“I’m just waiting for this damn assignment to end, and I don’t want to do anything to mess it up. It’s been hard on my mind. I don’t like the man I’ve had to become or the things I’ve had to do in the name of justice.”
“What will you do when it’s over?” Tony spun his glass on the table.
“I need a break. Try something different. Maybe I’ll sail around the world.”
“Alone?” Tony raised an eyebrow.
James shrugged. “Yeah. Alone.”
Chapter Three
Lana huddled in the front seat of her rusty Jetta and trained her binoculars on the front entrance to Hades’s clubhouse. Even without Angel’s directions, the vacant airplane hangar just outside the King George Airpark would not have been difficult to find. She had spotted the huge painted Cerberus a mile away and if that wasn’t a dead giveaway, motorcycles of all shapes and sizes filled the paved parking lot.
Sweat trickled down her back and beaded on her brow. The thick plaid shirt, baggy jeans and rumpled blonde wig Jackie had assured her would enable her to blend in with the other airplane watchers were too hot for a summer day. But she trusted Jackie. Her best friend, business partner and fellow private investigator specialized in disguises, boasting a collection that would make even CSIS (Canadian Security Intelligence Service) jealous.
Lana slid a hand under her wig and flapped it up and down, trying to cool herself off with a pathetic waft of warm summer air. She suspected it was the same wig she’d accidentally grabbed off Jackie’s head in the self-defense course where they’d met.
The memory made her laugh. Acting on instinct, Jackie had punched her in the jaw and then, overcome with remorse, she’d collapsed on the floor, inconsolable. Her theatrics had made Lana smile for the first time since James had left. When she’d discovered Jackie was living on the streets she’d offered her a place to stay, as much for her spirited company as for helping out someone in need. With Lana’s help and encouragement, Jackie had turned her life around. And in return she’d pulled Lana out of her James-induced depression and introduced her to the world of disguises.
Unfortunately, Jackie hadn’t warned Lana that this particular disguise might lead to death by melting in the heat of the summer sun.
Sort of like last night at Carpe Noctem.
Memories stirred. For an instant, she was back in the club, her nose buried in James’s shirt, breathing in his clean, sharp scent, safe and warm in the circle of his arms. And then she was two years in the past, lying on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart in the darkness, wondering if the deep tug on her soul was love. And then she was alone in her bed on a cold, gray rainy morning, contemplating what she’d done wrong.
No. She wasn’t going back there. She was over him. Their meeting at Carpe Noctem had been a blip. It had to happen at least once. Vancouver was big, but not that big. With both of them in law enforcement, they were bound to end up following the same bad guy occasionally. She would move on, just like she had before.
A flash of movement in front of the clubhouse caught her attention. She focused her binoculars on the door. Damn. Ryder and Kickstand. No Rex. No James. Not that she wanted to see James. He would be a distraction in more ways than one.
Lana waggled the wig again to create a light breeze around her neck. A red curl escaped. She glanced up in the rearview mirror to tuck it back in and startled when a black leather jacket came into view. Seconds later, her door swung open, and a hand reached in and yanked her out of the car.
Surveillance Rule #37: When threatened, run.
Without even raising her head, Lana bolted. Heart pounding, lungs burning, she raced into the field. At least she thought she did. As fast as she moved, her assailant was faster. Before she could take a step his hand clamped down on her shoulder. He spun her around and pushed her against the car, trapping her with his body.
Her heart pounded against her ribs. She brought her hands up between them to push him away, and her fingers fanned out over a broad expanse of hard muscle.
Familiar.
“Stop, Lana. I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was a cool caress over her heated skin. She’d heard that voice in her dreams. She’d heard that voice last night.
“Good. Then let me go.” She lifted her head, only to meet James’s furious glare.
“What are you doing here?”
“Airplane watching.”
“Airplane watching? You?” The incredulous look on his face almost made her laugh. Almost. Self-preservation held her amusement at bay. She could sense anger simmering beneath his skin, barely contained. Although he had never hurt her before, he was different now. Rougher. Less controlled. More aggressive. Potty mouthed.