Deep Cover
Page 20
Butch and Claire exited the interstate less than four hours later. “I promise, this won’t take a minute or two. I’ll grab a quick shower and a set of clean clothes; then I can get you back home.”
“You’re trying to make a good impression on my mother, aren’t you?”
“That might be impossible, but I’m going to try.”
“So what is your place like? What model spaceship you got parked in the garage?”
He placed his hand on her knee. “Not good enough for you. Not nearly as nice as the beach house, and nothing like your place.”
“And me without my white gloves.”
“What did I tell you about that sassiness?”
She placed her hand over his. “Guess that didn’t sink in. Maybe you should try again.”
The memory of that conversation sparked a tightening in his groin. One long day of wanting her and waiting had been more than enough. A change in the subject might keep him from pulling the car to the side of the road and making love to her right now before they had a chance to tell her parents their intentions.
“Tomorrow morning, I’ll take you to work so you can get that contract finalized. Then you can tell Jerry you’re going to take a couple of weeks off to hang out with your internal management consultant.”
“You sound confident I’m going to get the contract. If I don’t, I won’t have to take time off. The place will be near-broke.”
“I’m not worried about that happening. Don’t you usually get what you want?”
She smiled. “I did when I got you.”
He remained silent as he drove down the tree-lined residential streets. If the past few days had taught him anything, it was to discourage conversation between them in confined spaces. Her voice, mixed with her body’s chemicals, destroyed his concentration.
Claire turned to look out the passenger window. “Nice neighborhood.” She squeezed his hand and laughed, the soft echo inside the car easy and deep. He hadn’t gotten used to the sound. Every time she laughed, a spinning sensation filled his brain.
“You know something? I think my father wanted us together from the very beginning.”
“What?”
“Trust me, I know my father. When he felt the need to hire a bodyguard, I think he already had you in mind. I think he handpicked you long before that evening. He was just waiting for the right moment to spring you on me.”
Butch slowed at a yield sign, then continued the last few blocks to his house. “And what brought you to that conclusion? The fact that you hated me on sight? The fact that you wanted me fired from the first day we met?”
“My father knows me. He knew I wouldn’t agree to a bodyguard. That was the only thing he insisted on, remember? That you stay with me day and night? I think he knew the rest was bound to happen.”
“Bound to happen?” He laughed along with her. “You have a lot of faith in your ability to attract a man, I must say. Not that it isn’t deserved.”
“Maybe he knew I’d be attracted to you. More likely, he just thinks you’re suitable husband material. He made sure to reject my nay-saying long enough for nature to take its course.”
Butch rolled the thought over in his mind. “Let’s say you’re right, and he brought me in as your mate.”
“Mate?”
“That’s what you’re saying. He intended the two of us to fall in love and get married the whole time.”
“I’m saying he knows me. He knows I wouldn’t take up with you if he introduced us like normal people. He threw us together and made it sound like you were to be there strictly for the job. The rest he left up to us.”
“That’s just nuts,” he said. “That would mean he’d depended on me falling for you too, you know.”
“Well, I am irresistible in a lot of ways.” She laughed again, the same easy, full sound that wrecked his focus. “I know I’m right. He had us marked for each other from the very beginning.”
“Well, however it happened, we’re together.” He could feel her heart begin to hammer in her chest. They were together. She belonged to him, no question. But on this planet, males and females officially asked each other to join together. The question was, how did they do it exactly? “Claire, we’re going to, aren’t we?”
“Going to what?”
She turned around in the seat and batted her eyelashes at him. He knew that look. She was teasing him again. For a smart woman who was all business most of the time, she had a way of pretending to be ditzy when she felt like it.
“You know good and damn well what.” He memorized the features of her beautiful face. “Marry me, woman.”
Her smile was slow as her eyes misted. “What woman could resist a romantic like you, E.T?”
He leaned over and kissed her quickly, then returned his attention to the road. “You’re going to get us killed if you keep looking at me like that. Sit over there and behave yourself, so I can get us home.”
She was still laughing when he pulled the car into his driveway. He grabbed the bag they’d lived out of for two days and got out of the car. She quickly followed, grabbing his hand as they almost raced to the front door.
Butch unlocked the dead bolt and stepped inside, Claire close behind him.
Before he could reach the switch, light flooded the room. A tall, dark figure in leather illuminated by the overhead fixture stood in the middle of the foyer. He lifted the glimmering silver barrel of a .44 level with Butch’s chest.
“Welcome back, you two. I’ve been waiting.”
Butch stared down the barrel of the weapon and pressed Claire’s body behind him. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, sending his every sense into high gear.
“Oh, excellent. Thank you for improving my shot.”
The sound of the weapon firing echoed in the small foyer. A burning pain gripped his chest, and he stumbled backward. Claire’s scream reverberated off the walls.
Butch’s knees gave way as he fell to the floor.
“You come with me.” Garren stepped over him and grabbed Claire’s arm.
“Take your hands off of her.” His voice sounded far away in his ears. He struggled to ignore the ache in his chest as he squeezed the fabric of his shirt and pressed it to cover the bleeding wound.
