“Oh.” Reggie deflated slightly, then regrouped. “So don’t tell me, let me guess: Nora was the observer for the previous drug changeover. She somehow managed to slip a dose out.”
I sighed. “No, she didn’t observe the destruction or the remaking. And it was Howard Coleman who handed the dose to Ian, with a different observer. Nora was nowhere near any of it.”
“Shit. Then why does Ian suspect her?”
“I don’t know. I guess she was the only one with anything to gain by Howard Coleman’s death. But his death was ruled natural causes, so Ian’s probably just making shit up.” I grimaced. “As usual.”
“Maybe.” Reggie stared into space, drumming the fingertips of his good hand on his knee. “Or maybe Nora convinced the chemist to put fake doses in the safe and give her the real thing when they were creating the replacements…” His frown deepened. “Most years the doses don’t even get used, so they were probably hoping it would never come to light. What do we know about the chemist? Did the same person make the drug and then rule that it was ineffective?”
“I didn’t have time to find out. I’ll keep digging.” I studied Reggie’s unhappy scowl. “Why are you buying into Ian’s story? He was probably just playing me.”
Reggie’s chin sank. “Maybe, but I can’t believe Howie died of natural causes. He was so fit.” His voice softened, as though he were talking more to himself than to me. “Last time I saw him, he tried to convince me to come over and run the London Marathon with him…” He sat up. “Rand’s a shithead; but if he says Howie was murdered, I believe him. And if I find out Rand had something to do with it…”
I shivered at his tone.
Rising, I rolled my shoulders in a futile attempt to ease my tension. “Okay. We never had this conversation. Our story is that Ian told me Nora might have stolen the drug and killed Howard Coleman, and I questioned you about the drug and our procedures around it.”
Reggie held up a restraining hand. “Got it. Nobody has a high enough security clearance to ask me about it anyway, so don’t worry.” He hesitated. “Except Stemp.”
“You can tell him if he needs to know.”
“Okay.” Reggie gave me his fearsome scowl. “Go nail Nora. That murdering bitch.”
When I emerged from the secured area, Hellhound rose from one of the lobby chairs. “Hospital next?”
“Yeah.” I dropped my security fob into the turntable and scrawled my signature on the control sheet. Glancing at my watch, I sighed. “I’m sorry, that took longer than I expected.”
“No problem.” Hellhound grinned. “I was workin’ on a new song while I waited for ya.”
“Without your guitar?”
“It’s in the truck. I was just writin’ it in my head, but I’ll try it out later.”
I snuggled closer as we headed for the door. “You’re amazing.”
He winked. “Hell, yeah. An’ I’m good in bed, too.”
“That you are.” I pulled away and feigned a doubtful expression. “I think. My memory’s fading. I’ll have to do some more testing to be certain.”
He nodded virtuously. “Anythin’ for science.”
When we arrived at the hospital, the receptionist informed us that Daniel had been treated and released.
I turned to Hellhound. “You might as well go over to John’s and see them, then.”
“Nah, I’ll wait for ya an’ then we can both go to Kane’s.”
“I might be a while,” I warned. “Last time Ian bullshitted me for twenty minutes before he got to the point.”
Hellhound shrugged. “No problem. I’ll be workin’ on my new song, so take as long as ya want.”
“Okay, thanks.” I kissed him and headed for the secured wing.
Striding down the corridor, my mind churned. If I mentioned some detail Ian hadn’t told me, he’d think MI6 had a leak and the shit would hit the fan when I refused to tell them where I’d gotten my intel.
And I sure as hell wouldn’t let him snuggle up and monitor my pulse again. Sneaky bastard.
My lips curved up in spite of my annoyance. Ian might be irritating, but he was also an excellent agent. I could learn a lot from him.
Just as long as he didn’t learn anything else from me.
I sighed and bent for the retinal scan.
When I poked my head into Ian’s room, he startled awake from an uncomfortable-looking slump in the reclining chair beside the bed. “Storm! Finally! What have you found out?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” I teased. “And how are you today?”
