Spy High (22 page)

“Hello, pencil-dick,” Nichele retorted.
“If you kept your mouth shut, girls wouldn’t think you have a teeny
weenie.”

Skidmark’s eyes widened, his mouth
falling open. Then he wheezed laughter until he doubled over
coughing and staggered backward to fall into the chair, still
convulsed.

Nichele shot me a look of concern while
he hacked and gasped, but I shook my head. “Don’t worry, he’s fine.
As fine as he ever gets, anyway. Meet Skidmark. Not that you’d want
to.”

At last the paroxysm passed and
Skidmark sprawled weakly on the chair, wiping his streaming eyes.
“Sugar-Loaves,” he croaked. “You and her gotta be sisters. Storm
here made a crack about my family jewels, too.” He straightened and
scowled with mock indignation. “You peeked.”

I snickered. “Yep, I couldn’t help
myself. You’re just that hot.”

“That’s the righteous truth.” Skidmark
nodded gravely before jerking his chin toward Nichele. “Who’s the
foxy chick?”

“Blaze Featherwind,” I answered for
her.

“That’s ‘ma’am’ to you,” Nichele
corrected with a lift of her chin.

“Very pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
Skidmark offered her the half-smoked joint with a courtly bow.
“Toke?”

Nichele grimaced. “No thanks.”

Orion had drifted over during the
exchange, and I did the honours. “Blaze, this is Orion Moonjava.
Orion, Blaze Featherwind.”

“Blaze,” Orion murmured. “Lovely name.
It suits you.” He accepted her proffered hand and brought it to his
lips, his eyes locked on hers.

“Oh…” Nichele blinked before retrieving
her hand and offering a polite smile. “Nice to meet you,
Orion.”

His luscious mouth curved up, his green
gaze full of hot sin. “The pleasure is mine.”

If I hadn’t known Nichele so well, I
might have missed her instant of breathlessness before she
straightened and gave Orion a cheeky grin. “You’d better believe it
would be your pleasure. Too bad you’ll never find out.”

He laughed. “Too bad, indeed.”

As they exchanged a few more words of
banter, my attention shifted to Ratboy. He was still standing on
the opposite side of the clearing, his gaze devouring Nichele, his
lips twisted in a spine-chilling smile. I shifted casually to block
his line of sight, resisting the urge to drape my jacket over
Nichele’s sexy top.

His cold black gaze met mine and fear
tightened my throat as his teeth glittered. I might be able to beat
him in a fight, but even though Nichele’s small frame held the
heart of a lion, she wouldn’t stand a chance.

“…anyway, I’ve got to go and meet
Aurora,” Nichele was saying. “See you later.”

I plastered a smile on my stiff lips.
“Yeah, see you. I’ll meet you for supper at the main building.”

She jogged off, her considerable
attributes bouncing under her tank top in a way that made
Skidmark’s eyes glaze over.

Ratboy’s smile thinned to a razor edge
and he shot a gloating look at me before following her like a
jackal slinking after unsuspecting prey.

“Wait, Nichele!” The words burst from
my lips as I ran after her. “I mean, Blaze.” I threw a threatening
glare at Ratboy as I passed him and caught up to Nichele. “I’ll
come with you,” I panted. “I’m just going to grab a granola bar
from the kitchen.” I raised my voice to call back to Skidmark.
“I’ll be back a little later!”

He lifted his joint in a vague salute
before returning it to his lips, and I faced Nichele’s puzzled look
as I fell into step with her.

“See the guy behind us?” I asked.

She turned to look as Ratboy stepped
off the path to disappear into the forest. “Yeah, what a
creepazoid. I saw him up at the garage. What’s his deal? Why didn’t
you introduce us?”

“I don’t know his name. I call him
Ratboy.”

Nichele giggled. “Perfect. He totally
looks like a Ratboy.”

“Yeah, well, rats have a mean streak.”
She sobered at my tone, and I added, “Watch out for him. He’s got a
hate on for me, and he’s exactly the kind of cowardly little
dickwad to take it out on you because he knows we’re friends.”

Nichele tossed her head. “I’d like to
see him try. I’ll kick his weaselly little ass.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. Just like a tiny
terrier, all attitude and barely a mouthful for a big dog. “Just
don’t give him a chance, okay? Stick close to Aurora, and make sure
you stay where there are lots of people.”

“I can take care of myself, Aydan.”

“I know.” I made big pleading eyes.
“Just do it for me, okay?”

