“I’m going to puke,” I gasped, and fled to the bathroom to do exactly that.
The nice thing about vomiting is that people tend to leave you alone while you do it. I returned the formerly delicious wrap along with what I was willing to swear was everything else I’d ever eaten and possibly a couple of my toenails on top.
Sending up a quiet prayer of thanks for the Greenhorn’s scrupulous attention to bathroom cleanliness, I leaned my sweaty forehead against the cool tile wall and breathed carefully.
“Aydan?” Outside the door, Honey’s sultry voice held a note of worry. “Are you okay in there?”
“Dandy,” I croaked, but the lock was already clicking open. I caught a glimpse of Kane in the hallway holding a slender metallic rod before Honey slipped inside and closed the door behind her.
She immediately knelt beside me, her cool fingers closing over the pulse point on my wrist while she laid a hand on my brow.
Just what I needed. Florence Fucking Nightingale.
What could be better than having my freshly ex-lover’s gorgeous new girlfriend tend to my puke-spattered self while I huddled on the floor in a public bathroom? Nothing, that’s what.
“I’m fine,” I growled, the faint rattle of my abused throat adding an ominous overtone. “Please just go back to your lunch and let me get cleaned up.”
“Are you sure?” She eyed me with concern. “I could bring you a glass of water. Or would you like some ginger ale to settle your stomach? Or I could bring you some soda crackers. Those always helped me when I was pregnant.”
I lurched up off the floor. “I’m not f-”
I bit off the f-bomb and staggered to the sink. “I’m not pregnant. Thanks, Jack, I really appreciate your concern, but I’d just like a few minutes alone so I can get myself together.” I stuck my mouth under the tap to rinse and spit.
“Of course.” Her hand made a couple of small, soothing circles on my back. “I’ll be right outside. Call if you need anything.”
It took all my willpower not to snap at her. “Thanks.”
I was proud the word came out sounding at least moderately grateful, and she gave me one of her radiant smiles before letting herself out the door.
I locked it behind her, for all the good it did with Kane and his lockpick hovering outside, and tottered over to slump down on the toilet seat.
Christ Almighty, what a clusterfuck. I sank my head into my hands with a groan.
“Aydan?”
“I’m fine.”
I held my headache together with both hands and settled down to intense thought. The only way Smith could have known about Tiger Lily was if Robert had told him. And the only reason Robert would tell him would be if he wanted to convince me he was really alive.
Which meant… what exactly?
That the man I’d spent years learning to trust, the man I’d given the remains of my heart… had lied to me. Had let me suffer all this time.
For what?
I had believed Robert had loved me and had planned to hide me away from Sirius Dynamics and its dangerous work. But now…
If he’d faked his own death, hidden for nearly three years…
Did he still love me? Was he still trying to help me escape? Or was he just a slimy spy, intent on some purpose of his own, using me and everybody else to achieve his ends?
My body began to quiver uncontrollably.
Robert. Alive.
To see his face again, hold him in my arms and feel his arms around me… and… what?
Believe he loved me? After lying and abandoning me?
I should kick his sorry ass to hell and back. No, scratch that. Kick his sorry ass to hell and leave him there, the bastard. Let him feel some of the pain he’d put me through.
But what if he had an explanation? And what possible explanation could there be?
And why the hell would he contact John Smith, of all people?
I pushed myself to my feet.
A few minutes with a damp paper towel converted the spatters on my T-shirt to wet spots flecked with paper fibres. Not exactly the look I’d had in mind when I dressed in the morning, but it beat puke stains.
When I emerged shakily, the small cafe was nearly empty. True to her word, Honey was leaning against the wall beside the bathroom door. She straightened and handed me a can of ginger ale and some soda crackers, and this time my gratitude was authentic. I sank into the nearest chair to sip and nibble.
She slid into the opposite chair, and Kane sat beside her, swinging his chair slightly to the diagonal to give him a better view behind him.
