The Importance of Being Alice (29 page)

He blinked at me, glanced at the clock, and then looked back down at me. “No.”

“Damn.”

He smiled then, a smile that lit up his eyes, and filled me with warmth that I knew was permanent. “We will have to try again. And keep trying, until we get there.”

“Absolutely. I'm so glad you see the benefit of not spending hours at this.”

“You really are the most amazing woman,” he said, laughing a little as he rolled off me, pulling me until I was draped partially over him. “I will do my utmost to fulfill your every desire.”

“You already have,” I said, pulling up the blankets,
and snuggling into him. “Except for the nipple clamps, and we'll get there in time.”

Life, I decided as we drifted off to sated, happy sleep, could not be any better.

But three hours later, I had a chance to bitterly regret those words. I stood shivering naked, awkwardly clutching a blanket to myself, while I watched my husband get dressed at gunpoint.

“I don't understand,” I said for what must have been the fifth time in as many minutes. “Why are you doing this?”

“You explain it to her,” Deidre said. She was dressed in a black pullover and black pants, and had her hair pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail.

I looked from her to Laura, who was holding the gun on Elliott while he pulled on his clothing. “Is this some sort of a weird joke that Gunner set up? Because I have to say, I don't think it's very funny.”

“It's no joke, Alice. And I'm sorry that you had to be here to see this—I was hoping that we might be able to accomplish this without you witnessing it, but there's no help for it. We can't have you talking, you see. It wouldn't go down well at all.”

I shook my head. “I really do not think this is funny—”

“It's not a joke,” Elliott said, slipping on his shoes before standing up. He seemed to be much less fuzzy-minded than me. I was still having issues processing the fact that one moment we had been sound asleep, and the next Laura and Deidre had prodded us awake with identical guns, and a demand that Elliott get dressed. He turned to face the two women. “I don't know what you think you're doing, but I assume you're kidnapping me, no doubt in hopes for a big ransom.”

“We're not kidnapping you for ransom, darling,” Deidre drawled, her eyes eating him up. For some reason, that really irritated me. Not only had she seen Elliott naked, but now here she was ogling him right after dragging him out of our bed. “Our handler wishes to talk to you. To find out just who you are, and who you work for.”

“Handler?” Elliott's eyes narrowed. “You're joking.”

Deidre waved her gun carelessly. “I never joke about work, darling. Now if you'd be so kind as to disable the alarm, I believe we'll be on our way.”

“Elliott?” I asked, a sudden cold chill coming over me that had nothing to do with the fact that I was naked, and everything to do with the suddenly frightened look in his eyes.

“Your lover boy and I are going to take a walk,” Deidre told me, her teeth flashing in a cruel smile. “Since I'm a romantic at heart, I'll allow you one last farewell.”

“What is going on?” I asked Elliott, my eyes on the two women.

“They're . . .” He stopped, then made an abbreviated gesture. “For lack of a better term, spies.”

“
They
are?” My mouth dropped a good inch as I stared at Laura. “But . . . how can that be? Laura?”

“Sorry, Alice.” She gave a shrug. “I didn't want you to find out, I really didn't. But this was too good of an opportunity to miss. Once we told our handler about Elliott, he very much wanted us to bring him in for interrogation.”

“Is everyone in the whole world a spy but me?” I demanded to know, a headache suddenly blossoming at my temples.

“Who do you know who is a spy?” Elliott asked me. He had moved ever so slightly, I couldn't help but notice, shifting a bit to the side in a way that blocked me from
Laura. I suddenly realized a number of things, none of them good. Laura's oblique references to me meant she was going to shoot me. They couldn't have a witness running around, so she planned to shoot me right then and there.

“I thought you were my friend,” I told Laura, moving to the side so I could level a real quality glare at her. “I would never have told you about Elliott being a spy if I thought you were going to turn out to be one yourself. Oh! You're a bad spy! You're working for bad people, aren't you? Oh my god, how could you do that? You seemed so nice!”

