The Spy With the Silver Lining (4 page)

The music was loud and the catcalls the stripper was getting added to the noise. Pierce glanced at the hall leading to the restrooms, thought a moment.

He grabbed Lazie by the front of his shirt. “Get your eyes back in your head and your mind off your dick. And put your hand down. It looks like your having a heart attack.”

“
Mais,
yeah. It’s true. My heart has been attacked by Ruza-a…”

“One of these days I’ll enlighten you about sweet Ruza Balasi, but right now this is what you’re going to do.”

Pierce leaned close and whispered his plan into Lazie’s pierced ear.

Ruza sensed a pair of eyes watching her. She shoved her dark glasses to the end of her nose and scanned the room. There, at the bar. It was the shady-looking character who needed a haircut.

As he began to swagger over to the table, she wondered what was taking Cassie so long. She wasn’t up for conversation with a stranger. She was simply too exhausted.

She took a gulp of her martini to fortify the upcoming confrontation.

“
Oui,
a fine-lookin’ woman, Cookie. A classy
maman,
who looks like she’s lived a life of experience, no?”

“It’s true,” she answered. “I wasn’t born yesterday, so before this gets awkward, I’ll say no, thank you. Now run along.”

“
Oui,
a spirited
maman.
I enjoy a woman who can teach an old dog a new trick on all four.”

Ruza lifted her glass to her lips again. “Well, Mr. Dog, you must have a hearing problem. I said, run along.”

Instead of moving off, he chuckled. “So you like my place, do you,
mon coeur?
”

Ruza removed her glasses, momentarily forgetting about her black eye. “I have no—”

“
Ma douce amie,
you’ve been injured. Who has hurt you, my sweet? I’ll kill the bastard.”

She arched her shapely gray eyebrows above her damaged eye. “You said you’re the owner of—” she looked toward the stage “—this cheap acting den?”

“
Oui.
The very one. Saber Lazie at your service,
mon coeur.
” He pulled out a chair and sat. “I haven’t seen you here before. Have you come to my city on business or seeking pleasure?”

“That would be my business.”

Another chuckle. “
Oui,
a spirited woman, with a snake’s bite. The man who hurt you, does he still have his legs?”

She studied him a moment, got a whiff of his cologne, but couldn’t recognize it. It smelled familiar. That was odd.

“All you need to know—Lazie—is that I’m not ripe for plucking. I’m waiting for my daughter. You’re sitting in her chair. As you can see, I’ve bought a drink from your lacking establishment, so I’m not loitering.”

“Ruza-a…do you dance?”

“How do you know my name?”

He stood. “It’s a fittin’ name, for one so lovely. I like slender women, and memorable names. You’re a feast for a man’s eyes and his imagination.”

His sharp eyes drifted to her chest.

Ruza considering going for the mace in her handbag, which lay on the table. Not yet, she thought. He still hadn’t explained how he knew her name.

She emptied her martini glass, then asked again, “Who told you my name?”

He shrugged, checked his watch. “It’s time to go.”

She saw him step around the table. Then his hand was on the back of her chair. With a sudden jerk he pulled it away from the table, and then lifted Ruza off her chair and tossed her over his shoulder. It happened so quickly she had no time to react or reach for her mace.

The bar crowd was too busy watching the stage to notice Ruza being carried out the back door. She began to pound her fists into his kidneys as he stepped out into the back alley.

Screaming, she fought harder, but the man was stronger than he looked. He ignored her blows as he rolled her inside the trunk of the car parked next to the building.

“
Don
worry, Cookie. I’ll let you out soon.”

Then he slammed down the trunk and the car’s engine roared to life.

Ruza started to scream again. Maybe someone would hear her. That hope turned to dust as the radio speaker inside the car began to vibrate and drowned out her cries.

The car sped away as Aaron Neville began to sing “Use Me.”

Oh, God. Lazie—if that was his real name—was going to assault her, then kill her.

Worse, at her funeral she would be sporting a black eye.

P
ierce stopped next to the women’s bathroom and pressed his ear to the door. He’d guessed right. She was on the phone, chewing off Polax’s ear, and anything else that was dangling unprotected.

