Chapter 42
My heart turned a jubilant cartwheel at the sight of six feet of perfectly-sculpted male muscles.
“Dante!” I flung myself at him and he staggered back under the onslaught of my hug, his hands flying up as if to defend himself. Ignoring his apparent discomfort, I hugged him even harder. “Thank God…” I could barely form words around the enormous relief expanding in my chest. “Thank God… You’re okay! What…”
Holt’s cynical voice interrupted me. “So you are doing a porn video. Where’s the camera?”
I released Dante and stepped back a pace, heat rising in my face as I took in the rumpled bedcovers and the mostly-naked man in front of me. Dante’s sleep-tousled black hair and five o’clock shadow made him look even more breathtakingly handsome than usual, and the bruised cut on his cheekbone gave him a deliciously rakish air. Generously filled bikini briefs riding low on his perfect hips completed the sex-god image.
After a moment of sheer mindless appreciation, I remembered my spy training and drew a breath of chagrin mixed with relief. Thank God the bathroom door was open and the rest of the room offered no place for anyone to hide. It was only dumb luck that I hadn’t jumped into a room full of enemies who were using Dante as bait.
“Who is he?” Dante asked, indicating Holt with a hesitant gesture. His slightly-accented voice was as sexy as ever, but anxiety sharpened its edges.
“It’s okay, he’s a friend,” I said hurriedly.
Dante backed away. “I’ve had enough of your ‘friends’. Please leave now.”
Holt leaned one shoulder against the door jamb, eyeing Dante. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dante spared him only a glance before turning back to me. “Did James Helmand send you?”
“No, he’s dead.” The words were out of my mouth before I could consider whether a lie might serve me better.
“He’s…” Dante staggered backward to sink onto the bed. After a deep breath he finished, “…dead?”
“Yeah, dead,” Holt confirmed. “As in, cold, stiff, and not breathing. What’s it to you?”
“He… uh…” Dante shook his head as if recovering from a punch, then focused on Holt. “Would you please either leave or come in? At least close the door.”
Holt slouched farther into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. “You’re a famous underwear model. Why so modest all of a sudden? Aren’t those your working clothes?”
Dante glanced down at himself, frowning. “It’s not the same…” He shook his head. “Never mind. Aydan, who is this… person? Why are you here? Did Benoit send you? Or John?”
Holt’s gaze sharpened. “John who?”
My stomach clenched. Please don’t say what I think you’re going to…
“John Kane,” Dante said with an accusing glance at me. “Your ex.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. The single syllable floated small and alone on a sea of silence. My heart felt equally small and alone in my chest.
“Benoit has been checking on me every day,” Dante went on. “But he couldn’t make it this morning so John came instead. I suppose he told you I was here. I should have known not to trust him.”
I still couldn’t speak.
Holt took over, his cover identity slipping smoothly into place. “Yeah, that’s why we’re here. I’m Greg Holt, Realtor, and I’m a friend of Aydan’s.” He stepped forward to shake Dante’s unresisting hand. “Benoit and John couldn’t come tonight, so they sent us instead.”
“To tell me James Helmand is dead,” Dante repeated as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “And I’m safe. I can go home now.”
“Sure. You just have to check in with the police first,” Holt said. “They’ve been looking for you since Friday when you didn’t show up for your photo shoot.”
“Oh, no.” Dismay crinkled Dante’s forehead. “Benoit said he would tell the police that James had kidnapped me and threatened to torture and kill me. He said he’d let me know as soon as James had been arrested and it was safe for me to go home. He must have…” His frown deepened. “…forgotten to report to the police? But that doesn’t make sense… oh, no!” Fear paled his cheeks. “Could James have killed Benoit for rescuing me?”
“No, Benoit is fine,” I said automatically. Then my beleaguered brain caught up with his last statement. “Wait, Benoit rescued you?” I demanded.
“Yes. James pushed into my house and beat me…” Dante’s fingertips brushed the bruise on his cheek with a shudder. “…and forced me to go with him. Just a few minutes after he’d locked me in a room, another man sneaked in. He said his name was Benoit and he was there to rescue me. He brought me here, and he’s been keeping the room under his name ever since so I could stay hidden. I was only waiting until after James had been arrested,” Dante repeated worriedly. “I didn’t know what else to do. Benoit said James would find me if I contacted anybody else.” He returned his gaze to me, his tone cooling. “Especially you.”
“Why ‘especially’ Aydan?” Holt prompted with interest.
“Because that’s why James kidnapped me. He said he was going to torture and kill me to get revenge on Aydan.” Dante shot an accusing look my way. “If I’d known he was interested in you I wouldn’t have been so… forward… last year. You should have told me.”
“I… I’m… sorry…” I choked, unable to think of any plausible excuse that didn’t include classified information. “I, um… As far as I knew he was only interested in Nichele. I don’t know what his problem was.”
Dante frowned. “I’m sorry to say this, Aydan, but please don’t call me again, and stay away from me from now on. I don’t like the company you keep.”
Bitter laughter tried to leap from my mouth. If only he knew.
