Friends In Spy Places

by Diane Henders

  “If you felt that strongly about it, why didn’t you decline the assignment?” The hint of accusation in Kane’s question fanned the sparks of my annoyance into instant anger.

  “I tried!” I glared at him. “Stemp basically said that if I refused the assignment the chain of command would chuck me in prison. So if anyone asks, I damn well hope you’ll pretend I’m doing my best to influence you!”

  “I will.” He frowned. “Why are you angry with me?”

  “I’m not fucking angry!”

  We stared at each other in silence while my stomach twisted into a slow sick knot. Now he would be angry at me in return, and with good reason. Oh, God, just let this shit end…

  “Aydan, stop,” Kane said firmly. “I can tell by your expression that you’re falling back into your destructive thought patterns.” His voice softened. “I’m not angry or hurt. I won’t hurt you in return, and I’m not demanding anything from you. It’s all right if you’re angry with me for some reason. I just want to understand why, so I can make it better.”

  I didn’t need this. I couldn’t trust him. Every one of my old defensive instincts screamed to pick a giant fight and throw him out.

  But dammit, I wouldn’t let my fucked-up past make my decisions for me…

  Kane gently interrupted my thoughts. “It’s all right if you don’t want to talk about this now, but are you in danger? Is that what’s bothering you?”

  “No. Hell, maybe.” I groaned. “I don’t fucking know. I’m so tired I can’t think straight, and that beer isn’t doing me any favours.” I sucked in a deep breath and took the plunge. “And you’re right, I was angry earlier, but it was just my default reaction. Nothing you did.”

  “It’s your default reaction when you feel threatened,” Kane clarified. “And I guess you have a lot of reasons to feel threatened.” He gave me a rueful smile. “When I put myself in your shoes, I can’t imagine how you stay sane. On top of all the usual pressures of being an agent, you’re also dealing with the fact that I, the man who murdered your last husband, now want to be…” He hesitated and his voice deepened. “…considerably more than friends.”

  “That doesn’t bother me as much as the fact that you had standing orders to lie to me and manipulate me, right up to the day you quit the Department,” I said, avoiding the emotional danger lurking in his words. “It’s pretty hard not to second-guess that.”

  “I can-” Kane began, but a small voice interrupted.

  “Daddy?”

  “Yes, Daniel, can you be patient for a few more minutes? Aydan and I-”

  “Daddy…” Daniel’s voice rose.

  “Just a few-”

  “Daddy, I have to go pee!”

  I grinned at Kane. “I guess we’re done here. You can take him into the house or let him write his name in the snow behind the garage. Doesn’t matter to me.”

  He gave me a rueful smile. “Alicia would be furious if she found out I had encouraged public urination. We’ll go into the house.” He hurried over to help Daniel into his jacket, and moments later they hustled out the door.

  Released from the stress of their presence, I made a beeline for the beer fridge and cracked another cold one. Soon they’d be gone, and I could gobble a bowl of cereal and go straight to bed. A nice little alcoholic buzz might even take the edge off my inevitable nightmares. I tipped up the bottle for a long swallow.

  By the time Kane and Daniel returned, another half a bottle was soothing my belly while I contentedly spun bolts off the transmission housing. I gave them a smile, all warm and fuzzy with beery goodness.

  “Is that a wrench, too, Daddy?” Daniel asked, hunkering down beside me and directing an inquisitive gaze at the tool in my hand.

  “It’s kind of a wrench,” Kane explained, crouching opposite me with a smile. “The handle part is called a ratchet, and it uses different sizes of those metal tubes. Those are called sockets. A socket fits over a bolt to turn it the same way as a wrench.”

  As I tackled the next bolt, Daniel giggled. “It makes a funny noise. Creeee! Creeee!” He imitated the tool’s metallic chirping.

  “Yes, that’s the ratchet making that noise,” Kane agreed.

  “Ratchet is a funny word!” Daniel giggled again. “Ratchet! Ratchet! Creeee! Creeee!” He sprang up and galloped a circuit around the garage, waving his toy soldier between high-pitched shouts of “Ratchet! Creeee!”

  My beery goodness fading rapidly, I sucked back another swallow and concentrated on the last bolt.