“Fourtier never showed at the airport. And Yurii has already found us. One of his men was at the airport. Send someone to get us out of here. Pierce Fourtier is not only an asshole, he can’t tell time, either. If he’d picked us up when he was supposed to, that gypsy scum with the earring might have missed us loitering in the lobby. I want a new contact, and a new location. And you can tell your pal from Onyxx that I want Fourtier on his knees licking up garbage with his tongue for the next month.”

Pierce slowly turned the doorknob and slipped inside. He saw a pair of blue stilettos and slender ankles in the end stall.

He locked the door, walked to the last sink in a line of three and perched his backside on it, aligning himself with the door she was behind. Arms crossed over his chest, he lit a cigarette and continued to listen and learn what she
really
thought of him in between a few choice adjectives.

Minutes later he heard the toilet flush, and then Miss Bitch opened the door and stepped out, wearing a blue satin pantsuit.

“Lick up garbage with my tongue?”

“You… How did you get in here?”

“Not on my knees.”

She started for the door. Pierce slid off the sink and followed. When she tried the door and found it locked she spun around.

“You’ve been fired, so get off my back and stop breathing down my neck. Polax is sending someone dependable to pick up Mama and me.”

“I’m not off the job until I’ve been notified by my boss, and until then you’re my baggage.” He saw her hand disappear into her pocket. He grabbed her wrist, raised his arm and pinned it to the door. He dropped the cigarette to the floor with his other hand, and while it died a slow death, he said, “Your first mistake was running from the airport. Your second is trying to pull a gun on me.”

“I wouldn’t have had to run if my ride had showed. What was I supposed to do, let Petrov’s gunman stuff us in a trunk and drive us to the nearest landfill? Whatever plan your boss and Polax cooked up is a joke.”

“And you think I’m a joke, too?”

“If the shoe fits, buy a pair in every color.”

He could snap her beautiful neck so damn easy. Instead, Pierce backed off. After all, he was the calm and collected one, while she was the spitfire who never knew when to shut up.

She turned, unlocked the door and walked out. He followed, stopping in the hall to light another cigarette. He took his time, taking a much-needed drag of nicotine. As he entered the bar, he saw her head for the table where she’d left her mother.

She picked up the empty martini glass, then turned to search all four corners of the bar. When she didn’t see Ruza anywhere, she spun a half turn and nailed him with that bitch look that had made her famous in the spy world as one of Quest’s untouchables.

“Where’s my mother?”

“How should I know?”

“Because you’re a—”

“
Oui,
I know.” He sauntered to the table, sat down in a chair. “The words you used on the phone when you were burning Polax’s ears were, a useless turd in a sea of stink.”

“Where is she?”

“Sit down.”

“I said—”

“Sit.”

She hesitated, then jerked the empty chair out, and as she sat, she slammed the empty martini glass down between them. “Okay, I’m sitting. Where’s my mother?”

“On her way to Le Mystère.”

“With who?”

“The gypsy scum.”

The gypsy wasn’t one of Yurii’s loyal
soldatos.
Casmir contemplated that. Rationalized why it had been easy to make the mistake. Considering the man’s appearance at the airport, it had been an easy one to make.

“And where were you when we got off the plane, riding in the gypsy’s pocket?”

“I sent Lazie to pick you up in my place.”

“Without telling me? Why would you change the plan and send a new contact? Someone I didn’t know or expect? I’m confused.”

“Use that line when you call Polax back. Tell him you got turned around and you made a mistake.”

He had to be kidding.
“The mistake was yours, not mine. You never showed at the airport, and now some wild vagabond wearing an earring has hijacked my mother. She’s probably scared out of her wits.”

“Make the call.”

“I have a better idea. You make a call to the gypsy. Tell him to bring Mama back.”

“That would be a wasted trip. We’ll be joining them soon enough.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. Besides not being able to tell time, you don’t hear well, do you?”

“You want to see Mama, right? Lazie’s got quite a reputation as a lady’s man.”

