How Spy I Am (17 page)

“Stop giving me
sympathy, dammit,” I quavered. I made a half-hearted attempt to
push him away, but his powerful arms held me until I surrendered a
few seconds later to hide my face against his chest. I fought the
almost-overwhelming urge to dissolve into weak tears, the effort
making me tremble against him while he stroked my hair, muttering
comfort. When I was reasonably sure my eyes wouldn’t spill over, I
stiffened my spine and pulled away, wrapping my arms around myself
to hold the last of his warmth.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.
“You should probably get back to the hotel.”

He took stock of my
shivering for a moment before he blew out a long breath and stooped
to remove his boots. “Come on, darlin’. Let’s get ya to bed.”

Too spent to argue, I
let him shepherd me to my bedroom, where I stood trembling in a
stupor of fatigue and misery while he undressed me with gentle
hands. When he tucked me in and lay down fully clothed on top of
the blankets beside me, I curled into the shelter of his arms until
sleep claimed me at last.

Hellhound’s quiet rasp
woke me. “Aydan, come on, darlin’, ya gotta wake up an’ go to
work.”

I buried my aching
face in the pillow with a groan. “Tell them I’m sick. No, fuck
that, tell them I’m dead.”

“I’ll call in sick for
ya if ya want. Don’t think dead’ll work though.”

I groaned again and
pried open an eyelid to squint at the bedside clock. Six-thirty.
Two and a half hours of sleep. Fabulous.

“Ya could sleep a
little later if ya skip your shower, but I figured you’d probl’y
want one this mornin’, considerin’.”

“Yeah, I’ll get up.” I
flopped over onto my back, peering up at him. “What do you mean,
‘considering’?”

Hellhound shrugged.
“Considerin’ ya were doin’ the tube snake boogie last night.”

I struggled into
sitting position and briefly considered tucking the sheets around
me before deciding it was too much trouble. It wasn’t like he
hadn’t seen me naked before.

I scowled in his
direction. “What, it was on the morning news? Or did Kane phone you
to compare notes?”

He chuckled. “Nah. But
there’s only one reason Kane’d fall asleep while ya were there, an’
it ain’t boredom. An’ ya had your T-shirt on inside-out.”

“Hmmph. That’s what I
get for hanging out with a private eye.” I dragged myself out of
bed and stretched slowly, feeling the ache of hard use and missing
the glow that should have made it delicious.

“Jesus, Aydan, stop
doin’ that,” Hellhound rasped. “I ain’t a fuckin’ saint.”

“It’s over with Kane,
you don’t have to-” I began, but he shook his head and hurried out
of the bedroom.

On my front porch,
Hellhound slung an arm around me and guided me into the garage. I
eyed him uncertainly as he leaned against my truck. He brushed my
hair back, his fingertips lingering on my cheek.

“Didn’t think ya were
up to a big show for the cameras this mornin’,” he explained. “Just
give it a minute. Let ‘em think we’re neckin’ in here.”

I slid my arms around
him and rested my head against his shoulder. “Thanks. But you don’t
have to do this anymore. Kane and I are done for good, and it’ll be
best for everybody if he gets transferred. If he doesn’t already
hate me, he will soon enough.”

“Aydan, what happened
last night?” he asked. “If you’re gonna end it with a guy, it ain’t
usually a good idea to sleep with him. Did somethin’ go wrong
after?” I felt tension creep into his body. “Or… durin’? Did he do
somethin’ to ya-”

“No, it was nothing
like that,” I interrupted, feeling him relax again. “I just… it was
my stupid fault. He offered to be friends with benefits, and I
wanted to believe it could work, but it can’t. It just made things
worse. He was mad and disappointed, and I can’t blame him, but
dammit, I told him that up front, he
knew
…”

“Shh, darlin’, I
know,” Arnie comforted. “I been down that road with chicks so many
times, I was about ready to call it quits before ya came
along.”

I snickered despite
myself. “You? Quit the chicks? Like that’ll ever happen.” He said
nothing, and I hid my face in his jacket. “I didn’t want to hurt
him,” I mumbled.

“I know, darlin’.”

When I stepped into
the lobby at Sirius Dynamics, I came face-to-face with Stemp. “Ms.
Widdenback,” he greeted me, and I winced.

