I Am India Fox

by Virginia Nosky

  “Are either of you peckish? I can give you a broth and toast straight away. I’ll warm up the shepherd’s pie we had left over from dinner, if that appeals.”

  A flashback of the last hours decided for her. “I’m not very hungry, but I do feel kind of empty and sickish. The broth would be nice. Kazen?”

  He nodded. “I would like a Scotch first? My nerves are shot. Will somebody explain what’s going on? Was all that shit out on the road my father’s goons?”

  “I’m certain, ‘yes,’ Kazen. Jack will explain when he can talk to us.”

  She glimpsed a man with a black leather bag hurrying in the front door and up the stairs. The doctor apparently. “You get a local doctor to patch up bullet wounds? Isn’t that a little…uh…well…open? I mean MI6 and all.”

  “Oh, it’s fine. He’s been vetted. Has a bit of the romantic about him. Fancies himself one of us.”

  India rolled her eyes. “I hope the romance of the situation doesn’t get in the way.” She rose, eager to go upstairs.

  A huffy Miranda followed and called after her. “Now, Missy, you’re not to go into that room until the doctor allows it. I forbid it. Gerald’s up there, he won’t let you in. Come down here. Sit down and drink your tea.”

  “Oh, what a bother you are, Miranda. We’ve just been chased and shot at, Jack’s hurt, and I’m going to see how he is. I won’t get in the way. Go get Kazen a drink, if you want to help. He likes it neat.”

  “Aren’t you the cheeky one,” Miranda harumphed, “I forbid…”

  But India was halfway up the stairs.

  On the landing she saw the medic disappear into a room at the end of the hallway. The door closed. Closer, she heard muffled sounds. She turned the knob.

  Another man stood at the window, surveying the street. Jack seemed to be awake, having words with the doctor, who barely glanced at India, focused on filling a syringe. “You’re not supposed to be in here, but as long as you are, hold this when I’ve finished.”

  He gave Jack a shot and handed the empty syringe to India. “You can dispose of it over there in the loo.”

  Jack gave her a weak smile and closed his eyes. “Do as he says, India. I’m going to sleep. Good show today.” He drifted off.

  Back in the room India questioned the doctor. “How serious is it?”

  “Had a bit of an argy-bargy out on the road, I understand. No, your friend’s not got a terribly serious wound,” he said, as he snipped off a gauze strip. Lost some blood, but it looked worse than it is. He says the shot went through the vehicle door, so that lessened the impact some. I’ve taken out the bullet, it was lodged between two ribs. Had a bang on the head as well. After a good night or two, he should be right as rain, if he does what I tell him. I suspect that’s doubtful. You might encourage him to do that, if you have any sway with him.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “You look like you could use some sleep yourself. Your friend here will be out for the rest of the night. I can give you a sedative if you wish. I gather you’ve had an exciting time.”

  My God, the man sounds wistful. “Yeah, Sort of.”

  The man Gerald, at the window, turned. “I’ll keep an eye for a bit, so not to worry. Get a lie-down. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

  India suddenly felt weighed down. “I could sleep. I’m kind of ragged out.”

  India went downstairs to get Kazen off to bed. The young Iranian sat in the kitchen tucking into the shepherd’s pie Miranda had offered earlier. India felt her stomach turn over. God, how can he be hungry. Maybe you can’t kill a young guy’s appetite after he’s washed the blood off his hands. “Miranda? Could I have a cup of that broth? Then I’m going to crash.”

  The woman humphed, still miffed at India’s rush upstairs. She dodged a ginger cat and ladled out a steaming, fragrant bowl of consommé and bumped it down in front of India. “My mum always said that’s almost as good as a cup of tea for what’s off with you.”

  India turned to Kazen. “The doctor says Jack will be well-recovered in a couple of days. You’ll be in excellent hands with him. He’ll help you with your decisions. I know him pretty well. You can trust him with your life. Please believe that. Everyone wants the best for you. But you can help the Britain and the U.S. too, if you choose.” She reached over and patted his shoulder. “Racquel saw that in you.”

  She turned to Miranda. “Tell me where to go to sleep, or I might nod off right here. We’ve had a day, I’ll tell you.”

  The woman sniffed her beaky nose. “Your valise is in the bedroom, third door at the top of the stairs on the second floor. Kazen, since you’ll be with us a while, I’ve put you up in the dormer. There’s a small lav up there. Sleep as long as you like. Extra blankets are in the cupboard.”

  Going up the stairs, India paused to look down the hall at the door where Jack lay, but there was no sound. The doctor had gone.

  ***

  IT WAS CLOSE to two in the morning when India awoke. The room was bright with moonlight that had crept over the side of the house. The room was chilly and she felt cold. Shorty pajamas are no match for an English house in the winter.

  Remembering what Miranda had said about blankets, she roused herself and got out of the small four poster. It was a hop to the floor from the high bed to a spindly armoire, where she found a lavender-fragrant wooly blanket and wrapped it around herself. Heading back to bed, she stopped, tugged the blanket more firmly around her shoulders. In her mind she recapped the layout of the house. She stood pretty much right over the room where Jack was.

