Spy High (28 page)

As we neared the other side, I scanned
the forest without seeing anything but trees and ferns. My skin
prickled with the uncomfortable recollection of the marchers and
their glinting weapons. I really hoped those hadn’t been
bayonets.

We stepped off the bridge and strolled
down the gravelled road, and I tried not to let my head swivel
anxiously. My palm began to sweat in Hellhound’s light clasp. If
the rest of Ratboy’s group hated women as much as he did, this
might be a really bad idea for me.

Hellhound leaned down to brush his lips
across my cheek. “Ya okay, darlin’?”

“Yeah…” My voice came out sounding
unconvinced. “Maybe we should-”

“Halt!”

Adrenaline spiked into my veins as
Hellhound and I wheeled to face the challenge behind us.

Oh shit, those were bayonets all
right.

Two of them. One for each of the
glowering men who were blocking the road back to the bridge.

The crunch of gravel yanked my
attention in the opposite direction in time to see two more armed
men step into the road to box us in.

Clinging to composure with all my
might, I stared at the four bearded men surrounding us. Their
bayonets gleamed in the sun, the dark abyss of each gun muzzle
gaping behind the silvery threat.

Hellhound wrapped his arms around me,
placing as much of his bulk as possible between me and the weapons.
“Hey, now,” he said mildly. “Think we got a bit of a
misunderstandin’ here. We’re just out for a walk. Musta taken a
wrong turn or somethin’. We’ll just go back the way we came.”

“You’re trespassing,” the nearest one
snapped.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Hellhound agreed.
“We ain’t from around here an’ we didn’t know. We’ll just go now,
an’ we won’t bother ya again.” He began to ease us in the direction
of the bridge.

The crunch of rapidly approaching boots
on gravel made us all stiffen.

A moment later a tall man in a
military-looking tunic strode around the corner. When he took in
our little tableau his brows snapped together. “What is this?” he
demanded.

Our captors didn’t exactly snap to
attention, but they straightened respectfully. “Trespassers,” the
spokesman rapped out.

“I see.” The tall man scowled at us for
a moment before bursting into laughter. The armed men exchanged a
glance and regarded him warily. A moment later he stopped laughing
as though a switch had been thrown. He waved a regal hand at the
men, his mouth still smiling without diminishing the coldness of
his eyes. “Good joke. Well done. Dismissed.”

Our captors let out nervous laughs and
shouldered their weapons to march away, casting uncertain glances
back at us.

When they had disappeared around the
corner, our rescuer chuckled again and slapped Hellhound on the
shoulder with a display of teeth that fell short of a smile. “Sorry
if you were scared. We’re just running some war games today and we
weren’t expecting visitors.”

His arm chummily across Hellhound’s
shoulders, he steered us toward the bridge, still holding onto his
mirthless smile. “Here you go, then, no harm done. But you should
stay on your side of the river. Our members take their sport quite
seriously and I’d hate to see anyone frightened or… hurt.”

“Yeah. Ya wouldn’t want that.”
Hellhound’s voice came out in a hard rasp, but I squeezed his hand
warningly and he said no more.

“Sorry,” I babbled, making no attempt
to hide the quaver in my voice. “We’re so sorry, we didn’t mean to
trespass. Thank you for coming to get us. We won’t bother you
again, I promise.”

“No harm done,” he repeated. “Have a
good day.” The cordial words were so incongruous with his chilly
eyes that I might have laughed if I hadn’t just narrowly avoided
becoming a shish kebab.

“You, too,” I piped brightly, and towed
Hellhound across the bridge at a considerably brisker pace than
we’d used earlier.

I kept up our hurried retreat until
trees blocked our view of the bridge. Then I trailed to a halt and
half-collapsed against Hellhound.

His arms enfolded me, strong and steady
as ever, and he passed a gentle hand over my hair. “Okay,
darlin’?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I mumbled into his
chest.

“Well, that was interestin’,” he said
reflectively.

“That’s one word for it.”

“So I guess ya were right, they’re some
kinda paramilitary club.” I looked up to see him frowning, his gaze
focused on the ghosts of the past. “I’ll never figure out why the
fuck anybody’d wanna pretend they were in combat,” he muttered.

“Because they don’t have a clue what
it’s really like,” I guessed.

“Mm. They oughta join up for real an’
do some good, ‘stead a’ marchin’ around in the bush with toy guns
like a buncha fuckin’ overgrown kids.”

