Of course, he’d had a sniper rifle trained on her last year.
He dragged both hands through his hair. “Okay, your starting point is that flash drive. Let’s go get it.”
“You know where this cemetery is?”
“Of course I do. Every good N’awlins boy does. I’m not sure how we’re going to march up there and remove a stone from a mausoleum in the middle of the day with tour groups wandering around.”
“I am not going to a New Orleans cemetery at night.”
“It’s not deserted. There are tours at night, too. Those might be the more popular tours.”
Rikki cocked her head. “Should we join one of those? Just two tourists on a cemetery tour at night? We could break off from the group to examine the St. Germaine mausoleum more thoroughly. That way, if anyone tracked Jeff there, we wouldn’t stick out.”
“You had the same thought I did.” He swung his leg over the barstool, straddling it. “How long had Jeff’s attacker been following him?”
“That’s exactly what I thought. Maybe he hadn’t been tailing Jeff closely enough to see him stash something at the cemetery, but he could’ve seen him go there.” Rikki bumped her forehead with the heel of her hand. “I can’t believe some of Jeff’s actions.”
“He would pick a cemetery.” Quinn raised one eyebrow. “Sounds like Jeff was watching too many spy films.”
“I guess he just never figured he was being followed. This wasn’t a regular assignment for him. He probably jumped at the chance to do a favor for Ariel and the Vlad task force.”
“Maybe.” Quinn strode into the living room and slid his laptop in front of him on the coffee table.
“What are you doing?”
He looked up. “We’re gonna book a tour of St. Louis Number One tonight.”
* * *
THEY’D DECIDED AGAINST the midnight ghost tour. The one after dinner in the dark would be creepy enough.
Rikki had wanted to get the grand tour of New Orleans with Quinn as her guide. She’d been to the city just twice before, but Quinn had a love of his hometown and would’ve been able to do it justice.
He’d put a stop to that idea, however. Although the chances were low, Quinn didn’t want to run into Rikki’s attacker from last night. They took a quick trip to Rikki’s run-down motel to collect her possessions and check her out of the room, and then reclaimed her scooter from the French Quarter.
Quinn had insisted he could protect her better at his place, and Rikki didn’t doubt that, but they both knew they’d wind up in bed together for as many nights as she stayed.
She needed to use one of those opportunities to break the news about Bella. Quinn hadn’t wanted children, as his own mother had abandoned him, and his father never let him forget it. Even though Quinn’s dad was an alcoholic and the adult Quinn knew his mother had run from him, the child within Quinn never stopped blaming himself. Then he somehow figured if both his father and mother had been uncaring parents, how could he possibly be any better?
Rikki couldn’t imagine Quinn as anything but a loving, doting father. It was one of the things about him that had scared her off—his ability to feel deeply.
She thought she’d been getting into a relationship marked by kinky sex and a shallow appreciation of each other’s bodies. But Quinn was right. It had started developing into so much more—and had scared the hell out of her. David’s call had come just in time.
Later that night, Quinn emerged from the back rooms with his freshly washed hair slicked back and a towel around his neck. He eyed the sundress she’d changed into when they went to her hotel. “You’re not going to change into all black for the occasion?”
“In this heat?” She fanned herself with her hand. “No, thanks. Maybe my floral dress will keep the ghosts at bay.”
“Or maybe it will bring them out to force you to have some respect for their final resting place.”
She pointed at his light-colored shorts. “I see you’re dressing more for the weather than the occasion.”
“It’s almost July. I’m not crazy.”
She combined the remains of their Chinese food into a couple of containers. “Thanks for dinner, but take-out Chinese is not exactly what I was expecting in New Orleans with all the fantastic restaurants here.”
“We’re not on vacation, despite the tour. We don’t know where that guy is or even who he is. He could be lurking around waiting for you.”
“Unless Jeff has already reported back to Ariel and gotten the all-clear.”
“Nobody told you yet, so you’re gonna lie low.”
She poked her head around the refrigerator door while putting away the leftovers. “This is your dream come true, isn’t it? To keep me captive in your apartment?”
He widened his eyes. “You’re making me sound like a perv. I just wanna keep you safe.”
“I know that.” She slammed the fridge door. “I can’t stay hiding out here forever, can I?”
“No. I don’t expect that. I meant what I said that first night. I want to help you get your life back—even if that life doesn’t include me.”
She turned her back on him and dumped their dishes in the sink. That life would have to include him once she told him about Bella.
Thirty minutes later, Rikki climbed onto the back of Quinn’s motorcycle and pulled on her helmet. Quinn had a small car he used while in town, but he always used his bike downtown for parking purposes. That was why she’d rented a scooter—she’d needed to get in and around the city quickly.
Quinn claimed a parking spot for his motorcycle at the edge of a small lot about a block from the cemetery.
Rikki slid from the back of the bike as Quinn tipped it to the side. She pulled the helmet from her head and shook out her hair.
“I’ll take that.” Quinn took her helmet from her and locked it on the back of the motorcycle along with his.