  She stepped softy along the hallway to the stairs, wincing with every creak in the ancient house. Jack’s door was closed, but it opened easily at her touch. Bright moonlight slanted across the room. The man who had promised to stand watch snored noisily in the chair by the window.

  She tiptoed to the side of the bed. Jack stirred and moved his pillow and pulled the blankets more closely, but didn’t awaken. She whipped off the fluffy blanket and flung it over the bed, then slipped under the bed clothes and curled herself against Jack, careful to avoid any bandages. She tucked the blankets around them both and settled. That jackass over by the window promised to keep an eye out.

  She fell asleep as heavy clouds moved over the moon and the room darkened.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Morning

  THE RUMBLE IN Jack’s chest wakened India. Her position was much as she’d fallen asleep, except his arms were around her and he was chuckling. “I remember being cold, then I remember being not cold. I find you in the damnedest places, Miss Fox.”

  She snuggled closer, struggling to get awake. She whispered, “How are you feeling? Do you hurt?”

  “Some. But I haven’t moved yet. I seem to be trapped by extra arms and legs wrapped around me. I can let you know if you loosen your grip.”

  “Are you still cold? You Brits keep your damned houses like igloos.”

  “No, thanks to you. It was nice of you to be my furnace. Dear God, it’s bloody well like finding a feverish retriever in bed with me.”

  “I’ll see about extracting another blanket or two from Miranda for you, before I go.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  India sat up, careful not to jostle the bed. “Miranda has arranged for the car to drive me back to London. Everyone’s been polite enough, but I don’t think MI6 is eager to have a CIA person sticking around. And my job is over. Kazen is yours now.” She slid her legs off the high mattress. “God, it’s the Arctic Circle in here.”

  Jack caught her hand and she saw him wince in pain.

  “Tell Miranda I said you need to stay for a couple of days. I’m not up to handling Kazen a hundred percent and I don’t want anybody else fucking him up. Tell her I said that.”

  India sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ll mention it, but Jack, you know I’ve got to go. And then I’m off to Paris. I wanted to meet you there. It would have been lovely, but it didn’t work out. Kazen will be okay until you feel like
working with him. He really doesn’t have any place else to go.”

  Jack closed his eyes. Except for the snoring by the window, the room stayed quiet. Then, “Maybe we ought to get married.”

  India felt a buzzing in her ears. “What did you say?”

  “Get married. You. And me.”

  She eased off the bed and crossed over to the window. A gray sky hung heavy and low and it had begun to snow. The noisy sleeper stirred and opened one eye. India shook him. “Are you Gerald? Whatever your name is, get up and leave us alone.”

  “Huh? Where’d you come from? You shouldn’t be in here.”

  India pulled at his shirt. “Oh, shut up. I’ll tell you when you can come back. Now, out! Before I throw you out.”

  The man struggled out of his chair. “Crikey…”

  “The lady means it, Gerald. She’s very strong. Probably armed,” Jack said.

  Gerald’s eyes scanned India’s skimpy camisole and sleep shorts. “Armed huh?

  India smiled sweetly.

  After he’d shuffled out of the room, muttering “Miranda will give me hell.”

  India turned to stare out the window. Fat snowflakes ticked against the glass.

  Jack struggled up on one elbow. “You going to answer me?”

  She continued staring at the white crystals piling up on the black branches of a leafless tree outside, the heavy gray sky, a pedestrian slipping on the slick sidewalk. “I’m thinking.”

  A car passed under the window, its motor muffled by the snow.

  Finally India turned and walked over to the bed, her face troubled. “I’ve thought it over and…no. I mean, I probably love you and all that, but no. I have too many things I want to do. I expect you do, too. We seem to always be running into each other. We can just…are you smiling?”

  Jack sank back onto the pillow. “Thank God. I was afraid you were going to say yes.”

  India’s mouth dropped open, then she began to laugh and leaned to whisper against his mouth. “You are such a bastard.”

  He mumbled against the kiss. “How long you going to be in Paris?”

  She slipped under the blankets. “Why, that’s up to you.”

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  My thanks to Deborah Ledford, who has always taken me by the hand and led me through the maze of publishing; Arthur Kerns, who knows that CIA stuff so I wouldn’t go too far astray; Maegan Beaumont, my cover creator.

  AUTHOR BIO

  Virginia Nosky’s novels always involve love stories and fall under several genres—Mainstream, Mystery, Multicultural, Suspense, and Historical. She loves research and that includes travel to areas included in her books. She has worked in advertising and broadcast radio and television. She majored in Communications at Ohio State University and received a Bachelor of Arts in French from Arizona State University. She lives in Scottsdale, Arizona. Nosky’s other published books are: Kachina, Chance Encounters, Pima Road, Blue Turquoise, White Shell, Ring of Fire, The Fall from Paradise Valley, To A Certain Degree and White River.

  Visit the author at VirginiaNosky.com.