“Tired. In pain.” He scowled. “Sick of being locked up.”
“The security guard is here to protect you, not keep you inside,” I pointed out. “Why didn’t you get him to go for a walk with you?”
“I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anybody.” A smile softened his face and he widened those gorgeous green eyes at me. “Except you.”
“Yeah, cut the crap.” I pulled the uncomfortable guest chair over beside him and dropped into it. “So I’ve been trying to investigate…” Lowering my voice to a whisper, I leaned close to his ear and went on, “…but short of slapping the lie detector on Nora and asking her point-blank if she murdered Howard Coleman, there’s not much I can do. I need more information.”
“I wish I could help, but I’ve already told you everything I know,” he said smoothly.
Bastard.
Even when I was investigating a murder for him, he still had to play his stupid fucking mind games.
My temper boiled up and over. “No, you fucking haven’t,” I hissed. “And I don’t need to take your pulse to know it. Now, either you give me all your related intel, or I’ll call off the guard, get the hospital to release you, and you can fly away home with your dirty little secrets. I don’t really give a shit whether Nora murdered Coleman, or whether she’s coming after you next. If you won’t tell me what you know, she’s your problem, not mine.”
“Storm…” Ian pulled away to give me a heartwrenching look of pure hurt. “How can you be so cold after all we’ve been through together?”
I stared at him in silence for a long moment, fighting down the urge to yell, or possibly strangle him.
But it wouldn’t help. Until he decided that my assistance was more important to him than his own entertainment, he’d just keep playing me.
“Last chance,” I said quietly.
He widened those stunning green eyes at me. “Honestly, Storm, I’ve told you everything I know. But come closer and we can…”
Before he finished the sentence I was on my feet and walking away. “Good talk. I’ll let the hospital know you’re leaving.”
Ian had balls of steel. He didn’t say a word while I went out the door. Using every ounce of my fortitude, I didn’t glance back at him.
As the door closed behind me, I glanced at the security guard’s nametag and raised my voice a touch louder than necessary. “Thanks, Nolan. I’m lifting the security restriction, so you can go now.”
He nodded and strode off down the hall, and I made for the nursing station. I didn’t recognize the nurse on duty, so I held up my security fob as identification and said, “Agent Rand can be released now.”
Her eyes widened. “Uh… we need the doctor’s signature to release him…”
“Okay.” I shrugged, hoping she couldn’t hear my heart pounding.
Dammit, Ian, call me back into your room, you stubborn asshole…
“I’m done with him,” I added. “So whenever the doctor wants to release him it’s fine with me.”
She made a note on the file and gave me a smile and a nod, and I turned and set a brisk pace down the hallway.
Shit, shit, shit.
The bastard had out-bluffed me. Now that I’d thrown down the gauntlet I couldn’t go crawling back to him.
And what if Nora really was trying to murder him? What if she killed him while he was alone and helpless here in the hospital? I’d never forgive myself.
An announ
cement over the public address system coincided with a flurry of activity behind me. They were calling a code…
I spun in time to see a nurse hurtling down the hallway with a crash cart.
Toward Ian’s room.
“FUCK!” I launched myself down the corridor, my heart trying to rip from my chest and outpace me to Ian’s room.
The few seconds it took to get to his door felt like eternity. As I lunged into the room a nurse barked, “Stay back!”, then recoiled at the sight of my face.
Or maybe she was reacting to the Glock I hadn’t realized I’d drawn.
“What’s happening?” My voice was a raw shout. Surrounded by nurses, Ian’s body arched grotesquely off the bed as though his midsection had been yanked skyward by brutal unseen hands.
“We don’t know yet, please stay back!” The nurse dove back into the fray. The frenzied beeping of monitors overlaid the rapid-fire commands of the staff.
Ian was still convulsing.
Bright blood stained his pillow, oh God no…
He let out a cry that sounded as if it had been torn from his very soul and the agonized arch of his spine reversed into a fetal curl as he vomited. Over and over the spasms racked his body, wrenching animal-like sobs from him.