“Yeah…” I suddenly caught his meaning
and gave him a sharp look. “Wait, toy guns?”

“Yeah.” Hellhound dragged his gaze out
of the distance to focus on me. “Those carbines were just
replicas.”

“Shit.” I drew a deep breath and eased
it out slowly. “I didn’t even look at their guns. I was too busy
watching their bayonets. Don’t tell me those were fake, too.”

“Nah, they were the real thing. M9s.
That’s what the U.S. military used to use before they switched to
the OKC-3S.”

I attempted a grin. “How smart am I to
pick a weapons specialist for a lover?” My grin didn’t last long as
the memory of the shining steel slipped back into my mind like a
cold blade between my ribs. “I’ve never seen a real bayonet up
close before. They looked like big survival knives.”

“Yeah, ya can take ‘em off an’ use ‘em
for that. The OKC-3S looks a lot like a Ka-Bar knife,” he replied
absently, his brow still furrowed in thought. “Ya said they had
dummies in their training field,” he added. “So they musta been
usin’ ‘em for bayonet practice.”

“That’s creepy.” I shuddered. “God, I
can’t imagine stabbing somebody with a bayonet. Brrr.”

Hellhound regarded me with bemusement.
“Darlin’, I watched ya shoot a guy’s face off. Seven rounds,
point-blank. I’ve seen ya kick an’ punch an’-”

I waved a hand to silence him. “I know,
but that was different.” At his frown of incomprehension, I tried
to explain. “I can shoot a person if I have to, but sticking a
knife in somebody…”

I trailed off at the memory of my knife
plunging into flesh. The heavy drag of the blade slicing through
muscle. The spurt of bright arterial blood…

The horror gripped me as if it had been
yesterday and I shuddered again. Only Stemp and Dr. Rawling knew
about that. No need to share.

“I guess I’m just not the stabby-slashy
type,” I finished lamely.

Hellhound chuckled. “Okay, darlin’, if
ya say so.”

The queasiness still clung to me like a
clammy shroud, and I tamped down another shudder.

Time for a distraction.

I summoned a smile. “Come on, there’s
something I want to show you.”

A slow answering smile curved
Hellhound’s lips. “Sounds good. I’m ready to see anythin’ ya wanna
show me.”

My next smile came easier, and I nudged
him in the direction of the main building. “You’re going to like my
surprise, but sorry, it won’t give you a hard-on.”

His grin widened. “I dunno, darlin’, it
doesn’t take much to do that when you’re around.”

“That’s what I like to hear. I’ll test
that theory later.” I slid an arm around him, bumping gently
against him as we walked. “God, it’s so good to have you here.” My
words came out on a long sigh. “It’s been a hell of a long four
months.”

His arm closed around my shoulders.
“Glad ya don’t mind that I came.”

“Mind? Are you kidding? I’ve been
hoping for months that you’d come for a visit.”

“…oh.” His word held an odd intonation,
and I halted to frown up at his unreadable expression.

“What do you mean, ‘oh’?” I demanded.
“Don’t worry, I’m not asking you for a commitment or anything. I
just missed you, that’s all. Friends do that.”

He smiled and dropped a kiss on my
lips. “That ain’t what I meant. I missed ya, too. I just thought…”
He hesitated, studying my face. “I knew Kane was visitin’ ya, an’ I
thought maybe… well, I didn’t wanna show up an’ mess up anythin’
between ya.”

“Arnie…” My heart squeezed and I
reached up to cup his face in my hands. “Why do you always think
you should take second place to John?”

“He’s my brother, an’ I owe him.” He
shrugged, avoiding my eyes. “But it ain’t just that, I just… I
don’t figure I got the right to spoil things if the two a’ ya can
make a go of it together. I can’t give ya a commitment. He
can.”

I planted my fists on my hips. “No, he
can’t. His job has to come first. Remember how he had to get
married to maintain his cover at Christmas?”

“
What?
” Hellhound’s incredulous
bark morphed rapidly into indignant sputtering. “What the… That
fucker! Got married an’ didn’t tell me… To who? Who the hell did he
marry? Why didn’t he-”

“No, no!” I waved him to silence. “No,
sorry, he’s not married. I didn’t realize you hadn’t seen that part
of the mission report. Sorry. No. I mean, yes, he got married as
part of his cover, but it didn’t last a day. She tried to take us
out with that death-ray thing and he had to kill her.”

