I, Spy? (19 page)

I guess I must have eventually fallen asleep, my pillow wet (what was wrong with my hormones? Was my Pill malfunctioning?), because you have to be asleep to be woken up. And I was woken. Very rudely.

There was a smash, a crash, then Maria’s voice—“Jesus fucking Christ!”

I stumbled out of bed, groggy and frightened, to see her stamping on my sleeping bag. It was smoking.

She looked up. “Do people often throw Molotov cocktails through your window?”

I’m afraid at that point I fainted.

When I woke up again, I was in a dark car going at lightning speed. “Maria?”

She was driving. “Nice to see you.”

I wiped a bit of drool from my mouth. Very sexy. “What’s—where are we going?”

“Luke’s. He wasn’t kidding about it not being safe for you.”

Rats. Now I’d have to face him. And I really didn’t want to face him.

And his revolver was still under my bed at home.

At least, I hoped it was.

She pulled up, and I realised I was cocooned in my duvet, a bag on my lap. “What’s this?”

“Overnight stuff. Deodorant and toothpaste and stuff. I might have forgotten a few things. Come on.”

She was brisk and swift, not like the companionable girl who’d been comparing
Buffy
beaux with me earlier. Before the firebomb.

Shit, someone firebombed my flat. My little flat! What had it done to anybody?

“What about Ted?” I wailed, and Maria looked at me.

“Ted?”

“My car.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your car is fine. Come on, get out.”

Luke appeared at the top of the steps to his door, blond hair tousled, wearing a faded T-shirt and boxers, looking like sex personified. Like really angry sex personified.

I wasn’t sure whether to be turned on or frightened out of my wits. But I was too tired to be turned on and I seemed to have left most of my wits behind in that collapsed building site. I opted for weary haughtiness, and feel I failed somewhat.

He didn’t say anything to me as he took my bag and slammed back inside with it, leaving me to shuffle up the stairs with my duvet, Maria following. She dumped a cardboard box on the table and lifted a hand in farewell.

“You two are as crazy as each other,” she said. “I’m going back to check your place out, Sophie. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

And with that she was gone, the door was closed, her car sped away, and it was just me and Luke looking at each other.

“You bloody deserved it,” he said.

“Don’t tell me
you
threw that thing through my window?”

He threw me a sarcastic look. “No, but maybe next time I will. Jesus, Sophie,” he stalked over to the door and started punching in a code on the control box, “what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking, I’m hurt and I want to go home and lick my wounds.”

He paused and raised an eyebrow at me.

“Oh, fuck off,” I snarled tiredly, clutching my duvet about me. “You’d have done the same thing. Why didn’t you set the alarm when I was here before?”

He sighed. “The same reason I dropped off a box of DVDs at your house. I knew you’d go back.”

I stared at him. He knew? Then why was he so mad? “Those are your DVDs?”

“Yes. You seem to have a mild obsession.” He started poking around in my bag. “Do you have your stun gun and things?”

“I don’t know. Maria packed it.”

“What were you doing?”

Drooling unconsciously. “I passed out,” I mumbled.

“Jesus. Sophie,” Luke came over and lifted my chin. “Look. If you want out of SO17 then tell me. It’ll be easier sooner rather than—”

“Out?” I stared at him. “Luke, before all this the most exciting thing that used to happen to me was getting two numbers on the lottery.”

“You need three to win a tenner.”

“I know. But I’ve never got three. God,
one
is cause for celebration. I never win anything,” I said moodily.

“You don’t want to get out?”

“No! Why would you think that?”

He ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. You’ve been through a lot. People have flaked out before on less than this.”

“Yes, well, not me.”

“Aren’t you frightened?”

I was bloody terrified. Of everything. “Not really,” I said, and Luke smiled for the first time that night.

“Liar.”

Neither of us could sleep, so we sat up watching all the
Buffy
featurettes and episode commentaries. Luke was quite the aficionado—he knew more about it than me. It was bizarrely endearing.

“So what were you doing all day that was more important than keeping an eye on me?” I asked as the sky started to get light.

“Checking out Wright and any possible partners. He was right when he said it was no one well known. He’s got no history of working with anyone. He doesn’t even need to link himself with a bank, since he has his own.”

“It wasn’t that Jane… no,” I yawned, “that Helen woman?”

