“Where the hell are we?” she asked, her voice still bitter.
“Almost at my place.”
“Do you have any food there?”
“Not a thing.”
“Shit.”
He smiled, he couldn’t help it. “Tell you what. I’ll have Seth bring you whatever you want.”
“Great. I want cheesecake. And diet soda. And I want size-seven Nikes with cotton socks.”
“Tonight, you’ll have cheesecake. I’m not so sure about the shoes.”
She sniffed, still not looking his way. “Fine.”
He approached his driveway carefully, studying the cars on either side of the street. He recognized all but one, and that was in front of Walter’s place. Slowing the car, he looked at Walter’s windows. The only one that was lit was upstairs. The bedroom.
He turned into his drive and went past the main house to his little place. It had once been a garage, but it had been converted to a guest house before he’d moved in. It was quiet, and hidden from the street.
Christie got out as soon as he’d parked, and she let Milo out, too. The dog investigated the small patch of grass by the front door.
Boone checked his tell, the thin wire he threaded between the door and the frame. It hadn’t been disturbed. Once he’d unlocked the door, he went in, weapon drawn, and checked each room. It didn’t take long. The place had one bedroom, his office, the kitchen, bath, living room. Nothing was out of place. No one had triggered his motion sensor. He went back to the car, got his duffel, and went to stand next to Christie. “I’ll have Seth bring Milo some dog food.”
She nodded. “Don’t forget the cheesecake.”
“I won’t. We need to go in, though. I have to make some calls.”
She called Milo, and the three of them went into the house. Milo investigated with his nose, and Christie with her hands. She touched things, his lamp, the top of the club chair, his books.
He knew it wasn’t a nice place, but at least it was clean. It had never felt like a home. Like everything else in his life, it was a temporary measure, somewhere to hole up while he tried to find his life.
Seth had a place just like it. Quiet, hard to find. So did Kate, and the others. They were displaced persons. Exiles in their own country.
He understood Christie’s despair. It felt like hell to be banished. But for Christie, it was a question of finding one man. A clever man, a player, yes, but one man. And once they got him, she’d get everything back. Boone and his friends would have to find deeper holes to hide in, but Christie would be all right.
He went to his office and looked up Walter’s phone number. He had all the neighbors in his book, listed along with what they drove, if they had pets, where they worked. Walter answered after the first ring. He sounded drunk.
“Hey, Walter. It’s Boone. You in the mood for a couple games of pool?”
“I got company.”
“Oh, sorry. Have a good one.”
Walter hung up, but Boone knew the car out front belonged to Walter’s friend.
The next call was to Seth. It was short, filled with several heartfelt curses, and instructions for a grocery run. Kate was sleeping, but as soon as Boone told her what happened, she was alert, and on her way. The calls made, he went in search of Christie.
She was standing in the kitchen. “You need a decorator.”
“Yeah, I do. But not for here. This is just a room. It doesn’t need to be fancy.”
She turned to him. “Fancy? How about livable? This is like a prison cell.”
“I have cable.”
“So does Leavenworth.”
“Hey, at least it has a coffee machine.” He got the grounds out of the freezer, then fixed a full pot. They’d be up late tonight, and they’d need the caffeine. Seth was bringing cream along with some other necessities. Boone had a lot of protein powder and PowerBars, but he didn’t have anything fresh. He cleaned out the fridge before every job.
“It wouldn’t take much, you know. A little paint, a couple of inexpensive pictures for the walls. It has to be hard, waking up in this place. Boone, you deserve better.”
“I’ll have better. Just not here.”
“Care to explain that?”
“Why don’t I get you a pair of socks. Your feet must be cold.” He walked out of the kitchen, with Christie right behind.
“Wait a minute. What the hell’s with you? You live like a monk. You have all this spy stuff. You’re not in the service anymore. What happened in the Balkans, Boone?”
He turned and put his hands on her shoulders. “I can’t tell you. And it’s not important now. We have a lot to do tonight, and we have to be focused on only one thing. Getting that prick, taking him down. Got it?”