Hellhound gaped at me for a moment
before erupting in a bellow of laughter. “Just like Captain Fuckin’
Kirk! Never marry the captain; it’s a fuckin’ death sentence.”

I grinned. “Yeah, something like that.
Anyway, how many times do I have to tell you I don’t want a
committed relationship, with you or with anybody?”

He sobered. “Yeah, darlin’, I know, but
sometimes things change, an’ I don’t wanna be in the way if they
do.”

“Arnie…” I blew out a breath of
frustration, trying to find a way to make him understand. “Look, do
you think I’m the kind of person who’d cheat on a guy if I was in a
relationship?”

“No!” He frowned. “Fuck, Aydan, ya
wouldn’t even ditch that asshole ex a’ yours when he was abusin’
ya. No fuckin’ way you’d play around. Who the hell said that about
ya?”

“You just implied it.”

Hellhound scowled and shook his head,
but I laid a finger over his lips before he could speak. “Listen,
Arnie. If I ever decide I want a relationship with John or anybody
else, it won’t matter what you do or say, you won’t be able to come
between us.”

He stared open-mouthed for a moment.
“Shit, I never thought about it like that.”

“And in the meantime,” I added, “I want
you as a friend-with-benefits whenever you’re available. If that
changes, I’ll tell you. Got it?”

A slow smile illuminated his face.
“Hell, yeah, darlin’. I finally got it.” His smile widened to a
rakish grin. “An’ I’m gonna
be
gettin’ it.
Right-fuckin’-on!”

I mirrored his grin. “Literally.”

He laughed and pulled me into a kiss
that made me forget my own name.

When I resurfaced, breathless, he
smiled down at me. “So what’d ya wanna show me?”

“Uh…” I swam up through the tide of
lust that had submerged me. “You mean besides my bed?”

“I’m good with that.” He grinned. “But
ya said it wasn’t gonna give me a hard-on, an’ considerin’ I’m
gettin’ one just thinkin’ about it, I’m guessin’ your bed ain’t
what ya meant.”

“Oh. Right. No, it wasn’t, but I could
be convinced…”

“That’s one a’ the things I love about
ya.” He brushed my lips with his. “But now ya got me curious. Lead
the way, darlin’.”

“Okay.” I grinned up at him. “You’re
going to like this. Come on.”

As I led him toward the main building,
he asked, “So ya ain’t heard from Kane?”

“No, not since he was here in February,
right before his dad went into the hospital. Has he called
you?”

“Nah.”

I let out a breath. “Shit, I was hoping
he had.” We walked on in silence for a few paces before I burst
out, “Damn, I hate this. He could be anywhere; hell, he could be
dead and we’d never even know. He thought it would be better if we
weren’t working together, but it really sucks not knowing.”

“Yeah, I know, darlin’.” Hellhound’s
arm closed around me. “But he’s been doin’ this for a long time,
an’ he’s dropped off the grid lotsa times before. Try not to
worry.”

“I’m not really worrying, I’m just… I
wish I knew, is all.”

He nodded silently, and I shook off my
mood as we rounded the corner behind the main building. Glancing up
at his puzzled expression with a smile, I whispered, “The surprise
is in that shed over there.”

“What, that ol’ piece a’ shit?” He
frowned at the dilapidated structure. “Looks like it’s ready to
fall down.”

“Not quite.” I put my finger to my lips
and led him over to the door.

When I dragged it open, his jaw dropped
and his face lit up.

“Aw…” he breathed, and knelt as if in
reverence before the ledge containing a nest of wood shavings that
cradled a gray-and-white mother cat with five multicoloured kittens
nestled side by side against her, their tiny paws kneading her
belly while they suckled.

I sat in the shavings beside him,
smiling. “This is Misty. She had her kittens about three weeks
ago.”

“Aw…” he said again, and lowered his
voice to the same husky croon he’d used with Peaches. “Hey, Miz
Momma-cat.” He extended his hand slowly for her to sniff. She
inspected it thoroughly, then offered her seal of approval with a
whisker-rub.

He gently massaged her jaw and she
slitted her eyes with pleasure, then stood and stretched in an
exaggerated arch, stiffly extending first one hind leg, then the
other. Deprived of her warmth, the kittens emitted a chorus of
high-pitched mews, staggering and tumbling clumsily over each other
in search of the missing milk dispenser.

Hellhound’s brow furrowed. “Lie down,
Misty,” he urged. “Your babies need ya.”