The Spy Wore Red (17 page)

She inhaled sharply as something stung her eyes and burned her throat. She blinked, fought the yellow mist. But it wasn’t the mist that was smothering her.

She slumped on the sofa, vulnerable to whatever game her companion wished to play, as the odd smell overtook her.

“I saw her,” Holic insisted. “She’s here, Jakob, so find her.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t someone who looked—”

“Don’t question my eyesight. It was Nadja. She was at After Shock. Start there, and search the entire lodge if you have to.”

That was an hour ago. Now in his room, the drugs wearing off a little, Holic was able to collect his thoughts as well as the images he’d seen at the club. The woman in red was Nadja Stefn.

“Why would she be here?” he muttered more to himself than Jakob. “Unless she’s here searching for me.” The idea put a new slant on Holic’s plans. He said, “Do some legwork, Jakob, and do it quickly. Make some phone calls. Narrow down which agencies are gunning for me. And then find her…find Nadja.”

“If she’s here, Mady would know what room she’s staying in,” Jakob pointed out.

“Check the registry, but be careful not to alarm my wife. If her sister is here, she’s probably aware of it.”

But was she aware that Nadja was here looking for him?

The question needed an answer, and Holic was determined to get it. If Mady knew that the brat was Nadja’s and she had lied about it, then she could also be aware of her sister’s affiliation with Quest and why she’d come to Groffen.

No, his wife would have told him if that was the case. Mady loved him above all else. Her loyalty was unconditional.

He would always be her first priority.

Holic waited to hear from Jakob. Two hours passed, and then another, before his henchman knocked on his door. But he didn’t have good news to report where Nadja was concerned. She was no longer at After Shock, or Two Winters, or in the suite she was staying in on the fourth floor.

But he did have a piece of good news. It looked like Holic would have his revenge on the past after all. Jakob had learned that Quest had teamed up with Onyxx a week ago to hunt him down. That the man who was Q’s partner was none other than Bjorn Odell, his old enemy—and the man responsible for crushing his hand was here as well.

“Find out which room Bjorn Odell is in,” Holic ordered. “Quietly, Jakob. I don’t want to spook Odell until I’m ready to make my move.”

Chapter 17

N
adja woke up with Mace Kimball in her line of vision. He was twirling a six-inch knife in one hand, with the dexterity of a circus performer, while holding a phone to his ear with the other.

“Tell him I have her. Tell the bossman she’s as good as dead, just like he ordered. And tell him Odell will be next. I’ve already set the trap.”

Nadja listened as she glanced around. She was tied to a bed, her arms stretched out over her head and lashed to the iron headboard. Her legs had been shackled to the bed as well. Her fishnet dress had been removed.

“What the hell, Kimball,” Nadja said the minute he disconnected and slipped his phone into his pocket. What’s all this? Why am I tied up?”

“You know my name? I’m surprised. In the past five years at Quest I’ve never heard you use it.”

Of course she knew his name. He was one of the “butlers” at Quest, one of the elevator guys who also ran the halls, juggling files and coffee between boardrooms. Kimball was the long-bodied, short-legged one with a receding hairline, and bad gums.

“I don’t really work for Quest, you know.”

“So who do you work for?”

He grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Nadja decided she had just found the shooter. She said, “The shot at the Vienna airport was hurried, Kimball. Bjorn and I both would have been dead if you had eased the trigger instead of jerked it.”

“It wasn’t me, it was the snow conditions.”

“And what was your excuse at Wilten Parish?”

He didn’t like her bringing up his shortcomings. He stepped forward and backhanded her across the face, driving her teeth into her inner cheek. She tasted blood.

“Odell will die today. Within the hour, while you watch. And then…” He slid his hand up her thigh, over her narrow red leather thong, then down her other thigh. “Then you and I are going to get to know each other better—before I kill you, too.” He licked his full lips. “My orders said nothing about not enjoying my job.”

“I had no idea you were such a party boy, Kimball.”

“I like to party,” he acknowledged, “and we will. But not right now. We’ll wait for Odell to show up. I’ve invited him to join us.”

Nadja again checked out her surroundings. If they were in a gaming room at the club that meant it was soundproof, and Kimball had the only key. And by the plush interior and smoky blue paint on the wall, it looked like that’s where they were.

The best she could hope for was that Kimball would grow anxious, or her taunts would get him so over-heated that he would alter his master plan.

“Come on, baby.” She blew him a kiss, concentrated on making her nipples hard beneath her leather bra. “What are you made of, Kimball? I’ve seen all kinds. Long, short, thick, skinny. Which one are you? Come on, big guy, show me your party animal and let’s play.”

Nadja must have struck a nerve. Mace Kimball obviously didn’t have a sense of humor.