She smiled and flung an arm around me.
“Girl, you’re such a worrywart. Okay, I will.” Then she leaned in,
lowering her voice and bouncing her eyebrows. “So that was Orion.
Oh-em-
gee!
Holy hunka-burning-love, girl, why aren’t you
hitting that?”

I shrugged. “Why aren’t you? He was hot
for you, and you’re always telling me you only live once.”

“Aydan!” Nichele drew back, flushing
with indignation. “I’m with Dave! How cheesy do you think I
am?”

I grinned. “Just testing you.” I
sobered, looking her in the eye. “You know, there was a time not
too long ago when you wouldn’t have hesitated to jump him. The old
Nichele would have had his clothes off by now.”

She stopped dead, her cheeks paling.
She stared at me for a long moment before dropping her face into
her hands. Her voice came out in a terrified squeak. “Ohmigod, I’m
in love with Dave. Ohmigod! Aydan, what am I going to
do?
”

“Hey, stop panicking!” I gripped her
shoulders and gave her a little shake. “So you love Dave. Dave
loves you. I’m not seeing a problem here.”

“But I
can’t
love him!” When she
emerged from the shelter of her hands her eyes were wide and dark
with fear. “If I love him it’ll break my heart when he cheats on me
and I can’t, I just
can’t
-”

“Nichele, for shit’s sake! He won’t
cheat on you. That’s why you love him!”

“No, I love him because I’m an idiot!”
She hid her face in her hands again. “Oh, God, why didn’t I just
sleep with him and then dump him like all the rest? Ohmigod, I’m
such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not.” I pulled gently on
her wrists, coaxing her hands away from her face. “You’re not an
idiot. You’re a smart, beautiful, successful stockbroker with
brilliant business sense. You know what you want and you go after
it. And Dave is a hero who put his life on the line for you once
already and he’d do it again in a heartbeat. He’s one of the good
guys, Nichele, and you know it. Don’t second-guess yourself.”

“He put his life on the line for you,
not for me,” Nichele mumbled, but she straightened, colour creeping
back into her cheeks.

“For both of us,” I corrected. “He
didn’t even know you then and he still risked his life to save you.
You know I’m right.”

She nodded slowly, then with more
conviction. “I guess… you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.” I nudged her
with an elbow. “I’m always right.”

“You’re always full of shit.” She gave
me a wobbly grin.

“Well, yeah, that too. Why do you think
my eyes are brown?”

After delivering Nichele safely into
Aurora’s clutches and extracting a promise that they’d stay in
populated areas, I jogged back to the garage. Skidmark still
lounged against the wall, and he still had a half-smoked joint
between his fingers. I seriously doubted it was the same joint.

I came to a halt in front of him and
surveyed his heavy-lidded eyes. “Maybe we should leave this for
tomorrow,” I suggested.

He yawned and scratched his crotch with
luxurious satisfaction before carefully stubbing out the joint on
the sole of his boot. Then he tucked the roach into the breast
pocket of his grimy coveralls and rose with another cavernous
yawn.

“’S cool,” he mumbled. “Let’s do
it.”

I followed him into the garage with
trepidation, but it turned out he was as good a mechanic stoned as
most guys were sober. We made passable progress even though he
moved at a dreamy pace punctuated by drags on the ever-diminishing
joint, which he took outside to light and carefully extinguish
after each toke.

We had been working in comfortable
silence for some time when he spoke as I was removing the
second-last head bolt on my side of the engine.

“Tell Sugar-Loaves to be careful. Guys
get funny ideas.”

I stopped turning the ratchet to lock
eyes with him. “I told her. And if any guy gets funny with her I’ll
rip his nuts off and feed them to him.”

Skidmark raised both hands in a ‘don’t
shoot’ gesture. “Be cool. Just saying.”

“Okay, I heard you.” I returned my
attention to the bolt.

“So you’re some badass chick,” he said
conversationally. “Sugar-Loaves must be your little lezzy
rug-muncher. Can I watch while you two get it on?”

I extracted the bolt and eyed him
expressionlessly, hiding my annoyance. “I’m here to wrench. If
you’re going to talk, it’ll cost you in beer.”

“That’s cool.”

He wandered out the door and I turned
back to the last head bolt, trying to regain the pleasant
relaxation I usually got from automotive work.

