by Kim Baldwin
*
Schiphol Airport, Amsterdam
Azizi stretched out his arms as the Dutch security official ran the handheld metal detector down his body and up again, taking his time. The passport control officer had taken an extraordinarily long time with his Afghan passport as well, as he expected, but he managed to avoid speaking of the contempt he felt at being pulled aside for the additional scrutiny merely because of his heritage. He picked up his bag at the luggage carousel and proceeded to the rental car counter, selecting a dark Peugeot that would not draw undue attention.
It was midafternoon as he drove to Haarlem. After checking into his hotel, he washed and changed his travel clothes for dark pants and a black button-down shirt. An hour later, the receptionist telephoned him in his room to say a deliveryman was waiting in the lobby. He went down and accepted a large bouquet of flowers with a card that said Welcome to Haarlem. The deliveryman also handed him a gift-wrapped box, its ribbon bearing the name of a well-known local chocolatier. Azizi carried both gifts back to his room and tossed the flowers into the wastebasket.
He unwrapped the candy box and extracted the gun and silencer from beneath their packing tissue. After screwing them together, he pulled a sheet of paper from his jacket pocket. Written in Farsi, it contained directions to the van der Jagt mansion. He calculated that he had at least another four hours before it would be dark enough to approach the estate. He’d use that time to reconnoiter the area, have a meal, and get some rest.
Chapter Twelve
Haarlem
“God, I’m tired.” Kris collapsed onto a couch in the salon, apparently unmindful of the white dust from her clothes that wafted onto the embroidered cushions. Dusk had fallen, and Jeroen had long ago departed for his other job.
“Working with a hangover will do that to you.” Allegro threw her scraper into the toolbox and brushed herself off before settling into a comfy wing chair nearby.
“It’s the physical exertion, all this bending and reaching. Are you saying you’re not tired?”
Allegro shrugged. “I’m more hungry than tired. I need to eat something, and soon.”
“Well, guess what? I’m not cooking.” Kris leaned her head back and briefly closed her eyes. “Matter of fact, I think I’m going straight to bed.”
“You’ve hardly eaten, aside from that one sandwich hours ago. That can’t be healthy. Why don’t we order a pizza? They deliver out here, don’t they?”
Kris didn’t move, but a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. “We’re not in Timbuktu, Angie. We do actually have delivery service.”
“If I didn’t feel so blessed at the moment, your sarcasm might bother me.”
Kris looked at her curiously. “Blessed?”
“That you remembered my name.” She grinned.
“Would it kill you not to have the last word?”
“Too hypothetical to answer.”
Kris sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. But she was clearly enjoying the exchange. “Let me get the takeout menu.”
They argued over the toppings, compromising on a large pizza with pepperoni, black olives, and extra mozzarella, and were told it would take thirty to forty minutes for delivery.
“I’m going to run upstairs for a quick shower,” Kris said, forcing herself off the couch. Plaster dust had insinuated itself into every orifice of her body.
“You don’t need to doll yourself up for me, you know,” Angie said.
Even as tired as she was, Kris couldn’t help wondering if Angie’s playful banter was all in jest or a sign of sincere interest. To her surprise, she hoped it was the latter. She’d never met anyone quite like this infernal American before. “You can’t possibly be that self-involved.”
“A girl can hope. They say it springs eternal.”
Kris felt her cheeks warm. “As eternal as your arrogance,” she replied, with what she hoped was just the right amount of comeuppance.
“Do you mind if I heat things up in here?” Angie asked.
The words immediately brought back the kiss of the night before and sense memories overtook Kris with such force she almost forgot to breathe. Several seconds passed as she searched her mind for a suitable reply. Angie watched her from the wing chair with annoying self-satisfaction on her face, as if she knew exactly what effect she was having. As though she was remembering their kiss as well.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Angie said in a soft, slow drawl. “I was talking about the fireplace.”
