Tell Me No Spies (26 page)

“That’ll do.” I
accepted the food gratefully. I paused with the open peanut butter
jar clamped between my knees, then shrugged and rolled up a slice
of bread to drag it through the peanut butter. Hellhound grinned as
I stuffed in a mouthful.

“I was gonna offer ya
a knife for that,” he observed. “Guess ya don’t need it.”

“Got one of my own.
Later.” I wolfed the slice in a few bites and stole a swallow of
his beer to wash it down.

“I’ll get ya a beer,”
he said as I tore into the beef jerky, but I grabbed his sleeve and
shook my head, gulping my mouthful.

“Can’t. I have to be
able to drive.” I swallowed a few more bites before turning back to
him. “Hold still.”

I wrung out the bloody
towel and poured fresh water over it to clean his face more
thoroughly. The wound in his forehead still bled sluggishly, and I
dug into the shopping bag. At least Dave had gotten a good
selection of first-aid supplies.

Taped and bandaged,
with most of the blood cleaned away, Arnie looked marginally
better. He took the wet towel from me and scrubbed at his beard and
moustache.

I pulled two packages
of half-melted peas out of the grocery bag and handed one to him.
“Put this on your face, and give me your hand.” He slouched down in
the chair with a sigh, leaning his head back and draping the bag
over his nose, cheek, and forehead. I cleaned his hand and bandaged
it, then gently applied the other bag to his swollen knuckles.

“Arnie, I’m so
sorry.”

He shrugged and
mumbled from under the peas. “No big deal. Price a’ doin’ business
with these guys.”

“Tell me what
happened.”

“Nothin’. I found a
coupla guys, talked to ‘em, found out what I needed to know.”

I blew out a breath of
frustration. “I meant, what happened to you?”

“Nothin’. Some a’
these guys, ya just gotta talk to ‘em by hand.”

I gave up. “So what
did you find out? Did you find out where Nichele is?”

He lifted the peas off
his face and squinted at me. “Kinda lost interest in that when I
found out Jim’s tryin’ to kill ya.”

“Arnie, we need to
find Nichele.”

“I know, darlin’. None
a’ the guys I talked to today knew anythin’, but I put some feelers
out. Should have somethin’ in the next day or so.”

“Why would James want
to kill me?” I asked. “Unless… he’s trying to get rid of anyone who
can connect him to Nichele.”

“Yeah, that’s what I
was thinkin’,” Arnie agreed. “Guess I’ll be on the list, too,
then.” He lay back and stretched out his legs, replacing the cold
bag on his face.

I bolted upright in
horror. “Oh, no, Arnie, he wouldn’t. You’re his brother. He
wouldn’t…”

“Hell, yeah, he
would.” Hellhound shrugged. “I told ya he ain’t on my Christmas
card list.”

I clutched his hand.
“Arnie, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault…” I froze as another
ghastly thought hit me.

“Oh, no! And Dante
will be on the list, too! Poor Dante, he doesn’t have a clue, this
has nothing to do with him…” I wrapped my hands over my head and
curled into a ball, rocking in sheer misery. “Oh, God, Arnie, how
many innocent people have to suffer and die because of me?” I
clenched a couple of fistfuls of my hair, still rocking.
“Everything I touch, everybody I meet…”

“Shhh, darlin’.” The
peas hit the floor, and Arnie’s arms were warm around me as he
knelt beside my chair. “Shhh. It ain’t your fault. Who’s
Dante?”

“He was at the bar,
too. He’s a friend of Nichele’s. That’s how I got away from Kane, I
pretended I was going home with Dante, and now he’s going to die
because of me, just like you and Nichele and probably Dave…”

The peanut butter and
beef jerky attempted to climb the back of my throat as my stomach
clenched. “Arnie, I can’t do this anymore! I’m going to call Kane.
Maybe he can still stop James. Where’s the phone?” I pulled away
and staggered to my feet, nausea searing my gut.

Dave limped toward us,
looking anxious.

“Slow down, darlin’.”
Arnie rose to take me in his arms, holding me firmly. “Ya ain’t
callin’ Kane. He’s got orders to shoot ya, too, remember?”

“Arnie, I don’t care
anymore! I’m not going to get out of this alive anyway. If that’s
what it takes to save innocent people, then the sooner I’m dead,
the better. Just let me call him and get it over with.” I tried to
twist away from him.

“Aydan, stop!”
Hellhound’s voice was like the crack of a whip, and I froze in
shock.

