by Jody Klaire
“If I am dragged out of an important meeting, it’s safe to assume that I expect it to be necessary.” His eyes hardened further. He’d have her shot and dumped somewhere. He’d never risk the cover being exposed, Frei being exposed.
“Losing poker games does tend to make one testy.” Renee steadied herself. She could pull her trigger faster than he could blink. “You might like to listen, I know that may be a first, but do try.”
Huber scowled. His eyes like blades as he strolled down the stairs. “You wish me to show you manners?”
“No, I want you to listen.” Renee switched to German. “Alex has relayed her message to me. You know who we work for.” She hoped that would call off his defensive mood. He didn’t trust her, Aeron he would listen to, but not Renee. To him, she was an agent, to him, she could be there to lure him in, bring him down.
“Interesting language skills for a teacher.” His tone cut as sharply as his eyes. He yanked back his chair and sat, his hand on his pistol, pointed at her.
“I’m a humanities professor.” She smiled a knowing smile. “Besides, you know better than to assume I’m innocent, Huber.” She took a breath, cycling through every cover she’d been until she recalled the right details. “Hartmann wasn’t a pleasant way to start out but I learned a lot.”
His eyebrows raised.
Hartmann, oh he and every other cretin would know her name.
Now, all these years later, Renee knew what peril Lilia had placed her in. Hartmann hadn’t just been a slave trader, she’d been one of the most powerful ones. Frei had risked a lot to get her out. Huber had risked more stealing from her.
“Locks has a way of ensuring loyalty. You should know this.” She ran her hand over Aeron’s shoulder. His gaze stayed on her hand as she slid it into Aeron’s pocket and pulled out the lock. “Or did you seriously think I’d work for anyone else?”
Huber knew the truth but the sight of the lock was enough. There was no way she would have it unless Frei had given it to her. The evidence was there but did he trust her enough to believe his eyes?
“Stealing from a locksmith is never a good idea,” he snapped. He primed the pistol with a click. Renee moved onto the balls of her feet ready to protect Aeron.
“Harming one that I happen to adore is an even worse one,” Renee snapped back. His mood triggered hers. She felt his anger, his anxiety licking at her like flames.
“Harm her?” His tone was flat but the energy around him screamed out in panic. Renee focused on it. She glanced at Aeron. Flickers of her in Serenity Hills rippled through her mind.
“People who ain’t emotionally charged can be harder to read. Some people are good at concealing it. I don’t know how or why.”
Renee watched Aeron. Those big brown eyes pleaded with her to believe her, to trust her. She couldn’t. Not after Yannick. Not after the way Aeron had hurled the bench across the canteen. Not after the way her whole body language flicked like his had. No. She placed her fingers together on the desk in front of her to hide them shaking. “I thought you were an expert.”
“No one gave me a handbook.” Aeron leapt to her feet and paced back and for. Flashes of Yannick doing the same while she lay bound and helpless rocketed through her. Her pistol was in her desk.
“You don’t need one if you will just admit that it may not be real.” That she was like him, that it was all a game. That, once again, Renee had been fooled.
“You’ve been lying to me?” Aeron’s tone rippled with hurt. It had to be false. Just a mimic.
“You. Tell. Me.”
Aeron stormed toward her. Renee held her ground but her hand was in her drawer, her pistol loaded. Its cold bulk in her hands.
Aeron snatched her pen off the desk.
“You tell your friends that your favorite food is nouveau cuisine because you think it makes you more sophisticated when your real favorite is Croque Madame. You wear high heels even when your feet are so sore that you can barely walk because your husband left you for a girl over six foot—”
“Stop it!” It was her cover. Her cover with glimmers of the truth. Her favorite food. The fact that she hid how she still had trouble walking with the cover about an ex-husband. None of it was written down. Aeron couldn’t know it.
Aeron shook her head. “Your mother calls you Tess, because she knows that to call you the name of the sister you hate makes you feel pathetic. She thinks it toughens you up but all it has ever done is rip away your self-confidence.”