The playful look in her eyes brought that eerie sense of déjà vu back, but try as she might, Kris couldn’t account for the feeling. More and more, Angie was getting to her, in a good, but very unsettling way. Why was she always attracted to exactly the wrong type of woman? “Don’t flatter yourself,” she retorted as she left the room. Pausing at the door, she turned. She couldn’t help herself. “And yes, a fire would be nice.”
Kris hated the fact that she actually spent time selecting what to wear to eat a damn pizza in her own home. She rejected her first choice, oversized sweatpants and sweatshirt, as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Hoping for the careless chic she envied in women who looked good in anything they threw on, she settled on a pair of low-cut jeans and a pale blue long-sleeved T-shirt that hugged her breasts and showed some cleavage, and made her way back to the salon.
Angie was in the armchair in front of the fireplace, seemingly lost in thought, her legs outstretched, her attention on the flames. She greeted Kris with a vague smile. Annoyed that the tepid reaction disappointed her, Kris bent to warm her hands by the fire. When a few moments elapsed without a smart-ass remark, she stole a sideways glance at Angie and caught her staring at her ass. The appreciative look on her face told Kris two things. The change of clothes had been well worth the effort, and the American’s playful flirting was most definitely a sign of real interest.
“Sleepy?” Kris asked.
Angie looked at her for what seemed like hours before she responded. “Hungry.”
The expression in her eyes said she was hungry for more than just food. But before Kris could decide whether to openly acknowledge the inference, the doorbell rang. “Lucky for you.”
“Or not,” Angie replied. “I’ll get it.”
They picnicked in front of the fire, making small talk and enjoying a bottle of Merlot with the pizza. Kris was surprised how relaxed she felt, and how easily Angie could make her laugh. And it didn’t escape her attention that Angie couldn’t seem to take her eyes off her breasts, though she admired them discreetly. She’d had so many dinners with women who sought to curry her favor that Kris had long ago lost count of the number of white linen tablecloths and candlelight settings she’d endured, unimpressed. Why the heck did a simple dinner of pizza on the floor, with a near-total stranger, feel like one of the most memorably romantic encounters of her life?
She retrieved a couple of pillows from the couch and stretched out on her side. Facing Angie, propped up on one elbow, she said, “You know, when we first met you told me you were here to make a fresh start and break away from some old habits. You talked about letting go of some things that weren’t healthy for you.”
Angie finished the last slice of pizza before replying. “Sounds about right.”
“Were you referring to a relationship?”
“Not any one in particular. Just relationships in general.”
“So you don’t have someone special waiting for you back home?”
“Nope.” Angie busied herself refilling their wineglasses, not meeting her eyes. Getting any personal information out of this woman was like pulling teeth.
“What do you do for a living?” Kris asked. “When you’re not backpacking across some continent looking for the odd job.”
Angie got up to put another log on the dying embers, then stoked the fire until it was roaring again. “This and that. I don’t have one of those reliable professions. Doctor. Lawyer. Teacher.”
“Is it me, or are you always
this evasive?”
“I don’t really like to talk about my life.” Angie returned to sit beside her, cross-legged. “It’s boring and I want to forget about it for a while. Besides, it’s not like you’ve offered a plethora of personal trivia either.”
Kris stared into the fire, surprised to realize that she was genuinely curious about this woman and, for once, she didn’t feel the need to maintain her distance. “You’re right. I haven’t.”
“Okay, I’m now officially in shock.” Angie’s look of stunned disbelief was spoiled by that ever-present cocky grin. “I mean, you admit that I’m right about something? You feeling okay?”
“And there you go.” Kris sighed. “Opening your mouth and killing the moment.”
“Come on, I’m kidding.” Angie got her own pillows from the couch and matched Kris’s posture, reclining beside her with their wineglasses between them. “Go on, I’ll shut up.”