  “There we go,” I said a moment later. “Give me a hand?”

  Kane nodded, and together we pried the heavy housing apart.

  The next hour dragged interminably. As I emptied the dregs of a third bottle into my mouth, I realized there wasn’t enough beer in the world to maintain my usual state of wrench-turning zen under the auditory assault of an energetic seven-year-old.

  And now I was shit-faced on top of my stress and exhaustion. Bad combination.

  Kane had nursed his single beer as long as possible and declined a second, so in addition to my grumpiness I felt vaguely guilty about being a poor hostess. Or about being drunk. Or something.

  “Whatever,” I muttered.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Kane asked.

  “Noth-” I began just as my phone dinged.

  Incoming message. Saved by the phone. I squinted at the display and deciphered ‘Call home’.

  Turning the screen toward Kane so he could see the message, I said, “Sorry, I have to call in. I’ll be right back.”

  I made a grateful escape from the garage, leaving Daniel singing, “Eighty-six bottles of root beer on the wall, eighty-six bottles of root beer…” The first fourteen verses had been more than enough for me. If he sang eighty-five more, I might have to draw my Glock and put myself out of my misery.

  Shivering in the icy darkness outside the garage’s bright warmth, I momentarily regretted leaving my jacket behind; but not enough to go back for it. I wrapped my free arm around myself to conserve body heat and pulled a secured phone out of my waist pouch.

  Gazing up at the black clouds devouring a brilliant moon, I drew a deep breath and punched the speed dial.

  When Stemp answered on the first ring as usual, I said, “It’s Aydan”, and waited.

  “I received a call from Nora,” he said. “She is feeling discouraged that you haven’t called her and is considering returning home immediately to the United Kingdom.”

  The censure was clear in his voice. I had promised to call her, and I hadn’t. And now she might leave the country before I could investigate.

  Shit!

  “Sorry, I didn’t get to it because I’ve been working on my other assignment with Kane,” I mumbled. “I’ll call her right now.”

  “Very well.”

  Stemp didn’t add ‘see that you do’, but I heard it in the momentary silence before he disconnected.

  “Fuck,” I muttered. “You fucking bitch, you’re not going to screw me over that easily.” In case the moon had gotten the wrong idea, I glanced up at it and added, “Nora, I mean; not Stemp. He’s not a bitch. He’s jush…” I got my inebriated tongue under control and finished, “…just a bastard.”

  Wrapping my other arm around myself, I stood shivering in thought. I didn’t want to face Nora until I’d finished researching her, so I couldn’t meet her tonight. And anyway, I was drunk. That wouldn’t go well.

  But if she was thinking of leaving, I’d damn well better get there bright and early tomorrow morning.

  Which meant I had to go back to Sirius tonight.

  I let out a long tired breath that plumed silver in the cold moonlight. The steam dissipated as rapidly as my happy dream of creeping into my warm bed.

  Hell.

  I stuffed the secured phone in my pocket for later disposal and brought out my personal cell phone. Squinting through my alcoholic haze, I scrolled to the Silverside Hotel’s number and punched it.

  When the desk
clerk answered, I said, “Please connect me with Room 106”, proud that my words came out precise and crystal-clear.

  The phone rang only once before Nora’s eager voice said ‘Hello?’

  She had been right beside it. Guilt softened the cold bedrock of anger and betrayal in my heart. How shitty would it be to sit alone in a hotel room all day, waiting for a call that never came?

  I stiffened my spine. Not as shitty as facing the life-shattering words, ‘There’s been a bad accident’. Not as shitty as finding out that your mother was never coming home.

  And especially not as shitty as finding out that she’d chosen not to.

  “It’s Aydan,” I snapped.

  “Oh, Dani-dear.” Her voice trembled. “I thought you were never going to call.”

  My guts twisted with renewed guilt, but I fought it back. Dammit, I wasn’t going to let her play me.

  “Sorry,” I said shortly. “I’m on assignment. This was my first chance today.”

  “Do you… Will you come to see me tonight?”

  “I can’t. I’m working right now, and I’ll have to work late on another job tonight.” I forced some warmth into my voice. “But I’ll have time tomorrow morning, if that would work for you.”

