No One Lives Twice (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery) (16 page)

Finally we were ready for the lesson. Lars walked us through a no-belt routine and then we practiced something called the roundhouse kick. Lars held a bag and we all kicked it. The first time I tried it, I almost broke my toe. But Lars told me I needed to kick with the flat part of my foot. I did it and felt really empowered.

“You’re a natural,” he informed me.

“I bet you tell all the girls that,” I quipped.

He grinned and in spite of myself, I felt proud. At least I was still standing.

When the lesson was over, I left the studio, glad I had brought a small towel. I dabbed at my face and the back of my neck, unsurprised to find I had sweated profusely. It had been one heck of a workout. I drove with the top down, enjoying the warm summer breeze. There was something about physical exercise that made a person feel good. I vowed to do it more often.

Because I felt empowered, I swung through the McDonald’s drive-thru and ordered a caramel latte. I drank it on the way home, singing along with the radio to an old tune by Genesis. I swung into my apartment complex parking lot and locked the Miata up tight.

Arriving at my apartment, I stripped, went into the bathroom and turned on my CD player.

Enrique Iglesias was on, so I sang along with him while I soaped up my hair and wailed about being a hero at the top of my lungs. I towel-dried my hair, wrapped the terrycloth around me and exited the bathroom combing my wet hair and holding the towel around my body.

Slash sat on the corner of my bed.

I screamed and nearly dropped the towel. Luckily I dropped the comb instead.

“Is this an Italian thing?” I hissed, trying to calm my galloping heart. “No knocking?”

“I happen to be Italian-American,” he corrected, his dark eyes glittering. “One of the perks of the new job.”

My heart was still thundering. “Yeah, well when in America, do like Americans do. Knock on the damn door.” I was mad because he’d nearly scared the pee out of me and because I was standing half-naked in my bedroom in front of a guy I’d met just last night.

“I did knock,
cara.
You didn’t answer and then I heard this horrible screeching noise. I feared for your safety, so I came inside and tracked you to the bathroom where you apparently were
not
being threatened within inches of your life by a psychotic madman, but were singing. Since I was already in, I sat down and made myself comfortable. By the way, why do you have such a thing for Enrique Iglesias? He is such a…boy.”

I flushed red, wondering just how long he had sat out there listening to me belt out Enrique’s tunes. Sheesh, why couldn’t I have put on something agelessly cool like The Rolling Stones? Then at least I could have been singing about getting satisfaction instead of wanting a hero.

“I will
not
discuss my taste in men with you,” I retorted. “I don’t even know you. Besides, I didn’t know what time you were coming. I just got back from karate and had to shower.”

I snatched some clothes from the floor and darted back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. “Let me get dressed and I’ll be right out,” I called through the door.

“Take your time,
cara,
” he said graciously.

I hadn’t happened to grab a pair of underwear or a bra, so I shoved my naked butt into a pair of jeans and very carefully zipped them up. Then I tugged on a T-shirt, hoping my nipples weren’t standing at attention. I walked barefoot back into the bedroom, my hands determinedly on my hips. Damn it, this was my place and I was taking charge.

Slash still sat there, waiting patiently on my bed dressed in a navy blue weightlifter’s T-shirt, jeans and a pair of sandals. No holster today and I wondered if that meant the FBI had tagged along. His thick hair hung loose to his shoulders.

“So, you really know karate,” he commented approvingly.

I noticed an expensive black leather briefcase sitting next to his feet on the floor. “Yeah, so watch it, buster,” I bluffed, raising my steely gaze to meet his. “Consider these arms and legs killing machines.”

He grinned. “Show me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Show me your moves.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

He shook his head and I liked the way the light glinted off the strands of his black hair. “I’m not kidding.”

“I don’t think so. What if I hurt you?” I wondered about the penalty for injuring a national treasure.

“I’m quite capable of protecting myself,” he said and I thought there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Come on,
cara,
I want you to show me what you can do.” This time he used a very commanding tone of voice. Like people didn’t say no to him very often.