“I was about to say that I have been rather standoffish, but you shouldn’t take it personally.” Kris let her gaze drift around the room. Memories of her early years came flooding back. “Growing up in this mausoleum, with a self-centered father and a manic-depressive mother, wasn’t easy. Neither of them cared how I felt, and eventually I started to feel like my emotions weren’t valid. Like I wasn’t valid. I so wanted them to notice me that I started excelling in everything. School, sports.” She paused for a sip of wine. “When that didn’t work, I took the bad-girl approach. I did everything I could to get into trouble, but they never looked twice. I might as well have been invisible.”
“How could anyone not notice you, Kris?” Angie’s voice had a gentle tone she hadn’t heard before. “You’re beautiful, smart, funny—”
“And redundant. That’s all I’ve ever felt. They were both so involved with themselves I often wondered why they had a child in the first place. You know, part of me lived in fear that one day they’d give me up for adoption and get it over with. I suppose the only saving grace was that they could afford to have someone cook and clean for me, so they didn’t have to bother.”
“I’m so sorry, Kris.”
She stiffened. “Please don’t. This is why I hate talking about my past. People start to feel sorry for me and I can’t stand that.”
They both went quiet, gazing at the fire.
“How about friends and lovers?” Angie asked after some time had passed. “Are you close to anyone?”
“The woman I had dinner with last night, Ilse, is a good friend. She genuinely cares about me.”
“Ah, she’s the ex you had the heavy discussion with? Does that mean you opened up to her?”
“About some things, yes. We’re a lot closer now than when we were dating.” Kris was feeling the effects of the wine, but in a nice way. Angie was easy to talk to, and it felt good to get some of this off her chest. “I’ve never gotten close to my lovers. I kept them happy with…things.”
“Things?”
“Cash, trips, cars.” Kris thought of the fortune she’d spent on women whose names she’d long forgotten. “I shamelessly used my parents’ money to entertain and keep my lovers. I figured it was the least my dysfunctional family could give me. I’m not proud of taking advantage of their wealth, but I was angry and I suppose desperate for attention. I thought the world owed me some kind, any kind of happiness, even if that meant using someone else’s money to buy it. I overcompensated with my lovers because I thought if I didn’t give them whatever they wanted, they’d ignore me.”
“Like your parents.”
“Predictable, isn’t it?” Kris looked at Angie expecting to see disgust written all over her face, but was surprised when she found nothing but sympathy in her caramel eyes.
“Are you still letting yourself be used that way?” Angie asked.
“Not anymore. I finally realized by doing that I was creating my own insecurity. Women were with me only because of what I could buy for them. That was three years ago. I guess I stopped throwing money around just in time, since my father left us with next to nothing. There’s no way I could afford to buy love now.”
“I don’t see how anyone could be interested in your money after having spent a minute with you. Although I know the world is full of opportunists. I find it nauseating that you were used that way. You deserve so much better.”
“Yes, I do. But I got exactly what I deserved. A fuck for a buck.” Shocked by her own bitterness, and the fact that she hadn’t even tried to hide it, Kris fell silent.
Angie didn’t look embarrassed. Her expression was surprisingly soft, almost one of understanding. “I’m happy you don’t feel that way anymore.”
“I don’t feel much of anything anymore.” The statement had been true for such a long time Kris said it almost without thinking. But as soon as the words were out, she realized she’d certainly felt something when Angie kissed her.
As if reading her mind, Angie gave her a knowing look and said, “I don’t believe that.” She stretched out a little more, lying on her back with her arms up and hands linked beneath her head, eyes closed. Her dark hair, jeans, and baggy sweatshirt were so covered in plaster dust it looked like she’d fallen into a vat of flour. She was a far cry at the moment from the meticulous fashion plates Kris normally dated, but she thought Angie looked absolutely adorable. “You need to loosen up and try to enjoy life a bit without worrying about things too much.”
