Chapter Twenty-Two
One minute James’s warm kisses had curled Quinn’s toes, and the next she was ice cold with dread when he informed her they were being followed by an unknown stalker. “What?” she asked in a strangled whisper. Her head jerked, but she refrained from whipping it around to scope out their tail.
“There’s a guy behind us. I’ll explain it all later, but right now you have to do exactly as I say.”
Her stomach tightened. “Okay.” She kissed him again and hoped it conveyed the confidence she had in him.
Based on his smile, she could tell he received her message loud and clear. When they started walking up the sidewalk again, he appeared to be helping her stay warm by wrapping her in the left side of his coat and keeping her snuggled to his side. Her arm remained under his coat and around his waist. “Unholster my Sig and hold it by my hip.”
“Okay.”
She kept her gaze fixed on the glowing stoplight at the intersection ahead and lifted the hem of his shirt. When her frigid fingers brushed against his warm skin, he grimaced. “Sorry. My hand is cold.”
“No worries.” He hugged her closer and kissed the side of her head. Was it for her benefit or the guy behind them?
That would have to be sorted out later. She curled three fingers around the grip, gave it a tug, and lifted the pistol from the holster. Careful to keep her index finger away from the trigger, she pointed the barrel down and off to the side, away from James’s body.
“Got it.”
“Good. And thank you for not shooting me in the ass.” She knew he was kidding, but she didn’t miss the slight strain in his voice.
Despite their dangerous circumstances, a number of highly inappropriate responses regarding James’s backside flooded her brain. She judiciously pushed them aside and instead replied with a simple “Mmm-hmm.”
“If he runs up to us before we get to the corner up ahead—”
“He’ll wish he hadn’t.” Amped up on a gallon or so of adrenaline and the lingering effect of James’s kisses, she knew she could put a bullet in their stalker without breaking a sweat.
“Once we’re around the corner, give me the Sig and you take the briefcase. Then go find a doorway or a pillar or something to hide behind. Got it?”
“I want to be there to help if you need me.”
“I know you do, but I’ve got this.” He looked down at her, his eyes pleading. “I need you safe. I can’t bear to lose—”
“You won’t.” As she uttered the words, though, she realized as much as she wanted to help, she couldn’t allow her actions to distract him or cloud his judgment. She needed him to be safe, too. “I’ll hide.”
His anxiety faded and determination settled over his features. “Thank you.”
Quinn’s senses sharpened as they reached the corner building. They turned the corner, stopped, and switched briefcase and gun.
“Go.”
She scanned the area for a place to hide. The wall ran another twenty yards down the sidewalk to two squat pillars marking the entrance to a courtyard. That was exactly where James would want her to go, but she rejected it as too far from him. The same went for the hotel across the street. She eyed another spot, an offset in the wall of the stone foundation. It wasn’t much, but it would do. She raced to the niche, wedged herself into it, and flattened herself against the wall.
The rough texture of the stone scraped at the back of her head. She stared up at the sky and controlled her breathing. Fifteen feet to her left, James had his back pressed against the wall. He ratcheted back the slide of the Sig, chambering a round and waited to pounce on their stalker.
First she heard a grunt, then an “oof” accompanied by the sound of a body slamming against the wall. Quinn peeked around the edge of the stone. In the shadows, she could just make out the dark form of a man pinned to the wall with James’s forearm on his throat. Edward Walker was a Girl Scout compared to James.
“Why are you following us?” James’s growl was feral and frightening.
“I’m not,” came the strangled reply.
“Yes, you are. When we stopped, you stopped. Why are you following us?”
When he didn’t answer, James rammed his knee into the guy’s gut. He gagged and coughed.
“This is your last chance. Why are you following us?”
“I was at the Bird and Baby and saw you with an old book. I reckoned I’d nick it from you and sell it for a few quid. That’s all.”
“I don’t like it when people lie to me, mate.” James shoved the muzzle of the Sig against the man’s cheek. “Try again.”