“I’ll watch your back,” I murmured, and a flash of something, surprise maybe, flickered in his expression before he nodded and gave me a smile that almost reached his eyes.
“Tell me what happened,” he said.
I shrugged. “Nothing. I guess I must have eaten something that didn’t-” I cut myself off with sudden horror at my tactlessness. No way I’d even hint his magnificent meal might have made me sick.
“I ate some fruit for breakfast this morning, and I thought at the time it tasted funny,” I lied. “I guess I should’ve thrown it out.”
“Oh.” I thought I saw Kane’s shoulders relax, but he might have just been shifting position. “How are you feeling now?” he asked.
“I’m okay. Thanks to Jack.” I gave her a smile and toasted her with the ginger ale can.
She smiled back, looking almost shy. “I’m glad I could help.”
I shot a look around the now-deserted cafe. “Where’s Smith?”
“Gone back to the office,” Kane said. “You can ride with us.”
When I trailed into my office still clutching the ginger ale can, Spider sprang to his feet. “Aydan, you look awful! I mean… you never look awful, but… I mean, are you okay?”
I blew out a long breath and sank onto the sofa. “I’m fine. My stomach was a little upset, but I’m okay now.”
He frowned. “Maybe you should go home and rest.”
“I think you should,” Honey agreed.
Home, solitude, and bed. It sounded like heaven.
“I’ll do that last decryption,” I said. “Then I think I will go home.”
“You can do it tomorrow. Don’t bother with it,” Spider said. “She shouldn’t, should she?” he appealed to Kane.
Kane’s cop face appraised me. “Her choice.”
Suddenly I couldn’t bear the thought of facing his icy chill in the sim again. “You know, Spider, you’re right. I feel like crap. I’m out of here.”
“Wait,” Smith said. “I got the rest of your lunch wrapped up.” He handed me a cardboard takeout container from the Greenhorn.
My stomach heaved, and I swallowed hard. “Uh…”
“Take it,” he urged. “You’ll probably want it by supper time.” He met my eyes pointedly.
“Thanks.” I took the container and left.
When I drove into my yard, my heart gave a little skip at sight of the shiny car parked in front of my house. Red! It was red!
For a moment, I struggled against the lure of my new automotive toy, but Smith’s mysterious concern for my nutritional needs trumped the car by a small margin.
I drove into the garage and waited impatiently for the door to roll down behind me before opening the takeout box. The message was scribbled on the underside of the napkin.
“Blue Eddy’s 8 tonight.”
Jittering with fatigue and nerves, I pulled the Legacy into its new home in the garage and explored under the hood until exhaustion turned my bones to lead. Then I dragged myself into the house for a couple of hours of restless sleep.
Promptly at six o’clock, I locked my front door and headed for the garage, wound up too tightly to stay in the house any longer.
Might as well road-test the new car. Tough job, but somebody had to do it.
The snow was gone except for a few areas in deep shade, and the wide-open highway was bare and dry. Instead of turning toward Silverside, I head
ed west into the setting sun.
With no other traffic in sight, I took a breath of anticipation and settled my foot onto the gas pedal, enjoying the smooth acceleration. After checking to make sure I was still alone on the highway, I slowed and tried a few quick lane changes, testing the responsiveness of the steering. Definitely a different feel than my old Saturn, but it was good. Really good.
Grinning, I slid back into my own lane and put my foot down to let the horses run. I was just easing off the gas when flashing blue and red lights in my rearview mirror made adrenaline spike through my veins.
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
I pulled over, heart pounding. I might have been a couple of kilometres over the speed limit, but certainly no more than three or four. Usually they let you away with that.
When the RCMP officer approached, I fumbled with the unfamiliar controls for long, embarrassing seconds before locating the correct button to power down the window.
“May I see your license and registration, please?” he asked.
Oh, shit.