“I
am
nice,” Laura said, giving me an annoyed look. “I'm very nice, and I did apologize. But business is business, and capturing a British agent is just too good of an opportunity to let slip through our fingers.”

“What the hell is this about me being an agent? I'm not an agent. I'm a writer,” Elliott said loudly. “I write books about spies; I'm not one myself.”

“You're not?” Was he lying to protect his cover? Or was he telling the truth? I thought back over the time Laura and I had followed him. “But you met with Gunner in Cologne. You gave him a mysterious paper, and you told me he was a spy.”

The look Elliott gave me was filled with questions. “When did I say that?”

“In Cologne. You said he was an industrial spy.” I clutched the blanket around me with fingers that were white with strain. “What was I to think but you were one, too? You knew all that stuff about spies, and Laura agreed with me—oh! That was because you knew what a spy would do, wasn't it? You used me to follow Elliott!”

“We were just trying to discover if he was worth
pursuing or not,” Laura answered, not looking the least bit contrite.

I couldn't help but look at Deidre, who made a face. “Don't worry your little head about me, darling. I have no interest in Elliott other than what he'll bring us in terms of reward. I prefer the other team, as a matter of fact.”

“Well, hell,” I said, feeling extremely jaded, among other things. “So let me get this straight—you're not a spy?” I asked Elliott.

“No. You really thought I was?” He moved slightly to the right, once again blocking Laura. This time, I didn't move aside.

“I did. But you have to admit that you helped it along by being mysterious, and saying what you did about Gunner.”

“I was joking. He's a photographer, not a spy.”

“Oh, Elliott,” I said, and moved toward him.

Laura protested, but I said, as I clutched him, “If you're going to kill me and take Elliott to god knows what horrible foreign place to be tortured, then you can at least give me a minute to kiss him.”

His eyes were worried as I leaned in to kiss him, whispering as I did so, “You take Laura. I'll go for Deidre.”

He didn't even get a chance to protest. Just as our lips touched, Laura stepped forward to break us up. I threw myself to the side, whipping the blanket from around me, and flinging it and me onto Deidre, sending her stumbling backward into the heavy wardrobe. I had taken her sufficiently by surprise that I caught her off guard, but she recovered quickly, at least quickly enough to fire her gun. It bucked beneath the blanket as we fell to the ground. Pain burned along my rib cage, but I didn't pay it any mind. I
had to get that gun away from her no matter what, and I wasn't going to let a little thing like being shot stop me.

“Ah, I see I'm a little late for the evening's activities.”

The voice that spoke was male, coolly arrogant, and so familiar it had not only me stopping just as I was going to tackle Deidre, but everyone else in the room whirling around to look at the door.

Anthony stood there, a large gun in his hand, and a little smile that did not at all match the glint in his eyes.

“Drop the gun, please, Deidre.” He lifted his own. It had a long extension on it that I recognized from TV as being a silencer. “I deplore violence, but that doesn't mean I won't hesitate to shoot you if I have to.”

“What the—,” Laura started to say. She looked in confusion at Deidre, who was glaring at Anthony, but as the latter leveled his gun at her, she snarled something rude and tossed her weapon onto the floor.

“And you,” Anthony said, looking at Laura. “On the floor, please.”

Laura said something very rude, but also tossed her gun onto the floor.

“OK, now I'm lost,” I said, hobbling over to Elliott. “Why is Anthony standing in your bedroom with a gun on two women who are supposed to be travel agents but are really spies?”

“I suspect that is because there is more to comrade Anthony than appears,” Elliott said, giving him a speculative glance. “MI5 or 6?”

“I work for a branch of the latter, one concerned with tracking domestic espionage,” Anthony said, nodding toward the sisters. “We've had our collective eye on these two for some time. Now, my dears, if you will just lie down on the floor with your hands behind you . . .”

Elliott, clearly intending on helping Anthony, started toward him, but the blanket that was covering me got caught on Elliott's foot, and sent him stumbling forward between Deidre and Anthony before falling to his knees in a tangle of legs and blanket.

That's when all hell broke loose.