As I stood there undecided, he slipped off his sandals and flicked his hands toward me in a come-hither gesture. I couldn’t take my eyes off his feet. I never knew that feet could be so sexy, but this guy had amazing ones and I don’t even have a foot fetish. Or at least I think I don’t.

“I’m not sure about this,” I said, finally raising my gaze to meet his.

“Scared?”

“Of going to jail if I accidentally hurt you.”

He took some kind of defensive position and waited. I remembered how easy it had been to step and kick that bag that Lars had held. If I pretended that Slash was that bag, maybe this karate thing wouldn’t be so hard. I concentrated, took a deep breath, stepped forward to give him my best roundhouse kick.

In less than a nanosecond, he’d grabbed my foot and kicked the other one out from underneath me. Before I knew it, I was lying flat on my bedroom floor atop a pile of my clothes, looking up at the ceiling. Slash lay partially on top of me, effectively holding me down with just a fraction of his weight, his muscular forearm resting lightly against my windpipe. One push and he probably could have crushed it. He wasn’t even breathing hard.

He looked at me for an interminably long time, his dark eyes searching mine. Then his lips twitched. “You’re not a black belt.”

“Like,
duh,
” I said from my undignified position. “I only said that because I thought you were a homicidal maniac out to rape, maim and torture me.”

He laughed and I pushed his arm aside and sat up, miffed. “You can stop laughing. I had my first karate lesson tonight. I feel like an idiot.”

He stood and stretched out a hand. I took it and he pulled me to my feet. “You had courage,
cara,
” he said, still holding my hand. “Impressive. A wise man would be careful of your moves.”

“Then why weren’t you?” I sniffed, still hurt he’d made such a fool of me.

“Good question…and it may yet get me into trouble,” he murmured and then released my hand.

As he moved, I noticed a small gold cross swing out from beneath his shirt. For some reason, the sight of it surprised me. Perhaps because it seemed out of place on a man who practically oozed sex, mystery and danger. Apparently there was more to Slash than met the eye.

He sat back down on the corner of my bed. “So how was your day? Run into any suspicious characters?”

“Except for you, no,” I said, still grumpy he had shown me up. “I heard you met with the Zimmermans.”

Slash patted the mattress beside him, so I sat down, too. “
Si,
it was a most interesting meeting. I have to thank you for bringing us together.”

“You’re welcome, I guess.”

“The twins told me of your suspicions about CGM and Bright Horizons. When you get into trouble, you get into it big,
cara.
”

“It wasn’t like I was out looking for it. It just kind of found me.”

“Then it seems trouble is quite adept at finding you. Let’s talk about Acheron.”

So the twins had told him about that, too.

“There’s not much to talk about. For some reason, Basia penciled it in code at the bottom of page three of the document.”

“I took a crack at it myself,” Slash said. “I agree that this is the best translation. But what do you think it means?”

“I have no idea.”

“No operation at work sound similar?”

“None that I’m working on.” I ran my fingers through my damp hair.

“I looked around a bit today and found nothing. I will deepen my search.”

I didn’t know exactly what he meant by a deeper search, and probably didn’t want to know. “I’m not even sure what I’m looking for even if we do get into CGM or Bright Horizons,” I said.

“We are working on that. It will not be long. If they have something on Acheron in their files, we’ll know it soon enough.” He paused for a moment. “But I did come up with some very interesting information connected to Bright Horizons from a few other databases.”

I realized it would be in my best interest not to ask which databases he’d been poking around in and Slash didn’t offer to tell. “What kind of information?” I asked.

“Does the name Hasan El-Karan mean anything to you?”

I thought for a moment. “No. Should it?”

“What about Ahmad Fahil?”

“International affairs were never my strong suit,” I admitted. “Is there any reason why I would know these people?”

Slash studied me for a while, then shrugged. “They were bodyguards in the service of His Royal Highness Mahir Al-Asan of Saudi Arabia.”

At the mention of Al-Asan’s name, I gasped aloud. Slash looked at me strangely. “You know that name, then?”