“Please don’t call me
that.”

“You need to get used
to responding to it. In a crisis situation, instantaneous
recognition can mean the difference between life and death.”

I groaned. “I’ll take
death.”

He eyed me
expressionlessly. “Please see me in my office directly.”

I managed to resist
the impulse to thud my head against the bulletproof glass of the
security wicket while I signed for my fob. Dreading the meeting, I
trudged up the stairs to Stemp’s office.

When I tapped on his
door, he beckoned me inside and waved me into a chair. He didn’t
ask for my gun or tell me to close the door behind me, and my
spirits rose fractionally. Maybe it was nothing bad for a
change.

“I wanted to notify
you that your car will be delivered this afternoon,” he said.

“Oh.” I slumped in
relief. “Great.” I was getting ready to rise when he fixed me with
his impassive stare.

“Also,” he said, and
my gut clenched.

Wait for it…

“As you requested, I
have reinstated Kane to your team, and Richardson has been
reassigned to his former duties.”

“…oh.” I tried to
conceal the hollowness of the word, but Stemp’s eyes narrowed.

“Is there a problem?
It was my understanding that it was important to you to have Kane
on your team.”

Shit.

“No problem,” I said.
“Thank you.”

He watched me for a
few more seconds. “You’re welcome. Dismissed.”

I tottered out of his
office and down the hall into the ladies’ room. Safely enclosed in
a cubicle, I slumped down on the toilet to beat my forehead against
the toilet paper roll. That didn’t seem to help, so I got up again
and went to the sink, slamming the button on the soap dispenser
with a good deal more force than necessary.

No escape. There was
no stopper in the sink, so I couldn’t drown myself. And hell, with
the kind of day I was having, if I tried to shoot myself, I’d
probably miss. Or, more likely, give myself a mortifying,
excruciatingly painful but non-fatal flesh wound.

I fixed my baggy-eyed
reflection with a glare and gave it a severe mental lecture about
living with the consequences of its actions, having cake and eating
it, and a handful of other bullshit platitudes.

My reflection returned
a scowl and a vigorous middle finger, and I heaved a sigh that
fluttered the paper towels before slogging down the hall to my
office.

“Good morning!”
Spider’s buoyant greeting trailed off into uncertainty when he got
a look at my face. “Aydan, are you all right?”

Hoping my drawn-back
lips looked more like a smile than a snarl, I muttered a general
‘Good morning’ to the room’s occupants and added, “I’m fine,
Spider, thanks. Just tired.”

I propped myself
against the door frame and took stock of the tension humming inside
the room.

Kane sat in his usual
chair, his body language open and relaxed. He returned a
noncommittal ‘Good morning’, his cop face firmly in place. Anyone
else would think he hadn’t a care in the world, but a glance at his
iron-grey eyes made me look away quickly.

Honey’s gaze had been
fastened on his back, and she gave a start and turned to greet me,
too. Smith just stared at me with creepy intensity. Fine. At least
he wouldn’t bother to blow sunshine up my ass.

I let out a long sigh
and plodded over to collapse on the sofa. “Anything new?”

“Uh…” Spider’s gaze
darted between Kane and me before resolutely focusing on my face.
“The analysts have flagged a few more priority files. If you could
go in and decrypt them first, that would be great. Then this
afternoon, Stemp wants you to go in and check Fuzzy Bunny’s network
one more time.”

“Okay.” I wearily
accepted the network key’s small box from him and stepped into the
virtual void.

When Kane’s avatar
popped into existence beside me, pain knifed into my chest at the
sight of the combat body armour protecting him. He gave me an
expressionless nod, and we turned to march down the virtual
corridor to the file repository.

“Aydan!” Spider’s
voice was full of alarm. “You’re bleeding!”

“No, it’s okay,” I
reassured him, quickly banishing the crimson stain that soaked my
virtual shirt. Right over my heart.

Damn sims, anyway.

I sighed and started
decrypting.

“Are we done yet?” I
begged.

“Just one more,”
Spider reassured me. “Why don’t you come out now and get some
lunch? You can do that last one after you get back.”

I blew out a long
breath. “Thanks, Spider.”

Kane trailed me to the
portal in silence, and I held back another sigh. I wasn’t sure
whether the chill emanating from his avatar was a product of his
mind or mine, and I shivered miserably.