“Shut up!” Garren wrenched Claire’s body against his chest and held the gun pointed at Butch. She struggled against him. “Unless you want me to finish him off right now, you’d better stay still.”
Claire’s eyes were wide as she stared down at him, but she ceased moving. Her lips trembled and tears filled her eyes.
“You know, Butch, I like the idea of you lying there in agony before you die, but if you annoy me, I won’t mind finishing you off. I’m here for the girl. Finding you after all this time is a bonus.”
“The girl?” Butch didn’t expect an answer but needed to buy time. If he tried to grab the weapon and got shot again, there’d be nothing to stop Garren from taking her. His only hope was to keep him here talking. He pulled in a breath of air that stabbed his lungs, and spoke in Vimone. “She’s not just a girl. She’s your daughter. Don’t hurt her.”
The weapon twitched in Garren’s hand, and he responded in their native tongue. “Shut up.”
Butch continued in English. “If you’re doing this to her because of me, don’t. You know I didn’t do anything to Raanana. Let her go.”
Garren’s eyes narrowed, and he tightened his grip on the weapon. “Raanana was not ready to follow the oracle’s pronouncement. She was young, and she made a foolish mistake with you. I loved her, and I understood why she sequestered herself all these years. I knew that given enough time she would emerge.”
Butch did not take his eyes away from Garren’s. He saw not only anger, but the final betrayal of the Viven Garren loved. “The princess has emerged, hasn’t she?” He coughed and forced himself to continue. “But still does not wish to join with you.”
Garren raised the weapon higher. “The Auquerel has chosen a new intended for Raana
na, an order she will not defy. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t been there. My reasons for killing you have nothing to do with this girl.”
“I don’t care what you do to me, but let him live. If the princess hadn’t chosen Butch, she’d have picked someone else. Butch did nothing. You said it yourself. She was young and made a foolish mistake.” Claire’s voice sounded calm and reasonable, but Garren’s burning eyes proclaimed one truth: he would not listen to reason.
Garren roared as if from a deep hole. “You are in no position to speak! You shouldn’t even be alive! But that is something I’m going to remedy.”
“If you hurt her”—Butch blinked to clear his swimming vision—“I’ll make you pay for the rest of my life.”
“Which won’t be much longer,” Garren said. “And now, we must be going. We’ll take your car. My van is no doubt being sought by those fumbling policemen, and I have a long-awaited meeting with her mother.”
“Before you kill me,” Claire said, choking back tears, “can I tell him something?”
“Sure.” Garren’s laugh was deep and soft. “Say your good-byes. How very sweet.”
Claire knelt down beside him and pressed her lips to his ear. “That third eye. How do I get him to open it again?” She trailed trembling kisses across his face, then finally rested her ear against his lips.
Butch pressed his hand tighter to his chest and sucked in the smallest amount of air he could without coughing. “Kick…kneecaps. Hard. Then—”
His cough interrupted the rest of the sentence, and he struggled to stop. The pressure in his chest was a crushing agony, and he could not take in another breath to speak.
She nodded and kissed him once more. Taking his face into her hands, she mouthed the words. Don’t you die on me.
Claire placed both of her hands on the floor as if to push herself back up. This was her only chance, and she had to make it work. She glanced once more into Butch’s eyes, assuring herself in their reflection that Garren had not moved. He stood right behind her. She tucked her head between her shoulders.
In one swift move, she leaned hard on her palms and pushed first one leg, then the other off the floor, aiming a one-two punch to Garren’s knees.
The resounding crack and Garren’s horrible scream confirmed she’d connected with one of them. Claire flipped over onto her back, in time to see him collapse to the floor, but before she could move toward Garren, Butch kicked the hand holding the gun.
The string of profanity echoed through the foyer, but Claire did not hesitate. She leaped forward and landed on Garren’s chest. After drawing back to gain momentum, she punched, jamming her knuckles into the open third eye in the center of Garren’s forehead.
Both of his other eyes closed, and a moment later, his body fell slack.
Claire jumped up and kicked Garren’s midsection, but he made no sound. “Is he dead?”
When Butch did not answer, she turned to him. His skin was gray as he clutched his hand to his chest. Blood soaked his shirt. He nodded slowly, his eyes questioning.
Claire fished Butch’s cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 9-1-1. Quickly giving the information to the operator, she ran toward the open door of the kitchen. Yanking open drawer after drawer, she searched frantically for anything to stop the bleeding. He couldn’t die. He had to live.
Finally finding a pile of dish towels folded neatly inside one, she yanked them out and ran back to him. Moving his hand away from the wound, she pressed three towels on top of his blood-soaked shirt, then lay his hand on top of it again. She checked his carotid pulse. His heartbeat was weak but steady.
“You’ve got to hold on, Butch. They’ll be here in just a few minutes.” She grabbed his free hand. “Hold on to me.”
“How did you know?” The words were whispered, and she barely understood them.