“You made up the Helen woman,” Luke reminded me. We were sitting side by side on the chesterfield. I was still wrapped in my duvet and Luke had taken a corner of it. I could feel his leg through the fabric of my pyjamas. It was making concentration quite hard. “I checked out Jane Hammond. She’s been running a shipping company in Seattle for years. Wright hasn’t even been to the west coast since they broke up. I’m pretty sure it’s not her.”

“Then who is it?”

“Did you consider your friend Harvey?”

I stared at the screen. Buffy was crying about something. “Harvey? He works for a cell phone company.”

Luke sighed. “I know you’re on medication and in shock so I’m going to ignore that. I was checking Wright’s records—hotels, plane tickets, that sort of thing—and everywhere he went, Harvey went also.”

I opened my mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say. On screen, the Scoobies all hugged each other tearfully. “Harvey?” I repeated eventually, because it was the only thing that got to my vocal chords. “He couldn’t be the partner.”

“He did turn up at Wright’s hotel room.”

“Maybe he’s Wright’s boyfriend,” I said peevishly. “Did you think of that?”

“You kissed a gay man? Was he better than me?”

I felt myself colour. “I’m not going to answer that,” I said, “on the grounds that you’ll probably hit me.”

Luke made a face. “Look, about what happened last night—”

“I’ve forgotten it already.”

He looked surprised. “Liar.”

He didn’t cuddle you
, I reminded myself.
He didn’t come round to check up on you. He doesn’t really care about you.

Oh, but he did give you those DVDs.

“If you’d had any kind of respect for me, you wouldn’t have done that,” I said.

“‘Done that’? I’m not a Victorian villain, Soph—” Luke began, starting to smile, twirling an imaginary moustache. Damn him for thinking of the same thing I did!

“You bloody acted like one. You took advantage of me, Luke Sharpe, when I was physically and emotionally vulnerable. And you didn’t call me—”

“I did!”

“To have a go at me. You couldn’t even be bothered to come round in person. You sent Maria instead. God, I deserve a little bit more respect than that.”

Now, in the light of the last few days, I wasn’t entirely sure if that last bit was true or not, but I was damned if I was going to give him anything.

“Maria is a highly trained government agent. Didn’t she protect you?”

“Yes, but I—but…” To my absolute horror, I felt my eyes prick with tears. Oh, great timing, eyes. Fabulous.

“But what, Sophie?” Luke asked, his voice soft now, his eyes gentle, and I couldn’t look at him.

But… But I needed
you
, Luke. I needed you to take me in your arms and promise me you’d protect me. I needed you to tell me that last night had been wonderful and you hoped it’d be the start of a great relationship. I needed you to tell me there was something between us that wasn’t sex or sarcasm. I was scared, and you were somewhere else
.

“But you weren’t there,” I said as strongly as I could.

“I was there,” Luke said. “I stayed with you all night. I was worried about you, Soph.”

“You left before I woke up,” I said, trying not to be impressed by that.

“I had work to do, you know that. I couldn’t stay home and baby-sit you.”

Baby-sit me? First I was incapable of taking care of myself, now I needed to be baby-sat?

I hardened my resolve, and then my jaw, to match. “You yelled at me and then stayed away. That’s so damn cowardly.”

I saw his face change, saw the anger creep in, and knew I’d hit a nerve. RAF officers weren’t cowardly. SAS operatives were not cowardly. And SO17 agents were definitely not cowardly.

With the possible exception of me.

“Cowardly?” Luke said, his voice carefully controlled. “Because I didn’t come round to tuck you in and pat you on the head? Because I had more important things to do, like try and figure out who had shot at you? There are more important things in this job than mollycoddling, Sophie, and if you don’t get that—”

“No, I get that,” I snapped. “I get all of it. I know personal relationships have to take a back seat—”

“Back seat? They’re out on the damn road—”

“Exactly. And you knew that, but you still—”

“Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have!”

“Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t!”

We glared at each other, and I’d have felt a lot better about the argument if I hadn’t still been wrapped up in my duvet with the little cartoon cats on it.

“Well, it won’t happen again,” Luke muttered, looking away. “I do have some sense of self-preservation. Unlike
some
people.”

I ignored that. “If you hadn’t locked me in, I wouldn’t be here,” I said. “Give me my bloody keys and let me go home.”

“You’re going to walk home in your pyjamas?”