Returning my
consciousness to my physical body was worse than usual. Fatigue and
stress always amplified the pain, and I had both in spades. It hurt
too much to even swear, and I battered my skull against the back of
the couch, writhing and keening until Kane’s familiar warm grip
immobilized my head. The touch of those hands made tears spring to
my eyes, and my knees drew up to curl helplessly around the stab of
loss in my gut.

Gradually the pain
abated, and I mumbled, “Thanks, I’m okay,” keeping my eyes closed
so I wouldn’t have to face his detached expression. The grip around
my head released, and I folded over to massage my temples, blinking
away the moisture in my eyes.

“Aydan, are you okay?”
Spider’s concerned voice made me uncurl to nod, squinting my eyes
open.

“Fine.” My voice was a
dry croak.

Smith bent to examine
me from close range, and I recoiled from his stench before I could
stop myself.

He held out a hand.
“Let me help you. And let me take you to lunch.”

I blinked slowly,
resisting the urge to stick a finger in my ear and wiggle it
around. Either I’d heard wrong, or I was having a truly bizarre
hallucination.

Why the hell would
Smith suddenly want to spend time with me? I didn’t regret kicking
his nuts up to his necktie after he’d attacked me in March, and I
seriously doubted he’d forgiven me.

I was gaping dumbly at
his bland face and food-stained shirt when Honey turned to Kane,
her beautiful blue eyes drinking him in. “And I’d like to take you
to lunch, too,” she said.

“Thank you, that
sounds nice,” Kane agreed, and they turned for the door, his
fingertips grazing the small of her back as he gestured her in
front of him.

I drew a deep breath
to dispel the ache in my chest. Good. Maybe he’d decided to take my
advice and give it a try with Jack. I took Smith’s outstretched
hand and hauled myself up.

What the hell. The
sooner I dealt with him, the better. It wasn’t like my day could
get any worse.

I was regretting my
decision seconds after I got into his car. The car was surprisingly
clean, but in close quarters his smell was almost overpowering.

Our trip to the cafe
was a silent one. I didn’t give a rat’s ass about making
conversation. I didn’t give a rotting rat’s ass about whether he
liked me, and I especially didn’t give a stinking, syphilitic rat’s
ass about whether he was enjoying himself.

As soon as he tried to
speak, I pleaded an excruciating headache and told him I needed
some silence. When he tried a second time, I reached for the door
handle, fully prepared to fling myself out of the car whether it
was moving or not. That shut him up.

Standing in the lineup
waiting to order, I summoned up a semblance of manners and made an
attempt at conversation, only to discover I hadn’t missed much.
Smith had all the personality of a lard sandwich on white
bread.

When my food was
ready, I carried my tray over to my usual table in the corner and
slid into my favourite chair, my back to the wall. I didn’t wait
for Smith to arrive with his food before I tore into my chipotle
chicken wrap.

I swallowed my pangs
of guilt along with the first few delicious mouthfuls. I knew I was
being a bag, but I wanted him to have a shitty time with me right
off the bat so I wouldn’t have to deal with any uncomfortable
conversations later. Just call it a failure and move on.

And do
not
look
at Kane and Honey deep in conversation in the opposite corner. What
pissy, vindictive bitch of fate had decreed they’d come here,
too?

Smith dropped into the
chair across from me, eyeing my bulging cheeks.

“Better?” he
asked.

“Yeah,” I mumbled,
embarrassed at my own rudeness in spite of myself. “Sorry, I was
starved.”

“It’s all right.” He
leaned forward, giving me that intense gaze again, and I resisted
the urge to straighten out of my hunched position to get farther
away from him.

His eyes darted
sideways as if assessing the room before he leaned still closer to
whisper. “Has Robert contacted you?”

This time I did pull
away. Jeez, buddy, get the hell out of my face.

I swallowed my
mouthful. “Robert who?”

“Shhh! Keep your voice
down,” he hissed. “
Robert
. Your
husband
.”

He was lucky I’d
swallowed that last bite, or he’d have gotten a prime view of all
its masticated glory inside my gaping cakehole.

I closed my mouth and
summoned up my wits. “My husband has been dead for nearly three
years.”

“No, he faked his
death,” Smith argued.