The Spy With the Silver Lining (5 page)

“I can handle whatever you throw my way. I could drink you under the table if necessary.”

His reaction to her boast was another healthy chuckle. She noticed straight white teeth, and mentally listed them under fit body, nice nose and clear complexion. Okay, so she’d noticed his nice skin, along with a pair of soul-deep brown eyes.

“We’ll have to settle that one of these nights. See who can outlast who.”

“Then you plan on taking me to Le Mystère?”

“
Oui.
There was never any doubt.”

Okay, this was the way it was going to work. She’d go with him, get Mama and leave two minutes later.

Casmir started to stand. “Let’s go.”

“After I meet Parnel downstairs.”

She sat back down. “What if you don’t win? I don’t think we should jeopardize Mama’s safety for ego’s sake, do you?”

“Lazie won’t let anything happen to Ruza.” He reached for a bottle of vodka and began to mix her a drink. At least she suspected it was hers. He’d said he needed a beer.

Using all the tools of the trade, and knowing where to find whatever he needed, he produced a martini glass and poured the mix into it from a shaker and set it down in front of her.

“There you are,
amant.
A fitting drink for Quest’s
actress.
”

“What is it?”

“The house special. The Glitterbug’s version of a French Kiss.”

“You used to be a bartender here.”

“
Oui,
one of the best in New Orleans.” He popped the top off of a beer and raised it in the air. “Here’s to patience, and adaptability. He that has patience, can have what he will.”

He recited poetry. She would never have guessed that. She answered, “How poor are they that have not patience. What wound did not heal but by degrees.”

He raised his beer bottle a little higher. “To Franklin and Shakespeare. And to survival. Let’s hope by the time this is over one of us hasn’t killed the other.”

“You don’t like me?”

“About as much as you like me,
amant.
”

After all she had survived on her travels around the world, dying in the trunk of a car on foreign soil held no appeal.

Ruza wished she had her purse. She needed a mint to soothe her raw throat from too much screaming. The mace would have been a good thing to have about now, too.

She felt around in the darkness. The trunk was empty, not even a tire iron.

An hour later the car stopped. Ruza closed her eyes and waited for her kidnapper to open the trunk. She lay still, as if she’d been overcome by exhaust fumes. Not far from the truth.

“Come on, Cookie, wake up.”

She didn’t move. Waited until she could feel him draw closer. Until the smell of his cologne told her he’d stuck his head inside the trunk. She recognized the scent now. It was Duperau. Impossible, she thought. In Russia the cologne cost a small fortune. This man didn’t look like he could afford toilet water straight out of the pot.

“Come,
mon coeur.
Let me help you.”

Keying on the direction of his voice, Ruza squinted open one eye, sized up her assailant, then doubled up her fist and gave him an uppercut straight to his jaw.

He staggered back, leaving a mere two-foot opening for her to escape the trunk. Ruza scrambled out just as he was getting his balance back. That was when she aimed her foot and kicked him in the crotch.

“Bon Dieu, mon coeur,”
he groaned.

He bent forward, grabbing his box of jewels, and when he did Ruza doubled up her fist once more and gave him another punch. When he dropped to his knees, she turned and ran.

She got ten yards when she noticed her surroundings. Nothing but tangled foliage, woods and water. Dear God in heaven, the gypsy had driven her to the ends of the earth.

Ruza realized her only escape was the road. That would require stealing his car. She rounded the Eldorado just as the gypsy staggered back to his feet. She was reaching for the door when he made a wild dive at her.

Knocked off balance, Ruza was taken out like a football quarterback a yard from the goal line.

“No!” She began to fight like a cat attacked by a bulldog. She scratched and clawed, tried to raise her knee to his crotch. She gave it a good effort, but the gypsy was a resilient advisory.

Pinned on her back, he grinned down at her. “Careful, Cookie, when we get
ta
know each other better you might want
ta
use
dat.
It would be a sad day
if’n
I couldn’t perform up
ta
your expectations because of a little misunderstandin’ on our first date.”

“I assure you there has been no misunderstanding, you lout. You accosted me and stuffed me in the trunk of your car. If that’s what you call a date you’re as crazy as you look.”

“I was only followin’ instruction,
mon coeur.
”

That took the fight out of her. “Whose instructions?”

“Your daughter’s.”

“My Cassie would never hire someone to kidnap me, or stuff me in a trunk, Mr. Lazie. You’re not only a kidnapper and a lout, you’re a liar. Now get off me before I scream.”