  “Oh, yes! You can pick me up and we can go for breakfast! Surely there must be someplace nicer than the hotel restaurant, even in a crummy little town like this.”

  Despite the fact that I shared her low opinion of the hotel’s restaurant, defensiveness stiffened my shoulders. “Yes, there are some great little restaurants here, but I won’t be able to make it in time for breakfast.” More to the point, I couldn’t deal with her on an empty stomach. “How about if I come around ten?”

  “Oh, that would be fine! We could have a visit and go for an early lunch at one of your little restaurants; and then maybe we could-”

  “I have to work tomorrow,” I interrupted. “I don’t know if I can get away for long.”

  “But Dani-dear, I’ve come all this way to see you.” Disappointment filled her voice. “And we haven’t seen each other for over thirty years.”

  “And whose fault is that?” I barked. I clenched my teeth before I could launch the tirade that begged for utterance. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at ten,” I gritted instead. I punched the disconnect button and stomped back into the garage.

  Kane glanced up, his smile turning to concern. “You look half-frozen.” He rose from his crouch beside Daniel and an empty cardboard box that had apparently become a toy-soldier barracks. Thank God the root beer song was over, at least for now.

  Kane pulled me close, rubbing hot hands over my arms and back. “Is everything all right?” he whispered for my ears only.

  I slid my arms around him and huddled into his warmth. “Fine. Just another annoying twist to an annoying day. I have to go back to Sirius tonight.”

  Kane pulled away far enough to study me. “You’re not planning to drive, are you?”

  I sighed, pointing my face away so I didn’t blow a gust of beer-breath into his face. “No, of course not. I don’t even like to get behind the wheel after one beer, and I sure as hell wouldn’t do it after three on an empty stomach. I’ll…” I hesitated.

  I wouldn’t risk driving; but walking six miles into town in the middle of winter wasn’t an option, either. “…I guess I’ll see if Tom will drop me off,” I said slowly. “And maybe Spider can give me a ride home when I’m done.”

  “Don’t call Rossburn,” Kane said immediately. “I’ll drive you.”

  “But Silverside is in the opposite direction to where you’re headed.”

  “It’s not, actually.” Kane smiled. “I had intended to take you to dinner anyway, and I need to check my house. I haven’t been inside it for over a month; and even though I hire someone to keep an eye on it, I still like to look in whenever I’m in town.”

  My spirits lifted at the thought of a nice dinner. “Okay, perfect. Thanks!”

  Keeping an arm around my shoulders, Kane turned to Daniel. “Are you getting hungry for supper yet?”

  Daniel looked up from his soldiers. “Uh-huh. My tummy’s grumbly.”

  Kane smiled. “Well, let’s go and get some pizza for your grumbly tummy.”

  Daniel sprang up. “Pizza! Yay!” Hopping from one foot to the other, he sang, “Pizza-pizza-pizza-pizza…” in time with the hopping.

  I bit back a small moan and plastered on a smile for Kane’s sake.

  Chapter 11

  Fortunately Fiorenza’s offered crayons and paper placemats. With Daniel absorbed in colouring, Kane and I exchanged a tentative smile.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked. His sidelong glance at Daniel made his meaning clear.

  “Okay,” I lied. “I was expecting tears and tantrums; but everything went pretty smoothly, considering.”

  Kane’s fond gaze slipped to Daniel again before returning to me. “Yes, he’s quite even-tempered most of the time, unless he’s over-tired or stressed.”

  I faked surprise. “Oh. I was talking about myself. But Daniel did pretty well, too.”

  Kane laughed. “Yes, you were very good. Maybe I should give you a lollipop.”

  A vision of his hot hard lollipop drove every other thought from my head. The air between us crackled with sudden sexual tension.

  Kane’s voice deepened to a panty-vibrating bass. “Oops. How’s that for a Freudian slip?”

  “Um.” I cleared my dry throat. “Good. Really good.”

  Under the table, Kane’s hand slid over to find mine. Hot fingertips traced seductive circles on the sensitive skin inside my wrist. “Maybe…” he rumbled, “…you should come to my house with us.”

