Guess he didn’t need my help.

  Murmurs and titters rose from the crowd. Kane broke the kiss to caress her face with both palms as if cradling a precious treasure. They stared at each other for a moment before kissing again, their bodies entwining as though they would occupy each other’s skin.

  “…well.” Parr’s amused voice rose over the hum of the crowd. “I see at least one of our guests needs no introduction. That is Yana Orlov at the end. Yana has recently joined us from Moscow as our new director of
operations…”

  At the sound of her name, the woman drew away from Kane’s embrace, blushing, but it was clear that Kane was oblivious to everything but her.

  Parr continued smoothly, “…next in line is Alex Peng, one of our valued manufacturing partners from China…” His voice faded into a buzz at the edges of my consciousness while I watched Kane guide Yana Orlov to the edge of the stage.

  He jumped off the stage before reaching up to encircle her waist with his hands, lifting her effortlessly down into his embrace again. Arms around each other, they stood beside the stage, murmuring with their heads together. Her beautiful dark eyes welled up, and Kane wiped her tears away with a tender gesture, following his hand with kisses.

  I was about to fade back into the crowd when Yana nodded in my direction with a questioning expression. Kane shook his head without turning, but she spoke urgently and he tore his attention away from her to meet my eyes.

  He tried to draw her along with him but she held back, shaking her head and giving him a small push toward me.

  He released her reluctantly and moved toward me with a backward glance as if assuring himself that she was still there. When he reached me, he stooped next to my ear and spoke rapidly.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what? John, what…?”

  He grasped my shoulders to look into my eyes. “She’s… I thought she was dead. Nearly a year ago. I thought she had died in a car bombing. I can’t…” He broke off and stared at the floor for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “Don’t get me wrong, what you and I had was…”

  “It’s okay,” I said quietly.

  “Yesterday I watched you kiss Arnie as if he was your whole world,” he went on as if he hadn’t heard me. “I can’t compete with that, and I don’t want to. You’ve always said I should find somebody else…”

  I gripped his arms. “John. It’s okay.” When he stared into my eyes, I added, “Go. Be happy.” I gave him a little push. “Go on. She’s waiting.”

  His hands tightened on my shoulders for an instant. “Thank you.”

  He released me and returned to Yana without a backward glance, and I turned to push through the crowd in the direction of the bar, trying to ignore the whispers and curious stares.

  Fortunately, the bartender was unoccupied when I arrived.

  “Give me a shot.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “What kind?”

  I rarely drank hard liquor, and my brain didn’t seem to be working anyway.

  “I don’t care. Just give me a shot.”

  He shrugged and poured.

  I tossed it back in a single gulp.

  Whatever it was, it tasted like turpentine and burned like the fires of hell. “Jesus,” I wheezed when I was capable of breathing again. “Fuck. Give me another.”

  The bartender’s other eyebrow rose to join the first. “You sure?”

  Apparently the caustic fluid had ripped away the lining of my throat. Or something had, anyway. My voice came out in a harsh rasp. “I said, give me another fucking sh-”

  My brain kicked back into gear, too damn late. Shit, I had my car. And I had just made it impossible to leave for at least an hour, probably more, until I was sure I was sober enough to drive.

  I groaned out loud and debated whether to beat myself senseless against the bar, induce vomiting before the alcohol hit my bloodstream, or just stand there and die of sheer stupidity.

  “You okay?” The bartender eyed me with concern.

  I blew out a long sigh. “Yeah. Forget the shot. Give me a cranberry and soda, please. And I’m sorry for being rude.” I pulled a twenty out of my purse and laid it on the bar. “This is for you if you don’t let me have any more booze.”

  He leaned closer, his brow furrowing. “Are you A.A.? Can I call somebody for you?”

  “No.” I shook myself back to a semblance of normalcy. “I’m not an alcoholic, I just have to drive tonight and that’s my limit for the evening. Thanks, though.”

  “No problem.” He handed me the glass.

  I dredged up a smile and drifted back into the crowd.

  Kane and Yana had vanished, and I could guess where they’d gone. Convenient that they were already in one of the nicest hotels in the city. Then again, they were so absorbed in each other, they could have been in the cheapest dive in Calgary and they’d never notice the difference. I spared a moment of self-pitying envy for the hot night that awaited Yana before determinedly rerouting my mind to the task at hand.

  The booze trickling into my system was a blessing in disguise. If not for my flat-out refusal to drive under the influence of alcohol, I would have abandoned the whole effort on the spot. At least this way Dermott would get his money’s worth from my surveillance.