“That would be a waste of energy, Ruza-a…. There is no one to hear you but me.”

She tried to toss him off, squirming like a bagged fish beneath him.

Willing to ride out her anger on top until she tired, he moaned, “
Oui,
Cookie, I have found my match. A vigorous woman, soft in all the right places.”

“You’re making a deadly mistake, Lazie. Get off me, or die.”

Her threat didn’t faze him. She squirmed some more until she felt him growing against her belly. Oh, God, she was polishing his jewels. No wonder he was grinning.

“Now look what you’ve done, Cookie. You’ve awakened the dragon.”

“I’ve done nothing of the sort, Lazie.”

“Does that feel like nothing,
mon coeur?
”

The fact that she had turned him on sent an alarming shiver throughout Ruza’s slender body. She didn’t recognize it for what it was at first—it had been years since she had felt sexually hungry. Not since Jacko, Cassie’s father.

The very idea that this stranger had awakened her and trespassed on Jacko’s memory enraged her. Those emotions were sacred, and she protested the moment with a fit of screaming.

“
Bon Dieu,
Cookie…my poor ears.”

It was the last thing he said before Saber Lazie took Ruza’s face in his hands and shut her up with a kiss, unaware that he had trespassed further on sacred ground.

W
hen Polax called, Merrick was on his way home from his office. Alone in his black Corvette, he reached for his private phone inside his jacket pocket.

“You have an update already?”

“Not an update. More like a new problem. Are you clear to talk?”

“Go ahead.”

“Your man didn’t show at the airport, and Balasi is on the run. She claims Petrov is already hot on her heels. I thought you said Fourtier was reliable.”

Merrick slid in and out of traffic as he contemplated Polax’s news. “Pierce is a damn good operative. If he didn’t show there was a good reason. I’ll find out what that is and call you back.”

“Do it immediately. Balasi isn’t happy, and while I’m not in the business of soothing ruffled feathers, she is the key to pulling off this mission. I was candid with you about everything. Balasi is more than just a sexy spy. She has to come out of this on top. I thought I made myself clear on that.”

“You did, and I understand completely.”

“When she called she demanded I fly her and Ruza out of there. She also wants Fourtier’s hide tanned and turned into a pair of shoes.”

“I’ll check out this recent glitch and call you back.”

“I’ll be anxious to hear how Fourtier explains not showing up at the airport. It better be damn good, or I’ll personally buy those shoes and wear his hide.”

When Polax disconnected, Merrick swore, then punched in Pierce’s number. When Pierce didn’t answer his phone, Merrick swore again. He’d wait an hour and if he still couldn’t reach him, he would have to recruit another operative to follow up on the situation, because Polax was right. They couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong.

He had met IsaDora, the head of Quest, only once, and she had made quite an impression. She wouldn’t have approved this mission, and for that reason they needed to keep her in the dark until this was all over.

That meant Pierce better get Casmir Balasi turned around in a hurry. If that required a little ass-kissing, he’d better pucker up.

Casmir descended the stairs into a secret world she couldn’t have dreamed up with a hit of cocaine and a whiskey chaser.

She had been in gambling dens from Istanbul to Cairo, human action houses in Singapore. She’d even spent some time in a harem in the Arabian desert. But she had never seen a gaming den like this one.

Beneath the sleazy bar was an island of concrete surrounded by water. A game room was what Pierce had said. There were four ten-foot-wide levels that circled the arena, each level lined with tables and chairs where the spectators could drink, make wagers and cheer on their favorite fool.

Casmir took in every aspect of the deadly playing field as Pierce nudged her forward.

“Nothing to say?”

She turned and glared at him.

He returned a grin. “Over here,
amant.
You can cheer on your boyfriend from the front row.”

He took her arm and led her up six steps to a table. Surrounding the first level was a three-foot railing. The black filigree iron rail had been installed to keep the onlookers from toppling into the water—though if you had a death wish you could easily climb over it to play double jeopardy with the reptiles she now saw waiting for their next meal to drop.

He said as he seated her, “A front-row seat for a woman used to being in the middle of the action.”

“This is crazy. You’re actually going to fight Parnel out there?” She pointed to the fifteen-foot-square cement slab that rose out of the water four feet.

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

When she had no answer for him, he took a step back and peeled off his brown T-shirt. She had secretly admitted that his body was fit, but now she could see that what she’d first thought was above average was honed perfection—every muscle he owned defined and accounted for.