Quinn heard a click when James cocked the pistol’s hammer back. “I’ve got all night,” he said, adding more pressure to the man’s throat. The guy clutched wildly at James as he fought for breath. “You, on the other hand, have got thirty seconds.”
Unintelligible noises came from the stalker.
“You’re going to tell me the truth this time?” He eased up at the nod. “Talk.”
The guy sucked in a rasping lungful of air before croaking, “You’re barking.”
“And you’re dead.”
The finality of James’s words did it. “It was my uncle,” he blurted. “He rang me and said he’d pay me to follow that professor lady around.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
James lowered his shoulder and rammed it into the stalker’s chest. “Why?”
He expelled a weak groan. “I don’t know. I swear.”
Quinn believed him. James must have, too, since he dropped the question and asked, “When did he call you?”
“This past Sunday.”
“What exactly did he tell you to do?”
“Follow the bird around. If she met up with anyone, I was to follow them to wherever they went and report back to him.”
“Why you?”
“I do odd jobs for him sometimes. My mum’s always on him to help me pick up a few quid.”
“What’s his name? Your uncle.”
Silence.
“What’s his name?”
After another bout of choking, he said, “Maltman. Hamish Maltman.”
“Who does he work for?”
“I dunno. Some bloke by the name of Fitzgerald, Fitzroy. Something like that.”
Quinn felt the blood drain from her face.
“Did you tell him you saw us?” The fury in James’s voice had turned to panic.
Silence.
James grabbed a fistful of the stalker’s jacket, jerked him away from the wall, and slammed him against it. “Does he know about us?”
“Yeah.” Despite the abuse he was taking, Quinn could hear the sneer in his voice. “I sent him a few snaps of the both of you from my phone.” He turned his head and spat on the pavement. “You’re a lucky bastard. That blonde you were snogging back there. She’s a looker. I wouldn’t mind taking a turn—”
James smashed him in the face with a fist. The guy crumpled to the sidewalk.
Quinn bolted from her hiding place and sprinted over to James. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He decocked his pistol and returned it to its holster. “We gotta secure this punk and get out of here.” He glanced up and down the street, weighing their options.
She looked down at their stalker. He was a skinny kid with light brown hair that looked like it had been cut with a weed whacker. She guessed he wasn’t more than twenty.
“I think you busted his nose,” she said. Quinn had the feeling the bend in it hadn’t been there a minute before.
“Yeah, well, he’s lucky that’s all I busted.” James knelt down and rifled through the pockets of the kid’s jeans. He left the ring of keys but took the flick knife and dropped it in his coat pocket. James hauled him over onto his stomach, took his wallet from his back pocket, and checked his ID. “Ethan Burns, London.”
In his other pocket was an Oyster card, a train ticket, and his phone. “He took the train from Paddington this morning and got here around nine. That part of his story checks out.” James stuffed the ticket and card back in his pocket and clicked on the phone. It was locked. After shoving it back into Ethan’s pocket, he jerked his head toward the courtyard and asked, “Can you help me drag him over there?”
“Yeah. He doesn’t look very heavy.” She knelt on the other side of Ethan and followed James’s lead by hunching over, draping a limp arm around her neck, and gripping his wrist. When James counted to three, they stood. She was right. The kid was a flyweight.
Ethan’s chin hung to his chest and his feet dragged behind him as they lugged him down the sidewalk. The black wrought-iron gate into the courtyard was locked, so they dumped him in the dark corner where the fence was secured to a short pillar.
James opened his briefcase and took from it a pair of disposable zip-tie handcuffs. He stuck Ethan’s hands through the fence on either side of one of the metal posts and tightened the cuffs around his wrists. Ethan wasn’t going anywhere.
Before standing, James took the small pistol from his ankle holster, pointed it at Ethan’s thigh, and pulled the trigger. A tranquilizer dart stuck up from his leg. “We don’t want him waking up and making noise before his ride comes.” He grabbed the briefcase and jumped to his feet. “Let’s go.”
