The Spy Is Cast (41 page)

I pulled into the
parking lot and spoke his name quietly. He started violently, fists
clenching.

“It’s okay,” I
soothed. “We’re at the restaurant, that’s all.”

He blew out a breath.
“Shit, did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah. You needed
it.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed a
hand wearily over his face. Then he glanced up at the restaurant
sign and turned to me with a slow smile. “Is this a hint,
darlin’?”

“Maybe.” I grinned
back at him.

We got out of the car
and went into the tiny sushi restaurant we’d visited in the spring.
As before, the sushi chef greeted him warmly, and we took our usual
seats, our backs to the wall.

We ate a leisurely
meal, and I was glad to see some colour return to his face. We
didn’t talk much but the silence was comfortable. As we sipped tea
after the food, I reached for his hand.

“Do you want some
company tonight?” I studied his face, trying to read him. “It’s
okay if you just want to be alone, though.”

His fingers tightened
on mine. “I’d like some company, darlin’,” he said quietly. “Might
feel kinda empty at my place tonight.”

I squeezed his hand in
sympathy. “Maybe he’s hiding.”

He said nothing, and
we left the restaurant in silence.

When we arrived at his
door, Hellhound squared his shoulders as he pushed his key into the
lock. His foot went automatically to the crack of the door as it
swung open, but no furry face appeared. I put my arms around him,
feeling his pain as if it was my own.

We were about to step
into the apartment when a lock clicked behind us. We swung around,
tensing reflexively.

A wizened face with
birdlike black eyes regarded us through the crack of the
neighbouring door.

“Arnold! Good heavens,
young man, what have you done to yourself?” demanded a high,
cracked voice. “You look like something the cat dragged in.”

I winced inwardly at
the unfortunate choice of words, but Hellhound gave a tired smile.
“Hi, Miz Lacey. I just got in a bit of a scrap. Nothin’ to worry
about.”

“Didn’t I warn you
that you’d come to grief some day? All the music and drinking and
fast women.” The door didn’t open any further, but the sharp black
eyes raked him through the narrow gap. “Well?”

“Well, what, Miz
Lacey?”

“Where are your
manners, young man? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Miz Lacey,” Hellhound
said patiently. “I’d like you to meet Aydan Kelly. Aydan, this is
Miz Emma Lacey.”

“It’s nice to meet
you,” I said.

“It’s a pleasure to
meet you, too,” she replied. The eyes rose a couple of inches as
she drew herself up proudly. “I’m a retired schoolteacher. I’ll be
eighty-nine years old in September. Arnold drives me to my
appointments and takes me out to buy groceries. And I look after
John Lee while Arnold is away.”

A spasm of pain
crossed Hellhound’s face, but his voice was even as he said, “It
was nice talkin’ to ya, Miz Lacey. We gotta be goin’ now.”

“Not so fast,” she
snapped. “I have something of yours. I’ll give it back if you
promise not to be so careless with it in the future.”

Hellhound looked
puzzled. “Sorry, Miz Lacey, what’ve ya got?”

“This.” The door swung
open, and a large furry body darted into the hallway, bumping up
against Hellhound’s legs and purring like a tractor.

Hellhound fell to his
knees and scooped Hooker up. The big cat squirmed up his chest and
wrapped both front paws around Hellhound’s neck while the purring
redoubled.

My knees let go, too.
I threw my arms around both of them and buried my face in
Hellhound’s shoulder. It took a few moments for me to regain my
composure. Finally, we both stood, and I furtively wiped my
eyes.

“Thanks, Miz Lacey,”
Hellhound said gruffly, his face hidden in Hooker’s long fur.
“Where’d ya find him?”

“Wandering the halls,”
she replied tartly, but her face was soft as she watched the
reunion. “You should be more careful about leaving your door
open.”

“Yes, ma’am,”
Hellhound agreed. “I will. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome,
Arnold.” The door clicked closed, and we stood for a moment in the
hallway, listening to the purring.

Hellhound turned
toward his own apartment like a sleepwalker. I followed him inside
and locked the door behind us.

“Do you want me to
make some coffee?” I headed for the kitchen to give him a
minute.

“No, thanks, darlin’.
But I could sure use a beer. Grab one for yourself, too, if ya
want.”