Okay, so her appreciation of his body rose a few more notches. That didn’t change the fact that he was a reckless ass who smoked too much. And there was also a question of brains—if he thought there was nothing wrong with this playing field surrounded by alligators, he was past crazy.

The knife sheathed on his belt caught her eye. It wasn’t an ordinary knife. It was longer, with a curved handle. Casmir had seen a number of unusual knives in her day, handled a few herself, but this was far different than anything she’d seen.

Frog appeared across the water. He was standing on a man-made concrete shoreline holding on to two suspended ropes.

He raised his hand. “
Mon ami,
are you ready?”

“
Oui.
And your mouthy little friend?”

“Parnel might talk too much, but he’s not a coward.”

“Too bad for him.”

Casmir watched Frog let go of one of the ropes. The thick coil sailed across the playing field and Pierce reached out and caught it out of the air.

He looked back at her. “A kiss for good luck,
amant?
”

“How about a promise instead? If you’re not back here in twenty minutes, I’m leaving.”

He checked his watch, blew her a kiss, then reached a little higher on the rope and let it lift him to the railing. Balancing like a man who’d been born in a circus, his muscles flexed and straining, he swung himself over the water and dropped onto the raised slab of cement.

He had just landed when Parnel appeared next to Frog and took the second rope. Like Pierce, he was wearing only jeans, his feet sporting leather boots. She quickly glanced at what Pierce was wearing for foot gear. It looked like he was wearing slippery-soled cowboy boots.

Great. He would fall on his ass within seconds and be gator bait a minute later.

She found a seat, watched as Parnel extended one of his legs as he sailed through the air toward Pierce. He was going to kick Pierce off the slab before the fight ever got started.

She knew what she would do. She’d been trained by some of the best martial arts experts in the spy business. She watched Pierce spin right and, at the same time, reach out and grab Parnel’s foot in midair. He gave it a jerk and Parnel lost his grip on the rope. The move wasn’t pretty, but it was fast and his opponent landed hard on the cement slab.

To Parnel’s credit, he quickly rolled and scrambled back to his feet, pulling a knife sheathed at his hip.

The blade was long and it looked like something meant to gut one of the reptiles that were now circling the concrete slab. He flashed the knife as if taunting Pierce with it. Then he lunged forward and lashed outward, but the blade only caught air as Pierce jumped back.

Casmir expected to see Pierce reach for his knife at that moment. She waited, but he never went for it.

“What are you waiting for?” she yelled down at him. “Pull your knife out of your ass!”

He turned his head in her direction, and in that second Parnel struck, taking advantage of the distraction. He lunged forward, this time drawing first blood—catching Pierce high on his muscular arm.

He was bleeding like a stuck pig, but he never even flinched. Instead he spun in a tight circle, then kicked outward as he came around, planting his foot in Parnel’s stomach. The force lifted Parnel off his feet and he flew a good eight feet and landed on his back, close to the edge of the slab. Stunned, he seemed unable to get up.

Pierce was on him within seconds. He grabbed Parnel’s wrist, forced his weapon to fall out of his hand, then dropped his knee onto his chest. Suddenly a hungry alligator surfaced and Parnel must have caught sight of it. He started screaming and flaying his arms, begging for Pierce to let him up.

Casmir had no idea what Pierce would do next. Seconds turned into a long minute. Finally he lifted his knee. She could see that words were being exchanged, then Pierce stood, grabbed one of the ropes overhead and swung back to her, dropping blood over the water from the gash on his arm.

He reached the railing and, still holding on to the rope, balanced on it as he loomed above her. He looked like a warrior back from the battlefield.

When he let go of the rope and dropped down beside her, Casmir didn’t say anything. She was at a loss for words.

He looked at his watch. Said, “Six minutes to spare.”

“Why didn’t you use your knife?”

“Because it would have been murder. Parnel’s a novice. I need a better reason to kill a man than stupidity.” He glanced at the blood covering his arm. “Next time,
amant,
keep that pretty mouth of yours shut. You’re enough of a distraction without it.”

He turned and gave an upward nod to Frog, who was now helping Parnel to his feet. Then he took hold of her arm and lifted her off the chair.

She’d taken half a dozen steps when he said, “I guess I’m the winner of the prize. It looks like you’re going home with me.”

Pierce was on his way to Le Mystère with Casmir seated beside him in the Jeep when his phone went off. He reached for it between the seats and put it to his ear.

“Oui.”