“Somehow I’m not worried Mama is going to fall hard for your colorful friend unless it’s while she’s scrambling to get downwind. He probably smells as bad as he looks.”

“Lazie has never been above taking what he wants when his mind is set.”

“You’re not suggesting that his mind is set on having my mother?”

“He did confess an interest in Cookie.”

“Cookie?”

“He’s already given her a nickname.
Sweet,
isn’t it?”

Casmir narrowed her eyes. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“
Oui.
Call Polax.”

“No.”

“Tell him you ate something on the plane that scrambled your brain. Tell him since you last talked, you’ve taken some antacid, and now you’re thinking straight. Tell him we’re together and things have worked out.”

Casmir was so busy plotting the appropriate death for Mr. Asshole that she didn’t see the guy she’d had words with earlier leave his table and head their way.

“Your jealous badass boyfriend finally show up,
cher?
”

She looked up and saw the cretin she’d backed off at gunpoint. Big Burly was once again behind him—the giant looked like barroom brawling was his profession instead of his hobby.

Whatever, Casmir thought, but he really needed to get himself some new friends and a haircut and invest in a new razor.

“I asked if
dis
is
da
boyfriend you was crowin’ about,
cher?
”

She had never had a boyfriend, but if she was ever in the market for one, Pierce Fourtier wouldn’t make the bottom of the list. He was arrogant, practiced deviant tactics and no doubt had the morals of a rodent. Which was probably why Onyxx had recruited him as a rat fighter.

She glanced at Pierce, who had lit another cigarette—she added chain smoking to the list of his unsavory behavior—then looked back at the cretin who didn’t know when to give up.

“How old are you?”

The question seemed to throw him. He blinked his bloodshot eyes, then slowly grinned. “Old enough to know what
ta
do with you,
cher.
”

Casmir rolled her eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Name’s Parnel, sweet thin’.”

“Well, Parnel, I’m surprised that someone hasn’t shut you up permanently by now. If this is your routine every time a woman comes through the front door, I’m amazed that your throat hasn’t been slit, or your kneecaps blown off.”

Pierce chuckled, and Parnel gave her
boyfriend
a narrow-eyed glare. “You tough enough to slit my throat, badass?”

“It could happen,
mon ami,
if you’re not out of my face in five seconds.”

“You think you’ve got big enough balls to send me to hell?” Parnel grabbed his crotch. “I guarantee mine are bigger. I can back up what I say in an alley or in the bedroom.”

His friend stepped up and gave Parnel an elbow. “You’ve made a mistake. This guy is—”

“Shut up, Frog.”

“You should listen to your friend. He knows something you don’t. Something you don’t want to find out the hard way.”

Casmir glanced at Pierce, then Parnel’s muscle-bound friend, who had just been given the name Frog. An interesting nickname, but Big Burly fit him better.

Pierce and Frog exchanged
that
look. The look of recognition. Parnel never saw it: he was too busy puffing up his chest.

“I
doan
like you. I’m not so sure I like your girlfriend anymore neither, but no one tells me
ta
get lost. What’s it gonna be, fists or knives?”

“Parnel, I’m tellin’ you, this guy isn’t someone you want to piss off.”

“Stuff it, Frog. He’s
da
one who should be worried ’bout pissin’ me off.”

“But you don’t want to fight him. He’s—”

“I said, shut up. We can do
dis
outside, or right here. Winner goes home with blondie.”

“Ha!” Casmir laughed, knowing full well that Pierce Fourtier would never agree to such a ridiculous wager.

She watched him stand. Now she would get to see just how tough Pierce really was.

She studied his stance. She had to admit that he really did come off as a hard case. He had attitude, as well as a lean and fit body—the best in the bar from what she’d seen so far.

Okay, so he wasn’t bad looking, either, but that didn’t mean she’d changed her mind about his growing list of faults. He was still out of a job, because she was never going to call Polax and go willingly to Le Mystère.

With his expression composed, and his dark eyes giving nothing away—she remembered that about him in Austria—he said, “Your five seconds are up. I choose knives. Location, downstairs. Frog, set it up. By the way, it’s good to see you again,
mon ami.
It looks like Lazie’s been treating you well.”

