In the shadow of truth s.., p.38
In the Shadow of Truth: (Shadow Series Book 3), page 38
Kathryn grinned as she came up behind her niece and kissed her on the cheek. “Say, who let you in here?”
“Hi!” Stephanie beamed with stars in her eyes as she looked up at her glamorous aunt. “Gosh, you were swell!” She ran her small hand across the sequined gold dress, mesmerized. “So pretty.”
“Thank you, sweetie.” Kathryn held out her arms. “Come on, give me a hug.”
Stephanie hopped from her chair and wrapped her arms around her stooping aunt.
Kathryn held her tight. It had been too long since she’d seen her, and she didn’t know when she’d see her again.
“Mmm,” she hummed in her ear as she squeezed. “Happy Birthday, pretty girl. I love you.”
“I love you too, Aunt Kath.”
Kathryn couldn’t bring herself to let go.
Stephanie giggled as she squirmed to escape. “You’re squishing me.”
“Sorry.” Kathryn held her at arm’s length, hoping in the dimly lit club that no one could see the tears in her eyes. “You look beautiful! Nine agrees with you.”
“Mommy made my dress.”
Kathryn looked up at the politely smiling woman. “It’s beautiful, Nan.” She stood and greeted her sister-in-law with a peck on the cheek, as she did with Jenny, and then she gave a warm hug to her brother.
“Thank you for coming, and thank you for bringing Stephanie.”
Nan grinned. “We couldn’t keep her away. It’s all she wanted for her birthday.”
“It’s all she’s talked about all week,” Clayton added. “Thanks for getting her in.”
“Well, when Dominic gets shut down for serving alcohol to a minor, I’ll send him to your office to complain.” She slid Clayton’s champagne glass away from his daughter’s slowly reaching hand.
Nan scolded her daughter and Clayton laughed.
“You were fantastic, Kath.”
“Thanks,” she said, as everyone sat down.
Kathryn surreptitiously glanced around the room while everyone else got settled. Jenny noticed and questioned her with a subtle tilt of her head. Kathryn nodded discreetly, acknowledging the start of her next assignment. Jenny closed her eyes briefly and gamely put on a smiling mask for the rest of the evening.
It was far past Stephanie’s bedtime by the time the little girl lay sleeping on her father’s shoulder while they waited for the valet to bring the car around.
Kathryn watched him set his sleeping daughter in Nan’s lap in the passenger seat and gently close the car door.
“Nothing wakes her up,” he said, as they rounded the back of the car. “Say, are you coming over next weekend? We’re having some friends over and I’d like to—”
Kathryn put her hand on his arm. “Listen, Clay, I need to talk to you a minute.”
“Out here?” He rubbed his hands together against the chilly winter night.
“It’s important.”
“Okay, well, here—” He took off his overcoat and offered it to her.
“No, I’m all right.”
“Don’t be silly,” he insisted, as he wrapped it around her exposed shoulders.
* * *
Nan waited a few minutes and then craned her head around to look out the back window of the car, wondering what was taking so long. Her husband was gesturing in an agitated manner, and her sister-in-law was ineffectually trying to calm him. This mysterious ballet went on for a few more moments, until Clayton got in the car, angrily tossed his overcoat in the backseat, and slammed the door.
“Clay,” Nan said in a whisper, putting her hand over her daughter’s ear. “You’ll wake her up. What’s wrong?”
Clayton shoved the car in gear. “Give me a minute to calm down,” he growled, and then he drove off.
Jenny lay in bed, staring into the darkness above. The cold, empty space beside her was a bitter reminder that Kathryn was sleeping in someone else’s arms tonight instead of hers. That’s what she assumed anyway. It was past three a.m., and she’d heard nothing from Kathryn since they parted with regretful smiles across the table at the club. It was awkward and frightening for Jenny—leaving her love to the unknown—but her promise to handle it carried her gracefully from the club to home, where she promptly allowed herself to fall apart in her foyer.
