Diamonds Are Truly Forever: An Agent Ex Novel 2 (39 page)

Drew stared into the glassy eyes of the dead man. He frowned. Short gray hair. Soft face. No stubble. No Adam’s apple.

He turned to Noe.

Noe met his eyes. “What the hell? The Gardener is a woman! Butt-ugly, but a woman nonetheless.”

Drew shuddered. His stepfather had just shot a woman between the eyes at nearly point-blank range. “We aren’t getting anything out of her now.”

Drew took another deep breath and looked up to the sun. “Sam clearly carefully planned this. He must have an escape route. He’s been socking away money. He probably has a whole new identity planned somewhere. He’s going to disappear. We need to close the harbor and smoke him out.”

Noe frowned. “Even though the Government Parliament Building is just across the street, getting permission and closing the harbor won’t be easy.”

“I have a terrible feeling, Noe. Sam was supposed to go out on a fishing charter this afternoon.” Drew pulled his phone from his pocket and brought up the website for the charter company. “If you’re a desperate man fleeing SMASH and their one hundred percent success rate, what’s the safest cover?”

Noe didn’t miss a beat. “Death, of course.”

Drew nodded. “Sam will be faking his death. The sooner the better if he plans on living another day. We need to stop this charter cruise from making it to the strait before it goes down with everyone onboard. We’ll need a bomb squad.”

Noe nodded. “I’m on it.”

“We’ll also need to check the harbor rentals. See if anyone matching Sam’s description has rented a boat for today or tonight. And see if he even checked in to that charter.” He took a breath. “I have to talk to Langley.” Drew hated doing it, but he had to talk to Emmett.

Noe nodded toward the Gardener. “My men will clean this up. Good luck with the boss.”

“Good luck with yours.”

Noe mumbled something in Quebecois and took off at a run.

Drew glanced at his watch. He had five hours to find Sam before dinner. Why had Sam killed the Gardener?

*   *   *

Nothing. Nothing, damn it!
Drew thought as he headed toward the Trumpet from the harbor to dress for dinner. No sign of Sam. Yes, Sam had boarded the charter. No, he wasn’t aboard when they searched it. He probably never was aboard. Probably somehow managed to fake signing in, or had someone else sign in for him. A bomb squad found and disabled an explosive device. Noe, the bomb squad, and Drew were heroes, though no one else would know it.

Drew shook with fury when he remembered the large brown eyes of a five-year-old boy on that charter as he hugged his father’s legs and looked up at Drew with fear and awe.

“First big-boy fishing trip with his dad,” the boy’s father had told Drew with pride.

Sam would have blown the boy and his father to bits without a second thought. All to create the cover of death for himself.

If there was any justice, wherever Sam was, he was furious and sweating it out. Desperate now that his plans to “blow himself up” had failed and frantic to try to cover his trail. Looking over his shoulder, wondering when SMASH would get him. The RIOT death squad wouldn’t give up until they found Sam. Neither would Drew. Sam could be sitting on his own damn tropical island sipping piña coladas. Drew
would
find him.

There were hundreds of boats rented out for the night around Greater Victoria. Finding Sam, if indeed he’d taken out a boat, was going to be like hooking a salmon at noon on a sunny day—nearly impossible.

Sam had to be trying to hightail it out of Victoria under an alias. If he hadn’t already succeeded. Right now they didn’t know. They would. Sam would have slipped up somewhere.

Noe was on it. Drew should be, too. But first he had another obligation. To his heart. He felt nearly as nervous as the first time he’d proposed. More nervous. The first time he’d been confident she’d accept.

He called Staci.

“Is that you, Bond?” she said when she picked up.

He smiled with relief at the sound of her voice. Safe and sound and full of sexiness. “Too much like M. Try to put a little more sexiness in.”

She laughed.

“I’m running late,” he said. “Meet me at the Empress Room. Don’t walk there, Stace. Take your Pocket Nine. Have the concierge call you a cab. Make sure he sees you safely in. On the other end, let the valet help you out of the car. Make sure he sees you to the door. Give him a good tip for me. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He would not miss this dinner.
He wouldn’t.
He had the feeling that if he didn’t show up, he’d blow things with Staci. Forever. Hell, that might be the case anyway, once he confessed.

If he confessed. Sam and his damn escape had thrown his dinner plans into confusion. What did he do now? What did he say? That he was trying to bring Sam in?

Yeah, hell, that was probably what he’d have to do.

Fortunately, Sam’s charter wasn’t scheduled to return until after dark. The sun set around nine, giving Drew a good three hours to “reunite” with Staci before her mother got worried and came around looking for Sam.

He silently cursed Sam, and in-laws in general.

He changed into a suit and tie at in a restroom at the marina. Dinner jackets were not required, but Drew was going to wear one. He’d booked the royal table service. This was supposed to be a special evening, an anniversary to remember on par with an engagement. He’d be the suave spy, though he felt less like one than he ever had. Staci would be his femme fatale. They’d end the evening happily in bed together, with the anniversary ring on her finger.

If she didn’t throw that new ring back at him after he told her what he had to.

He splashed a dash of cologne on and raced for the Empress.

*   *   *

Staci followed Drew’s instructions. She carried her evening bag, ready to grab her Pocket 9 if she needed to. She felt very much like a spy on a mission. She loved the feeling and found herself humming spy themes from movies and TV shows. Unfortunately, the
Get Smart
theme got stuck in her mind. Did it have to be the catchiest one?

Her evening bag was larger than customary. After all, it had to hold her gun, which was scaled for a full-size purse. Since she’d had spare room, she’d thrown the cling fingers in for fun. No reason really, except she got a kick out of them, her secret spy gadget. What could go wrong with cling fingers? They didn’t jam or backfire. There were positively nonlethal.