“We’re bustin’ our
asses here to keep ya alive,” he snapped. “I didn’t get the shit
kicked outta me so ya could lie down an’ die. Dave’s fuckin’
crippled, an’ screwed outta his next haul, too, if he don’t end up
in fuckin’ jail over this, ‘cause he’s tryin’ to keep ya alive. The
least ya can do is try.”

I stared into his
swollen, battered face, sick with guilt, and swallowed hard. “But
you’d both be fine if not for me,” I whispered.

I felt Dave’s hand on
my shoulder, and he came around to stand beside Arnie as he looked
in my face. “Aydan, it’s not your fault.”

“It ain’t, darlin’,”
Arnie agreed. “This’s my fault for leadin’ Jim to ya in the first
place. I shoulda tried harder to shake him. This’s my fuckup, not
yours.”

“We knew what we were
getting into,” Dave put in. “We’re gonna help you.”

“Guys, you can’t…” I
looked from one to the other and gulped back the urge to burst into
tears. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

I turned away to hide
my emotion. “So is your buddy an autobody guy?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“It’s a chop shop,
isn’t it?” Dave demanded.

I turned in time to
see Hellhound’s gaze dart sideways. “I wouldn’t know,” he said
virtuously.

I manufactured a grin.
“You mean you haven’t asked the question.”

“That, too.”

“I wondered why you
were so jumpy coming in here,” I prodded.

“Yeah, well, sometimes
if he’s busy, he don’t like to be interrupted.” Hellhound studied
the ceiling. “Ya know how it is when you’re workin’ on
somethin’.”

“Yeah. Any chance
he’ll be getting any… work… in the next couple of days?” I
asked.

“I dunno, hard to say.
Ya know how it is when ya got your own business, ya don’t always
work regular hours.”

I snorted. “Well, at
least we won’t have to worry about him calling the police.”

“Nah, prob’ly not.
Wanna beer, Dave?”

I smiled at Arnie,
recognizing the peace offering. Apparently Dave was willing to give
it a chance, too.

“Yeah. Maybe it’ll
relax my back. Thanks.”

Hellhound headed for
the front of the bay, and I turned to Dave. “I’m sorry I slammed on
the brakes that way. That must’ve really hurt.”

He shrugged and
shuffled his feet. “It’s okay. You had to do something. Sorry.
Really sorry about the credit card, too,” he mumbled. “Should’ve
known better, I just wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay. Do you
want me to rub your back again?”

He looked up
hopefully. “Would you? That’d be great.”

“Come and lie down on
the couch.” I looked at it a little more closely. “Ew. Maybe you
don’t want to put your face on that.”

“I don’t care.”

He started to lower
himself onto the couch, and I shuddered. “Wait.” I grabbed my
hoodie out of the car and spread it out. “There.”

“Thanks.”

He eased into prone
position and buried his face in the jacket. I perched beside him
and began to knead his back to the sound of his rapturous
groans.

Hellhound returned and
placed Dave’s beer on the floor beside the couch before sinking
into one of the chairs with a fresh bottle of his own. “Jesus,
Dave, d’ya mind? Ya sound like a fuckin’ porno movie.”

Dave grunted. “You
don’t know how good this feels,” he mumbled into the jacket.

“Christ, if it gets
any better, you’re gonna need a smoke after,” Hellhound
groused.

I got up to drop a
kiss on the undamaged part of his face. “You’re just jealous.”

“Hell, yeah, darlin’.
When’re ya gonna make me groan like that?”

“No time soon.” I laid
the cold peas over his grin. “Keep these on until I say you can
take them off. And here.” I placed the other bag over his knuckles.
“Now behave.”

Some time later, Dave
sat up slowly while I rubbed my aching thumbs as unobtrusively as
possible against my thighs. “How’s that?” I asked.

“Better.” He stood and
stretched tentatively. “A lot better. Thanks.”

He made for the
grocery bags, and I turned to Arnie with a pang of concern. He was
still immobile in the chair, his face obscured by the soggy bag of
peas, and he’d been silent the whole time. Not a single smartass
remark. That couldn’t be good.

I lifted the bag off
carefully. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“You’re very
quiet.”

“Just thinkin’.”

“You should eat
something, too.”

“Yeah.” He sat up and
took the grocery bag from Dave. “Sit down, darlin’. Ya need to eat
somethin’ more than a slice a’ bread.”