“I got a call from Polax and he tells me you didn’t pick up Balasi and her mother at the airport. What the hell’s going on? She’s—”

“Right here beside me.”

“They’re both all right?”

“Oui.”

“She told Polax that Petrov has already located her. Is that true?”

“No. It was a case of mistaken identity.”

“Then everything’s back on track?”

“Oui.”

“So I can call Polax and tell him the plan still stands?”

“Oui.”

“You can’t talk?”

“Oui.”

“Call me later.”

When Pierce disconnected, Casmir said, “Was that Merrick?”

He glanced at her. She looked like she was sucking on a lemon. In Austria she’d had a similar look. Casmir Balasi was used to things going her way. But not this time. He was in charge of this mission, and it would be handled his way.

He intended to share pieces of the operation as needed, but not right away. He said, “It was Merrick. You need to call Polax.”

“And tell him I was wrong.”

“You were wrong.”

“You didn’t show at the airport. I wasn’t wrong about that.”

“Petrov doesn’t know where you’re at. Polax needs to be assured of that. Mistakes were made. Let’s just—”

“Your mistake, not mine. I was forced to do what I had to do to survive. That’s what I was trained to do. And I had my mother to think about.”

“Enough,
amant.
Let’s just pull it back together for the sake of the mission.”

“Mission?”

“Wrong word. Vacation.”

“This is hardly a vacation.”

“See, we’re starting to agree already.”

“I won’t let this go so you can look good at Onyxx. You’re the one who screwed up.”

“When you get to know me better you’ll find out I don’t give a damn about how I look. I do what I do, and I live with the outcome.”

“Typical man.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“You’re the smart one, you figure it out.”

This was going to be hell, Pierce thought. He would surely strangle her before week’s end.

“Can we bury the hatchet?” he asked, keeping his voice level and as emotionless as possible.

“Where do you want it? Skull, or a little lower? What do you value most? I’ll be sure to take that off first.”

“This is bullshit.” Pierce slammed on the brakes and pulled to the side of the road. He put the Jeep into Park, then reached across her and swung open the passenger door. “Out.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Out. I’m done.”

“Done?”

“Done with you. Call Polax and tell him any damn thing you want. Tell him I left you stranded. Tell him I quit. Tell him you need a new bodyguard. One who’s deaf.”

They were on a back road about three miles from Le Mystère. His home was another two miles farther south. He looked down at her feet. If she took off her shoes, and dug in her heels, she could make it in to town before dark.

“And Mama?”

“I’ll send her into town with Lazie. If you stay on this road, you’ll find it. Your kind always manage somehow.”

“My kind? What’s that suppose to mean?

“You’re a smart girl, you figure it out,” he said, tossing her words back at her. “Now move your ass.”

“No.”

Pierce swore, then climbed out of the Jeep. He rounded the hood and reached into the passenger side to haul her out. She had to know what was coming. Maybe that was why she pulled her gun on him. He never expected it, had been too pissed off at the moment to remember that she was a resourceful bitch.

“Back up.”

“Or you’ll shoot me?”

“That would be murder. I need a better reason to kill a man than stupidity.” She tossed more of his words back at him, then aimed the gun at his right leg. “But knocking you down a notch wouldn’t cause me any sleepless nights. Doubt it?”

Pierce knew he’d made a rare mistake. She was dead serious about shooting him. Not ending his life, but he’d go down nonetheless. He backed up, watched as she reached out and slammed the door shut, then climbed over the console and into the driver’s seat.

Then she was speeding away from him, leaving him on the side of the road in a cloud of dust.

He realized a moment later that his cell phone was still in the Jeep. He couldn’t even call Lazie to come get him.

“Sonofabitch.”

It was the beginning of a long string of crude adjectives as Pierce dug in his heels and started toward Le Mystère. Five minutes later, he flagged down Murphy Logen on his way in to Le Mystère to sell his daily catch of fish to Wanda at the Catfish Lounge.

He was a fool if he thought she was going to let him quit. No one quit on her unless it was her idea.

I’m done.
Ha!

He would be done when she said he was done.

Casmir rounded a corner and saw what looked like a town. If this was Le Mystère, Mama was going to flip out. Shopping in this town, unless it was for gas and groceries, was definitely out.

She spotted a bar that seemed to have more activity than anyplace else and pulled the Jeep into the dirt parking lot in front of the Ginger Root. Hoping that someone in this godforsaken place would know the address of Pierce Fourtier’s home, she stepped through the front door and scanned the dingy bar.