As they walked at a near jog away from Ethan, James took his phone from his pocket, stabbed at the screen with his thumb, and placed a call. “Homefront, this is Buffalo Bill,” he said, and rattled off a string of letters and numbers. “I have a guest who needs an escort to our resort. I’d like him to have the full spa package. Pickup location is the front gate of the Ashmolean Museum. Also need feeds scrubbed from that intersection and a covert protection detail for Dr. Gemma Dudley. Annie Oakley and I are on our way back to the ranch. Full report to follow.” After a brief pause, he said, “Roger that. Out.”
He looked over at Quinn. “We need to catch that train. Are you up for double time?”
“Always. Just don’t make me chant any cadences.”
“Next time,” he said as they set off.
It felt good to move and not think, to concentrate on her breathing and the sound of their boots on the sidewalk. Soon enough, her head would be flooded with questions and attempts to sort through the implications of everything that had happened that evening. Until then, she’d run.
A few minutes later, they arrived at the train station, warm and panting from exertion. They walked straight onto the nearly empty platform to wait. James’s gaze flicked from face to face to door to bench to shadow, never resting on anything for more than a few seconds.
Quinn found herself noticing every movement and every sound, too. What if Fitzhugh had sent men to intercept them? The idea of a shootout at the Oxford station made her a bit woozy.
Fortunately, they only had to wait a few minutes before their train arrived. They boarded the last carriage. James led them past the compartment’s only other occupants—a couple of amorous teenagers—to the very back row of seats. That way, no one could come up on them from behind. Quinn took the window seat and James sat on the aisle.
When the train pulled away from the station, James relaxed, but only slightly. She knew he would remain extravigilant until they were safely back in their hotel room.
“Do we need to move to a different hotel?” she asked.
“At this point, that’s not necessary. Fitzhugh will recognize me as someone who stole from him. He knows I—we—are in England now, but he can’t possibly know where we’re staying. And no one else is trailing us now.”
“Are you sure? One of Fitzhugh’s men would be better at it than that little snot Ethan.”
He bristled. “I know when someone is shadowing me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .” She closed her eyes and rubbed her hands over her face, fighting to maintain her composure. Her throat tightened and she could barely speak when she whispered, “Never mind.”
His head bowed and he heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders and gently drew her close. “I shouldn’t have taken that personally. Of course you’re concerned that we’re still being followed.”
She shifted, turning a little to nestle into his embrace. “It’s okay. It’s been a really long day.”
“It has.”
Neither seemed interested in discussing manuscripts or Latin or Crusaders. There would be plenty of time for that when they returned to London. Instead, they rode in comfortable silence. The movement of the train and the steady rise and fall of James’s chest calmed her.
Quinn’s mind wandered until it tripped over something she’d heard him say earlier. “James?”
“Hmm?”
She turned her head and looked up at him. “Why are you Buffalo Bill?”
His crooked smile nearly did her in. When she realized her lips were only a couple of inches from his jaw and all she could think of was kissing him, she forced herself to face forward again.
“I graduated from the University of Colorado in Boulder,” he said.
“That’s where you’re from? Colorado?”
He nodded. “A Denver suburb.”
Quinn sat forward and twisted to look at him. “Wait a second. The waitress when we went to dinner in Santa Monica. Molly. She really did recognize you, didn’t she? She said something about Colorado.”
With an embarrassed grimace, he answered, “Yeah. I think she was in one of my classes at CU.”
“That’s pretty funny that she knew you after all.” She settled against him again. “Buffalo Bill. Please continue.”
“Right.” He shifted so that her shoulders were solidly resting against his chest. “CU’s mascot is the Buffaloes. Some genius at the agency thought it would be hilarious to call me Buffalo.”
“Not Ralphie?”
“Of course you would know the name of the actual buffalo that runs across the football field,” he said, chuckling. “And yes, Ralphie was floated. I got them to compromise and call me Buffalo Bill. It helped I could claim there’s a Buffalo Bill museum not too far from where I grew up.”