He took her hand, and they jogged across the street toward the rambling cemetery behind a wrought iron fence. He led her to a group of people hanging out by the entrance gates, and they joined the rest of the tourists, taking pictures with their phones and peeking through the gate.
Several minutes later, a tall African-American woman with long braids and a gauzy skirt floated up to the group. “Everyone here for the tour? I’m Aida, your guide. We’ll take care of earthly matters first if you’ll hand me your printed ticket or show me the ticket on your phone. Then we’ll get to the unearthly matters.”
One of the tour members, who’d had a few too many Hurricanes to drink, let loose with a ghoulish laugh.
Aida raised her brows at him. “Taunt the spirits at your own risk.”
Despite the real ghouls Rikki had encountered over the past year, she sidled up next to Quinn and tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow.
Once Aida had checked all their tickets, she led them into the cemetery and stopped at a small grave site with an ornate cherub guarding it. She rested one hand on the cherub’s chubby winged foot. “This is the sad resting place of AnaBella Lafleur. She died at the tender age of five, but her wealthy father forbade her burial in the family mausoleum because he never accepted her as his daughter. He had suspected his wife of cheating on him, and even after the child’s death, he never got over it and ended up murdering his wife.”
The warmth of the evening couldn’t suppress the little chill that ran up Rikki’s back. She tugged on Quinn’s arm and whispered, “Jeff and his morbid ideas.”
As the group moved past AnaBella’s grave, Quinn brushed his hand over the headstone. “Poor Bella.”
Rikki tripped over a crack, and Quinn steadied her. “Whoa.”
She pulled him away from the group. “Once we find the St. Germaines, let’s get out of here. I don’t want to hear about any more dead children.”
He cocked his head at her. “You okay?”
/>
“Nervous.”
“I don’t blame you. It’s gonna be okay.”
He draped an arm over her shoulder, and she welcomed the heavy pressure of it. Why had he called that girl Bella? It must have been a sign.
Aida delivered the history and the atmosphere as the group moved from grave site to grave site, and Rikki might’ve enjoyed this tour another time.
A half hour into the tour, Aida stopped at a Baroque-style mausoleum with heralding angels on either side of the entrance and a profusion of flowers carved in stone and trailing down the columns.
Aida folded her hands in front of her. “This is the St. Germaine mausoleum, notable for its Baroque style and detailed stonework.”
As Aida’s smooth voice hummed in the background, Rikki elbowed Quinn, her mouth dry. She scooted closer to the steps, and someone asked if they were going inside.
Aida replied, “Not this one. There’s a smaller one toward the end of the tour, and a few people at a time can duck inside.”
Aida continued talking about the stone carvings as Rikki took one step down, pretending to study the writing on the side of the mausoleum.
The group began to shuffle off, and Rikki took the next step down, running her fingers over the rough stone on the right—six in, loose stone. Aida had better not catch her and Quinn defacing a crypt.
Aida’s voice grew fainter, and Quinn joined her on the second step. “Did you find it?”
“Not—” her fingers scrabbled over the stone, looking for a gap or a give “—yet.”
She crouched down and flashed the light from her phone on the wall.
Quinn crouched beside her, bumping her shoulder. “Is it loose right here?”
She shoved the heel of her hand against the spot he’d indicated with his middle finger, and the stone seemed to rock.
A scrape and a shuffle had her spinning around, knocking into Quinn as he straightened up, reacting to the noise.
Rikki’s throat tightened as she looked up at the drunken man, not looking so drunk now, his face lit from below, his eyes narrowed.
“What are you two doing down here? And why don’t you let me in on it?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Quinn instinctively stepped in front of Rikki. “Just doing a little historical investigation.”
“Yeah, right.” The man pulled a gun from his waistband, a silencer attached to the barrel.
Quinn’s own weapon burned against his back, useless. He held up his hands. “Look, man. We don’t want any trouble. We were just looking around.”
“Looking around for something that spook left you?” The man laughed. “The CIA needs to do a better job of screening its applicants.”
Rikki squeaked next to Quinn. “CIA? What are you talking about? I thought you were a cemetery ranger or whatever and thought we were defacing the mausoleum. You really are drunk.”
The man glanced quickly to his side as laughter rose from the group. “Who are you?”
Quinn raised his hands higher, hoping Rikki might see the gun stuck in the back of his waistband, beneath his shirt, and hoping she might be able to get her hands on it. “Buddy, we’re a couple of tourists on a cemetery tour. I don’t know what your game is, but we don’t have any money on us and you’re not going to get too far with our credit cards.”
Another laugh from the group had the man licking his lips and sliding one foot off the top step.
That was all Quinn needed. With the man off balance, Quinn charged him, knocking him backward. The gun tipped up and Quinn made sure it stayed that way by slamming his fist against the man’s elbow.
The force and placement of the blow caused the man to drop the gun, and Quinn kicked it away. As the man came at him again, Quinn grabbed him by the throat.
“Now it’s your turn. Who the hell are you?”
“Is there a problem?” The tour guide hovered several feet away. “Are you two fighting?”