“Yes,” I said, sticking my chin in the air, and then I thought about it, and it was a really stupid image. And then I made the mistake of glancing at Luke, and his mouth was twitching with amusement too, and I had to look away before I started laughing.

Damn him. Damn him for making me angry, and damn him for making me laugh. And double damn him for sitting there looking so bloody desirable in the low light, strong and sure and everything I wanted, even if he wasn’t everything I needed.

“Okay,” he sighed. “Bed.”

I stared. God, I hope I wasn’t blushing. “Were you not listening back there?”

“I don’t mean together. I mean to sleep. Separately. I don't know about you but I’m knackered. You are an exhausting woman, Sophie Green.”

I’m not sure if that was a compliment or not.

I awoke, for the second time in as many days, in Luke’s big soft white bed. Alone.

Dammit.

Everything was warm and cosy and I was really only half awake when I realised I really needed to pee. Don’t you hate that? All I wanted to do was go back to sleep. Sleep was good. I didn’t want to get up.

But I did get up, sighing, and stumbled into the bathroom. My toothbrush leaned against Luke’s in the mug by the sink and I tried to tell myself it meant nothing. But my stomach still did a back flip at the sight of it.

I went back into the bedroom and looked at the crumpled bed. He’d put clean sheets on and they smelled of fabric softener. It was ridiculous. I was getting heartfelt over fabric softener.

Well, he’d taken the sofa, acting like a gentleman for possibly the first time since I met him. Not that I recall being particularly gracious about it. I think my exact words were, “You seduced me when I was concussed, Sharpe. Sleep on the sofa or sleep outside, but you ain’t coming anywhere near my bed.”

“It’s my bed, Sophie,” he reminded me, looking slightly amused.

“Well, I’m going to be in it. Alone,” I said, and stomped off in as dignified a way as I could manage, given that I was wearing his sports socks and was still huddled in my cat duvet.

I fear this was not particularly dignified at all.

Part of me had expected him to come crawling under the covers in the middle of the night, and been quite disappointed when he hadn’t. He was still asleep on the chesterfield, wrapped in my duvet. His hand was up by his face, his hair was tousled, and he looked adorable.

Jesus, Sophie, get a grip! Do
not
fall for Luke.
That would not be a smart thing to do.

I sighed and padded over to the kitchen, looking for coffee. One of those filter things would be nice, but I’d settle for instant. I wasn’t fussy.

Coffee made, I went and stood by the chesterfield, watching Luke sleep. There was no harm in looking. Didn’t everyone want to look at things that were beautiful? Like art and stuff. It was human nature.

Yeah. Human nature to stare at someone who
hadn’t bloody called
.

Bastard.

Then the bastard spoke, and I scalded my hands with spilt coffee.

“Sophie,” he said, “why are you standing there staring at me?”

How did he know?
How
did he know? His eyes were still closed! Did he have see-through eyelids or something?

No, he probably did. With bionic X-rays or something. Bet he could tell what colour my underwear was.

I blushed, because I was, um, still wearing his underwear.

“How long have you been awake?” I asked as coolly as I could, fetching kitchen roll to wipe up the coffee, keeping my flushed face turned away from him.

“Since you put the kettle on.” He yawned and stretched and opened his eyes. “Make us a coffee, will you?”

I made a face. “What am I, your housekeeper?”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, I’ll do it.” He pushed back the duvet and stood up. He was barechested and golden all over.

Hello.

Get a goddamn grip, Sophie. He’s doing this on purpose.

And it’s bloody
working
.

Bastard
.

Luke pulled on his T-shirt, which I suppose was probably for the best, and wandered into the kitchen. “Sleep well?”

“Like a log.” It was nearly midday. I couldn’t believe we’d stayed up so long.

“How’s your shoulder?”

I shrugged experimentally. “Not too bad.”

“Can I see?”

This would mean I’d have to take my pyjama top off. Not a good move, the way I was feeling. “Erm, you know what, I’m going to take a shower first,” I said. “Freshen up.”

“How are you going to take a shower without getting the dressing wet?”

I held up a finger in a “wait” gesture, and retrieved the cling film. Luke stared.

“You’re kidding.”

I shook my head. “Worked yesterday.”

He laughed. “You’re unbelievable. Okay. Shower’s yours. I’ll help you change the dressing when you come out.”

I looked him over, leaning against the kitchen counter in his T-shirt and boxers, sipping his coffee, his hair tousled, looking sleepy, and took a deep breath.