She said, “Being overly sensitive isn’t a good sign. Or do I have it all wrong, Kimball? From experience I know what’s hidden in a man’s pants is attached to his ego. And I can well understand that, because I’m a woman and I know what I like. What every woman likes if they’re honest. Here’s a tip, Mace, we like our fun-sticks two ways. Big and…bigger. Which one are you? Or is there a reason for that sober,
limp
look on your face?”

“You’re a bitch, Q. I never did like you,” he said, then he reached for the chloroform rag he’d used on her earlier and shut her up.

Bjorn pulled out of his pocket the note—the one that he’d found under his door when he returned from Tulay Pass. Examining it again, he wondered why Nadja wanted him to meet her in a private room at After Shock? Why not just call him and leave a message on his phone?

His gut told him that something was wrong. That the note wasn’t from Nadja. That’s why he had ignored the time and decided to show up early.

He located game room three, the room designated on the note, but he didn’t knock on the door; he walked past it and found an alcove. He pulled his phone from his pocket and made a call to Jacy.

When his friend picked up, he said, “Do you remember me asking if you could get a floor plan of Groffen? How did you do?”

“I got it.”

“Take a look at it and tell me if the rooms in the underbelly are self-contained and can only be accessed through the front door, or if there’s another entrance and exit.”

“Hang on. Let me pull up the blueprint on the computer.” A few seconds later, Jacy said, “Some of the rooms have false walls that enable the rooms to double in size, and some have secondary entrances.”

“Does room three have a false wall?”

“It does,” Jacy offered.

“Does it join with room four or two, or both?”

“Just two.”

“Thanks. I’ll catch you later.”

Bjorn hung up, then tried door number two. He found it locked and cursed his luck. He backed up and tried room three, turning the knob as gently as he could. It was unlocked, but then he had known it would be. Whoever was inside—and he doubted that it was Nadja—wanted him walking into a trap.

He didn’t go in. He backed off and checked his watch. He was thirty minutes early—that was the only advantage he would have, and it wasn’t much. If whoever was inside was paying attention, he would have seen that doorknob turn.

He pulled his .38 from his shoulder holster and then made his move. He went in fast, and luck was on his side. The man was definitely not expecting him yet. The guy spun away from the bed with his pants down around his ankles. It gave Bjorn an open view of the bed where Nadja lay on her back, tied up. He saw the blood on her lips, saw her breasts uncovered.

By the time he looked back to the man with the short-changed dick, he was staring down the iron sights of a SIG-Sauer.

Bjorn fired, but only after he saw the flash of fire from his adversary’s gun. He felt the sting of the bullet, and that, he knew, was a good sign. Even though he was getting sick of being shot on this mission, feeling the burn meant he was still alive.

The man across the room, however, wasn’t so lucky. He was dead as he hit the floor.

“You killed him. Dammit, Bjorn, now we’ll never know who Kimball was working for.”

“Kimball? You know this guy?”

“He works for Quest. At least I thought he did. But he’s a double agent.”

“There are a lot of them floating around,” Bjorn said as he cut through the ropes that held Nadja prisoner.

She gave him a pissed-off look. “Cute. You can go now,” she said.

She remained on the bed for a moment. Her bruised shoulder hurt and the red marks on her breasts from Kimball’s sick torture made her cringe, but she pushed it aside. This was no different from the other times.

She saw Bjorn staring at the corpse and she wondered what he was thinking. Kimball lay on the floor with a bullet hole between his eyes and his pants down around his brown loafers, his genitals exposed.

On shaky legs, she stood. She felt dizzy from the chloroform, and she locked her knees.

“We needed him alive, Bjorn. A dead man tells no tales, and right now I’d like to hear his,” she said. “I’d like him to sit up and spill. Not more blood, or any other body fluids, just who the hell he was working for.”

“He fired first.”

The words sent Nadja’s eyes toward Bjorn and she saw that he’d been shot, again. Blood was oozing from his arm.

“He shot you.”

“Oh, is that what’s wrong? I’ve been getting creased so damn many times this past week that the color red is starting to look as good on me as it does on you.”

He was staring at her red leather thong, frowning.

“Where the hell were you, or do I have to ask? Where did Kimball get the drop on you?”

“I was here looking for Holic, and guess what. I found him. He’s here.”

She felt good saying that. It made all this worthwhile.

“Still,” Nadja said, “couldn’t you have just wounded him? He was hired to kill us, and I’d like to know by who.”

“Did he admit he’s the one who’s been tailing us since the airport?”

“Yes.” She gave him another annoyed look. “What are we going to do with the body?”

He stepped forward and gently touched her bruised shoulder. “That looks like it hurts.”

“The body, Bjorn? Where are we going to put it?”

“I don’t like you doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“What you do.”

“The body? How are we—?”