Renee swallowed.
Aeron must have known Renee’s cover was fake. She’d recited verbatim the way she covered up the agony of that name. It was as if she was reading it somehow. Renee glanced at the pen, tried to snatch it but Aeron dodged.
“Your favorite color is blue, you have two dogs called Sasha and Misha, your dad was your hero, your first pet was a goldfish named George.”
Renee stared at her. She and Abby had owned Sasha and Misha. They lived with Abby. How could she know . . . how . . . ?
Aeron leaned on the desk. “And you’re wearing red lacey underwear that you bought as a luxury to make yourself feel better when you’re stuck in this hole day in, day out.”
Renee knew her face had drained of color. She caught the glimmer of truth in Aeron’s eyes that she knew. She knew a lot more than she was spouting out. In fact, it was like she was censoring it. She was guarding her, exactly like Lilia would.
“Forget the job. Get out of my life,” Aeron shot at her, pain glinting through her eyes.
She stormed out, slammed the door behind her. Renee hurried to catch up, to say what she wasn’t sure but her heart ignited. Her heart demanded that she stop ignoring it and listen. She pulled open the door. Aeron had pinned Val, a guard, against the wall. Her threat rang through the hallway. Not the threat of a skewed soul like Yannick but of a hurt, broken, and fed up young woman who was sick and tired of having lumps kicked out of her.
Renee looked down at her shaking hand. She’d picked up the pen without realizing. She stared down at it, shook her head, and wandered back into her office. Her heart seemed to know a lot more than she did.
From now on, she was going to trust it.
Renee glanced up at Huber. He held his pistol up. Renee walked to the desk, ignoring the prickling fear creeping up her spine, over her arms, into her chest. She picked up the letter opener on the desk, took a deep breath, and let herself see.
“You’re the youngest of three, the only boy. Your sisters both live in Germany. They never got involved in the family business.” She had no idea how her mouth was moving or how she knew. “They helped slaves escape and because of that your parents lost all their fortune. When you met her . . .” Renee glanced at the doorway, a picture of Frei’s mother flickered before her eyes. “She was owned by someone you couldn’t touch.”
Huber sucked in a breath. The same look she knew she’d worn when Aeron did it to her. A barrier dropped and she saw behind it, she didn’t dare utter those truths here.
“You always knew she’d follow the same path. Your heart tore and lifted when she showed promise but you couldn’t risk her getting discovered.” Renee nodded as Huber’s hand trembled, the gun trembling with it. “You did everything, including sending her to Caprock to keep her safe so they wouldn’t see . . .” She held his gaze. “They wouldn’t see what was right in front of their noses.”
“How do you know this?” His tone rang out with the agony, the guilt he so clearly felt.
“You knew they were both yours. You knew that she adored you, only neither of you had counted on an ambitious vixen getting in the way,” she muttered.
It made sense now.
Megan.
She’d always been after his name, after a place in higher circles. With her father’s money, Huber couldn’t really refuse under his parents’ watchful eyes. Megan had known it and played on it.
“It must have been excruciating to stand back and act like you didn’t care. Can you do that again?” she asked.
Huber scowled at her. “What do you know of my heart?”
“That it’s only ever wanted one woman.” Renee reached forward and touched his hand. “That you adore the same spiky beauty I do, we do.” She motioned to Aeron. “That you’d never harm her.”
She relaxed with the truth. Huber couldn’t hurt Frei. He’d never dream of it.
“She needs your help. We need you to help us find her.” She kept her voice soft, lowered his gun, and took it from him. “Please.”
Huber swallowed and glanced at Aeron. “I’m listening.”
Chapter 66
AUNT BESS STRETCHED out her back as she got out of the car with Grimes. It was an estate, sure, but it was an estate for short folks. They had pulled over next to a small section of warehouses which looked deserted and had been for a good while.