“Luke…”

“Hmm?”

Can we share the shower? Can we please have sex one more time? Just so I know it’s still good when I’m not concussed?

“Can I borrow your shampoo?”

He frowned, and nodded. “It’s by the shower.”

Dammit. I was such a coward.

I turned the shower water to cold, but it didn’t help much. All I could think of was Luke and his bare chest and his sleepy eyes. I was pathetic. I was like a horny teenager. Although, come to think of it, I wasn’t that horny when I was a teenager, so maybe I was making up for it now. Yeah. That’s what it was. Not my fault at all.

He was waiting for me when I came out, making me jump. “The dressing,” he said, holding up some gauze and scissors. I went and sat on the bed, clutching my towel very tightly, while Luke inspected the stitches and cut a clean piece of gauze to cover them. He was dressed, more’s the pity, and somehow managed to smell really good without having gone anywhere near the bathroom.

“Look at you, all serious,” I teased, trying to distract him from my rapidly rising pulse rate.

“Combat medical training. If you make a mistake early on, it can make for serious problems.” His face was grim, and I didn’t want to ask about it any more. Luke was scary when he went all professional.

Then he looked up, and his face was neutral again. “Breakfast?”

I found some clean knickers in my bag, but no bra and no other clothes, so it was either pyjamas again or Luke’s clothes.

He looked me over when I came out in joggers and a T-shirt, and his eyes fixed on my chest. “No bra?”

“Maria didn’t seem to think I’d need one.”

“I like Maria.”

I rolled my eyes. “I need to go home and pick some things up.”

“I’ll do it.”

“No, I need to go.”

“No, you don’t. Unlike some people in this room, I’m quite good at following instructions.”

I made a face. What I needed was to somehow get that revolver out from under my bed and back in Luke’s secret cupboard before he noticed it was missing.

“So, what are we doing today?” I asked as Luke handed me a plate of toast.

“
I
am going to see if I can find out who chucked a Molotov cocktail through your window.
You
are staying here.”

“Nice try.”

“I mean it, Sophie. You need to rest and stay away from people who want to firebomb you. That wasn’t an idle threat. If Maria hadn’t been there you could have been killed.”

If Maria hadn’t been there.
“So, what, you think I’m totally helpless? You think I need to be locked away from danger? I’m a bloody secret agent, Luke, and you won’t even let me have a gun.”

“You need a licence—”

“So get me a fucking licence!” Aware that I was shouting, I tried to lower my voice. “How am I supposed to protect myself if all I have is a green dye defence spray?”

“You have the stun gun.”

“Maria didn’t pack it.” I drummed my fingers on the counter. “I mean it. I need weapons, not bubble wrap.”

“A weapon makes you a target,” Luke said calmly, finishing his coffee and rinsing out the cup. “You’re not getting one.”

I scowled at him as he sauntered away from me into the bathroom and locked the door.

“What if I just upped and left?” I said. “I did it yesterday. You can’t keep me here.”

“There’s a keypad alarm on the inside and outside of that door,” Luke said from inside the bathroom. “All the windows are laser-sensored.
I
couldn’t break into this place.”

“Doesn’t tell me much,” I grumbled. “You can’t keep me here,” I repeated in frustration.

“I can. I’m your superior and I can.”

“You’re such a bastard.” I kicked the door and flounced out to watch TV.

I was checking the news when he came back out, shaved and dressed and smelling even more divine.

“You’ll be fine on your own,” he said. “I have steak knives if you want self defence.”

“Thank you. Now I have something to attack you with.”

He sauntered over and pulled me to my feet. “Sophie,” he said, stroking my face, “don’t be mad at me. This is for your own safety. As soon as I have a handle on this, I’ll let you know.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Out in public without a bra?” He traced the outline of my breast. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

He grinned and took my hands in his. “I’ll call you if I get anything,” he said, and pretty much before I’d realised what he was doing, he’d whipped out a pair of handcuffs and locked one bracelet around my wrist, and the other around the standard lamp by the chesterfield. “Stay where you are,” he added, stepping back quickly, and I lashed out at him, the lamp swaying alarmingly.

“You bloody, bloody bastard!”

Luke laughed and dropped the key in his pocket. He went over to the door and tapped in a code, shielding it with his hand so I couldn’t see, and slipped out. “See you later…”

“Wanker,” I yelled, and I could hear him laughing as he set the external alarm. “Bloody arsing bollocking fucking
wanker
.”