“I’ll take care of it later.” He pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, then crouched and riffled through Kimball’s pockets for the key. When he stood, he jerked the sheet off the bed and tossed it over the half-naked dead body.

“Come on. I’ll lock him in and be back later.”

As they left the room, Bjorn put his arm around her. “You need some ice on your jaw.”

“I need a shower worse,” she said.

“Done. And I’ll order you a
mélange.
”

Again Bjorn ignored his gunshot wound to see to Nadja’s needs first. She’d protested when he insisted that they go to his room instead of hers. But he’d held fast to his decision. In the end he swept her into his room and locked the door behind them.

“I have no clothes,” she said. “I—”

“You don’t need clothes. There’s a robe behind the door in the bathroom. I’ll get you some clothes from your room later.”

He walked past her and headed for the bathroom. He turned on the shower, laid out a white towel, and when he came back into the room he saw that she hadn’t moved.

“What’s wrong?”

“Let me see how bad Kimball’s bullet ‘creased’ you.”

“It’s not any worse than the others,” he assured her.

She examined the wound after he slipped off his shirt. “Kimball must be a lousy shot. You’re right, flesh wounds all three of them.”

“Lucky for me.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She angled her head and he pressed for contact. When she inched closer and let go of the blanket he hugged her.

She whispered, “Are you going to make me say it?”

“Not if you can’t.”

She looked up at him. “You have the power to make me forget my name, Bjorn, when you’re touching me. You have a way of making me forget everything ugly in my life when we’re together. Make Kimball disappear from my mind. Make me forget my name and all the ugliness.”

He studied her face, and it must have made her uncomfortable because she broke eye contact, then wiggled out of his arms and walked into the bathroom.

He called room service for the
mélange,
then followed, stripping off his clothes as he went. His arm was still oozing blood, but he ignored it. The red thong was on the floor, and he stepped over it to enter the shower.

She had arched her body and tipped her head back to catch the shower spray. He watched her, waited, and then, with one taste, it was happening again—time stood still and nothing else mattered but being a part of Nadja.

Two hours later Bjorn stood by the window with his pants riding low on his hips and his chest bare. He puffed on a cigarette while his eyes followed the lights that covered the mountain. It was almost midnight and there were still skiers on the slopes.

Nadja had bandaged his arm after they left the shower. Like his previous wounds it was more of an annoyance than actually painful. Hardly of any significance except to prove that Mace Kimball was a bad shot under pressure.

Nadja was right; he should have shot off Kimball’s kneecap instead of planting his bullet between his eyes. Now it would be damn hard, maybe impossible, to find out who he had been working for. But at the time he hadn’t been thinking about the Agency, or what he’d rehearsed time and again in his training years. In that instant all he’d had on his mind was killing that sorry bastard for what he had done and was about to do to the woman he loved.

Yes, the woman he loved. He loved Nadja, and…

“Bjorn…”

He turned from the window and saw her standing naked in the amber light by the bed. Her eyes told him she wanted him again, and there was no question that he wanted her…all the time.

This was why emotional baggage on a mission was deadly. At the moment he didn’t give a damn about Mace Kimball or where Holic was. All he wanted was to take Nadja in his arms, and hear her moan when he was inside her again.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking you look cold.” Then he put out his cigarette and made his move.

“He’s going by the name Lars Larsen. But it’s him. He’s in 609. And I found out something else I think you’ll find amusing.”

Holic turned back from the window in his suite to see his henchman grinning. The sight irritated him. If he wasn’t feeling happy, he really didn’t want to see anyone else happy. And he wasn’t happy. His hand was throbbing again and he needed another hit, but it was too soon.

“I’m not in the mood to play Twenty Questions, Jakob. Get on with it.”

“What I know is that Odell and Nadja might be partners, but that’s not all they are to each other. Odell is screwing her.”

“How do you know that?”

“I paid off the boy on a room service call to Odell’s room. He says Bjorn Odell came to the door fresh out of the shower with a towel around his waist, and that Nadja came out a minute later wrapped up in a robe. He said her hair was wet and she looked flushed, like she’d just gotten out of the shower, too. Or maybe she was glowing for another reason, you suppose?”

Holic didn’t find the situation a bit amusing. Odell and Nadja? No, he didn’t like that, not one bit. After seeing her at After Shock he’d been fantasizing about her, and he didn’t want anyone else stealing his fantasy, especially not Odell.

“What would you like me to do now? I can bring Odell to you if that’s what you want, or I can bring him and the woman.”

“No. In good time, but not yet. Keep your phone close, I’ll be calling you soon.”

Holic departed his suite five hours after Jakob left. He wore a ski jacket and stocking cap, his raven locks tucked underneath. He looked like any other skier headed for an early morning run on the slopes. But he never left the lodge. He rode the elevator down to the fourth floor and entered the suite at the end of the hall using the skills of a master thief.