Such advice, from anyone else, would have most certainly irritated her immensely. She hated it when people tried to analyze and offer unsolicited opinions to others on how to live their lives. A few of the women she’d dated had done it with her. But with Angie, she felt the need to defend herself. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t want Angie to think she was some uptight rich bitch who couldn’t have a good time and who felt sorry for herself because her childhood sucked. What a cliché.
“Who said I don’t have fun?” she replied defensively. “I have plenty of fun.”
“Yeah, right.” Angie chuckled.
Kris couldn’t resist the sudden urge to punch her on the shoulder. “I do.”
Angie’s response was another snort of laughter. “Give me a for instance.”
“I went out with Ilse only last night.” So there.
Angie was unconvinced. “Yes, it’s all coming back now. You mentioned her along with the stalker, as examples of your stressful evening. Sounds like a hoot and a half.”
“Don’t belittle her. We had a great time. Emotional, but great.”
Angie’s expression softened. “I didn’t mean to belittle. All I’m saying is you could use a bit of fun. No heavy conversations or bad trips down memory lane.”
“There’s more to life than fun,” Kris grumbled. “We can’t all afford to indulge in a laissez-faire lifestyle.”
“Okay, fine.”
Silence fell between them again, the only sounds the grandfather clock ticking away the minutes and the occasional crackle of the fire.
“Why don’t you like me?” Angie finally asked.
Kris had, in fact, just been thinking about how much she was enjoying the company of her unorthodox houseguest. And how surprised she was that she even enjoyed the woman’s cocky teasing. So much so, that she was actually beginning to look forward to their next round of verbal sparring, though of course she was not about to initiate it. “Why won’t you tell me what you’re running from?”
“I never said I was running.” Angie stared at the fire, her face conveniently averted.
Kris took the opportunity to study her in profile. Though her posture was relaxed, the intermittent flexing of the muscles in her jaw was a sign of that ever-present restlessness that seemed to be an inherent part of the woman. “You didn’t have to. It’s obvious.”
When Angie turned her head, there was a flicker of pain in her eyes. “I’m preoccupied, that’s all.”
“It’s like you don’t dare sit still,” Kris said carefully. “You even rock back and forth when you eat. Sometimes it looks as though
it’s almost painful for you to relax, and when you do, it’s not for long. Most of the time you look like you want to run.”
“And that’s why you don’t like me?” As if she’d just pulled down a curtain, Angie’s expression was suddenly blank.
Kris knew the technique, she used it herself to mask her feelings. But the pain was still there. She could sense it. “I never said I didn’t like you,” she said softly. “It’s just that your arrogance can make you a pain in the ass.”
Angie blew out a breath, as though in surrender. “Oh, great. You think I’m a self-absorbed, arrogant pain in the ass.” The vulnerability returned to her expression. “What do you like about me? Anything at all?”
The question was an invitation to open scrutiny. Kris couldn’t resist. Angie was a beautiful woman, even in her work clothes, her glossy dark hair salted with plaster dust and her face devoid of makeup. She was so different from Kris, in so many ways. Exotic, almost. Her angular features, olive complexion, full lips, and caramel eyes, framed by long lashes, suggested a Mediterranean heritage. And she had the soft musculature in her shoulders, arms, and legs that Kris envied and had been unable to duplicate despite her efforts in the gym.
If she were to answer with complete honesty at that moment, she would have said I like your eyes, your mouth, your body. The way you kiss, and the fact that your kiss made me feel so alive. But she was in no way ready to go there. “You’re…handy around the house.”
“I’ll try to take comfort in that.” Angie got up abruptly and started to pick up the empty plates and glasses. “I’m going to get my arrogant, self-absorbed ass to bed. It’s late.”
She didn’t look Kris’s way or speak further before departing for the kitchen. Kris wondered whether she was as hurt as she appeared or if her show of sulking was yet another prelude to a joke. She got up as well and returned their pillows to the couch, then closed the screen to the fireplace and turned off the desk lamp. As she headed out of the room, she bumped into Angie. Her expression was unreadable and her voice held none of its usual frivolity when she spoke.