She reached the restaurant and smiled as the maître d’ escorted her to a table with a prime view of the harbor and city. She felt the eyes of several people following her. It could have been the backless dress with the slit up the leg that went nearly to her waist that caught their attention. Or it could have been her imagination, the feeling that nowhere was safe and a killer lurked behind every curtain.

She would have preferred to arrive with Drew. She just had to trust his discretion. The restaurant
would
be safe.

The table was laid with a white tablecloth, set with white bone china edged with silver trim. A silver candelabra, surrounded by blossoms of spring flowers, filled the center of the table. A single red rose lay over her plate.

She hoped Drew still felt the same way about her when she told him about Iguazu Falls.

A waiter filled her water goblet and asked if she’d like the wine brought out.

“I’d prefer to wait until my husband arrives. He’s running late. He’ll be here any minute.”

The waiter nodded and left.

My husband
.
For how much longer?

She looked out at the sparkling harbor, glowing with the evening sun on it and thought, hoped, Drew was indeed planning something special. And that he was in a forgiving mood. Jack Pierce had been one of his best friends.

As she waited for Drew, she reviewed her day. Her mom had retired to her room to rest, finally worn out. Staci hadn’t mentioned seeing Lucy in the park to her, didn’t want to needlessly upset her. With the crazy way Lucy had been acting lately over Sam, she could have followed him up here to beg him to come back. Or be spying on him to see what he was up to. That seemed like a common theme. For all Staci knew, Sam might be innocent of anything to do with Lucy.

Something else was bothering Staci just now about Sam, too, niggling at her.

A memory played and teased at the edges of her mind, not quite formed. Seeing the harbor brought it up. Drawers opening and closing on Sam’s boat months ago. A set of papers sliding out of one. She’d scooped it up and put it back in the drawer.

Given Sam’s strange behavior lately, the papers seemed important. What were they? Bank statements? Bills of sale? There was a name on them. It wasn’t Sam’s. For the life of her she couldn’t remember it, but it was a man’s name. She had one of those cases of the harder you think on something, the farther you chase it away.

A horrible thought occurred to her—what if Sam was a bigamist? What if he had another family somewhere, another life? What if those papers contained his other identity?

Drew came up behind her, slid a warm hand on her shoulder, kissed her neck, and whispered in her ear, “You look gorgeous tonight. Happy anniversary.”

She smiled up at him, thoughts of Sam’s possible double life forgotten. Drew held a glorious bouquet of red roses.

“A dozen roses plus one—you’re going to spoil me.”

“We are ‘happily reunited.’ People will expect me to spoil you.”

But no one is watching us now.

He handed her the roses. “You need to be on your game, babe. Alert to intruders. Having your back, however sculpted, hot, and eye catching, to the room is never good.”

A subtle compliment, but she’d take it. He liked the dress. “The view’s too beautiful to pass up. Besides, I knew it was you. I can sense your presence, spousal ESP. And the room behind me is perfectly reflected in the silver service.”

“You’re improving your spycraft.” He slid into the chair across from her and signaled for the waiter, asking him to bring the wine.

Drew looked hot, absolutely lust inducing in his immaculately tailored suit. Her fingers itched to run over the seams on his broad shoulders. She wondered where he’d gotten it. If Malene, the Agency cover life artist, had provided it for him on one of his missions. If it had been part of a past cover life. What would that life have been like? The suit was too expensive to fit into their household budget.

She watched Drew closely as he smiled at her. “How was your day? Is the world safe again?” She was only half teasing.

He shook his head, looking troubled. “No, not yet.” For the barest second, defeat and anger shone in his eyes. Then it passed. “We hit a snag. Emmett’s pissed. He’ll get over it.”

“You’ll get the bad guys, Drew. You always do.” She set her bouquet beside her on the table, catching the scent of roses as she reached over to squeeze his hand. “What’s at stake this time?”

“Oh, the usual—another egomaniac wants to take over the world. That kind of thing.” Drew grinned.

“Surely you exaggerate.” She hoped he was.

The waiter arrived and poured them each a glass of wine.

“How was your day?” Drew asked as if he’d said nothing unusual.

“Not nearly as exciting as chasing KAOS villains.” She winked at him and shrugged. “Fun. Tiring. We walked miles. My mother is relentless in her pursuit of botanical wisdom and historical factoids.” She paused. “And strange.” Staci frowned. “I saw Lucy Wells in the park. Do you think she followed Sam up here?”

“Lucy?” Drew sat up straighter. “You’re sure?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“You talked to her?” Drew studied her, his gaze running appreciatively over her cleavage.

The dress was so low and backless, she’d had to tape herself in. Later, he’d have to unwrap her like a package and break through the tape.

That is, if he was still interested after her confession.

She tingled at the thought of Drew’s touch. She’d also honored his request, almost. She wore the scantiest pair of thong panties beneath her dress and nothing else. But the panties hardly counted. They merely satisfied her sense of modesty.

“No. She wasn’t close enough. She brushed past us. I don’t think Mom saw her. Lucy looked … furtive. Could she be jealously spying on Sam? From the way Lucy acted at work, I thought they’d broken up. Maybe I was being optimistic.

“Do you think she’s here to fool around with him behind Mom’s back? Is that what Sam’s ‘fishing trip’ really is?”

Drew frowned. “Seems risky.”

“Could be part of the excitement,” she said, wishing away the image of Sam and Lucy together that insinuated itself in her mind.

Drew’s phone buzzed in his suit coat pocket. He ignored it.

“Are you going to get that?”

“No.” He spoke the one word in a low, sexy tone.

“It could be important.”

“So are you.”

“You’re taking this cover reunion very seriously. No one’s watching now.” She spoke flirtatiously, trying to give him the idea it could be more than a cover. She hoped she wasn’t being too subtle.