She supposed she’d better get it out of her system. This would only be the first of many evenings spent wrestling with her revulsion for the situation, and the sooner she got used to it, the better it would be for both of them. She closed her eyes. Who was she kidding? She would never get used to it. The thought of someone else’s hands on her lover, their mouth drinking from her lips, tasting her body, exploring her most intimate places, places meant only for her—God. She imagined Kathryn moaning for them, coming for them, and even though make-believe, it made her sick. Just like Kathryn said it would.
Jenny felt like a daft person, unable to control her torturous imagination. Would Kathryn sound the same with this stranger? Would her cries of ecstasy bring her partner to climax as it did her? Would her playacting arouse her? Would she come in spite of herself, in spite of their love? Was she acting, or did she enjoy it? Jenny swallowed her nausea and sat up, gasping for air.
She despised herself for such thoughts. She reminded herself she had the easy part, and then she remembered Kathryn’s past as a prostitute and wondered if it was true. Maybe Kathryn had the easy part. Sleeping with strangers was as simple as switching pairs of shoes. Revulsion turned to anger, and Jenny welcomed it. She couldn’t say with any certainty the target for her anger—Kathryn, the war, the past, the future—but it caused a relentless ache in her gut that was bursting to free itself from the confines of her body.
She leaped from the bed with her hand pressed to her mouth and scrambled to the bathroom door, where she leaned on the doorjamb and waited for her churning stomach to make up its mind. She heard a car swing into the drive and saw its headlights illuminate the bedroom wall like a prison searchlight looking for her AWOL promise to handle it. Jenny had a moment of panicked indecision, knowing she couldn’t let Kathryn see her in such a state. She hurriedly climbed back into bed and pretended to be asleep.
* * *
Kathryn carefully eased the front door closed until she heard the dull click of the lock. She gently laid her keys in the porcelain bowl on the side table in the foyer and slipped out of her shoes. Thank goodness the house was dark and quiet. She wasn’t ready to face Jenny. She felt awkward, like an intruder in someone else’s happy home. She’d become someone else to convince Bouchaule she still belonged to him, and to her surprise, falling back into that role was easier than falling back out.
She stood at the bedroom door and gazed at Jenny’s sleeping form. This was her home. Jenny was her home. She closed her eyes and reached inside herself to find the woman who belonged here, the woman who was loved here. She silently exhaled in relief when her alter ego fell away and she felt herself again. She smiled at her triumphant transformation and tiptoed upstairs to use the shower.
* * *
Jenny rolled onto her side and listened to the water run down the pipes in the wall. She imagined Kathryn washing the stranger from her body. Then, she would come to bed and expect what? Absolution? Ignorance? Denial? Jenny rolled onto her back and covered her face. She had to give Kathryn all those things. She had to pull it off. She promised she would handle it.
The water stopped and she soon heard the telltale creak of the wooden floorboards, as Kathryn padded across the bedroom and quietly slipped into bed.
Kathryn gently kissed her on the cheek and settled onto her side.
Jenny knew she should respond, but she was paralyzed, caught between proving ownership with a blinding kiss and bursting into tears because she felt personally violated on Kathryn’s behalf. She took the coward’s way out and pretended to be asleep, but at least she was handling it.
“Nothing happened,” Kathryn whispered.
Jenny slowly opened her eyes.
Kathryn took her hand and brought it to her lips, where she kissed it. “Nothing happened.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Jenny whispered, so the lump in her throat wouldn’t betray her inner turmoil.
She heard Kathryn smile and felt her soft breath on her knuckles when she said, “I’d want to know.”
Jenny was silent for a moment, corralling her emotions. The darkness hid a myriad of sins, and she was thankful, as she reached out and caressed Kathryn’s face. Together they would do this. Only through trust would they survive. Kathryn had played her part tonight, and now Jenny had to play hers. She leaned in and tenderly kissed Kathryn on the lips as a thank you.