I took my time getting
the beer. By the time I returned to the living room, Hellhound’s
face was split by an enormous grin. He muttered fond abuse into the
twitching ears while he roughly massaged the big cat’s scruff.
Hooker tucked his scarred nose into Hellhound’s beard and rumbled
with purrs.

“He musta slipped out
the door when those two dirtbags came in,” Hellhound said. He ran
his hand tenderly over the long fur. “Goddammit, ya big dumb-ass
hairball, ya scared the shit outta me.”

I set the beer down
beside Hellhound’s favourite chair and curled up on the sofa
opposite. As Hellhound sat down, Hooker apparently decided he’d
been sufficiently welcomed. He jumped down, wove through my ankles
once as I petted him, and then padded into the kitchen. His
demanding meows informed us that his dish was empty.

Hellhound chuckled as
he got up again, and I heard the tinkle of dry cat food hitting the
dish. Water ran as the water dish was refilled, too, and then
Hellhound rejoined me in the living room.

He collapsed into his
chair with a sigh that sounded like it came from his toes, and took
a deep swallow of his beer. Then he reached down beside his chair
for his guitar. I drank some beer, too, watching him while he held
the guitar.

His hands caressed it
like a lover, and I smiled. He always referred to the guitar as
“she”. He’d once told me she was the most faithful relationship of
his life, and I had no difficulty believing it.

He glanced up and
returned my smile. “Don’t feel much like singin’ the blues tonight,
darlin’.”

He bowed his head over
the instrument and his fingers danced over the strings. An
intricate classical piece made me catch my breath. I
surreptitiously dabbed my eyes again at the sight of his beautiful,
uninjured hands.

I sat spellbound, my
beer forgotten while he finished the piece and began another,
utterly absorbed in his music.

My beer was warm and
Hooker was asleep on the sofa beside me by the time Hellhound
looked up as if waking from a dream. He smiled. “Ya ain’t drinkin’
your beer.”

“Neither are you.”

He laughed and raised
the bottle in a toast. I matched it, and we each chugged back the
rest of our respective bottles. Hellhound lay back in his chair and
let out a thunderous belch.

“Oh, yeah?” I
demanded, and let fly with one of my own. I joined in his laughter,
giddy with euphoria.

I sobered. “You should
probably check the place over and make sure nothing’s missing.”

He shrugged. “Nah. I
don’t give a shit. I got the only two things I care about, right
here.” He caressed the guitar again, and nodded toward Hooker.
“Well.” He paused. “Three things.” He gave me a slight bow from his
seated position. “Sorry, darlin’.”

“It’s okay.” I
chuckled. “I’m honoured to be included in such illustrious
company.”

“Ya should be.” He
played a blues riff on the guitar and looked up with a wicked grin.
When he started to play again, I recognized the lead-in. His raspy
voice teased my ears as he began to sing. “I want a long-legged
red-head woman, oh, but she won’t treat me right…”

I got up from the
sofa, and he laid aside the guitar. I slid into his lap and
whispered against his ear.

“She’s going to treat
you so right tonight.”

I woke in the morning
to a heavy weight on my chest. Hellhound mumbled and made a sleepy
grab for me as I lifted his arm and slid out of the bed.

“Back in a flash,” I
whispered, and headed for the bathroom, smiling at the memory of
the night. Even in his sleep-deprived state, he’d still been
amazing.

By the time I
returned, Hellhound was reclining against the headboard, sheets
thrown back. I stopped in the doorway to appreciate the view. He
might not have a handsome face, but his newly muscular body was all
that he’d promised.

“Like what ya see,
darlin’?” he growled in his rough morning voice.

“Oh, yeah,” I
breathed. “Like what you see?” I stretched and tossed back my hair,
running my hands down my body.

His growl got deeper.
“Come on over here, an’ I’ll show ya how much I like it.”

I prowled toward him,
pointedly eyeing an outstanding portion of his anatomy. “I can see
how much you like it.”

“Come a little
closer.”

When I neared the bed,
he lunged and grabbed me around the waist, pulling me on top of
him. I squealed and pretended to struggle, rubbing against him.

His eyes got hotter as
he rolled over and pinned me to the bed. “Now I got ya right where
I want ya.”