Helpless, I clutched my Glock until my knuckles cracked and pain lanced up my arm.
Ian’s cries lashed me like red-hot whips.
My fault. All my fault.
His cries weakened and his spasms grew feebler.
Don’t you dare die on me, you bastard…
He drew a single shuddering breath.
His body went limp.
My chest heaved as though I could force air into his empty lungs by proxy.
No-no-no…
He gasped.
Sucked in another breath.
Then he was panting. Ragged glorious breaths.
Small hysterical whimpers rose above the slowing cadence of the monitors, and I realized they were coming from me. Clamping my teeth on my tongue, I focused on the pain.
Keep it together.
“What… h-happened?” I repeated. My voice came out as ragged as Ian’s panting.
The nurse who had stopped me earlier turned away from the bed. “We’re not sure. His monitor alarmed, indicating a cardiac arrest, but when we got here his vital signs were strong. Then the convulsions started. Sometimes a concussion can cause convulsions, but usually not forty-eight hours after the original injury. We won’t know until the doctor examines him.”
“What about the blood?” I pointed a shaking finger at the crimson on his pillow. “Why is he bleeding?”
“That’s not serious,” she assured me. “The convulsions forced the back of his head into the pillow and tore some of his stitches.”
“Storm?” Ian’s voice was a pathetic wisp. “Are you there?”
“I’m here.” I pushed past the medical staff, my stomach lurching as I navigated through the patchwork of vomit on the floor. “What happened?”
“I… I don’t know.” He gazed up at me from the blood-drenched pillow. “I was… feeling… odd, while you were here. I decided to lie down… and… then… I don’t remember.”
“But nobody else came in here, did they?” I asked.
“I… don’t remember.”
“Did anyone else come in here after I left?” I demanded of the nursing staff. “Did anybody see anything?”
Blank expressions and headshakes were my only reply.
Dammit, I hadn’t even turned my back on his door until I’d started down the hall. Nobody could have sneaked in and attacked him in the few seconds I’d left him unguarded.
“Ian, what-” I began, but a large hand closed around my upper arm.
“Agent Kelly, please come with me.” Nolan the security guard was back, and he didn’t look as friendly as before.
“No, I need to-”
“You told the nurse in charge that you were done with Agent Rand, and you dismissed me,” he said sternly. “And you were the last person to be alone with Agent Rand before his attack. I’m taking you into custody for attempted murder.”
Chapter 28
“For fucksakes, I didn’t do anything to Agent Rand!” I snapped, fighting sheer terror while trying to sound calm and in charge. If they dragged me away now, anybody could get to Ian.
And he might not survive the next attack.
Ian was alert now, his wide-eyed gaze bouncing between me and the grim-faced guard.
“Wait,” he croaked. “Agent Kelly didn’t attack me.”
“You said you don’t remember,” the guard replied implacably. “And I won’t take the chance. Agent Kelly, let’s go.”
“Wait!” Ian barked, his forcefulness a startling contrast to the feeble voice of a moment ago. When we all gaped at him, he stared back at us for a moment in silence. Then he blew out a sigh. “Oh, bollocks. All right, then. I faked the whole thing.” He propped himself up on one elbow and extended a rock-steady hand to pour a cup of water from a pitcher on the side table that had miraculously survived the upheaval.
While we all stood frozen, he rinsed his mouth and spat into the cup, then lay back with another sigh. “Come on, you lot, get with the program. Agent Kelly didn’t attack me. We were negotiating, she was winning, and I didn’t want to lose face by giving in. So I staged a medical crisis. Now, may I please have some clean linens?” He plucked distastefully at his vomit-stained gown.
“Stand back, everybody,” I said faintly. “Because now I really am going to kill him.”
“I’ll help,” the nurse growled, looking remarkably dangerous for a woman wearing pink dancing-kitten scrubs.