  Without conscious thought, my hand turned palm-up and opened for his touch.

  “You think?” I croaked.

  “Oh, yes. Definitely.” His velvet voice seduced my ears.

  His fingertips traced the sides of my fingers, slipping intimately between them to caress my soft places…

  I shook myself back to the present. “Um… about that seven-year-old onlooker…”

  “He’s getting tired,” Kane murmured. We both glanced at Daniel as he laid down his crayon and screwed his fists into his eyes. “If I settled him on my couch he’d be asleep in minutes.”

  “Without Alicia?” I came back to reality with a snort. “Not a chance. He’ll wind himself up and scream bloody murder if you’re not both there.”

  “No, he’s finally over that stage,” Kane said. “He’s been doing really well lately. So…” He leaned closer, filling my senses with the spicy gun-oil-and-leather scent that was his alone. His hot gaze held me immobile. “What do you say?”

  My brain bobbed helplessly in a sea of beer-infused lust. My lips were opening to say something irrevocable when the waitress arrived with our pizzas and a clatter of serving utensils.

  Sucking in a breath that was half relief and half disappointment, I retrieved my hand from Kane’s and used it to serve up my pizza instead.

  Hoping to soak up some of the alcohol still coursing through my veins, I gobbled a couple of pieces of pizza at light-speed. Kane ate more decorously, slowed by the necessity of cutting up Daniel’s pizza and damming a small tidal wave of milk when Daniel accidentally upset his glass.

  By the time Daniel’s wedge of pizza had dwindled to a few bites remaining on his plate, I had stuffed down four pieces and was heartily regretting my excesses. The overload of pizza had done nothing to mitigate my earlier beer, and I was not only still tipsy but also uncomfortably distended.

  I faked enjoyment, sitting back in the banquette with a smile and a sigh. “Wow, that was amazing as usual. Fiorenza’s makes the best pizza.”

  “Yes, I still haven’t found a place in Calgary I like as-” Kane began, only to be interrupted by Daniel’s small voice.

  “Daddy, I don’t want any more.”

  “That’s all right, Daniel. You don’t have to finish it if you’re full.”

  “My tummy
doesn’t feel good.” Daniel rubbed his eyes again, then clutched his midsection. His cheeks were flushed and his forehead moist, and all my instincts went on high alert. I might not know anything about children, but I was pretty sure I knew the look of pre-projectile pizza. I readied myself to dodge.

  Kane swept a swift assessing gaze over Daniel. “I think we’d better get to the bathroom.” Scooping an arm around the child, he manoeuvred them both out of the banquette and hurried for the back of the room.

  Afraid to watch, I slid down in my seat and concentrated on my water glass. I relaxed at the distinctive squeak of the men’s room door hinges, but a moment later an ‘Urp-splat’ made me wince. At least he’d made it to the tiled floor instead of blowing chunks into the hallway carpet.

  I whipped out my phone and cued up a game of Solitaire, studiously pretending everything was fine.

  Less than thirty seconds later, the plump elderly waitress arrived at my table, her broad face creased with concern. “Your son is being sick in the men’s room.”

  She looked like the motherly type. I was pretty sure she’d take offense to anything that came out sounding like ‘Not my kid; not my problem’.

  “Um…” I said instead. “But his dad’s with him, right?”

  “Yes, but the poor wee tyke needs his mother.” The waitress gave me a ‘how-could you?’ frown. “Dads just can’t cut the mustard when a little one is sick.”

  I tried an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid his dad is it. Daniel’s mother is in Calgary. This is only the second time I’ve met him, so I doubt if I’d be any comfort.” Waves of her unspoken disapproval crashed over me, and I sighed. “I’ll go and see if his dad wants my help, though.”

  Her grudging nod seemed like the only encouragement I was likely to get, so I hauled myself reluctantly out of my seat and plodded to the men’s room. Outside, I tapped on the door and opened it a crack to call softly, “John? Do you need me to do anything?”

  “Yes, please.” He sounded relieved, although it was hard to tell over Daniel’s sobbing. “Would you please bring a glass of ginger ale, and if they have any plastic bags, that would be…”