Laura lunged for Anthony, doing an odd sort of cartwheel toward him that ended with her kicking him in the face, which in turn sent him reeling backward until he slammed into the wall, and slid to the floor in a dazed heap. Meanwhile Deidre, grabbing the gun from the floor, turned back toward me.

I jerked enough of my blanket from under Elliott so that it caught Deidre behind her ankles. She fell forward, and I leaped on her, using the fact that she was immobile to grab her head and bash it against the wardrobe a couple of times until she lay still. I spun around, intent on helping Elliott.

He was dealing with Laura, attempting to get the gun that was pointed at his head out of her hands. I grabbed the chair next to the door, and lunged over toward them, slamming it into the backs of her legs. She fell forward, allowing Elliott to knock the gun out of her hands. She struggled against him, fighting and kicking, sending the gun skittering under the bed. Elliott pinned her down, snarling at her to stop fighting.

“Deck her!” I told him, moving over to see how badly hurt Anthony was. “Did you see that move she made on Anthony? She clearly knows all sorts of martial arts, so just knock her out!”

“I've never struck a woman!”

“Now is not the time to be chivalrous!” Anthony was out cold, but breathing, and hopefully not injured too
seriously. I got to my feet, dancing around Elliott and Laura, the chair clutched in my hands while I waited for an opportunity to smash it down over Laura's head.

Elliott looked up at me. His eyes widened, then narrowed when he turned back to Laura. With great precision, he captured her arms, and pressed one hand against her neck. She fought him tooth and nail for the count of ten, then suddenly went limp.

“I knew that Vulcan death grip would come in useful one day,” he said with satisfaction as he got to his feet. “Old MI5 agent once taught it to me. I had no idea it was a real thing. Alice, my love, how bad is it?”

“How bad is what?” I looked down at myself. I was still naked, but now my entire left side was covered in blood. In a rush, the burning pain I'd felt earlier returned to me, leaving me breathless and wobbly. “Holy crapballs, I really was shot.”

The world seemed to tilt to the side, then got very dark and scary. At least it was until I heard Elliott's voice calling from a long way away, and felt his warm arms around me, keeping me from sliding into nothingness.

“So Anthony had been following Laura and Deidre all along? That whole business with the socioeconomic impact of tourists was bull?” I asked Elliott some three hours later. He held out a sweater for me, which I carefully put on.

“Evidently his cover is quite valid, but it is a cover.” Elliott helped me get settled in a wheelchair. “He was suspicious when they started becoming interested in me—and we have to talk about that at a later time—so he used that cover to account for the river trip.”

“But why did he leave to go back to England?” I shook my head when Elliott wheeled me out of the
cubicle I'd been given. “Laura and Deidre were still on the boat.”

“Evidently he left Dahl on board the ship to watch them. He felt that if they were that interested in me, one or both would go back to England to find me, and he wanted to be a step ahead of them in that situation.”

“So Dahl was in it, too?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. I would have never guessed that they are anti-spy dudes. I mean, they're so eccentric! Or at least Anthony is.”

Elliott smiled as we emerged into the waiting room, one I knew very well. “I think you're going to have to reform your idea of what a covert agent is, my love. Ah, there is everyone.”

We spent a few minutes being greeted, and reassuring the family that we were both fine.

“Well,” Gunner said, holding the door open for Elliott to wheel me out of the emergency room. “At least you had a wedding night. I hope it was good enough to hold you for—how long did the doctor say you would need, Alice?”

“A couple of weeks,” I said sadly. I wanted to slump in the wheelchair, but the bandages around my side were too tight.

“We must all be thankful that you weren't hurt seriously,” Rosalyn said. She was on the other side of Elliott, Patrick and Jane at her heels. “I can't imagine what those evil women thought they were going to do with you, but I'm just glad that your friend was there to save you.”

Elliott and I exchanged a look. We'd decided to let Anthony take all the credit for the capture, since neither of us wanted more attention than we were already receiving.

And that was pretty copious considering that all of Elliott's available family had come with us to the hospital, although I hadn't remembered any of that, having fainted in the very best style of heroines who lived in castles.