My phone was on the kitchen counter and I stretched as far as I could, but I couldn’t reach it. I glared at the lamp. The lamp stood there, looking heavy.

I picked it up, my aching body protesting, and carried it over to the kitchen. A modern ball and chain. I suppose he thought this was funny.

It took me most of the morning to free myself. The lamp was heavy and my back was killing me by the time I located a screwdriver in the cupboard by the door. I unscrewed the top and bottom sections of the lamp and presto! I was free.

“Stupid bloody lamp,” I glared at it, then put it back together. I didn’t want Luke to figure out how I’d got free so easily. I put the screwdriver away and made more coffee while I thought.

So. All the windows had laser sensors on them—he hadn’t been kidding, I could see the thin red lines. Good job he didn’t have a cat. There was the keypad inside the front door, and apparently one outside it as well. I could get one of his guns and shoot the damn things, but they were all unloaded, and I’d probably set the alarm off anyway.

I could get the phone book out, call the roofing place downstairs, and get them to break in for me. No. No broken windows. I didn’t want to leave this place vulnerable and then get chewed off for letting it get broken into.

I could call the fire brigade or the police, but that would bring me to the same place.

I could call Luke and beg.

I could try to disable the locks.

Of all my options, the last one seemed the most appealing. But I had not got a clue how to. I told you I’m anathema to computers. Just when I think I’m starting to understand them, they shut down or reboot or do something incomprehensible.

Then I had a brain wave. I got my phone, and dialled Five.

“Sophie Green?”

I took a deep breath. “Macbeth. I need a favour.”

He laughed when I told him I needed to break out of somewhere, and laughed even more when I told him where.

“So wait a minute. He’s got you locked inside his house without no clothes—”

“I have clothes, but they’re his.”

“Too bad it ain’t the other way round. I’d love to see him in a dress.”

“But can you do it?” I asked. “Can you disable those alarms?”

“Are they just alarms, or are they really locks too?”

I looked at the one inside. “I think this one’s just an alarm. I think the one outside is a lock, like the ones we have at the airport.”

“Windows?”

“Laser sensors. I don’t know if they’re triggered to an alarm or if I’ll get shutters clanging down on me.”

“Hmm. Where are you?”

I told him, and he said he’d be there in ten minutes.

I washed out my coffee cup, put all my things back in my bag and looked at the bunch of keys Maria had thrown in. There was Luke’s front door key—in duplicate—much good it had done me. I needed to learn the code from his front door before I could break in now.

Macbeth knocked on the door nine minutes later. “I think I got this one,” he said, and the door clicked open.

“I’m impressed. What did you do?”

He held up a little gadget. “Scanned it. You want the code?”

“Yes, please.”

I wrote it down in my little diary, then the inside code too. I taped Luke’s original key back inside the drawer where I’d found it, slapped a little note on the kitchen counter and beamed at Macbeth.

“I owe you big time,” I said. “Massive. Anything you want.”

He looked at me speculatively. “Take off your shirt.”

I gaped. “Anything but that.”

He grinned. “I ain’t gonna do anything, I just want to see you.”

“That’s all?”

“Then we’re even.”

He got me out of a securely locked house. Sure I could flash him.

Closing my eyes, I pulled off Luke’s T-shirt.

“Oh, baby,” Macbeth said.

I pulled it back on. “That’s your lot.”

“Honey, I’ll unlock a door for you any time.” He grinned. “You want me to set the alarm before we go?”

“Please.”

I waited at the top of the stairs. It was cold outside and I was glad I’d half-inched a sweater from Luke’s drawer.

“So what were you doing locked in there?”

I rolled my eyes. “He thinks it’s unsafe for me to go out.”

“Is it?”

“No! One firebomb doesn’t mean I’m not safe.”

Macbeth shook his head. “Maria told me. You gotta pick the right bottle for a Molotov cocktail.”

I’d bear that in mind.

He offered me a lift and led me to a blue Corsa. “Tell me this is not your car.”

“Course not. I’m undercover.”

I hated to tell him, but the only place he’d be convincing undercover is in a cell block.

“You got a bondage thing going on?” Macbeth glanced at the handcuffs I was still sporting.

“No. I think this is Luke’s idea of a joke.”

“So are you really not sleeping with him?” he asked, and he looked disappointed when I shook my head violently.