“I can’t see why you would think this place was worth scoping out.” Grimes, a pleasant-looking blond boy rubbed his hand over his stubbly chin. He shuddered as a huge water rat scuttled on past.
She shook her head.
Kids.
She strolled up the road a bit and saw a gate half open. She wandered through, Grimes in tow, and eyed the large truck-loading bay. On the other side she stopped, a security light stood high overhead but was covered in some kind of colored plastic.
“Could be the flashing light, maybe?” she mumbled, more to herself than Grimes.
He shrugged, too busy avoiding the broken glass on the ground.
Glass?
At knee level to her, there were windows which looked like the building had sunk into the ground. Not smashed but the same as the warehouse Aeron and Renee had needed a quick getaway from.
Bess sniffed the air. Lilia had said a river. Lilia had said Aeron had specifically mentioned river water and how it smelled. She sniffed at the air some more, followed the building around and stopped at the murky brown water. It was good enough for her. The distance from the city made it a great place to stash things. Besides, you could scope either side of the river with ease. They’d see the authorities coming with enough time to stash whatever they were hiding.
She glanced back at Grimes.
If it was like the warehouse Renee and Aeron were in, she didn’t need an officer involved in a shootout.
She pulled a piece of candy from her cardigan pocket, unwrapped it, and plopped it in her mouth. “Why don’t you head back and check out that smashed-up door over there.”
One of the smaller warehouses had a bay which looked like someone had driven a car through it.
Grimes cocked his head. “I think I should stay with you.”
“A woman needs few things, dearie; enough to put food on a table, warmth, a good heart . . .” Bess pulled her pistol from inside her waistband. “And a way to shoo folks who are looking to cause trouble.” She winked at his raised eyebrows. “You shouldn’t judge a cover by its age.”
She primed the pistol and wandered toward the warehouse.
She was happy to trust Grimes, he’d checked out. Eli trusted him so she would. She glanced over her shoulder to find him still watching her.
“You gonna be useful?”
He nodded and hurried off. She shook her head at him. Maybe it would have been best to leave him with the kittens?
She pressed herself up against the wall as the sound of something twitched in her ears. She waggled her finger in them, trying to dislodge the tinnitus. She was far too old to be coming out of retirement.
She knelt down to listen—machinery, still working, maybe a generator. Odd for an abandoned warehouse. She glanced up the steep wall face, her gaze lighting on a smashed window.
Aha, so that’s where the glass was from.
She studied the mud around her and smiled. The tip of a boot. A small boot. She pulled out her phone from her bra and took a picture. She may not have had a handbag these days but having large breasts meant she didn’t need to.
She crept toward a fire door. It was ajar, an arm poking out.
Hmm.
She pulled a ventilator out of her bra. Just a fancy name for a gas mask that only buzzed into life when there was something nasty to filter out. Lilia had told her to bring her little toolbox only as a precaution. That she wasn’t to go sniffing around dangerous places at her age. She smiled at that. Her baby sister talked more crazy talk than she did.
She pulled on her gloves and prodded open the door, pistol ready in case hostiles were still inside. The man slumped in the doorway was cold. Nothing was chewing on him yet so it had to be recent.
She moved in. An office of some sort. Papers scattered on the floor; a ramp down to a room. She felt her ventilator kick in and pulled out some goggles from her bra. Good thing they were prescription, she was a lot more short sighted these days.
The place looked deserted but she wasn’t buying it. Whoever the guy was at the door, he could have had friends. She headed into some waiting room with a screen. Instruments on the side. She pulled the screen back to check there was no one behind it.
Nothing.
She cocked her head and stooped down. A piece of plastic. She pulled out a hanky, her phone, and placed the plastic into one of the slots. She could never remember the name for things. Breadcrumbs? Drives? Card slots? Why did she have “reader” in her head? Hmm. Something like that. She pressed send.
FAR completed. J with me. Exit strategy car.