It eluded me. Even though Nichele had
promised to be careful, I couldn’t help worrying about her. I
didn’t know where Ratboy had gone or whether he had any way of
figuring out where Nichele’s tent was, and I was nervous about
Orion, too. I didn’t like the way he and Ratboy had been standing
together in quiet conversation when Nichele and I had arrived at
the garage.

I glanced toward the open door but saw
no sign of Skidmark. Maybe he’d decided to go somewhere else and
smoke himself into oblivion. That’d be nice. I chanced a quick peek
at my tracking unit and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of
Orion’s red dot in the vicinity of the main building. He likely
wouldn’t try anything that close to the busiest part of the
commune.

I tucked the tracker back in my pocket
and bent over the engine again. I was staring morosely at a scored
cylinder wall when Skidmark shuffled in again and held out a
condensation-beaded can of Kokanee.

I straightened with surprise and
accepted it. “Thanks.” I popped the top and tilted the can for a
long, icy swallow. “Ahhh! Oh God, that’s good.”

“That’s what she said, girlie.”

I narrowly avoided snorting beer out my
nose. When I managed to gulp my mouthful, I turned to face
Skidmark’s grin. “Wiseass.”

He emitted his wheezy laughter before
sobering and jerking his chin at the damaged cylinder. “Damn kids.
Don’t know shit about engines.”

I grunted agreement and took another
drink before asking, “Is there a place in town where you can get it
bored out and sleeved?”

He shrugged. “Just hone it here.”

“Those scratches are pretty deep,” I
protested.

“Hone the burr off it; new rings; good
enough.” He withdrew a second can of Kokanee from the pocket of his
baggy coveralls and popped the top. “It’s not a Corvette.”

My heartstrings quivered at the thought
of my beloved ‘66 ‘Vette, safely tucked away in my garage at home.
My beautiful garage, with my clean tools all neatly organized in
their shiny floor-standing chest…

“I wish.” My words came out on a sigh
as I surveyed the filthy garage with its scattered heaps of greasy
tools.

He chuckled. “Yeah.” He took a long
swallow of his beer before placing the can on the bumper and
tackling the head bolts on his side. “So you seen the cougar
yet?”

“No.” I picked up the ratchet and began
at the other end of the head.

“Thought you might have. You’re always
out in the woods.” When I shrugged, he continued, “Thought I came
close to seeing it last night. Heard something out by the bench but
it was gone when I got there.”

I returned a noncommittal grunt as I
pulled out my bolt and moved to the next one, hoping he didn’t
notice the sudden tremor in my hands.

“Orion thought he heard it moving
around outside his tent last night, too,” Skidmark persisted.

“Yeah, that’s what he said.” I busied
myself with the ratchet.

“Did you hear anything?”

“Nope.”

Skidmark ceased his pretense with the
head bolt and faced me directly. “Aren’t you worried about it?”

I sighed. “I’m careful when I’m in the
woods. Besides, Moonbeam says the Earth Spirit will protect me.” I
raised my wrist to display the beaded bracelet.

“You really believe in that shit?”
Skidmark asked.

Surprised, I straightened to frown at
him. “Don’t you?”

“It’s shit.” He picked up his beer and
poured a healthy slug down his throat, then let out a resounding
belch. “If you think a bracelet’s gonna protect you, girlie, you’re
dumber than I thought.”

I frowned at him in silence for a few
moments, bothered by more than his words. The thought that had been
nagging at my subconscious suddenly surfaced. For the last several
minutes he had actually carried on a coherent conversation. Gone
were the disjointed ramblings of an old hippy stoner. He was even
standing straighter, his gaze sharp on me.

That was the fastest recovery from a
high I’d ever seen.

Impossibly fast.

So he wasn’t as stoned as he’d been
pretending to be.

As if realizing his mistake, he yawned,
his eyelids drooping again as he shuffled over to the door and lit
up. Slouched against the door frame, he sucked in a huge lungful of
smoke and blew out a stinking cloud. “Aren’t you supposed to meet
Sugar-Loaves for supper?”

I glanced at my watch. “Yeah. Do you
want me to come back afterward?”

He waved his joint vaguely.
“Tomorrow.”

He drifted away on a cloud of pot
smoke, leaving me to finish my beer in uneasy solitude.

The evening passed quickly while
Nichele and I laughed and visited, and I realized how thoroughly
I’d isolated myself from everyone else at the commune. In four
months I hadn’t gotten to know anyone beyond the exchange of a few
friendly hellos.