I eyed the contents of
the bags without enthusiasm. Chips, pepperoni, snack cake, beef
jerky, and pop. Not a scrap of fruit or anything resembling
nutritious food. Guy heaven. At least there was peanut butter and
the loaf of whole-wheat bread. I was touched that Dave had
remembered my breakfast of choice.

“Thanks for the bread
and peanut butter, Dave,” I said, and he flushed and nodded,
looking pleased when I helped myself to another slice.

I drank the last of
the bottled water and sighed, unsatisfied. I got to my feet. “I’m
going out. I should be back in about an hour and a half.”

“Not so fast, darlin’,
where ya goin’?” Hellhound rumbled.

“I need to find a
library or an internet cafe. I need to tell Spider to protect
Dante. Oh.” I stopped as a thought struck me. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Dave
demanded.

“I… uh… just thought
of something. We have to warn Kane.”

Hellhound rose,
frowning. “Aydan, ya promised ya wouldn’t call Kane.”

“I… won’t… But, Arnie,
he was at the bar, too. James saw him, and Nichele knows who he is.
If James is cleaning up, Kane will be on the hit list, too. We have
to warn him.”

“
Shit!
” His
fist clenched. “Goddamn sonuvabitch shit! Who else was there? The
fuckin’ Pope, too?”

I sighed. “No. That’s
it. Nichele, James, Dante, Kane, and me. But I don’t know how
Spider can warn Kane without telling him about us. If Kane finds
out he’s been holding out on him, Spider will be in deep shit,
too.” I groaned and made fists in my hair. “Christ, I’m fucking
Typhoid Mary. One more innocent bystander bites the dust because of
me.”

“Don’t fuck Typhoid
Mary,” Hellhound said solemnly.

“…What?” I caught
sight of the twinkle in his eye and gave him a feeble grin.
“Wiseass.”

“An’ anyway, ya ain’t
goin’ anywhere. Let Dave or me go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

I turned to Dave. “Do
you know how to play World of Warcraft?”

“Uh, what’s World of
Warcraft?”

I turned back to
Arnie. “You?”

He scowled and kicked
his heel at the concrete floor. “Okay,” he growled. “Lemme change,
an’ then we’ll get going.” He extracted one of the new T-shirts
from the shopping bag and yanked the tags off.

“No, you guys stay
here. I’ll just go.”

“Not a fuckin’
chance.” Hellhound shrugged stiffly out of his jacket, held it up
briefly to examine the drying blood, and tossed it on the chair.
The tattered rags of his T-shirt followed, and I took a moment to
appreciate the view before he pulled on the clean shirt.

I trod carefully. “Um,
I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come with me. You and
Dave both need some recovery time.”

Hellhound eyed me with
unconcealed exasperation. “What part of ‘ya ain’t goin’ out alone’
ain’t ya gettin’, darlin’?”

“I’ll attract less
attention if I’m by myself.”

“Aydan, for
chrissake,” he began.

I abandoned subtlety.
“Arnie, you can’t come with me. Look at yourself. You’re a mountain
of tattoos and leather, your face looks like you just lost an
argument with a Mack truck, and your jacket and jeans would be
cleaner if you’d dismembered somebody with a dull axe. If anybody
sees you, they’re going to call the police just on general
principles. I can’t afford that.”

“Well, ya ain’t goin’
out alone.” He glowered down at me.

“Fine, I’ll take
Dave.”

He started to speak,
scowling, and I shot him a warning glance. We locked eyes for a
couple of long seconds before he blew out a breath. “Okay. Tell me
exactly how long you’re gonna be. If you’re gonna be even a second
late, call the shop here. I’ll give ya the number. If ya call from
a pay phone, nobody’ll know to trace it.”

He turned and limped
to the front of the bay, disappearing through a grubby door that
presumably led to an office. In a couple of minutes he was back,
bearing a scrap of paper with a number scrawled on it.

“Now tell me where
you’re goin’. An’ if ya don’t check in on time, I’m comin’ to get
ya.”

I gazed around the
empty bay. “With what?”

“I’ll find a way.
Where’re ya goin’?”

With our itinerary
established, Dave winced back into the passenger seat, and I backed
the car out of the bay and headed for one of the free internet
terminals downtown.

We’d driven for a few
minutes when Dave turned to me. “Uh, Aydan, can I ask you
something?”

“Sure.”

“What was wrong? Back
in the car there? Were you sick?”

“No. If I get too
hungry, I start to shake, that’s all.”

He eyed me
uncertainly. “Yeah, I figured that out the first day I picked you
up. But this was different. You looked like… I dunno, like you were
seeing a ghost or something.”