His lips traced my
collarbone, then drifted down to my breast. As his tongue teased
me, I arched against him, opening my legs to beg for his body. One
of his hands glided down to begin a leisurely exploration. The hot,
sweet tension began to coil up inside me.

He moved up to kiss me
again, just the right amount of tongue while his hand continued its
magic.

I moaned and reached
for the tantalizing hardness pressing against my thigh. He caught
my hand gently.

“I wanna pace myself,
darlin’. Lemme do a little somethin’ for ya first.”

Those fabulous fingers
did their work, and every muscle in my body tightened as my breath
came faster.

“Ya got such a hot
body,” he growled in my ear, his raspy voice caressing my eardrum
while his hands caressed my body. “D’ya like this?”

I gave myself up to
his touch. “Oh, yeah… Oh, Hellhound… Oh…
baby
…!”

He chuckled. His hands
moved knowingly. “D’ya like this?”

I gasped wordlessly,
teetering on the edge.

Through half-closed
lashes, I saw him watching me with dilated eyes. His adept fingers
never faltered. My breath came faster, rising moans on each
exhalation.

“D’ya like this?” he
growled as he did something truly exquisite.

The dam burst, and I
bucked against him in helpless, mindless ecstasy. As the spasms
slowly subsided, he propped himself above me and leaned down to
kiss me slowly.

“D’ya like this?” he
whispered as he slid hard inside me. The world contracted to pure
sensation and the sound of my own cries as he rocked into that
perfect rhythm again.

The sun was blazing
through the cracks in the blinds by the time I opened my eyes again
and flopped over limply. I propped myself shakily up on one elbow
and twisted around.

“What?” Hellhound
croaked, his face still half-buried in the pillow.

“I’ve got a condom
wrapper stuck to my butt.” I held it up as he laughed.

He plucked it out of
my fingers and tossed it down beside the bed. “I’ll pick ‘em up
later.” He rolled over and pulled me on top of him. “You’re gonna
break me with the cost of condoms alone, darlin’.”

I leaned down and
kissed him. “Hey, a love machine like you, I figured you’d get them
for a bulk discount or something.”

“I think you’re
overestimatin’ me,” he laughed.

I did some exploration
of my own. “No. Definitely not overestimating you.”

He groaned, beginning
to move to the lazy rhythm of my stroking. “Keep doin’ that, an’
we’re never gonna get outta this bed.”

“Sounds good to me.
But I won’t keep doing that if you don’t want me to,” I teased. I
trailed my lips down his chest, then lower. “What if I do this
instead?”

His body tensed under
me. “Jesus, darlin’,” he gasped. “If ya do that, it’ll be over in
seconds.”

“I told you I was
going to treat you right. Let me do a little something for
you.”

A long, steamy, shared
shower and another emptied wrapper later, I kissed him goodbye at
the door.

“See ya later?” he
asked.

“Hope so. Maybe sooner
than later.”

“That’d be good,” he
agreed.

I looked into his
heavy eyes. “Go back to bed.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. The
door swung closed between our sated grins.

I floated down the
hallway and out to my car, fell into the driver’s seat, and smiled
all the way home.

Back at my desk after
supper, I surveyed my workload with chagrin. I’d planned my
schedule based on a five-day work week. I’d lost three workdays and
two weekends. And I’d taken on Spider’s website clients.

I spent the rest of
the evening trying to catch up. After a week of strung-up nerves,
my bookkeeping tasks seemed soothing but unreal. A sense of morbid
anticipation hung over me, and I twitched at the slightest creak of
the house. In bed alone that night, I slept restlessly and woke
twice, screaming.

In the morning, I
dragged myself out of bed, rubbing scratchy eyes. I pushed my head
under the shower before stumbling into the kitchen for breakfast,
only to find the last few slices of my bread had gone mouldy. I
cooked some oatmeal instead and slogged to my desk.

At lunch time, a brief
survey of my fridge convinced me it would be a good idea to eat in
town before going to do the books at Up & Coming. I changed my
clothes and was heading out the door when my cellphone rang. I
checked the call display.

“Hi, Spider.”

“Hi, Aydan.” His voice
still sounded tired. “Do you have time to come by the office
later?”

“Sure, any time after
two-thirty. I’m seeing a client at one.”