It reeled off a list of medical statuses that Bess raised her eyebrows at. She pulled the breadcrumb from the phone, wrapped it up, and pocketed it.
Her ventilator kicked in again and she frowned. She walked over to the corner of the room and looked up, some kind of gas. She opened the door to the hallway and sighed. Whoever the men were in the hallway, they hadn’t made it far. She checked each one’s pulse. Nothing.
They all wore the same shirt and trousers, it reminded her of the UPS uniform. She ran her thumb over the emblem and pulled out her phone to take a picture. She could remember the days when they had to carry a camera too. The little devices were kinda smart.
Smart phones.
She chuckled to herself and headed down the hallway, clearing each room. She found one man slumped against an office wall. There was a chair at the center of the room, zip ties discarded. The man had no shoes on and had been searched by someone.
Aunt Bess left the room and cleared the rest of the hall. The remaining door was locked so she dug out her tools and let herself in. Another man lay on the floor. He’d been hit by the gas too. She knelt down beside him. He’d been knocked out before. She scoured the damp cellar like room. There was blood on the far wall, a discarded piece of ripped clothing. She picked it up and tucked it in another hanky. Best to clear the trail.
She walked back to the room that she’d heard the vent hissing in and pulled out a black meter. She switched it on and held it up. The meter flickered to and fro until the green light came on.
She winced.
Nasty stuff.
She headed to the other end of the corridor and broke into the room. She ran her fingers down the panel. The only light on was for an alert. She sighed. The men working there must not have realized that they were releasing a poison.
Nice staff relations.
Aunt Bess shut off the release and went back outside and found Grimes who was still taking pictures of the broken door. She shook her head as she stashed her mask and equipment back in her bra. She wanted him to record the scene not build a collage.
“You find anything?” she asked.
He jumped. The man squealed like a woman. Attractive. “No . . . just that there was a car here and there isn’t now.”
Hopefully the boy hadn’t made detective on skill. Bess walked to a patch of shavings. She pulled out a hanky and picked them up.
Metal.
She spotted the discarded cover in the corner. “Whoever it is, they got a tail.”
Grimes frowned at her but Bess pulled out her phone. She texted Renee’s number from memory and sent h
er the details of the poison and the pictures. She heard the sound of cars nearby and motioned for Grimes to follow her. She hit Lilia’s speed dial number then ushered Grimes into the passenger seat and took the keys. He drove like an old woman.
“Agent Fleming.”
Bess rolled her eyes. She’d heard a lot about Abby Fleming and she wasn’t impressed. “Hello dear, it’s Bess, Lilia’s sister. I’ve got a bit of an issue with one of the girls. Would you be so kind as to put her on.”
“Of course.”
Bess smiled, firing up the car. The sucker punch worked every time with mothers.
“Bess?”
“Twig, I got a poisonous gas, a lot of dead guards, and your missing general has a tail.” She slammed the car into reverse and into the warehouse they’d just walked out of. A few moments later, three cars zipped past the entrance. Brakes screeched.
Grimes’s face paled. She patted him on the knee.
“I’ll send you Ursula’s details. Meet us at the airport.” Lilia’s voice was all business now. She was proud of her kid sister.
Bess slammed the car into drive and they shot out onto the road. “Sure thing. Grimes and I are gonna pick up some cookies. I been itching for a taste since we touched down.”
She zipped them over a railway crossing and smiled as the warning lights started flashing on and the gates lowered. Things like that often happened to her. She had a sneaking feeling her dear mother wasn’t as mad at her as she pretended to be.
“I’ll text Blondie to let her know,” she said.
“Thank you.” Lilia’s worried tone said it all.
Bess cut the call and glanced at Grimes who was staring at her like she’d morphed into the president.
“Won’t they have spotted my plates?” he asked.
Bess shook her head at him, again. “Motion sensors alerted them not cameras. Places like that don’t go recording anything that could be used as evidence.” She wondered if he’d slept through the academy. “Besides, I changed your plates.”