“I’m really sorry this happened to you, Dante,” I said instead. “And I promise I’ll stay away from you.”
“It might be smart not to tell anybody about John coming here, or about Aydan finding you, either,” Holt added, sounding convincingly concerned. “If you mention their names it might bring you more trouble from their weirdo friends. Just tell the police you saw on the late news that Helmand had been murdered so you knew it was safe to come out of hiding.”
“Thank you,” Dante said gratefully. “Please go now, and I’ll call the police right away.”
I moved toward the door, my mind still reeling. What had Kane been doing here? This didn’t look good…
“I’m so sorry about all this,” I repeated.
“I forgive you.” Dante’s tone was cool. “Goodbye.”
Head hanging, I trailed out behind Holt.
In the parking lot, he turned to me with a nasty grin. “Good job finding your boyfriend. One of your boyfriends, anyway. It’s too bad this one dumped you, though, ‘cause your other boyfriend’s going to prison for a long, long time.”
Too tired and disheartened to wrangle with him, I mumbled, “Lucky I’ve got a third boyfriend for backup, then”, and trudged off to my car, leaving him standing there open-mouthed.
All the way back to Hellhound’s apartment I wrestled with my conscience. Holt had undoubtedly already called in to Stemp, so it wouldn’t help to leave Kane’s involvement out of my report.
Maybe I could spin it somehow, so it didn’t look so incriminating.
But should I?
What if I had been wrong about Kane?
No, dammit, there had to be a good explanation. I knew it.
Back in Hellhound’s apartment, I cuddled Hooker for moral support while I hit the speed dial for Stemp.
When his crisp voice came on the line after the first ring I said, “It’s Aydan. I’m sorry to bother you so late; Holt’s probably already told you everything…”
“He did check in,” Stemp agreed. “But I’ve been waiting for your report. Please go ahead.”
I began with the motorcycle chase and told him everything exactly as it had happened. It felt like a betrayal of Kane but I did it anyway, salving my stinging conscience with the knowledge that falsifying my report wouldn’t change what Stemp already knew anyway.
When I was finished, Stemp said, “So, since Kane did not indicate to Olivieri that James was dead-”
“I bet he didn’t know!” I interrupted eagerly. “I told you somebody was framing him for James’s murder!”
“Or perhaps Kane did actually kill James but chose not to inform Olivieri,” Stemp said, his tone as detached as always. “Kane was clearly acting at Riel’s behest, and they might have been conspiring to hold Olivieri as potential leverage on you.”
“But…” I began, but Stemp kept talking.
“At this time we must assume Kane has been compromised. More than twenty-four hours have passed since you discovered his involvement at Harchman’s. An agent of his calibre would have found a way to check in by now if he was, in fact, acting in our best interests.”
“But he did try to check in, and Holt screwed it up!” I clenched a fist in my hair, wishing it was Holt’s throat. “Didn’t he tell you?”
“Holt reported that Kane attempted to contact you, but Holt believes Kane is trying to compromise you, and that your judgement is clouded by your personal attachments.”
“Holt’s an asshole!” The words snapped out before I could stop them. I jerked my temper to heel and added, “Which is true; but he’s also wrong. If Holt hadn’t started shooting at Kane, we’d have that paper and we’d know exactly what was going on.”
“Or you would have some marginally plausible excuse to cling to,” Stemp said with surprising gentleness. “Tell me, what could Kane do to make you stop trusting him?”
Stricken dumb, I stared at the worn shelves sagging under the weight of Hellhound’s vintage record collection.
When had I started trusting Kane so much that I believed in him no matter how egregious his actions seemed?
“I thought so,” Stemp said after a moment. “Like you, I still want to believe that Kane is acting in our best interests; but unlike you, I will not wait for him to betray us in order to verify that. You are compromised by your personal feelings for him.”
“I’m not-”
Steel entered Stemp’s voice as he talked over my incipient protest. “Riel is attempting to obtain a classified weapon, and if Kane is aiding him in any way, that is treason. If the weapon is subsequently used against innocent civilians, it’s treason, terrorism, and premeditated mass murder. And Holt reported that you obstructed his efforts to capture Kane. Twice. If Kane is proven guilty, you will be charged as an accessory and subjected to the full penalty of the law. Holt has orders to subdue and detain you if you interfere again.”
Claustrophobic terror clamped an icy fist around my throat, and hot anger leaped up to combat it. “I did not interfere!” I barked. “I was nowhere near Holt’s line of fire when he was shooting at Kane. And I didn’t tell him about the side road that let Kane escape, because you’d just ordered me to avoid collateral damage to civilians. Holt was driving at two-forty on a rural highway in the dark. It’s a miracle we didn’t kill somebody. I had to let Kane get away, to end an unsafe pursuit.”
When Stemp spoke again, he sounded weary. “That will be for the tribunal to decide, if it comes to that. Let us hope it doesn’t. Meanwhile, I’m placing Holt in charge of your mission. If you fail to follow his orders, you will be charged with insubordination and obstructing justice in addition to any other charges you may face regarding your collusion with Kane.”
The click of his disconnect sounded like the closing of a prison door.