“I think buffaloes are pretty majestic, although technically they’re bison.”
“Of course you know that, too. Also, they’re shaggy and smell bad.”
“Yeah, there’s that. I guess I’m Annie Oakley because she was in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show?”
“Mmm-hmm, but it’s mostly because I bragged about your gun-handling skills in a report, and word got around fast.”
She looked up at him again. “People at the agency know about me?” Of course Aldous Meyers, James’s superior, knew about her, as did the brass that had approved of her accompanying James to England. It was weird to think that she’d shown up on anyone else’s radar.
“They do.”
“But you’ve never even seen me fire a weapon. I might be a terrible shot.”
He snorted. “You may not be able to do all the trick shots Annie Oakley did, but you’re still the daughter of a Marine, a Marine who taught you how to shoot.”
“True.” Mollified, she faced forward again.
An easy quiet fell over them. Now that the adrenaline was gone, she felt like a wrung-out dish towel. She stared trancelike out the window at the darkness.
“Quinn?”
“Hmm?”
“We need to talk about what happened earlier.”
“You’ll have to be a little more specific than that.”
He sighed. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
“No.”
“Fine. I mean when we stopped and I kissed you.”
“Ah.”
“Maybe I should have handled it differently. It’s just that I knew I’d only get one chance to make a first impression and I wanted to make a good one.”
Heat crawled up her neck and spread across her cheeks. “Yeah, um, you definitely did that. Made a good first impression, I mean.”
“That’s good to know. And in case you were wondering, so did you.”
Now her entire head flamed hot. She wondered if he noticed the crimson scalp under her blond hair. “I’m glad.”
“But as amazing as it was, the thing is—”
“We need to put the brakes on. We’re deep into this op and need to stay focused.” Not to mention the temptation of engaging in a hot and heavy make-out session in a hotel room.
“Yeah. Are you okay with stepping back to where we were three hours ago?”
“Sure, as long as you and me sitting like this is okay.”
“This is definitely okay.” After a moment, he said, “Who knows? If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll be followed again soon.”
She giggled. “Fingers crossed.” She fiddled with a button of her overcoat and said, “It’s too bad you’re sure we don’t have someone tailing us right now.”
He rumbled a low growl and his arm squeezed her tight. “You know, now that you mention it, I’m not so sure after all. I think those teenagers a few rows up turned around and looked at us a minute ago.”
She was pretty sure they had never once even come up for air. That wouldn’t stop her from playing along, though. “They do look pretty dangerous.”
His lips grazed her ear when he whispered, “We need to take evasive action in the face of this credible threat.”
Every inch of her body tingled. “Who am I to argue with a professional?” She twisted, slipped her hand behind his neck, and pressed her lips to his. Their first kiss had been unexpected and confusing and powerful. The deliberate, slow burn of this kiss was equally thrilling.
The urge to intensify it swelled. She angled her head and deepened the kiss.
The arms cinched around her rolled her body into his.
His mouth slid from hers and left a trail of kisses along her jawbone to her ear. He kissed the sensitive spot behind her earlobe and smiled against her skin when she softly purred.
She was so engulfed by James she didn’t notice when the train stopped at the next station.
The doors slid open and at the first sound of boisterous laughter, James tensed and lifted his head. She looked up and watched the four twentysomething men who boarded flop into seats three rows ahead.
James shot Quinn an apologetic smile. “Duty calls.” His eyes darted between her to the new passengers.
“I understand.”
He made no move to release her from his embrace and she had no intention of pulling away. She rested her head on his shoulder.
An unexpected sense of peace fell over her. Perhaps it came from the knowledge they were safe, if only for a little while, isolated on a train rolling across the dark English countryside. Perhaps it was the security of knowing a highly skilled CIA operative watched over her. Perhaps it was knowing the man she cared for deeply felt the same way about her. Whatever the reason, she embraced the momentary tranquility, closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.