Casmir leapt to her feet. “Are you crazy? No one bets me in a wager. I’m not some—”

Pierce slipped his arm around her and pulled her against him. “Have faith in your boyfriend,
amant.
If I lose, what is one night with Parnel?” He gestured to the man, who was now grinning like an idiot. “Look, he has all his teeth, and he’s guaranteed you a pair of big balls. What more can a woman want in a man?”

Parnel’s grin grew while Casmir’s anger doubled. She tried to pry his hand off her hip. When that didn’t work, she finally found her voice and hissed in his ear, “Let go of me or your balls are going to be in your throat a second before I kill you.”

Her threat didn’t seem to worry him, or budge his hand. He said, “I’ll join you in an hour.” When the two men walked off, he looked at Casmir. “You want to see Mama,
oui?
Killing me won’t make that happen, but it will give Lazie a chance to be alone with Cookie overnight.”

“More blackmail.”

“Blackmail? Fact? You make the call.”

“What’s downstairs?”

“A game room.”

“What kind of game room, and how do you know about it?”

He let go of her. “I used to work here.”

Curious now, seeing that he was serious, she asked, “How good are you with a knife? Do you think you can win?”

“Worried about me?”

“I’m worried about finding Le Mystère after dark to rescue my mother from the gypsy should you end up a slab of meat at the morgue.”

“I’m thirsty. I need a beer. You? What’s your poison,
amant?
”

“Call the gypsy and warn him off. Tell him—”

“His name is Saber Lazie, and Cookie will be fine as long as she doesn’t do anything stupid. It takes a lot to piss Lazie off.”

Mama would be too afraid to do something stupid, Casmir thought. Still…

“He better not lay a finger on her or he’ll be wearing another piercing. Only this hole will be bigger. Straight through his chest.”

“Somehow I believe you would do it.”

“The first intelligent thought you’ve had all day. You don’t have to fight Parnel. We could leave now, and—”

“We? You’ve changed your mind about calling Polax and bailing?”

She hadn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. “Maybe. It all depends on you and how quickly we can get out of here. Shall we go?”

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t fight for my
amant?
If I ran like a
tcheue?
”

“No one here would think you’re a chicken, Fourtier. You look more like a snake. And you’re not my boyfriend. I only said that to get Parnel to back off.”

“And did he…get off your back?”

“Not right away. He needed a bit more persuasion. But in the end—”

“So you shoved your gun up his nose and told him to eat it, didn’t you?”

“Stomach, and only after he insulted me. I wouldn’t have had to get nasty if he’d known when to walk away. Why does every man think that a woman is just supposed to roll over and drool when he snaps his fingers?”

“Not every man. I like my women moaning, not drooling. Not as messy, and better for the ego.”

“A bodyguard with a sense of humor. Who would have thought a snake would have a funny side? They’re so one-dimensional.”

“This snake is a barrel of fun once you get to know me.”

“No, thanks.”

Grinning, he headed for the bar. Over his shoulder, he said, “Coming?”

Scowling at him, Casmir followed and slid onto a bar stool. She had expected him to do the same, but he stepped behind the bar and slapped the man tending customers on the back.

“How’s it going, Lute?”

“I never expected to see you back here, Pierce. You come to visit Lazie?”

“Something like that. I’ll wait on the lady.”

The bartender nodded. “Sure,
mon ami.
You know your way around.
Nuttin’s
changed.”

“Sometimes that’s a good thing.”

“
Oui.
Like a steady paycheck and sex twice a week with my old lady. Always look forward to Tuesdays and Fridays. A man’s routine is his best friend.”

The man named Lute gave Casmir a sweet grin before he moved to the end of the bar to wait on another thirsty customer. She dismissed the short little man with shaggy brown hair, and focused on Pierce Fourtier.

“Now then,
tite chatte,
you want a real drink, or something pretty?”

“I don’t think I should be drinking.”

“Does that mean you can’t handle your liquor?”