Apparently, they would both sleep on the things not said and, more than likely, ignore them in the light of the new day. And so it would go.
Jenny let her hand fall away.
“I love you. Nite.”
“Love you too.”
Jenny stared into the awkward silence and shut her eyes against her rapidly forming tears. Kathryn eventually rolled onto her back, and Jenny couldn’t help but feel abandoned. She didn’t know what she expected the woman to do, but they were failing their first test. If they didn’t get it right now, they would never get it right. They would set a precedent that would do nothing but drive a wedge between them. She was doing the very thing she accused Kathryn of doing—shutting her out. They had nothing if not emotional honesty, and Jenny needed to show her love, feel their love.
She leaned over and pulled Kathryn into a kiss. It was tentative at first, but then passionate, as she claimed what was hers. Kathryn gave her what she asked for and offered even more, which was greedily taken.
Their fervent kiss became a vessel of truth, as Jenny lost the tenuous grasp on her emotions and pulled back. She pressed her forehead to Kathryn’s in an attempt to regain control, but she began to cry and then sob. She tried to push away, managing a blubbering, “I’m sorry,” but Kathryn wouldn’t let her go.
“Shh. It’s okay.” She cradled Jenny’s head protectively onto her shoulder and urged her to let it out. “It’s okay.”
Jenny didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know if she was relieved that nothing happened, appalled at what she had to look forward to, or ashamed for not thinking until too late that Kathryn might be the one in need of support.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“I know, honey. It’s okay.” Kathryn stroked her hair. “It’s okay.” She kissed her head. “I love you. We’re in this together. They don’t win, right?”
Jenny nodded.
* * *
Kathryn stared at the ceiling and nodded too, but she doubted the state of their personal war with the enemy. She’d already lost her family. There would be time enough to mourn that, but this was not it. Nor was it the time to take stock in what else she might lose. There was no room for weakness. She had work to do. She comforted Jenny and processed her reintroduction to Bouchaule.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“What now?” Kathryn had asked the cab driver as they sat at a desolated crossroad outside the city.
“Now I drop you off.”
“Here?” she said incredulously. “There’s nothing here. Not even a streetlight.”
“Look, lady, I got my instructions, see? And when people pay that kinda do-re-mi for a cab ride to nowhere, you forget your own name if they tell you to, get me?”
Kathryn exhaled and exited the cab, which quickly drove off. She stood in the pitch dark, still in her club attire, and watched the cab’s taillights disappear into the distance.
She’d found a note slipped under her door when she arrived at her dressing room that evening. It was handwritten from Thierry Bouchaule, which said he needed to see her and that he’d meet her after the show. She assumed he was somewhere inside the club, so she hung around until most everyone had gone for the night, giving the man ample opportunity to show himself. When he didn’t, she went to her car, parked in the back alley of The Grotto, and found it wouldn’t start. A cab drove up on cue to her frustrated curse, and here she was, standing in the dirt, with her overcoat draped elegantly over her shoulders, waiting for Bouchaule’s long-anticipated appearance.
She waited a disproportionately long time compared with the perfect timing of the cab at the club, but, soon, headlights appeared from the road ahead, and a long dark sedan pulled alongside. The driver got out and politely opened the back door. She smiled. Thierry Bouchaule had gone to a lot of trouble to see her again.
To her surprise, Bouchaule was not waiting inside. Instead, she found two men identifying themselves as FBI agents. One got out and extended his hand for her to enter.
She played dumb.
“Say, what is this?”
“You’re the one standing in the middle of nowhere. Why don’t you tell us?”
“I’m getting some fresh air. Is that illegal?”
The man inside turned on the floor courtesy light, tilted his hat back off his forehead, and stretched out his leg.
“Have a seat.”
She straightened. “Or what?”
The burly man beside her grasped her arm. “Or we all forget we’re civilized.”
Good cop, bad cop, she surmised. She got in the car with a practiced sneer, and the man on her arm slid in beside her while the driver shut the door and stood guard outside.