Under the cover of the shadows, Quinn put the man in a sleeper hold. He slumped, and Quinn lowered him to the ground.
“I think this guy had a little too much to drink. He was bothering us, but no harm done.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Rikki, who’d been no help at all. “My wife’s done with the tour, though.”
Rikki stepped over the prone body and brushed off the skirt of her dress. “Yeah, I’ve had enough.”
Aida put her hand to her heart. “Do I need to call the police?”
“If you want to report a drunk in public.” Quinn slipped the tour guide a twenty. “Thanks. Great tour.”
Putting his hand at the small of Rikki’s back, he propelled her through the cemetery as if they had a couple of ghosts on their tail.
When they escaped through the gate, Quinn let out a breathy whistle. “How the hell did he pick us up? And what the hell were you doing back there? Didn’t you see the gun in my waistband?”
“I saw it, but I was attending to more important business.”
“Really? There’s more important business than saving my life?”
She plunged her hand into her purse and pulled out a folded envelope. “I got the stone loose and grabbed the envelope Jeff left for me.”
He pinched her cheek. “Smart girl, but I guess you answered my question.”
“Your question?” She took one skipping step next to him.
“That envelope is more important than my life.”
She gave him a shove from behind. “I knew you could handle that guy.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He pulled out his weapon. “Still didn’t answer the first question, though. How’d that guy make us? He walked up a little later, after we met the group out front.”
Rikki took a step back and wrapped her fingers around the bars of the cemetery fence. “There are at least two of them. The drunk in the cemetery and the guy who beat up Jeff and tried to hustle me out of the bar last night.”
“There could be more.” Quinn dangled his gun at his side as they started down the street. “The good news is that they don’t seem to have a clue who you are.”
“And they might not be CIA. Sure didn’t sound like he worked for the Agency, did it? If they did, wouldn’t Jeff had already cleared himself through Ariel? The CIA must know by now that Jeff wasn’t involved in any counterespionage. So why would they still be after the flash drive?”
He pulled her close to him. “Let’s get home right now. We’ll talk about this later. I’m worried that dude in the cemetery has a partner out here.”
“We already know what his partner looks like. He tried to kidnap me last night.”
“If it’s just the two of them.”
“Who the hell are they if not CIA? Why were they following Jeff?”
“I think we need to talk to Jeff again.”
Quinn didn’t let out the breath he’d been holding until they reached his motorcycle. Once on board, Quinn gunned the engine and took a different route back to his place, keeping an eye on his mirror.
They returned to his apartment unnoticed, and Quinn let Rikki off the bike before tucking it into his parking space next to his car.
They walked inside his place, and he fired up his laptop. “Let’s see what’s on this flash drive, and it better be worth all the trouble.”
Rikki dug into her purse, pulling out the envelope. She ripped it open and dumped the flash drive into her palm. “Okay. I’m ready.”
She sat next to him on the sofa and scooted in close as she reached past him to insert the flash drive into the side of his computer.
Quinn double-clicked on the device when it appeared on his display. He ran the cursor down the list of files. “Emails. Is that what you were expecting?”
“I didn’t know what to expect. Ariel indicated she’d run across some files that might be useful to me.”
&nb
sp; Quinn opened the first email, and Rikki gasped beside him.
“They’re David’s emails.”
“To you?” Quinn hunched forward and squinted at the addresses at the top of the message. “No. Who’s Frederick Von?”
“I have no clue.” Rikki grabbed the laptop with both hands and brought it close to her face, as if that would help her identify the recipient of David’s email.
“It sounds like he’s discussing his trip to South Korea.”
“It does, but that’s strange.” She placed the computer back on the coffee table. “I thought the two of us, David and I, were the only ones in on that trip.”
“He probably had to get approval from someone.”
“That someone was Ariel.” She tapped the keyboard. “Let’s see the next one.”
After Rikki opened four emails in a row, Quinn whistled. “Looks like David was two-timing you. He sent all these messages to Freddy, and they all seem to be referencing the trip to South Korea that he took with you.”
“Frederick Von.” Rikki drummed her fingers on the edge of the laptop. “That name sounds familiar to me.”
“Another agent?”
“Not sure.” Rikki clicked back through the emails, and then slumped against the sofa. “This doesn’t tell me anything. These are mundane messages about a trip I was on. They make no sense to me. Why would Ariel think these would be useful, and why would those men following Jeff go to such great lengths to get them?”
Quinn squeezed Rikki’s thigh. “Maybe there’s something in the simplicity of the messages. Why would David be relaying insignificant details about his trip to someone—unless the details mean something else?”
She shot up. “Like a code?”
“That makes more sense to me than these emails.”
She opened the first email again and read it aloud. “‘Frederick, the trip to South Korea is on. We have intel about our man. I’ll follow up with time and location.’”
“Time and location for what? Did the two of you meet anyone in South Korea before you crossed over?”
“Just our guide. I’m not sure what happened to him after David was murdered and I was captured.”
Kick A** Heroines Box Set: The UltimatumFatal AffairAfter the DarkBulletproof SEAL (The Guardian) Page 97