“You can’t,” Ian said cheerfully. “You both took oaths.”
“I’ll give you an oath right up your ass, you-” I lunged forward, only to be restrained by Nolan.
“Sorry, Agent Kelly,” he said, sounding regretful. “I can’t let you kill him.”
“How about if I just maim him a little?” I grated.
“I’m already maimed,” Ian said plaintively, indicating his crimson-smeared pillow.
“Not as much as you deserve to be!” I pulled half-heartedly against the guard’s grip, but he didn’t let go.
Probably a good thing.
Sucking in a deep trembling breath, I drew myself up and summoned an authoritative voice. “Okay, this show’s over.” I turned to the nursing staff. “Thanks. You can all go back to work now. Just leave clean linens and a mop and bucket outside the door. Agent Rand will be cleaning this mess up and remaking his own bed.”
“I’m in no shape to-” he began, but I gave him a death-glare and kept talking as everyone filed out except the guard and the pink-clad nurse. “He’ll change his gown and we’ll finish our interview in another room-”
“The vomiting was completely unintentional, I assure you,” Ian said earnestly. “I’m still very nauseated-”
“And then he’ll come back and clean everything up,” I ground out, glaring.
“He’ll have to have his wounds re-stitched, too,” the nurse said grudgingly.
“After I’m done with him. And not until he finishes cleaning the room.” I jerked my chin at Ian. “Get in the bathroom and change. And you’d better do a good job cleaning this room, or I’ll make you lick this fucking floor from wall to wall.”
He opened his mouth as if to retort, then took a good look at my expression and pressed his lips shut again. Easing cautiously out of bed, he shuffled toward the bathroom.
My stomach twisted at the blood-caked mess on the back of his head.
“We’ll have to re-stitch that and dress it,” the nurse said quietly as the bathroom door closed behind him. “And he’ll need more antibiotics to prevent infection. The idiot. And he definitely wasn’t faking the vomiting. He’s still in the early stages of recovering from his concussion, and strenuous activity like faking convulsions …” She blew out her breath in an angry hiss.
“God, I could kill him right now,” I
growled.
“I understand.” She handed me a box of tissues. “The room beside this is vacant. You can use the bathroom to clean up.”
After a moment of incomprehension I touched my cheek, where the sticky residue of tears was beginning to itch.
“I’m really going to kill him,” I muttered. Turning to Nolan, I added, “Stay with Rand. Bring him next door when he’s cleaned up.”
A few minutes later Nolan and the nurse ushered Ian into the room and the nurse pointed him to the reclining chair. “Be careful of your head,” she said. “That’s only a temporary dressing.”
He sank into the chair with a sigh and turned a penitent expression up at her. “Thank you. You’re such a love, and I am terribly sorry about all this.” He batted those thick dark lashes, looking grave and heroic with his pale face and bloodstained dressing. “But it was a matter of national security. You understand, don’t you?”
She flushed and patted his arm. “Of course.” As she straightened she caught my outraged glare. Her blush deepened and she hurried out.
“You can wait outside, too,” I said to the guard. “Close the door behind you.”
He gave me a doubtful look.
“I won’t kill him,” I promised.
Nolan nodded, squared his shoulders as though this was against his better judgement, and left.
When the door closed behind him, Ian gave me a brave, wan smile. “You understand why I had to do what I did, don’t you, Storm? We’re both top agents-”
“Can it,” I snarled. “If you don’t want to tell me anything more, just say so. I’m okay with that. But if you jerk me around just one… more… time…” I had to stop for a calming breath.
“But… I thought…” He looked genuinely lost. “It’s all about the game. The lies; the half-truths; the elaborate deceptions. The thrill of the chase; the glorious adrenaline high of almost getting caught. I love the game. I thought you did, too.”
“No. I fucking hate the game.”
“Oh.” His face fell. “Then I sincerely apologize,” he said to his lap.
And damn him, my heart twisted at the dejected sag of his shoulders.
Friends In Spy Places Page 22