  An interminable half-hour later, I let out a sigh and wiggled my throbbing toes inside the confining boots. I had eavesdropped on more innocent and progressively inebriated people than I cared to think about. I had even initiated a few conversations from sheer desperate boredom, but learned absolutely nothing from the effort.

  Parr had departed, and even if there were still some bad guys in attendance, I probably wouldn’t be lucky enough to overhear any other useful tidbits unless I left the ballroom. Abandoned by Kane and without my gun, I just couldn’t summon up the courage to do that again.

  I vectored away as Jerkface and his mistletoe staggered in my direction. Just give me a nice quiet wall to hold up until I was sober enough to drive…

  “Well, well. Arlene.”

  I halted without turning, briefly squeezing my eyes shut in martyrdom at the sound of the oily voice. When I opened them again, Hibbert was standing in front of me, wearing an expensive suit and his usual irritating smile.

  “So I hear your boyfriend dumped you for another woman.” His smile broadened into a taunting grin. “Maybe you could have kept him if you learned to give better head. Come and see me later and I’ll let you practice.”

  Suddenly all my hurt and fear and frustration had a visible target. Anger rose in a sizzling tide.

  I closed my eyes again and counted to ten.

  It didn’t work. When I opened them, he was still there, his grinning face just begging for a knuckle sandwich.

  I held his gaze and spoke slowly, the words straining out between my teeth. “The only reason I’d come anywhere near you is to rip your fucking ugly nuts off and shove them down your throat.”

  “Oooh, touchy!” He smirked. “I’d rather shove them down your throat. I could go for some teabagging.”

  The world went red.

  Next thing I knew one of the gorillas had me by the arms and my hand hurt like hell. Hibbert sprawled on the elegant carpet, spitting profanity and bleeding all over his nice white shirt.

  The gorillas were good. In seconds, they had hustled both of us into a small room and closed the door, leaving behind a cluster of eagerly chattering bystanders and a few spots of blood on the carpet.

  “Call the cops.” Hibbert’s voice was muffled by his still-bleeding nose and the hand he’d clamped over it. “I’m pressing assault charges.”

  “It was self-defence,” I retorted.

  The hulking guard who’d grabbed me gave me a flat stare. “Lady, he never touched you.”

  “Not this time. But he threatened me with sexual assault. And he sure as hell assaulted me before.”

  The gorillas looked unimpressed, and I glared at Hibbert. He flipped me a triumphant middle finger, and the guard’s grip tightened on my arm as I jerked with the need to punch Hibbert all over again.

  I drew a long breath and shot Hibbert a venomous look. “Okay. Go ahead and call the police. Lay charges. I’ll tell Nick all about it on his private jet while we’re flying to Vegas on Thursday.”

  Hibbert’s victorious expression faded slightly. “You’re full of shit. You’re just a cheap whore. Parr wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

  “And you’re just a stupid two-bit thug who thinks with his sadly inadequate di
ck.” Before he could explode, I added, “Call his secretary. She’s setting it up.”

  Hibbert sneered, his confidence visibly returning. “Parr’s secretary is male. You’re full of shit.”

  I held his gaze. “Fine. Call him.”

  “Parr? I don’t think so. I’m not going to bother a man like-”

  “No, his secretary, you dumb shit!”

  “Fine. I’m calling your bluff.” Hibbert turned to the two guards who had been following the exchange like a pair of spectators at a tennis match. “Give me something to wipe my hands. I don’t want to get blood all over my phone.”

  One of the gorillas handed him a box of tissues, and we all stood in silence while he took his time cleaning up. His nose still bled sluggishly, and he twisted a couple of tissues into plugs and inserted one in each nostril, wincing.

  When he was done at last, he gave me a challenging stare. “Last chance, bitch,” he mumbled through his makeshift packing. “But don’t worry, you’re going to make it up to me. You’re going to suck my cock until-”

  “Dial the fucking phone, asshole.” My growl sounded wholly confident, but I had no idea if Parr would have contacted his secretary yet. Probably not.

  That meant police and explanations.

  And Stemp was gone.

  I clamped down on panic. Surely the emergency number he’d given me would reach Dermott. Surely Dermott would straighten things out with the police.

  But if he didn’t…

  The thought of spending the night incarcerated made my pulse accelerate into a thundering rhythm. I held myself still and concentrated on controlling my breathing.

  Stay calm…

  “…what?” Hibbert’s face twisted into furious incredulity. “He what?”

  Glorious relief flooded me as he punched the phone off and returned it to his pocket with short, stiff movements.

  “Should we call the cops?” My gorilla posed the question with such perfect deadpan timing that I shot him a suspicious glance. His poker face was nearly impenetrable, but I detected the slightest glint in his eye. Apparently Hibbert did, too. He flushed an unpleasant shade of burgundy.