“I know something about the third eye, although not about Viven. In the way he’d kept trying to cover it up that day, I suspected I was right. It’s the gate that leads to full consciousness, isn’t it?”
His eyes widened against his gray skin.
“I thought so.”
“But how—” His voice was weak, but his eyes sparkled with curiosity and admiration.
“It was something my mother told me.” The faint sound of sirens in the distance helped her to breathe deeper. “„See before you act. Listen to your head as well as your heart.’ It finally all made sense.”
Epilogue
“I’m so sorry, Claire,” Butch said. “I know you’re disappointed. But we’ll think of something.”
Claire was more than disappointed. She was devastated. She continued pacing back and forth in her living room. Butch sat watching her, his presence the only thing keeping her from snapping completely. Nothing, however, not even Butch, could ease the catastrophe that losing the Anthony Group’s business meant.
“After all the wonderful things that happened—my mother, you, defeating Garren. I thought we’d outrun the curse of the Auquerel. But it managed to get the last word in after all, didn’t it?”
Butch shook his head but said nothing.
“I just couldn’t believe it when they said they were going with a company that proffered a less expensive bid for the work. It was the biggest slap in the face. I’ve never been so angry or desperate in my life. I have no idea what I’m going to do now. All those people are going to lose their jobs. I won’t be able to pay the lease on the building.”
“You still have quite a few clients.”
“Enough to carry us through a couple of months is all. I built this business, including my staff, equipment—everything—so we could handle accounts the size of IBM. With all the assets I committed to this level of productivity and expense, my current customer base cannot support it. We’ll be dead in the water by the end of the year.”
She shook her head as she continued pacing. “I took a risk, and I lost. It was my choice and my decision. My fault.”
Butch stood and walked over to her. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her against him. Although she struggled, he did not release her. “The timing was terrible. A maniac was trying to kill you, for crying out loud. You’ll find another large client like the Anthony Group. You’ll get extensions on your credit. Something will come along. You are a smart woman, and you’ll figure out a way.”
She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed, careful not to press too hard on his healing wound. “It’s sweet of you. It really is. But it’s too late. If they’d signed today, they would have given me a three-million-dollar retainer that could have carried us through the end of next year without another payment necessary. There’s just not enough time to try to pull that rabbit out of the hat again.”
The phone rang, but she didn’t move out of his arms.
“I don’t want to answer it.”
“It might be your father. He said he was going to bring your mother over tonight.”
She sighed deeply and pushed aside all the overwhelming thoughts in her mind. There was nothing she could do about it now. Tomorrow was soon enough to determine how best to notify everyone. They would have to liquidate.
The word echoed over and over in her mind as she walked to the phone and picked it up.
“May I speak with Miss Claire Simonson, please?”
“This is Claire Simonson. How may I help you?”
“Miss Simonson, this is Captain Gary Harris. I worked with your father before he retired.”
“I’m sorry, Captain Harris, but my father isn’t here right now. May I take a message for him?”
“Actually, Miss Simonson, it’s you I wanted to speak to. Tomorrow morning a messenger will deliver our contracts to your office, unless you would like us to have them brought to you tonight. For our part, the sooner we have this paperwork signed, the sooner we can get the financial end of the deal under way. So I wanted to check with you and see if you could have them signed and notarized this evening.”
“I’m sorry?”
&nbs
p; “Forgive me. It’s late, and I’ve had a long day. You probably don’t have a notary there, of course. Along with the messenger, we will send a notary to complete the contract.”
Claire’s heart began to pound in her chest. “What branch of the government did you say you were with?”
“This phone line is not secure, and that information is classified. However, all the necessary documentation will be included in the contracts. Might we have those messengered over to you this evening?”
“Yes.” She struggled to pull air into her lungs. What contracts? What classified documentation? Was this some kind of mistake? “The parties to the contract are a classified agency of the government and Simonson Consulting?”
“Yes, ma’am. That is correct.”
“What was the final contract amount?” She held her breath.
“For the first year, approximately twenty-three million dollars and change. For the subsequent years through ten, we have the option to renegotiate. However, we have designated the Simonson Consulting Company as our sole provider for this contract. If we are unable to come to terms in years two through ten, the agreed-upon amount will continue at twenty-three million dollars per annum.” Captain Harris hesitated. “I was unaware the details of the contract had not been finalized.”
“They have been finalized,” she said quickly. “I just wanted to make sure you have the most current contract agreement. Please messenger it over immediately, along with your notary. I will sign the documents as soon as they arrive.”
Captain Harris’s sigh of relief sounded through the receiver. “Excellent. Thank you, Miss Simonson. Have a wonderful evening.”
Claire continued to hold the phone to her ear long after Captain Harris hung up.
“Claire?” The sound of Butch’s voice awoke her as if from a dream. “Are you all right?”
“What?”
“You’re standing there with your mouth hanging open. Who was that?”
The door to the den opened, and her father rolled his wheelchair into the room. Her mother walked beside him.
“Judging by the look on her face, I’m betting on Harris.”
Claire spun around to face him. “You did this?”