I nodded. “Yes. In fact, I just heard of him tonight. From a guy who works for CGM.”

Slash looked at me as if I had completely lost my mind. “What? You’re talking openly to someone on the inside at CGM?”

“Well, sort of,” I admitted. “He contacted me yesterday looking for Basia. He was the one who sent her the documents for translation in the first place. He thinks there is something fishy going on at Bright Horizons.”

Slash looked at me incredulously. “And you believed him…just like that?”

I started to feel defensive. “Hey,
he
came to
me,
and
he
was doing most of the talking. I learned lots of useful stuff about CGM.”

Slash swore under his breath. “You didn’t tell him you still had the documents electronically, did you?”

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t tell him about Acheron either, so quit acting like I did something illegal.”

“Foolish is more like it.”

“Hey,” I protested. “Now you’re getting personal.”

“Well don’t you think it is coincidental that he happened to contact you the day after the documents are mysteriously stolen from you? How did he find you?”

“He worked with Basia and I guess she talked about me. My connection to her is no secret. It was a logical extrapolation that I might know where she is.”

Slash didn’t look pacified in the slightest. “Who is this man?”

“His name is Finn Shaughnessy. He’s a lawyer for the company.”

“A lawyer?” Slash exclaimed, followed by what I think were swear words in Italian.

I held up my hands. “Hey, I know it sounds bad, but he’s a
nice
lawyer,” I explained and then couldn’t believe it myself that the words “nice” and “lawyer” had come from my mouth. “Look, Finn is convinced there’s a cover-up going on in the company. He’s genuinely worried about Basia and has been trying to get to the bottom of it, at great risk to himself I might add.”

“You are unbelievable,” Slash muttered.

“All right, that’s it!” I said in a huff. “I can handle this myself.” I was getting tired of everyone acting like I didn’t know what I was doing—even if it were true.

Slash rolled his eyes, sighed and then patted the bed. “Sit down,
cara.
No need to consider this a big problem. Perhaps we can use this lawyer to our advantage.”

“That was my plan all along.” I sniffed, sitting back down.

Slash took a deep breath. “All right. What does he know about Al-Asan?”

I told Slash everything Finn told me, including Basia’s flight to Berlin possibly to rescue her cousin Judyta Taszynski, the apparent connection of Al-Asan and Judyta to the Bright Horizons contract, and the fact that CGM had hired a private detective to find Judyta. Slash listened intently, and about halfway through my story, stood up and started to pace.

He paced for another few minutes and I watched him walk back and forth across my bedroom floor, absently trampling my clothes, underwear and assorted junk. Finally he stopped and looked at me as if remembering I was there.

“Do you think this Finn Shaughnessy would help us?” he asked.

“Maybe. What did you have in mind?”

“An encryption-breaking program. The twins and I could write it and he could load it onto the network via his computer at work.”

“You want him to break into his own company files?”

“Is he looking to protect himself or not?” Slash asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I guess, but what we’re asking him to do is illegal. He is a lawyer after all. And if we get access to the network, the files we need may still be encrypted.”

“Trust me,
cara,
the encrypted files will be the easy part. We’ve got to crack the network first. Will you ask him or not?”

I hesitated. Somehow I was casting a wide net, dragging not only my friends, but people I barely knew into murky criminal waters. “I suppose I can ask,” I finally said. “
If
the twins agree it’s a good idea. However, I can’t guarantee he’ll do it.”

Slash shrugged. “If he doesn’t, we are no worse off, and we must then determine why he refuses to help. If he does agree to do it, you mustn’t tell him where you got the disk.”

“Because you don’t exist.”

Slash smiled. “Exactly.”

I suddenly felt vulnerable, scared and tired. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore, including the dark-haired man pacing my bedroom. Was he really who he said he was?

Slash must have sensed the change in me because he walked over to me and put a light hand on my shoulder. “You’re still not sure of me.”

I frowned, hating the fact that my thoughts were so transparent. It was time to work on my poker face.