The two agents waited for her to comment, but she knew better than that. Good cop to her right chuckled.
“You have a penchant for trouble, Miss Hammond.” He looked her up and down with equal parts lust and disdain. “Questionable men. Questionable circumstances.”
She settled into her seat, amazed the arrogant G-Men had no idea who they were dealing with. She crossed her legs and smiled as she smoothed her shimmering dress across her knee.
“What can I say … I lead an interesting life.”
The fellow took a moment to appreciate her poise and her shapely leg and then calmly asked, “Where is he?”
She turned to him conversationally. “You know, I look in the mirror and ask myself that every day. I’m an attractive woman, don’t you think? The man of my dreams is out there, yet I haven’t had a date in months. Where is he? Am I too attractive? Is there such a thing?” She leaned into his personal space. “Do you find my beauty intimidating?”
She watched his nostrils flare as he inhaled the possibility of her smiling lips.
The burly bad cop on her left leaned forward. “Look, dolly, don’t play cute with us. You’re dealing with the U.S. government here.”
Kathryn could barely contain her laughter as she leaned into the titillated man on her right. “Hold me, brother, I’m shaking.”
“Knock it off, you!” Bad cop grabbed her arm again. “Save the immoral sexual game for your next meal ticket. It has no power here.”
She looked him up and down. “Oh, I see.” She smiled sympathetically and patted his knee. “I’ve heard about men like you.”
The object of her insult balled his hand into a fist.
“Easy, boy.” The man on the right reached across. “She’s teasing you.”
Kathryn looked over her shoulder at him. “Actually, I was teasing you. I’m quite serious about him.”
Good cop smiled and looked to his partner. “What did I tell you? Clever girl.”
His partner grunted at being played and listened while the other took over.
“Miss Hammond, Mr. Bouchaule is a very dangerous man. A threat to this country.”
She crossed her arms, feigning disinterest. “Well, whoever this man is, perhaps you should be out apprehending him instead of pestering me.”
Bad cop showed her a photograph of them dancing together at one of Forrester’s fundraisers.
She shrugged. “I dance with a lot of men.”
Photograph after photograph appeared in quick succession, chronicling every public occasion of their meetings.
“Shall we stop playing games now?”
“So I know him. So what? I haven’t seen him in ages.”
“We know he contacted you tonight. We know you were to meet him here.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. A cab driver and I had a disagreement over a fare; that’s how I wound up here. So, if you are any kind of gentlemen, you’ll give me a ride home and we can put this little incident of mistaken brilliance behind us. No hard feelings.”
“I suggest you cooperate, Miss Hammond,” said the good cop. “We can make your life very difficult.”
She laughed. “Get in line.”
He smiled. “Yes, well, I understand the road has been a bit bumpy since your unfortunate mishap, but you seem to be holding up well.”
She had no comment.
“We’d like to see you continue to do well. We’d like you to keep your job, for example …”
Kathryn smirked. As if they could influence Dominic.
“A job which you do very well,” the man went on. “Loved the show tonight. Nice family. Cute little girl.”
Kathryn did her best to control her sudden rage, but she knew the men saw it, evident by their ever-widening grins.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” she said as evenly as she could. “I told you I haven’t seen Bouchaule, nor do I expect to.”
Bad cop reached under the seat and presented something wrapped in a handkerchief.
Kathryn looked at it. “What’s that?”
The agent smiled. “The distributor cap for your car.”
Kathryn slowly cut her eyes to him. The trip out there had been a ruse. They knew nothing of Bouchaule’s note, the timing mere coincidence, but the fact that she’d readily accepted the cab ride and waited in a deserted field told them she expected to hear from Bouchaule eventually.
She chuckled. Touché. “Who’s clever now?”
Bad cop grinned and tapped on the window beside him with his knuckle.
“We’ll be watching you, and we’ll be in touch. Count on it.”