I assumed Stemp would have taken care of the registration, but he hadn’t given me the pink card. I nearly fainted with relief when I opened the glove compartment and discovered the magic piece of paper.
Then the full significance of the situation hit me. I was Arlene Widdenback, not Aydan Kelly. Suddenly Stemp’s words made a lot more sense. Remember that. I was Arlene Widdenback. I scrounged in my waist pouch and handed over my new license, hoping the officer didn’t notice my shaking hands.
He leaned down toward the window. “Have you had anything to drink today?”
“No.”
“You were driving very erratically back there. Did you realize you were speeding?”
“I’m sorry.” I tried a smile. “I just got this new car today. I’ve never had all-wheel drive before, and I was just testing it out. I guess I got a little carried away.”
“Please wait here.” He paced back to his own car, and I scrunched down in the driver’s seat, concentrating on staying calm.
How the hell had I missed seeing him? He must have been tucked in behind that sign advertising the Tyrrell Museum. Dammit, I knew that was one of their favourite hiding spots.
“Ms. Widdenback.” His voice made me jump, and I released my clenched grip on the wheel. When I looked up at him, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes, though his face betrayed nothing. Of course, dammit, the whole porn star thing had been in the news, and my sleazy cover self had a police record.
Fuck.
“I’m going to write you a ticket for stunting, failing to signal when changing lanes, driving left of centre, and speeding.”
I couldn’t prevent my groan, and he eyed me sternly. “Be glad I didn’t decide to add careless driving. That would rack up enough demerits to suspend your license. And it’s a mandatory court appearance.”
“Th… thank you,” I managed feebly.
He wrote out the ticket with hard strokes of his pen and slapped it into my hand. “Shape up,” he snapped, and strode back to his car.
I stared at the ticket in my shaking hand. Twelve demerits. I’d only had one traffic ticket in more than thirty years of driving, and now I’d almost lost my license in one fell swoop. I wondered light-headedly if Stemp would have arranged to get it back if the cop had decided to be a real hard-ass about it.
He’d have to.
Wouldn’t he?
I sat trembling in my new car, staring out the windshield until long after the police car had driven away.
Chapter 20
When I finally pulled up at Blue Eddy’s at a quarter to eight, I was still shaking. A beer would have been heavenly, but I never drank if I was going to drive. And now, I barely dared breathe the air where alcohol was being served in case it somehow got into my bloodstream and I got caught again.
I quivered my way into the noisy crush of the bar. I’d forgotten it was open jam night, and the place was packed as usual. I was hovering unhappily at the edge of the room when Eddy spotted me.
He waved and ducked out from behind the bar to come over and clasp my hands between his own. “Aydan, good to see you again,” he said. “Have I told you lately how much I appreciate having you around to do my books?”
I gave him a laugh that trembled slightly despite my best efforts. “Only every second time I come here.”
His keen eyes appraised me. “You’re shaking. Come and sit down.” He guided me to my usual corner and approached the two men at the table with a smile.
“Hey, guys,” he greeted them. “I screwed up. I meant to put a reserved sign on this table, and I forgot. I’ll pick up your tab tonight to make up for your trouble if you don’t mind giving up the table.”
Their faces lit up. “Sure, no problem,” one of them slurred, and I winced. It looked as though their tab was already substantial, and they’d just gotten a free ride for the rest of the night.
“Eddy, you don’t have to…” I protested.
“I know, but I want to.” He gestured me forward, and I took a seat gratefully while he perched across from me. He jerked his chin in the direction of the stage. “Hellhound still looks pretty rough, but he’s getting around okay.”
“Yeah. It was such a relief to find out the accident wasn’t as bad as I’d thought.”
“How’s your aunt?”
I dropped my gaze to the table so I didn’t have to look him in the eye while I lied to him. “She’s better. It was touch and go for a while, but they think she’ll make a full recovery.”
“Good.” He reached across to touch my hand, and when I looked up, he appraised me for a moment as if deciding what to say. “How are you holding up with that internet thing?” he asked at last.
I groaned and sank my face into my hands. “Eddy, I don’t know if I can take this. All I wanted was to move out to the country and live happily ever after, and now my whole life is…”
I shut up before I could whine any more. As far as Eddy knew, my biggest problem was a case of mistaken identity. If only.
“Don’t worry, Aydan,” Eddy reassured me. “Everybody knows it’s just a mixup. It’ll die down and everything will be okay.”
“Thanks, Eddy.”
He patted my hand and stood. “Sorry, I have to…” He gestured toward the busy bar.
“It’s okay.”
I slouched down in my chair and divided my attention between watching the entrance and the stage, where the usual suspects were setting up to jam. Hellhound looked up from his guitar to give me a grin, and I let the comforting familiarity soothe some of my nerves.
Just as the musicians struck up the lead-in to their first set I spotted Smith in the doorway, surveying the noisy crowd with his usual sour expression.
The waitress paused to place a glass of water in front of me. “Brought your usual. You should be careful drinking this hard stuff,” she kidded.
“Yeah, thanks, Darlene, I’ll go easy on it.” We exchanged a grin over our customary joke. “Could you grab me some hot wings, too, please?” I asked, and she nodded and hurried away to keep up with the demands of the thirsty patrons.
Smith slid into the chair opposite and leaned too close for comfort. “Have you heard from him?”
“No. When did he talk to you?” I demanded. “What the hell’s going on?”
Smith’s shoulders slumped. “I haven’t talked to him. I hoped you had.”
“I thought he was dead, for chrissake! The only reason I believe you at all is because of Tiger Lily. How the hell did you know about that if you haven’t been in touch with him?”
“I didn’t say I hadn’t been in touch with him, I said I haven’t talked to him directly. Let me know if he contacts you.” He started to rise.
“Not so fast.” I grabbed his arm and suppressed an instinctive shudder when my mind flashed to what was probably caked on that shirtsleeve. I yanked my attention back to Smith. “Explain.”
He frowned. “If Robert didn’t brief you, it was becaus
e he didn’t want you to know.”
“Of course he briefed me,” I lied hurriedly. “I just need to know what’s going on from your side.”
“You know everything you need to know.”
Dammit!
I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Fill me in, or I won’t tell you even if he does contact me.”
“Don’t be stupid. You know we’re all working together here,” Smith snapped. “And let go of me. The bartender’s staring.”
I released him and sat back in my chair. Eddy shot me a faint frown, his gaze flicking in Smith’s direction, and I gave him a tiny headshake and a smile. His face cleared, and he returned my smile before turning away to fill more glasses.
I scowled at Smith. “If you don’t brief me, right-fucking-now, I’ll…” I bit back the threat of violence that had almost escaped. Be smart about this. “I’ll take it directly to Stemp,” I finished.
I wouldn’t actually risk Robert’s life by doing that, but if Smith had gone to this much trouble to talk to me privately, I had a feeling he wouldn’t want me to share.
I was right.
He dropped back into his chair and jerked across the table toward me. “For God’s sake, don’t even joke about that! Are you crazy?”
I gave him a don’t-mess-with-me glare. “No. Desperate. Don’t push your luck.”
He sat back slowly, contemplating me with a frown. “You’re much different than I expected. Robert always made it sound like you were some delicate flower he had to protect.”
What the hell did he mean, ‘always’? I crossed my arms and leaned back, trying for an impassive expression. “Talk, Smith.”
He twitched his shoulders irritably. “You might as well call me Kasper. I couldn’t believe you were stupid enough to make that comment about my name this spring. What were you thinking?”
Back then, I’d been making an admittedly pathetic joke about how ‘John Smith’ sounded like an alias. I hadn’t found out about the tongue-twisting ‘Kasper Doytchevsky’ until later, but he didn’t need to know that.
I felt my way cautiously. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
How Spy I Am Page 14